Crime and Punishment (53 page)

‘Don't tell me you want to go up with him?’

‘Me? No… yes…’ Svidrigailov murmured, as though he really were pondering something.

‘What on earth's got into him?’ Raskolnikov wondered.

‘No, the document didn't trouble me,’ Svidrigailov went on, ruminatively. ‘It was I who didn't want to leave the estate. It's almost a year now since Marfa Petrovna returned the document to me on my name-day, together with a remarkably generous sum which she said was a present. All the capital was hers, you know. “You see how I trust you, Arkady Ivanovich,” she said – I do assure you, she actually used those words. You don't believe it, do you? Yet I mean, I'd become a respected master on that estate, you know; they know me in the neighbourhood. I used to order books, too. At first Marfa Petrovna approved of that, but later she kept worrying that I'd study too hard.’

‘Am I right in thinking that you miss Marfa Petrovna quite a lot?’

‘Me? Possibly. Yes, quite possibly. By the way, do you believe in ghosts?’

‘What sort of ghosts?’

‘Oh, just ordinary ones – that sort.’

‘Do you?’

‘Well, perhaps not,
pour vous plaire
… I'm not so sure, though…’

‘Do you see them, then?’

Svidrigailov gave him a rather strange look.

‘Marfa Petrovna considers it expedient to visit me,’ he said, contorting his mouth into a strange smile.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, she's been to see me three times now. The first time I saw her was on the very day of her funeral, an hour after we'd put her in the ground. That was the day before my departure for St Petersburg. The second time was the day before yesterday, as I was sitting in the train at Malaya Vishera Station; and the third time was two hours ago, in my room at the apartment where I'm staying; I was alone.’

‘Was this when you were awake?’

‘Absolutely. I was awake on all three occasions. She comes in, speaks for a moment, and then walks out of the door; it's always the door. I even seem to hear it.’

‘How did I know that something of that kind was happening to you?’ Raskolnikov said suddenly, at the same moment taken aback at having said this. He was in a violent state of agitation.

‘Good Lord! You knew, did you?’ Svidrigailov said in astonishment. ‘Did you really? Well, didn't I say we had certain points in common, eh?’

‘You certainly did not!’ Raskolnikov replied sharply, losing his self-control.

‘I didn't?’

‘No!’

‘It's funny, I thought I did. Just now, when I came in and saw you lying there with your eyes closed, pretending – I instantly said to myself: “That's the fellow!”’

‘
What
did you say? What are you getting at?’ Raskolnikov shouted.

‘Getting at? I really don't know what I'm getting at…’
Svidrigailov muttered candidly, as though he himself were somewhat confused.

For a moment they said nothing. They both stared at each other.

‘It's a lot of nonsense!’ Raskolnikov exclaimed, angrily. ‘What does she say to you when she visits you?’

‘Her? Would you believe it, it's always the pettiest, most trivial things, things that really make you wonder; I mean, that's just what I find so annoying. The first time she came in (you know how it is, I was tired: there'd been the funeral service, with the prayers for the repose of her soul, followed by the
litiya
,
⁷
and then the funeral meal – well, at last I was alone in my study, I'd lit a cigar, had started to brood about things), she walked in at the door: “Oh, Arkady Ivanovich,” she said, “with all this fuss, you've forgotten to wind up the dining-room clock.” And you know, I really had wound up that clock every week for the past seven years, and if ever I forgot, she'd always be sure to remind me. By the following day I was on my way here. At dawn I got out at a station – I'd been dozing overnight, I was shattered, all bleary-eyed – and had some coffee; I looked – and Marfa Petrovna suddenly sat down beside me; she had a pack of cards in her hand: “Wouldn't you like me to tell your fortune for the journey, Arkady Ivanovich?” she said. And you know, she was very skilled at telling fortunes. Oh, I'll never forgive myself for not having let her! I got scared and ran away, and in any case the bell was ringing for the train to leave. Then today, as I was sitting with a heavy stomach after a most wretched meal I'd ordered from a cookshop – I was having a cigarette – Marfa Petrovna suddenly came in again, all dressed up in a new green silk dress with the very longest of trains: “Hallo, Arkady Ivanovich,” she said, “what do you think of my dress? Aniska could never have made something like this!” (Aniska's a seamstress on our estate, one of our former serf girls who went to train in Moscow – rather a pretty girl, actually.) There she stood, turning this way and that in front of me. I inspected the dress, and then looked her closely, closely in the eye, and said: “I wonder you come to bother me with such trivial matters, Marfa Petrovna.” “Oh, good heavens, dear, you're well beyond
my reach now!” she replied. Well, just to tease her, I said to her: “You know, Marfa Petrovna, I think I'm going to get married again.” “That's just what I'd expect of you, Arkady Ivanovich; but it won't look very good if you go and take another wife no sooner than you've buried your previous one. And even if you make a good choice, I can tell you now – it won't provide either you or her with much amusement, but only the public at large.” At that point she went out, and I swear I heard her train rustle. I mean, what sort of nonsense was that, eh?’

