七月初，天氣特別熱的時候①，傍晚時分，有個年輕人走出他在C鬍同嚮二房東租來的那間鬥室，來到街上，然後慢騰騰地，仿佛猶豫不决地往K橋那邊走去。
他順利地避開了在樓梯上與自己的女房東相遇。他那間鬥室是一幢高高的五層樓房②的頂間，就在房頂底下，與其說像間住房，倒不如說更像個大櫥。他嚮女房東租了這間供給伙食、而且有女僕侍候的鬥室，女房東就住在他樓下一套單獨的住房裏，他每次外出，都一定得打女房東的廚房門前經過，而廚房門幾乎總是衝着樓梯大敞着。每次這個年輕人從一旁走過的時候，都有一種病態的膽怯的感覺，他為此感到羞愧，於是皺起眉頭。他欠了女房東一身債，怕和她見面。
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①據作者說，小說中的故事發生在一八六五年，小說中沒有明確說明年份，但有些地方曾有所暗示，這句話就是其中之一——一八六五年夏天天氣特別熱。
②一八六六年作者寫這部小說的時候，自己就住在小市民街、木匠鬍同一幢類似的房子裏。
倒不是說他是那麽膽小和怯懦，甚至完全相反；但從某個時期以來，他一直處於一種很容易激動和緊張的狀態。患了多疑癥。他是那樣經常陷入沉思，離群索居，甚至害怕見到任何人，而不單單是怕與女房東見面。他讓貧窮給壓垮了；但最近一個時期就連窘迫的處境也已不再使他感到苦惱。絶對必須的事情他已經不再去做，也不想做。其實，什麽女房東他都不怕，不管她打算怎樣跟他過不去。然而站在樓梯上，聽這些與他毫不相幹的日常生活中雞毛蒜皮之類瑣事的種種廢話，聽所有這些糾纏不休的討債，威脅，抱怨，自己卻要盡力設法擺脫，道歉，撒謊，——不，最好還是想個辦法像貓兒樣從樓梯上悄悄地過去，偷偷溜掉，讓誰也別看見他。
可是這一次，到了街上以後，那種怕遇到女債主的恐懼心理，就連他自己也感到驚訝。
“我正要下决心做一件什麽樣的事情啊，但卻害怕一些微不足道的瑣事！”他想，臉上露出奇怪的微笑。“嗯……是的……事在人為嘛，他卻僅僅由於膽怯而錯過一切……這可是明顯的道理……真有意思，人們最害怕什麽呢？他們最害怕邁出新的一步，最害怕自己的新想法……不過，我說空話說得太多了。因為我盡說空話，所以什麽也不做。不過，大概也可能是這樣：由於我什麽也不做，所以纔盡說空話。我是在最近一個月裏學會說空話的，整天躺在一個角落裏，想啊……想入非非。嗯，現在我去幹什麽？難道我能去幹這個嗎？難道這是當真？絶對不是當真的。就是這樣，為了夢想，自己在哄自己；兒戲！對了，大概是兒戲！”
街上熱得可怕，而且氣悶，擁擠不堪，到處都是石灰漿、腳手架、磚頭，灰塵，還有那種夏天的特殊臭氣。每個無法租一座別墅的彼得堡人都那麽熟悉的那種臭氣，——所有這一切一下子就令人不快地震撼了這個青年人本已很不正常的神經。在城市的這一部分，小酒館特別多，從這些小酒館裏冒出的臭氣，還有那些儘管是在工作時間，卻不斷碰到的醉鬼，給這幅街景添上了最後一筆令人厭惡的憂鬱色彩。有一瞬間，極端厭惡的神情在這個青年人清秀的面龐上忽然一閃。順便說一聲，他生得很美，有一雙漂亮的黑眼睛，一頭褐色的頭髮，比中等身材還高一些，消瘦而身材勻稱。但不久他就仿佛陷入沉思，甚至，說得更確切些，似乎是想出了神，他往前走去，已經不註意周圍的一切，而且也不想註意。他衹是偶爾喃喃自語，這是由於他有自言自語的習慣，對這一習慣，現在他已經暗自承認了。這時他自己也意識到，他的思想有時是混亂的，而且他十分虛弱：已經有一天多他幾乎什麽也沒吃了。
他穿得那麽差，如果換一個人，即使是對此已經習以為常的人，衣衫如此襤褸，白天上街也會感到不好意思。不過這街區就是這樣的，在這兒衣著很難讓人感到驚訝。這兒靠近幹草廣場①，妓院比比皆是，而且麇集在彼得堡市中心這些大街小巷裏的居民，主要是那些在車間幹活的工人和手工業工匠，因此有時在這兒就是會遇到這樣一些人，使這兒的街景顯得更加豐富多采，如果碰到一個這樣的人就感到驚訝，那倒反而是怪事了。這個年輕人心裏已經積聚了那麽多憤懣不平的怒火，他蔑視一切，所以儘管他有青年人特有的愛面子心理，有時非常註意細節，可是穿着這身破爛兒外出，卻絲毫也不覺得不好意思。要是遇見他根本就不願碰到的某些熟人和以前的同學，那就是另一回事了……然而有個喝得醉醺醺的人，不知為什麽在這時候坐在一輛大車上打街上經過，車上套着一匹拉車的高頭大馬，也不知是要把他送往哪裏去，這醉鬼從一旁駛過的時候，突然對着他大喊一聲：“噯，你呀，德國做帽子的工人！”那人用手指着他，扯着嗓子大喊，年輕人突然站住，急忙抓住了自己的帽子。這頂高筒圓帽是從齊梅爾曼②帽店裏買的，不過已經戴得十分破舊，顔色都褪盡了，到處都是破洞和污跡，沒有寬帽檐，帽筒歪到了一邊，上面折出一個怪難看的角來。但不是羞愧，而完全是另一種，甚至是一種類似恐懼的感覺突然嚮他襲來。
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①彼得堡最大的市場就在幹草廣場上。
②齊梅爾曼是當時彼得堡一傢製帽工廠和涅瓦大街上一傢帽店的老闆。
“我就知道！”他驚恐不安地喃喃說，“我就這麽考慮過！這可是最糟糕的了！真的，不管什麽樣的蠢事，不管什麽不起眼的細節，都會破壞整個計劃！是啊，帽子太容易讓人記住了……可笑，因此就容易讓人記住……我這身破爛兒一定得配一頂製帽，哪怕是一頂煎餅式的舊帽子也行，可不能戴這個難看的怪玩意兒。誰也不戴這樣的帽子，一俄裏①以外就會讓人註意到，就會記住的……主要的是，以後會想起來，瞧，這就是罪證。這兒需要盡可能不惹人註意……細節，主要是細節！……就是這些細節，總是會出問題，毀掉一切……”
