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Dounia saw that he would sooner die than let her go. "And... now, of course she would kill him, at two paces!" Suddenly she flung away the revolver. "She's dropped it!" said Svidrigailov with surprise, and he drew a deep breath. A weight seemed to have rolled from his heart perhaps not only the fear of death; indeed he may scarcely have felt it at that moment.
"If you insist on wanting to know about all that idiocy, I will tell you one day, but now..." "I was told too about some footman of yours in the country whom you treated badly." "I beg you to drop the subject," Svidrigailov interrupted again with obvious impatience. "Was that the footman who came to you after death to fill your pipe?... you told me about it yourself."
"Oh, don't be uneasy. Besides, even in a worthless low fellow like me, Avdotya Romanovna can only excite the deepest respect." "You know perhaps yes, I told you myself," began Svidrigailov, "that I was in the debtors' prison here, for an immense sum, and had not any expectation of being able to pay it.
"And Svidrigailov was a riddle... He worried him, that was true, but somehow not on the same point. He might still have a struggle to come with Svidrigailov. Svidrigailov, too, might be a means of escape; but Porfiry was a different matter. "And so Porfiry himself had explained it to Razumihin, had explained it psychologically. He had begun bringing in his damned psychology again! Porfiry?
Each knew that he was seen and watched by the other. At last Svidrigailov broke into a loud laugh. "Well, well, come in if you want me; I am here!" he shouted from the window. Raskolnikov went up into the tavern.
But during the two or three days after Katerina Ivanovna's death, he had two or three times met Svidrigailov at Sonia's lodging, where he had gone aimlessly for a moment. They exchanged a few words and made no reference to the vital subject, as though they were tacitly agreed not to speak of it for a time.
"I am not particularly interested in anyone's opinion," Svidrigailov answered, dryly and even with a shade of haughtiness, "and therefore why not be vulgar at times when vulgarity is such a convenient cloak for our climate... and especially if one has a natural propensity that way," he added, laughing again. "But I've heard you have many friends here.
I agree that ghosts only appear to the sick, but that only proves that they are unable to appear except to the sick, not that they don't exist." "Nothing of the sort," Raskolnikov insisted irritably. "No? You don't think so?" Svidrigailov went on, looking at him deliberately.
"Didn't you get thrashed sometimes?" "It did happen. Why?" "Why, you might have challenged them... altogether it must have been lively." "I won't contradict you, and besides I am no hand at philosophy. I confess that I hastened here for the sake of the women." "As soon as you buried Marfa Petrovna?" "Quite so," Svidrigailov smiled with engaging candour. "What of it?
Marfa Petrovna arranged it a week before her death, and it was done in my presence. Avdotya Romanovna will be able to receive the money in two or three weeks." "Are you telling the truth?" "Yes, tell her. Well, your servant. I am staying very near you." As he went out, Svidrigailov ran up against Razumihin in the doorway. It was nearly eight o'clock.
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