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Updated: June 11, 2025
Everything is relative, I suppose, Rodion Romanovitch?" "There, he is beginning with some more of his silly palaver!" Raskolnikoff growled to himself. His late interview with the magistrate suddenly occurred to him, at which anger affected his mind. "Did you know, by-the-by, that I called on you the night before last?" continued Porphyrius, looking about. "I was in this very room.
Rodion was utterly overcome; his face broke into profuse perspiration; he took out of his pocket a little crooked cucumber, like a half-moon, covered with crumbs of rye bread, and began thrusting it into the little girl's hands. "Come, come," he muttered, scowling severely; "take the little cucumber, eat it up.... You mustn't cry.
"You wish to know why I tell you this? Because I look upon it as a sacred duty to explain my line of action. Because I subjected you, as I now fully acknowledge, to cruel torture. I do not wish, my dear Rodion, that you should take me for an ogre. Hence, by way of justification, I purpose explaining to you what led up to it.
Don't be uneasy, Rodion Romanovitch, if I were working for my own advantage, I would not have spoken out so directly. I am not quite a fool. I will confess something psychologically curious about that: just now, defending my love for Avdotya Romanovna, I said I was myself the victim.
"Not quite, that's true," Razumihin agreed at once, getting warm and hurried as usual. "Listen, Rodion, and tell us your opinion, I want to hear it. I was fighting tooth and nail with them and wanted you to help me. I told them you were coming.... It began with the socialist doctrine.
All have forsaken us!... And that general.... You know, Rodion Romanovitch, I threw an inkpot at him it happened to be standing in the waiting-room by the paper where you sign your name. I wrote my name, threw it at him and ran away. Oh, the scoundrels, the scoundrels! But enough of them, now I'll provide for the children myself, I won't bow down to anybody!
What about?" cried Ilya Petrovitch. He was obviously in an exceedingly good humour and perhaps a trifle exhilarated. I must admit, I... what is it, what is it? Excuse me...." "Raskolnikov." "Of course, Raskolnikov. You didn't imagine I'd forgotten? Don't think I am like that... Rodion Ro Ro Rodionovitch, that's it, isn't it?" "Rodion Romanovitch." "Yes, yes, of course, Rodion Romanovitch!
Raskolnikov tried to persuade her to go home, and even said, hoping to work on her vanity, that it was unseemly for her to be wandering about the streets like an organ-grinder, as she was intending to become the principal of a boarding-school. "A boarding-school, ha-ha-ha! A castle in the air," cried Katerina Ivanovna, her laugh ending in a cough. "No, Rodion Romanovitch, that dream is over!
I wanted to fall down at his feet, but I hadn't the courage.... God give him health... God bless him!..." Stephania crossed herself and sighed. "They are kind, simple-hearted people," Rodion went on. "'We shall look after you.... He promised me that before everyone. In our old age... it wouldn't be a bad thing.... I should always pray for them.... Holy Mother, bless them...."
It seems we have no luck in this world nor the next. All the luck has fallen to the rich." She spoke gaily; she was evidently used to talking of her hard life. And Rodion smiled, too; he was pleased that his old woman was so clever, so ready of speech. "It is only on the surface that the rich seem to be happy," said Elena Ivanovna. "Every man has his sorrow.
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