‘What if you're still lying?’ was Raskolnikov's response to this.

‘I seldom lie,’ Svidrigailov replied meditatively, seeming not to notice the question's rudeness.

‘And previously – before this, I mean – you never saw any ghosts?’

‘Er… yes, I did, only once in my life, six years ago. I used to have a manservant called Filka; we'd only just buried him, and one day I shouted, forgetting he was dead: “Filka, my pipe!” He came in and went straight over to the cabinet where I keep my pipes. I sat there, thinking: “This is him taking his revenge” – because just before his death we'd had a terrible quarrel. “How dare you come in here with your elbow in tatters like that – be off with you, good-for-nothing!” He turned, went out and didn't come back. I said nothing to Marfa Petrovna about it at the time. I'd been going to have a requiem sung for him, but I was too ashamed of myself.’

‘You ought to see a doctor.’

‘Oh, I don't need you to tell me I'm ill, though I must say I honestly can't imagine what it can be; I should think I'm about five times healthier than you are. I didn't ask you whether you believe that ghosts are seen by people – I asked you whether you believe there are such things as ghosts?’

‘No, I most certainly do not!’ Raskolnikov exclaimed with more than a touch of aggressiveness.

‘I mean, what do people usually say?’ Svidrigailov murmured, as though to himself, looking to one side and inclining his head slightly. ‘They say: “You're ill, so the things you see are just a non-existent hallucination.” But that's woolly thinking, you
know. I agree that ghosts are only seen by people who are ill; but I mean, that only proves that ghosts can only be perceived by people who are ill – not that they don't exist.’

‘It proves nothing of the kind!’ Raskolnikov insisted, irritably.

‘Oh? That's your opinion, is it?’ Svidrigailov went on, giving him a long, slow look. ‘Well, but what if one were to put the argument this way (come along, now, give me a hand): “Ghosts are, so to speak, shreds and fragments of other worlds, their source and origin. Of course, the man who is healthy doesn't need to see them, because the healthy man is the most earthly sort of person, and so is bound, for the sake of gaining an all-round and orderly view of things, to live exclusively the life of this world. Well, but he has only to fall ill, to suffer a disruption of the normal, earthly order of things within his organism, and the possibility of there being another world begins to exert its influence; the iller he gets, the more numerous are his contacts with the other world, the result being that, when he finally dies, he goes straight there.” I've been thinking this out for a long time. If you believe in a life to come, you ought to be able to believe in that argument, too.’

‘I don't believe in a life to come,’ Raskolnikov said.

Svidrigailov sat looking pensive.

‘And what if there's nothing there except spiders, or something of that kind?’ he said suddenly.

‘This is a madman,’ Raskolnikov thought.

‘You see, we always think of eternity as an idea that can't be comprehended, as something enormous, gigantic! But why does it have to be so very large? I mean, instead of thinking of it that way, try supposing that all there will be is one little room, something akin to a country bath-house, with soot on the walls and spiders in every corner, and there's your eternity for you. You know, I sometimes see it that way.’

‘Can you really, really not imagine anything more just and consoling than that?’ Raskolnikov exclaimed with a feeling of pain.

‘Just? But who knows, perhaps that's exactly what it is – just, and you know, if I'd been given the job, I'd most certainly have designed things that way!’

Raskolnikov was suddenly gripped by a kind of chill at this outrageous reply. Svidrigailov lifted his head, gave him a fixed look and suddenly roared with laughter.

‘But don't you see?’ he began to shout. ‘Only half an hour ago we hadn't yet clapped eyes on each other, we thought we were enemies, with some unfinished business to settle, but here we are, we've chucked the business out of the window and got ourselves into all this literary stuff! Well, I was speaking the truth, wasn't I, when I said we were birds of a feather?’

‘Look, do me a favour,’ Raskolnikov said, irritably. ‘Please spare me the explanations and tell me why you've honoured me with this visit… and… well… I'm in a hurry, I've no time, I want to go out…’

‘Why, certainly, certainly. Your sister, Avdotya Romanovna, is to marry Mr Luzhin – Pyotr Petrovich – isn't she?’

‘Will you kindly not talk about my sister, and refrain from mentioning her name. I quite honestly don't know how you can dare to utter it in my presence, if you really are Svidrigailov!’

