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Updated: May 24, 2025
"If you are in an intelligible condition, I've thirty-five roubles to remit to you, as Semyon Semyonovitch has received from Afanasy Ivanovitch at your mamma's request instructions to that effect, as on previous occasions. Do you know him, sir?" "Yes, I remember... Vahrushin," Raskolnikov said dreamily. "You hear, he knows Vahrushin," cried Razumihin.
I took off the paper, saw some little hooks, undid them, and in the box were the ear-rings...." "Behind the door? Lying behind the door? Behind the door?" Raskolnikov cried suddenly, staring with a blank look of terror at Razumihin, and he slowly sat up on the sofa, leaning on his hand. "Yes... why? What's the matter? What's wrong?" Razumihin, too, got up from his seat.
"Have you read it?" "Yes." "We showed him, Rodya. We... consulted him just now," Pulcheria Alexandrovna began, embarrassed. "That's just the jargon of the courts," Razumihin put in. "Legal documents are written like that to this day." "Legal? Yes, it's just legal business language not so very uneducated, and not quite educated business language!"
You lead such a solitary life that you know nothing of matters that concern you directly. It's a fact, I assure you." "Bravo, Rodya! I knew nothing about it either!" cried Razumihin. "I'll run to-day to the reading-room and ask for the number. Two months ago? What was the date? It doesn't matter though, I will find it. Think of not telling us!" "How did you find out that the article was mine?
But in brief and coherent phrases Raskolnikov explained his business clearly and exactly, and was so well satisfied with himself that he even succeeded in taking a good look at Porfiry. Porfiry Petrovitch did not once take his eyes off him. Razumihin, sitting opposite at the same table, listened warmly and impatiently, looking from one to the other every moment with rather excessive interest.
"I tell you I've been waiting for the last three hours." "No, before." "How do you mean?" "How long have you been coming here?" "Why I told you all about it this morning. Don't you remember?" Raskolnikov pondered. The morning seemed like a dream to him. He could not remember alone, and looked inquiringly at Razumihin. "Hm!" said the latter, "he has forgotten.
"But the real geniuses," asked Razumihin frowning, "those who have the right to murder? Oughtn't they to suffer at all even for the blood they've shed?" "Why the word ought? It's not a matter of permission or prohibition. He will suffer if he is sorry for his victim. Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart.
But there certainly is and must be a definite law, it cannot be a matter of chance." "Why, are you both joking?" Razumihin cried at last. "There you sit, making fun of one another. Are you serious, Rodya?" Raskolnikov raised his pale and almost mournful face and made no reply.
Razumihin, in his youthful ardour, had firmly resolved to lay the foundations at least of a secure livelihood during the next three or four years, and saving up a certain sum, to emigrate to Siberia, a country rich in every natural resource and in need of workers, active men and capital. There they would settle in the town where Rodya was and all together would begin a new life.
From Razumihin, too, I learnt a number of interesting details yesterday. No, you interrupted me, but I must tell you that, for all your wit, your suspiciousness makes you lose the common-sense view of things. To return to bell-ringing, for instance. Why, if I had the slightest suspicion of you, should I have acted like that?
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