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①一俄裏等於一·○六公裏。
他用不着走多遠；他甚至知道，從他那幢房子的大門出來要走多少步：整整七百三十步。有一次他幻想得完全出了神的時候，曾經數過。那時他還不相信自己的這些幻想，他所幻想的這些雖說是沒有道理，然而卻是十分誘人的大膽計劃，衹是會惹他生氣。現在，過了一個月以後，他已經開始以另一種眼光來看待這一切了，儘管他總是自言自語，嘲笑自己無能和優柔寡斷，卻不知怎麽甚至不由自主地已經習慣於把這“沒有道理”的幻想看作一項事業了，雖說他仍然不相信自己。現在他甚至要去為完成自己的這一事業進行試探，每走一步，他的激動不安也越來越強烈了。
他心情緊張，神經顫慄，走到一幢很大的大房子前，房子的一堵墻對着運河，另一面墻衝着×街。這幢大房子分作一套套不大的住宅，裏面住滿了各行各業的手藝人——裁縫、小爐匠、廚娘，形形色色的德國人，妓女，小官吏，以及其他行業的人。進進出出的人就這樣在房子的兩道大門和兩個院子裏匆匆走過。這兒有三個、要麽是四個管院子的。那個年輕人沒碰到他們當中的任何一個，立刻無人察覺地溜進大門，往右一拐，溜上了樓梯，因此他感到非常滿意。樓梯又暗，又窄，是“後樓梯”，但是他對這一切都已經瞭解，而且察看過了，對這整個環境他都十分喜歡：在這樣的黑暗中，就連好奇的目光也並不危險。“要是這時候我就這麽害怕，說不定什麽時候，如果真的要去幹那件事的話，又會怎樣呢？……”上四樓的時候，他不由得想。幾個當搬運工的退伍士兵在這裏擋住了他的路，他們正從一套住宅裏往外搬傢具。以前他已經知道，這套住宅裏住着一個帶傢眷的德國人，是個官吏：“這麽說，這個德國人現在搬走了，因而四層樓上，這道樓梯和這個樓梯平臺上，在一段時間裏就衹剩下老太婆的住宅裏還住着人。這好極了……以防萬一……”他又想，並且拉了拉老太婆住房的門鈴。門鈴響聲很輕，好像鈴不是銅的，而是用白鐵做的。這樣的樓房中一套套這種不大的住宅裏，幾乎都是裝着這樣的門鈴。他已經忘記了這小鈴鐺的響聲，現在這很特別的響聲突然讓他想起了什麽，並清清楚楚地想象……他猛地顫慄了一下，這一次神經真是太脆弱了。稍過了一會兒，房門開了很小一道縫：住在裏面的那個女人帶着明顯不信任的神情從門縫裏細細打量來人，衹能看到她那雙在黑暗中閃閃發亮的小眼睛。但是看到樓梯平臺上有不少人，她膽壯起來，於是把房門完全打開了。年輕人跨過門坎，走進用隔板隔開的前室，隔板後面是一間很小的廚房。老太婆默默地站在他面前，疑問地註視着他。這是一個幹癟的小老太婆，六十來歲，有一雙目光銳利、神情兇惡的小眼睛，尖尖的小鼻子，光着頭，沒包頭巾。她那像雞腿樣細長的脖子上纏着一塊法蘭絨破圍巾，別看天熱，肩上還披着一件穿得十分破舊、已經發黃的毛皮女短上衣。老太婆一刻不停地咳嗽，發出呼哧呼哧的聲音。想必是年輕人用異樣的眼光看了她一眼，因而先前那種不信任的神情突然又在她眼睛裏忽地一閃。
“拉斯科利尼科夫，大學生，一個月以前來過您這兒，”年輕人急忙含含糊糊地說，並且微微鞠躬行禮，因為他想起，應該客氣一些。
“我記得，先生，記得很清楚，您來過，”老太婆清清楚楚地說，仍然沒把自己疑問的目光從他臉上移開。
“那麽……又是為這事來的……”拉斯科利尼科夫接着說，稍有點兒窘，並且為老太婆的不信任感到詫異。
“不過，也許她一嚮都是這樣，我那一次卻沒有註意，”他懷着不愉快的心情想。
老太婆沉默了一會兒，仿佛在考慮，隨後退到一邊，指指房間的門，讓客人到前面去，並且說：
“請進，先生。”
年輕人進去的那間房間並不大，墻上糊着黃色的墻紙，屋裏擺着天竺葵，窗上挂着細紗窗簾，這時落日的餘暉把屋裏照得亮堂堂的。“這麽說，那時候，太陽也會像這樣照着！……”這想法仿佛無意中掠過拉斯科利尼科夫的腦海，於是他用目光匆匆打量了一下屋裏的一切，想盡可能瞭解並記住屋裏的佈局。不過屋裏並沒有任何特殊的東西。傢具都很舊了，都是黃木做的：一張有老大的彎木靠背的沙發，沙發前擺一張橢圓形的圓桌，窗和門之間的墻上有個帶鏡子的梳妝臺，沿墻放着幾把椅子，還有兩三幅毫無價值的圖畫，都裝在黃色的畫框裏，上面畫着幾個手裏拿着小鳥的德國小姐，——這就是全部傢具。墻角落裏，不大的神像前點着神燈。一切都很幹淨：傢具和地板都擦得發亮；一切都閃閃發光。“莉紮薇塔做的，”年輕人想。整套住宅裏纖塵不染。“兇惡的老寡婦傢裏纔會這麽幹淨，”拉斯科利尼科夫繼續暗自思忖，並且好奇地斜着眼睛瞟了瞟第二間小房間門前的印花布門簾，那間屋裏擺着老太婆的床和一個抽屜櫃，他還一次也沒朝那屋裏看過。整套住宅就衹有這兩間房間。
“有什麽事啊？”老太婆走進屋來，嚴厲地說，仍然正對着他站着，這樣可以直瞅着他的臉。
“我拿了一件抵押品來，您瞧，這就是！”說着他從衣袋裏掏出一塊扁平的舊銀表。表的背面刻着一個地球儀。表鏈是鋼的。
“要知道，上次抵押的東西已經到期了。還在前天就超過一個月了。”
“我再給您一個月的利息；請您寬限一下。”
“先生，寬限幾天，還是這會兒就把您的東西賣掉，這都得由我决定。”
“表可以當多少錢，阿廖娜·伊萬諾芙娜？”
“先生，你盡拿些不值錢的東西來，差不多一文不值。上次那個戒指給了您兩個盧布，可在首飾商那兒，花一個半盧布就能買個新的。”
“請給我四個盧布吧，我一定來贖，是我父親的。我很快就會得到錢了。”
“一個半盧布，利息先付，要是您願意的話。”
“一個半盧布！”年輕人叫了起來。
“隨您便。”說着老太婆把表遞還給他。年輕人接過表來，感到那樣氣憤，已經想要走了；但立刻又改了主意，因為他想起，再也無處可去，而且他來這兒還有旁的目的。
“拿來吧！”他粗暴地說。