‘But I mean, it's about her that I've come to talk to you – how can I avoid mentioning her name?’

‘Very well; speak, but make it quick!’

‘I'm certain that by now you will have formed your own opinion of this Mr Luzhin, who is a cousin of mine on my wife's side of the family, if you've so much as spent half an hour with him or even just heard a few of the hard and unquestionable facts about him. He's not a suitable match for Avdotya Romanovna. In the way I view this matter, Avdotya Romanovna is sacrificing herself in an utterly magnanimous and reckless fashion for the sake of… for the sake of her family. It struck me, after all I've heard about you, that you, too, might be glad if this marriage could be stopped from going ahead without your interests being harmed. Indeed, now that I've made your personal acquaintance, I feel positively confident of it.’

‘You know, you're being very innocent about all this; I'm sorry, I nearly said insolent,’ Raskolnikov said.

‘In other words, you mean I'm worried about my own pocket. Have no fear, Rodion Romanovich, if it was my own best interests I was worried about, I wouldn't be bringing all this out
in the open with you so directly, I'm not a complete fool, after all. On that score, allow me to reveal to you a certain psychological curiosity of mine. While justifying my love for Avdotya Romanovna to you a few moments ago, I said I myself was a victim. You may as well know that I don't feel any love at all now, n-none whatever, so that it actually seems strange to me now, as I mean I really did have certain feelings…’

‘Caused by idleness and lechery,’ Raskolnikov interrupted.

‘Yes, it's true, I'm a lecherous and an idle man. But actually, your sister possesses so many virtues that not even I could help succumbing to a certain – influence. But that was all nonsense, as now I myself realize.’

‘Have you realized it long?’

‘It's been with me for some time, the realization, but I finally made up my mind the day before yesterday, almost at the very moment I arrived in St Petersburg. Though even when I was in Moscow, I still thought I was making my journey with the object of winning the hand of Avdotya Romanovna, and saw Mr Luzhin as my rival.’

‘Look, excuse me interrupting you, but you'd really be doing me a favour if you'd cut the detail and get to the point about the purpose of your visit. I'm in a hurry, I must go out…’

‘With the greatest of pleasure. Since I'm now in town and have decided to undertake a certain…
voyage
, I am anxious to make a few essential arrangements in advance of my departure. My children have stayed behind with an aunt of theirs; they are not short of money; and I myself am not necessary to them. What kind of a father am I, in any case? For myself I have taken only what Marfa Petrovna gave me a year ago. That is sufficient for me. Please bear with me, I shall come to the point right away. Before my
voyage
, which may very well take place, I want to have done with Mr Luzhin. It's not that I find him so very unendurable, but rather that he was the cause of my quarrel with Marfa Petrovna, when I discovered she'd cooked up this marriage. What I want to do now is meet with Avdotya Romanovna, through your good agencies and even possibly in your presence, and explain to her that, in the first place, not only will she fail to obtain from Mr Luzhin the slightest advantage –
she will most certainly suffer manifest harm. Then, after I have asked her forgiveness for these recent disagreeable happenings, I should like to request her permission to offer her ten thousand roubles and thereby lessen the inconvenience of her break with Mr Luzhin, a break to which I am convinced she would not be averse, were but the opportunity to present itself.’

‘But you really
are
mad!’ Raskolnikov exclaimed, less in anger than surprise. ‘How dare you talk like that!’

‘I knew you'd hit the ceiling; but the first point to note here is that even though I'm not a wealthy man, I do have that ten thousand to spare, I mean, it's quite, quite superfluous to me. If Avdotya Romanovna won't accept it, I shall probably put it to some even more stupid use. That's point number one. Point number two is that my conscience is completely at rest; I make this offer without calculation of any kind. You may believe it or not, as you choose; all I can tell you is that sooner or later both you and Avdotya Romanovna will realize that it is so. The fact of the matter is that I really did cause your greatly respected sister a certain amount of trouble and unpleasantness; and thus, in the throes of sincere repentance, I genuinely wish – oh, not to buy myself out, to pay for the unpleasantness, but quite simply do something that is to her advantage, on the grounds that, well, I haven't assumed for myself the privilege of doing her nothing but harm. If there were in my offer even the millionth part of calculation, I should not be offering a mere ten thousand, when only five weeks ago I offered her more than that. There is, in addition, the possibility that in the very, very near future I shall marry a certain young lady, and if that does indeed come to pass then consequently all suspicion as to my making approaches to Avdotya Romanovna must inevitably be destroyed. In conclusion I would point out that by marrying Mr Luzhin, Avdotya Romanovna will be taking that same money, only from another side of the family… So don't be angry, Rodion Romanovich, think about it calmly and with composure.’