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Updated: May 14, 2025
But I beg you not to forget that a very curious secret of your beloved brother's is entirely in my keeping." Dounia stood still, hesitating, and looked at Svidrigailov with searching eyes. "What are you afraid of?" he observed quietly. "The town is not the country. And even in the country you did me more harm than I did you." "Have you prepared Sofya Semyonovna?"
"Schiller, you are a regular Schiller! O la vertu va-t-elle se nicher? But you know I shall tell you these things on purpose, for the pleasure of hearing your outcries!" "I dare say. I can see I am ridiculous myself," muttered Raskolnikov angrily. Svidrigailov laughed heartily; finally he called Philip, paid his bill, and began getting up. "I say, but I am drunk, assez cause," he said.
"The wasp has stung me. She aimed straight at my head. What's this? Blood?" he pulled out his handkerchief to wipe the blood, which flowed in a thin stream down his right temple. The bullet seemed to have just grazed the skin. Dounia lowered the revolver and looked at Svidrigailov not so much in terror as in a sort of wild amazement.
"Here's the key." He took it out of the left pocket of his coat and laid it on the table behind him, without turning or looking at Dounia. "Take it! Make haste!" He looked stubbornly out of the window. Dounia went up to the table to take the key. "Make haste! Make haste!" repeated Svidrigailov, still without turning or moving.
Yet he felt at once that that was not the only cause of his uneasiness; there was something requiring immediate decision, but it was something he could not clearly understand or put into words. It was a hopeless tangle. "No, better the struggle again! Better Porfiry again... or Svidrigailov.... Better some challenge again... some attack. Yes, yes!" he thought.
It's true Razumihin was there to protect her, but Razumihin knew nothing of the position. Perhaps it was his duty to tell Razumihin? He thought of it with repugnance. In any case he must see Svidrigailov as soon as possible, he decided finally.
"But that's not the point," Raskolnikov interrupted with disgust. "It's simply that whether you are right or wrong, we dislike you. We don't want to have anything to do with you. We show you the door. Go out!" Svidrigailov broke into a sudden laugh. "But you're... but there's no getting round you," he said, laughing in the frankest way.
Now drops of rain flew in at the window from the trees and bushes; it was dark as in a cellar, so that he could only just make out some dark blurs of objects. Svidrigailov, bending down with elbows on the window-sill, gazed for five minutes into the darkness; the boom of a cannon, followed by a second one, resounded in the darkness of the night. "Ah, the signal!
And what if, having learnt his secret and so having gained power over him, he were to use it as a weapon against Dounia? This idea sometimes even tormented his dreams, but it had never presented itself so vividly to him as on his way to Svidrigailov. The very thought moved him to gloomy rage.
"Ah, then you are lying! I see... you were lying... lying all the time.... I don't believe you! I don't believe you!" cried Dounia, completely losing her head. Almost fainting, she sank on to a chair which Svidrigailov made haste to give her. "Avdotya Romanovna, what is it? Control yourself! Here is some water. Drink a little...." He sprinkled some water over her.
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