老太婆伸手到衣袋裏去掏鑰匙，然後走進門簾後面另一間屋裏。衹剩下年輕人獨自一人站在房屋中間，好奇地側耳諦聽，暗自猜測。可以聽到她打開了抽屜櫃。“大概是上面的抽屜，”他猜測。“這麽說，她是把鑰匙裝在右邊口袋裏……全都串成一串，串在一個鋼圈兒上……那兒有一把最大的鑰匙，有旁的三倍大，帶鋸齒，當然不是開抽屜櫃的……可見還有一個小匣子，要麽是個小箱子……瞧，這真有意思。小箱子都是用這樣的鑰匙……不過，這一切多麽卑鄙……”
老太婆回來了。
“您瞧，先生：既然一個盧布一個月的利息是十個戈比，那麽一個半盧布該收您十五個戈比，先付一個月的利息。上次那兩個盧布也照這樣計算，該先收您二十戈比。這麽說，總共是三十五戈比。現在您這塊表，總共還該給您一盧布十五戈比。這不是，請收下吧。”
“怎麽！現在就衹有一盧布十五戈比了！”
“正是這樣。”
年輕人沒有爭論，接過了錢。他瞅着老太婆，並不急於出去，似乎他還想說點兒什麽，要麽是做點兒什麽，但好像他自己也不知道，到底要幹什麽……
“阿廖娜·伊萬諾芙娜，也許，就在這幾天裏，我還要給您拿一樣東西來……銀的……很精緻的……煙盒……衹等我從朋友那裏取回來……”他發窘了，於是住了聲。
“好，到那時再說吧，先生。”
“再見……您總是一個人在傢？妹妹不在嗎？”他到前室去的時候，盡可能隨隨便便地問。
“先生，您問她幹什麽？”
“啊，沒什麽。我不過這麽問問。您現在真是……阿廖娜·伊萬諾芙娜！”
拉斯科利尼科夫從屋裏出來時已經十分心慌意亂。這不安的心情越來越強烈了。下樓時他甚至有好幾次停了下來，仿佛有什麽事情使他突然吃了一驚。最後，已經到了街上的時候，他激動地說：
“噢，天哪！這一切多麽令人厭惡！難道，難道我……不！這是無稽之談，這是荒謬絶倫！”他毅然决然地加上幾句。
“難道我的頭腦裏會出現這樣可怕的想法？我的良心竟能允許幹這種骯髒的事情！主要的是：骯髒，卑污，惡劣，惡劣！……
而我，整整一個月……”
但是他既不能用言詞、也不能用感嘆來表達自己的激動與不安。還在他剛剛去老太婆那兒的時候就開始使他感到壓抑和不安的極端厭惡的心情，現在已經達到這種程度，而且變得十分明顯，以致他不知該躲到哪裏去，才能逃避自己的憂愁。他像喝醉了似地在人行道上走着，看不見路上的行人，老是會撞到他們，清醒過來的時候，已經到了另一條街上。他環顧四周，發覺自己站在一傢小酒館旁，要進酒館，得從人行道順着樓梯往下，到地下室去。就在這時，恰好從門裏走出兩個醉醺醺的人來，他們互相攙扶着，嘴裏不幹不淨地駡着，順着樓梯爬到街上。拉斯科利尼科夫沒想多久，立刻就下去了。在此以前他從未進過酒館，但是現在他感到頭昏，加以火燒火燎的幹渴正在折磨着他。他想喝點兒冰冷的啤酒，而且他把自己突然感到的虛弱歸咎於饑餓。他坐到又暗又髒的角落裏一張發黏的小桌旁邊，要了啤酒，貪婪地喝幹了第一杯。立刻一切都消失了，他的思想也清晰了。“這一切都是鬍說八道，”他滿懷希望地說，“這兒沒有什麽可以感到不安的！衹不過是身體不舒服，是一種病態！衹要一杯啤酒，一小塊幹面包，——瞧，轉瞬間就變得堅強起來，思想清楚了，意嚮也堅定了！呸！這一切是多麽微不足道！……”但儘管他輕衊地啐了一口唾沫，他卻已經高興起來，仿佛突然擺脫了某種可怕的沉重負擔，並且目光友好地掃視了一下在座的人。不過就是在這時候，他也隱隱約約預感到，這種一切都往好處想的樂觀態度也是一種病態。
這時小酒館裏剩下的人已經不多了。除了在樓梯上碰到過的那兩個醉鬼，又有吵吵嚷嚷的一群人跟着他們走了出去，他們這一夥約摸有五、六個人，其中有一個姑娘，還帶着一架手風琴。他們走了以後，變得靜悄悄、空蕩蕩的。剩下的人中有一個已經醉了，不過醉得並不厲害，坐在擺着啤酒的桌邊，看樣子是個小市民；他的同伴是個胖子，身材魁梧，穿一件竪領打褶的細腰短呢上衣，蓄一部花白的大鬍子，已經喝得酩酊大醉，正坐在長凳上打瞌睡，有時突然似乎半睡半醒，伸開雙手，開始用手指打榧子，他並沒有從長凳上站起來，上身卻不時往上動一動，而且在胡亂哼着一首什麽歌麯，竭力想記起歌詞，好像是：
整整一年我和妻子親親熱熱，
整——整一年我和妻——子親親——熱熱……
要麽是突然醒來，又唱道：
我去波季亞契大街閑逛，
找到了自己從前的婆娘……
但誰也不分享他的幸福；他那個沉默寡言的夥伴對這些感情爆發甚至抱有敵意，而且持懷疑態度。那兒還有一個人，看樣子好像是個退職的官吏。他面對自己的酒杯，單獨坐在一張桌子旁邊，有時喝一口酒，並嚮四周看看。他似乎也有點兒激動不安。
He had successfully avoided meeting his landlady on the staircase. His garret was under the roof of a high, five-storied house and was more like a cupboard than a room. The landlady who provided him with garret, dinners, and attendance, lived on the floor below, and every time he went out he was obliged to pass her kitchen, the door of which invariably stood open. And each time he passed, the young man had a sick, frightened feeling, which made him scowl and feel ashamed. He was hopelessly in debt to his landlady, and was afraid of meeting her.
This was not because he was cowardly and abject, quite the contrary; but for some time past he had been in an overstrained irritable condition, verging on hypochondria. He had become so completely absorbed in himself, and isolated from his fellows that he dreaded meeting, not only his landlady, but anyone at all. He was crushed by poverty, but the anxieties of his position had of late ceased to weigh upon him. He had given up attending to matters of practical importance; he had lost all desire to do so. Nothing that any landlady could do had a real terror for him. But to be stopped on the stairs, to be forced to listen to her trivial, irrelevant gossip, to pestering demands for payment, threats and complaints, and to rack his brains for excuses, to prevaricate, to lie--no, rather than that, he would creep down the stairs like a cat and slip out unseen.
This evening, however, on coming out into the street, he became acutely aware of his fears.
"I want to attempt a thing /like that/ and am frightened by these trifles," he thought, with an odd smile. "Hm . . . yes, all is in a man's hands and he lets it all slip from cowardice, that's an axiom. It would be interesting to know what it is men are most afraid of. Taking a new step, uttering a new word is what they fear most. . . . But I am talking too much. It's because I chatter that I do nothing. Or perhaps it is that I chatter because I do nothing. I've learned to chatter this last month, lying for days together in my den thinking . . . of Jack the Giant-killer. Why am I going there now? Am I capable of /that/? Is /that/ serious? It is not serious at all. It's simply a fantasy to amuse myself; a plaything! Yes, maybe it is a plaything."
The heat in the street was terrible: and the airlessness, the bustle and the plaster, scaffolding, bricks, and dust all about him, and that special Petersburg stench, so familiar to all who are unable to get out of town in summer--all worked painfully upon the young man's already overwrought nerves. The insufferable stench from the pot- houses, which are particularly numerous in that part of the town, and the drunken men whom he met continually, although it was a working day, completed the revolting misery of the picture. An expression of the profoundest disgust gleamed for a moment in the young man's refined face. He was, by the way, exceptionally handsome, above the average in height, slim, well-built, with beautiful dark eyes and dark brown hair. Soon he sank into deep thought, or more accurately speaking into a complete blankness of mind; he walked along not observing what was about him and not caring to observe it. From time to time, he would mutter something, from the habit of talking to himself, to which he had just confessed. At these moments he would become conscious that his ideas were sometimes in a tangle and that he was very weak; for two days he had scarcely tasted food.
He was so badly dressed that even a man accustomed to shabbiness would have been ashamed to be seen in the street in such rags. In that quarter of the town, however, scarcely any shortcoming in dress would have created surprise. Owing to the proximity of the Hay Market, the number of establishments of bad character, the preponderance of the trading and working class population crowded in these streets and alleys in the heart of Petersburg, types so various were to be seen in the streets that no figure, however queer, would have caused surprise. But there was such accumulated bitterness and contempt in the young man's heart, that, in spite of all the fastidiousness of youth, he minded his rags least of all in the street. It was a different matter when he met with acquaintances or with former fellow students, whom, indeed, he disliked meeting at any time. And yet when a drunken man who, for some unknown reason, was being taken somewhere in a huge waggon dragged by a heavy dray horse, suddenly shouted at him as he drove past: "Hey there, German hatter" bawling at the top of his voice and pointing at him--the young man stopped suddenly and clutched tremulously at his hat. It was a tall round hat from Zimmerman's, but completely worn out, rusty with age, all torn and bespattered, brimless and bent on one side in a most unseemly fashion. Not shame, however, but quite another feeling akin to terror had overtaken him.
"I knew it," he muttered in confusion, "I thought so! That's the worst of all! Why, a stupid thing like this, the most trivial detail might spoil the whole plan. Yes, my hat is too noticeable. . . . It looks absurd and that makes it noticeable. . . . With my rags I ought to wear a cap, any sort of old pancake, but not this grotesque thing. Nobody wears such a hat, it would be noticed a mile off, it would be remembered. . . . What matters is that people would remember it, and that would give them a clue. For this business one should be as little conspicuous as possible. . . . Trifles, trifles are what matter! Why, it's just such trifles that always ruin everything. . . ."
He had not far to go; he knew indeed how many steps it was from the gate of his lodging house: exactly seven hundred and thirty. He had counted them once when he had been lost in dreams. At the time he had put no faith in those dreams and was only tantalising himself by their hideous but daring recklessness. Now, a month later, he had begun to look upon them differently, and, in spite of the monologues in which he jeered at his own impotence and indecision, he had involuntarily come to regard this "hideous" dream as an exploit to be attempted, although he still did not realise this himself. He was positively going now for a "rehearsal" of his project, and at every step his excitement grew more and more violent.
With a sinking heart and a nervous tremor, he went up to a huge house which on one side looked on to the canal, and on the other into the street. This house was let out in tiny tenements and was inhabited by working people of all kinds--tailors, locksmiths, cooks, Germans of sorts, girls picking up a living as best they could, petty clerks, etc. There was a continual coming and going through the two gates and in the two courtyards of the house. Three or four door-keepers were employed on the building. The young man was very glad to meet none of them, and at once slipped unnoticed through the door on the right, and up the staircase. It was a back staircase, dark and narrow, but he was familiar with it already, and knew his way, and he liked all these surroundings: in such darkness even the most inquisitive eyes were not to be dreaded.
"If I am so scared now, what would it be if it somehow came to pass that I were really going to do it?" he could not help asking himself as he reached the fourth storey. There his progress was barred by some porters who were engaged in moving furniture out of a flat. He knew that the flat had been occupied by a German clerk in the civil service, and his family. This German was moving out then, and so the fourth floor on this staircase would be untenanted except by the old woman. "That's a good thing anyway," he thought to himself, as he rang the bell of the old woman's flat. The bell gave a faint tinkle as though it were made of tin and not of copper. The little flats in such houses always have bells that ring like that. He had forgotten the note of that bell, and now its peculiar tinkle seemed to remind him of something and to bring it clearly before him. . . . He started, his nerves were terribly overstrained by now. In a little while, the door was opened a tiny crack: the old woman eyed her visitor with evident distrust through the crack, and nothing could be seen but her little eyes, glittering in the darkness. But, seeing a number of people on the landing, she grew bolder, and opened the door wide. The young man stepped into the dark entry, which was partitioned off from the tiny kitchen. The old woman stood facing him in silence and looking inquiringly at him. She was a diminutive, withered up old woman of sixty, with sharp malignant eyes and a sharp little nose. Her colourless, somewhat grizzled hair was thickly smeared with oil, and she wore no kerchief over it. Round her thin long neck, which looked like a hen's leg, was knotted some sort of flannel rag, and, in spite of the heat, there hung flapping on her shoulders, a mangy fur cape, yellow with age. The old woman coughed and groaned at every instant. The young man must have looked at her with a rather peculiar expression, for a gleam of mistrust came into her eyes again.
"Raskolnikov, a student, I came here a month ago," the young man made haste to mutter, with a half bow, remembering that he ought to be more polite.
"I remember, my good sir, I remember quite well your coming here," the old woman said distinctly, still keeping her inquiring eyes on his face.
"And here . . . I am again on the same errand," Raskolnikov continued, a little disconcerted and surprised at the old woman's mistrust. "Perhaps she is always like that though, only I did not notice it the other time," he thought with an uneasy feeling.
The old woman paused, as though hesitating; then stepped on one side, and pointing to the door of the room, she said, letting her visitor pass in front of her:
"Step in, my good sir."
The little room into which the young man walked, with yellow paper on the walls, geraniums and muslin curtains in the windows, was brightly lighted up at that moment by the setting sun.
"So the sun will shine like this /then/ too!" flashed as it were by chance through Raskolnikov's mind, and with a rapid glance he scanned everything in the room, trying as far as possible to notice and remember its arrangement. But there was nothing special in the room. The furniture, all very old and of yellow wood, consisted of a sofa with a huge bent wooden back, an oval table in front of the sofa, a dressing-table with a looking-glass fixed on it between the windows, chairs along the walls and two or three half-penny prints in yellow frames, representing German damsels with birds in their hands--that was all. In the corner a light was burning before a small ikon. Everything was very clean; the floor and the furniture were brightly polished; everything shone.
"Lizaveta's work," thought the young man. There was not a speck of dust to be seen in the whole flat.
"It's in the houses of spiteful old widows that one finds such cleanliness," Raskolnikov thought again, and he stole a curious glance at the cotton curtain over the door leading into another tiny room, in which stood the old woman's bed and chest of drawers and into which he had never looked before. These two rooms made up the whole flat.
"What do you want?" the old woman said severely, coming into the room and, as before, standing in front of him so as to look him straight in the face.
"I've brought something to pawn here," and he drew out of his pocket an old-fashioned flat silver watch, on the back of which was engraved a globe; the chain was of steel.
"But the time is up for your last pledge. The month was up the day before yesterday."
"I will bring you the interest for another month; wait a little."
"But that's for me to do as I please, my good sir, to wait or to sell your pledge at once."
"How much will you give me for the watch, Alyona Ivanovna?"
"You come with such trifles, my good sir, it's scarcely worth anything. I gave you two roubles last time for your ring and one could buy it quite new at a jeweler's for a rouble and a half."
"Give me four roubles for it, I shall redeem it, it was my father's. I shall be getting some money soon."
"A rouble and a half, and interest in advance, if you like!"
"A rouble and a half!" cried the young man.
"Please yourself"--and the old woman handed him back the watch. The young man took it, and was so angry that he was on the point of going away; but checked himself at once, remembering that there was nowhere else he could go, and that he had had another object also in coming.
"Hand it over," he said roughly.
The old woman fumbled in her pocket for her keys, and disappeared behind the curtain into the other room. The young man, left standing alone in the middle of the room, listened inquisitively, thinking. He could hear her unlocking the chest of drawers.
"It must be the top drawer," he reflected. "So she carries the keys in a pocket on the right. All in one bunch on a steel ring. . . . And there's one key there, three times as big as all the others, with deep notches; that can't be the key of the chest of drawers . . . then there must be some other chest or strong-box . . . that's worth knowing. Strong-boxes always have keys like that . . . but how degrading it all is."
The old woman came back.
"Here, sir: as we say ten copecks the rouble a month, so I must take fifteen copecks from a rouble and a half for the month in advance. But for the two roubles I lent you before, you owe me now twenty copecks on the same reckoning in advance. That makes thirty-five copecks altogether. So I must give you a rouble and fifteen copecks for the watch. Here it is."
"What! only a rouble and fifteen copecks now!"
"Just so."
The young man did not dispute it and took the money. He looked at the old woman, and was in no hurry to get away, as though there was still something he wanted to say or to do, but he did not himself quite know what.
"I may be bringing you something else in a day or two, Alyona Ivanovna --a valuable thing--silver--a cigarette-box, as soon as I get it back from a friend . . ." he broke off in confusion.
"Well, we will talk about it then, sir."
"Good-bye--are you always at home alone, your sister is not here with you?" He asked her as casually as possible as he went out into the passage.
"What business is she of yours, my good sir?"
"Oh, nothing particular, I simply asked. You are too quick. . . . Good-day, Alyona Ivanovna."
Raskolnikov went out in complete confusion. This confusion became more and more intense. As he went down the stairs, he even stopped short, two or three times, as though suddenly struck by some thought. When he was in the street he cried out, "Oh, God, how loathsome it all is! and can I, can I possibly. . . . No, it's nonsense, it's rubbish!" he added resolutely. "And how could such an atrocious thing come into my head? What filthy things my heart is capable of. Yes, filthy above all, disgusting, loathsome, loathsome!--and for a whole month I've been. . . ." But no words, no exclamations, could express his agitation. The feeling of intense repulsion, which had begun to oppress and torture his heart while he was on his way to the old woman, had by now reached such a pitch and had taken such a definite form that he did not know what to do with himself to escape from his wretchedness. He walked along the pavement like a drunken man, regardless of the passers-by, and jostling against them, and only came to his senses when he was in the next street. Looking round, he noticed that he was standing close to a tavern which was entered by steps leading from the pavement to the basement. At that instant two drunken men came out at the door, and abusing and supporting one another, they mounted the steps. Without stopping to think, Raskolnikov went down the steps at once. Till that moment he had never been into a tavern, but now he felt giddy and was tormented by a burning thirst. He longed for a drink of cold beer, and attributed his sudden weakness to the want of food. He sat down at a sticky little table in a dark and dirty corner; ordered some beer, and eagerly drank off the first glassful. At once he felt easier; and his thoughts became clear.
"All that's nonsense," he said hopefully, "and there is nothing in it all to worry about! It's simply physical derangement. Just a glass of beer, a piece of dry bread--and in one moment the brain is stronger, the mind is clearer and the will is firm! Phew, how utterly petty it all is!"
But in spite of this scornful reflection, he was by now looking cheerful as though he were suddenly set free from a terrible burden: and he gazed round in a friendly way at the people in the room. But even at that moment he had a dim foreboding that this happier frame of mind was also not normal.
There were few people at the time in the tavern. Besides the two drunken men he had met on the steps, a group consisting of about five men and a girl with a concertina had gone out at the same time. Their departure left the room quiet and rather empty. The persons still in the tavern were a man who appeared to be an artisan, drunk, but not extremely so, sitting before a pot of beer, and his companion, a huge, stout man with a grey beard, in a short full-skirted coat. He was very drunk: and had dropped asleep on the bench; every now and then, he began as though in his sleep, cracking his fingers, with his arms wide apart and the upper part of his body bounding about on the bench, while he hummed some meaningless refrain, trying to recall some such lines as these:
"His wife a year he fondly loved His wife a--a year he--fondly loved."
Or suddenly waking up again:
"Walking along the crowded row He met the one he used to know."
But no one shared his enjoyment: his silent companion looked with positive hostility and mistrust at all these manifestations. There was another man in the room who looked somewhat like a retired government clerk. He was sitting apart, now and then sipping from his pot and looking round at the company. He, too, appeared to be in some agitation.
他順利地避開了在樓梯上與自己的女房東相遇。他那間鬥室是一幢高高的五層樓房②的頂間，就在房頂底下，與其說像間住房，倒不如說更像個大櫥。他嚮女房東租了這間供給伙食、而且有女僕侍候的鬥室，女房東就住在他樓下一套單獨的住房裏，他每次外出，都一定得打女房東的廚房門前經過，而廚房門幾乎總是衝着樓梯大敞着。每次這個年輕人從一旁走過的時候，都有一種病態的膽怯的感覺，他為此感到羞愧，於是皺起眉頭。他欠了女房東一身債，怕和她見面。
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①據作者說，小說中的故事發生在一八六五年，小說中沒有明確說明年份，但有些地方曾有所暗示，這句話就是其中之一——一八六五年夏天天氣特別熱。
②一八六六年作者寫這部小說的時候，自己就住在小市民街、木匠鬍同一幢類似的房子裏。
倒不是說他是那麽膽小和怯懦，甚至完全相反；但從某個時期以來，他一直處於一種很容易激動和緊張的狀態。患了多疑癥。他是那樣經常陷入沉思，離群索居，甚至害怕見到任何人，而不單單是怕與女房東見面。他讓貧窮給壓垮了；但最近一個時期就連窘迫的處境也已不再使他感到苦惱。絶對必須的事情他已經不再去做，也不想做。其實，什麽女房東他都不怕，不管她打算怎樣跟他過不去。然而站在樓梯上，聽這些與他毫不相幹的日常生活中雞毛蒜皮之類瑣事的種種廢話，聽所有這些糾纏不休的討債，威脅，抱怨，自己卻要盡力設法擺脫，道歉，撒謊，——不，最好還是想個辦法像貓兒樣從樓梯上悄悄地過去，偷偷溜掉，讓誰也別看見他。
可是這一次，到了街上以後，那種怕遇到女債主的恐懼心理，就連他自己也感到驚訝。
“我正要下决心做一件什麽樣的事情啊，但卻害怕一些微不足道的瑣事！”他想，臉上露出奇怪的微笑。“嗯……是的……事在人為嘛，他卻僅僅由於膽怯而錯過一切……這可是明顯的道理……真有意思，人們最害怕什麽呢？他們最害怕邁出新的一步，最害怕自己的新想法……不過，我說空話說得太多了。因為我盡說空話，所以什麽也不做。不過，大概也可能是這樣：由於我什麽也不做，所以纔盡說空話。我是在最近一個月裏學會說空話的，整天躺在一個角落裏，想啊……想入非非。嗯，現在我去幹什麽？難道我能去幹這個嗎？難道這是當真？絶對不是當真的。就是這樣，為了夢想，自己在哄自己；兒戲！對了，大概是兒戲！”
街上熱得可怕，而且氣悶，擁擠不堪，到處都是石灰漿、腳手架、磚頭，灰塵，還有那種夏天的特殊臭氣。每個無法租一座別墅的彼得堡人都那麽熟悉的那種臭氣，——所有這一切一下子就令人不快地震撼了這個青年人本已很不正常的神經。在城市的這一部分，小酒館特別多，從這些小酒館裏冒出的臭氣，還有那些儘管是在工作時間，卻不斷碰到的醉鬼，給這幅街景添上了最後一筆令人厭惡的憂鬱色彩。有一瞬間，極端厭惡的神情在這個青年人清秀的面龐上忽然一閃。順便說一聲，他生得很美，有一雙漂亮的黑眼睛，一頭褐色的頭髮，比中等身材還高一些，消瘦而身材勻稱。但不久他就仿佛陷入沉思，甚至，說得更確切些，似乎是想出了神，他往前走去，已經不註意周圍的一切，而且也不想註意。他衹是偶爾喃喃自語，這是由於他有自言自語的習慣，對這一習慣，現在他已經暗自承認了。這時他自己也意識到，他的思想有時是混亂的，而且他十分虛弱：已經有一天多他幾乎什麽也沒吃了。
他穿得那麽差，如果換一個人，即使是對此已經習以為常的人，衣衫如此襤褸，白天上街也會感到不好意思。不過這街區就是這樣的，在這兒衣著很難讓人感到驚訝。這兒靠近幹草廣場①，妓院比比皆是，而且麇集在彼得堡市中心這些大街小巷裏的居民，主要是那些在車間幹活的工人和手工業工匠，因此有時在這兒就是會遇到這樣一些人，使這兒的街景顯得更加豐富多采，如果碰到一個這樣的人就感到驚訝，那倒反而是怪事了。這個年輕人心裏已經積聚了那麽多憤懣不平的怒火，他蔑視一切，所以儘管他有青年人特有的愛面子心理，有時非常註意細節，可是穿着這身破爛兒外出，卻絲毫也不覺得不好意思。要是遇見他根本就不願碰到的某些熟人和以前的同學，那就是另一回事了……然而有個喝得醉醺醺的人，不知為什麽在這時候坐在一輛大車上打街上經過，車上套着一匹拉車的高頭大馬，也不知是要把他送往哪裏去，這醉鬼從一旁駛過的時候，突然對着他大喊一聲：“噯，你呀，德國做帽子的工人！”那人用手指着他，扯着嗓子大喊，年輕人突然站住，急忙抓住了自己的帽子。這頂高筒圓帽是從齊梅爾曼②帽店裏買的，不過已經戴得十分破舊，顔色都褪盡了，到處都是破洞和污跡，沒有寬帽檐，帽筒歪到了一邊，上面折出一個怪難看的角來。但不是羞愧，而完全是另一種，甚至是一種類似恐懼的感覺突然嚮他襲來。
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①彼得堡最大的市場就在幹草廣場上。
②齊梅爾曼是當時彼得堡一傢製帽工廠和涅瓦大街上一傢帽店的老闆。
“我就知道！”他驚恐不安地喃喃說，“我就這麽考慮過！這可是最糟糕的了！真的，不管什麽樣的蠢事，不管什麽不起眼的細節，都會破壞整個計劃！是啊，帽子太容易讓人記住了……可笑，因此就容易讓人記住……我這身破爛兒一定得配一頂製帽，哪怕是一頂煎餅式的舊帽子也行，可不能戴這個難看的怪玩意兒。誰也不戴這樣的帽子，一俄裏①以外就會讓人註意到，就會記住的……主要的是，以後會想起來，瞧，這就是罪證。這兒需要盡可能不惹人註意……細節，主要是細節！……就是這些細節，總是會出問題，毀掉一切……”
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①一俄裏等於一·○六公裏。
他用不着走多遠；他甚至知道，從他那幢房子的大門出來要走多少步：整整七百三十步。有一次他幻想得完全出了神的時候，曾經數過。那時他還不相信自己的這些幻想，他所幻想的這些雖說是沒有道理，然而卻是十分誘人的大膽計劃，衹是會惹他生氣。現在，過了一個月以後，他已經開始以另一種眼光來看待這一切了，儘管他總是自言自語，嘲笑自己無能和優柔寡斷，卻不知怎麽甚至不由自主地已經習慣於把這“沒有道理”的幻想看作一項事業了，雖說他仍然不相信自己。現在他甚至要去為完成自己的這一事業進行試探，每走一步，他的激動不安也越來越強烈了。
他心情緊張，神經顫慄，走到一幢很大的大房子前，房子的一堵墻對着運河，另一面墻衝着×街。這幢大房子分作一套套不大的住宅，裏面住滿了各行各業的手藝人——裁縫、小爐匠、廚娘，形形色色的德國人，妓女，小官吏，以及其他行業的人。進進出出的人就這樣在房子的兩道大門和兩個院子裏匆匆走過。這兒有三個、要麽是四個管院子的。那個年輕人沒碰到他們當中的任何一個，立刻無人察覺地溜進大門，往右一拐，溜上了樓梯，因此他感到非常滿意。樓梯又暗，又窄，是“後樓梯”，但是他對這一切都已經瞭解，而且察看過了，對這整個環境他都十分喜歡：在這樣的黑暗中，就連好奇的目光也並不危險。“要是這時候我就這麽害怕，說不定什麽時候，如果真的要去幹那件事的話，又會怎樣呢？……”上四樓的時候，他不由得想。幾個當搬運工的退伍士兵在這裏擋住了他的路，他們正從一套住宅裏往外搬傢具。以前他已經知道，這套住宅裏住着一個帶傢眷的德國人，是個官吏：“這麽說，這個德國人現在搬走了，因而四層樓上，這道樓梯和這個樓梯平臺上，在一段時間裏就衹剩下老太婆的住宅裏還住着人。這好極了……以防萬一……”他又想，並且拉了拉老太婆住房的門鈴。門鈴響聲很輕，好像鈴不是銅的，而是用白鐵做的。這樣的樓房中一套套這種不大的住宅裏，幾乎都是裝着這樣的門鈴。他已經忘記了這小鈴鐺的響聲，現在這很特別的響聲突然讓他想起了什麽，並清清楚楚地想象……他猛地顫慄了一下，這一次神經真是太脆弱了。稍過了一會兒，房門開了很小一道縫：住在裏面的那個女人帶着明顯不信任的神情從門縫裏細細打量來人，衹能看到她那雙在黑暗中閃閃發亮的小眼睛。但是看到樓梯平臺上有不少人，她膽壯起來，於是把房門完全打開了。年輕人跨過門坎，走進用隔板隔開的前室，隔板後面是一間很小的廚房。老太婆默默地站在他面前，疑問地註視着他。這是一個幹癟的小老太婆，六十來歲，有一雙目光銳利、神情兇惡的小眼睛，尖尖的小鼻子，光着頭，沒包頭巾。她那像雞腿樣細長的脖子上纏着一塊法蘭絨破圍巾，別看天熱，肩上還披着一件穿得十分破舊、已經發黃的毛皮女短上衣。老太婆一刻不停地咳嗽，發出呼哧呼哧的聲音。想必是年輕人用異樣的眼光看了她一眼，因而先前那種不信任的神情突然又在她眼睛裏忽地一閃。
“拉斯科利尼科夫，大學生，一個月以前來過您這兒，”年輕人急忙含含糊糊地說，並且微微鞠躬行禮，因為他想起，應該客氣一些。
“我記得，先生，記得很清楚，您來過，”老太婆清清楚楚地說，仍然沒把自己疑問的目光從他臉上移開。
“那麽……又是為這事來的……”拉斯科利尼科夫接着說，稍有點兒窘，並且為老太婆的不信任感到詫異。
“不過，也許她一嚮都是這樣，我那一次卻沒有註意，”他懷着不愉快的心情想。
老太婆沉默了一會兒，仿佛在考慮，隨後退到一邊，指指房間的門，讓客人到前面去，並且說：
“請進，先生。”
年輕人進去的那間房間並不大，墻上糊着黃色的墻紙，屋裏擺着天竺葵，窗上挂着細紗窗簾，這時落日的餘暉把屋裏照得亮堂堂的。“這麽說，那時候，太陽也會像這樣照着！……”這想法仿佛無意中掠過拉斯科利尼科夫的腦海，於是他用目光匆匆打量了一下屋裏的一切，想盡可能瞭解並記住屋裏的佈局。不過屋裏並沒有任何特殊的東西。傢具都很舊了，都是黃木做的：一張有老大的彎木靠背的沙發，沙發前擺一張橢圓形的圓桌，窗和門之間的墻上有個帶鏡子的梳妝臺，沿墻放着幾把椅子，還有兩三幅毫無價值的圖畫，都裝在黃色的畫框裏，上面畫着幾個手裏拿着小鳥的德國小姐，——這就是全部傢具。墻角落裏，不大的神像前點着神燈。一切都很幹淨：傢具和地板都擦得發亮；一切都閃閃發光。“莉紮薇塔做的，”年輕人想。整套住宅裏纖塵不染。“兇惡的老寡婦傢裏纔會這麽幹淨，”拉斯科利尼科夫繼續暗自思忖，並且好奇地斜着眼睛瞟了瞟第二間小房間門前的印花布門簾，那間屋裏擺着老太婆的床和一個抽屜櫃，他還一次也沒朝那屋裏看過。整套住宅就衹有這兩間房間。
“有什麽事啊？”老太婆走進屋來，嚴厲地說，仍然正對着他站着，這樣可以直瞅着他的臉。
“我拿了一件抵押品來，您瞧，這就是！”說着他從衣袋裏掏出一塊扁平的舊銀表。表的背面刻着一個地球儀。表鏈是鋼的。
“要知道，上次抵押的東西已經到期了。還在前天就超過一個月了。”
“我再給您一個月的利息；請您寬限一下。”
“先生，寬限幾天，還是這會兒就把您的東西賣掉，這都得由我决定。”
“表可以當多少錢，阿廖娜·伊萬諾芙娜？”
“先生，你盡拿些不值錢的東西來，差不多一文不值。上次那個戒指給了您兩個盧布，可在首飾商那兒，花一個半盧布就能買個新的。”
“請給我四個盧布吧，我一定來贖，是我父親的。我很快就會得到錢了。”
“一個半盧布，利息先付，要是您願意的話。”
“一個半盧布！”年輕人叫了起來。
“隨您便。”說着老太婆把表遞還給他。年輕人接過表來，感到那樣氣憤，已經想要走了；但立刻又改了主意，因為他想起，再也無處可去，而且他來這兒還有旁的目的。
“拿來吧！”他粗暴地說。
老太婆伸手到衣袋裏去掏鑰匙，然後走進門簾後面另一間屋裏。衹剩下年輕人獨自一人站在房屋中間，好奇地側耳諦聽，暗自猜測。可以聽到她打開了抽屜櫃。“大概是上面的抽屜，”他猜測。“這麽說，她是把鑰匙裝在右邊口袋裏……全都串成一串，串在一個鋼圈兒上……那兒有一把最大的鑰匙，有旁的三倍大，帶鋸齒，當然不是開抽屜櫃的……可見還有一個小匣子，要麽是個小箱子……瞧，這真有意思。小箱子都是用這樣的鑰匙……不過，這一切多麽卑鄙……”
老太婆回來了。
“您瞧，先生：既然一個盧布一個月的利息是十個戈比，那麽一個半盧布該收您十五個戈比，先付一個月的利息。上次那兩個盧布也照這樣計算，該先收您二十戈比。這麽說，總共是三十五戈比。現在您這塊表，總共還該給您一盧布十五戈比。這不是，請收下吧。”
“怎麽！現在就衹有一盧布十五戈比了！”
“正是這樣。”
年輕人沒有爭論，接過了錢。他瞅着老太婆，並不急於出去，似乎他還想說點兒什麽，要麽是做點兒什麽，但好像他自己也不知道，到底要幹什麽……
“阿廖娜·伊萬諾芙娜，也許，就在這幾天裏，我還要給您拿一樣東西來……銀的……很精緻的……煙盒……衹等我從朋友那裏取回來……”他發窘了，於是住了聲。
“好，到那時再說吧，先生。”
“再見……您總是一個人在傢？妹妹不在嗎？”他到前室去的時候，盡可能隨隨便便地問。
“先生，您問她幹什麽？”
“啊，沒什麽。我不過這麽問問。您現在真是……阿廖娜·伊萬諾芙娜！”
拉斯科利尼科夫從屋裏出來時已經十分心慌意亂。這不安的心情越來越強烈了。下樓時他甚至有好幾次停了下來，仿佛有什麽事情使他突然吃了一驚。最後，已經到了街上的時候，他激動地說：
“噢，天哪！這一切多麽令人厭惡！難道，難道我……不！這是無稽之談，這是荒謬絶倫！”他毅然决然地加上幾句。
“難道我的頭腦裏會出現這樣可怕的想法？我的良心竟能允許幹這種骯髒的事情！主要的是：骯髒，卑污，惡劣，惡劣！……
而我，整整一個月……”
但是他既不能用言詞、也不能用感嘆來表達自己的激動與不安。還在他剛剛去老太婆那兒的時候就開始使他感到壓抑和不安的極端厭惡的心情，現在已經達到這種程度，而且變得十分明顯，以致他不知該躲到哪裏去，才能逃避自己的憂愁。他像喝醉了似地在人行道上走着，看不見路上的行人，老是會撞到他們，清醒過來的時候，已經到了另一條街上。他環顧四周，發覺自己站在一傢小酒館旁，要進酒館，得從人行道順着樓梯往下，到地下室去。就在這時，恰好從門裏走出兩個醉醺醺的人來，他們互相攙扶着，嘴裏不幹不淨地駡着，順着樓梯爬到街上。拉斯科利尼科夫沒想多久，立刻就下去了。在此以前他從未進過酒館，但是現在他感到頭昏，加以火燒火燎的幹渴正在折磨着他。他想喝點兒冰冷的啤酒，而且他把自己突然感到的虛弱歸咎於饑餓。他坐到又暗又髒的角落裏一張發黏的小桌旁邊，要了啤酒，貪婪地喝幹了第一杯。立刻一切都消失了，他的思想也清晰了。“這一切都是鬍說八道，”他滿懷希望地說，“這兒沒有什麽可以感到不安的！衹不過是身體不舒服，是一種病態！衹要一杯啤酒，一小塊幹面包，——瞧，轉瞬間就變得堅強起來，思想清楚了，意嚮也堅定了！呸！這一切是多麽微不足道！……”但儘管他輕衊地啐了一口唾沫，他卻已經高興起來，仿佛突然擺脫了某種可怕的沉重負擔，並且目光友好地掃視了一下在座的人。不過就是在這時候，他也隱隱約約預感到，這種一切都往好處想的樂觀態度也是一種病態。
這時小酒館裏剩下的人已經不多了。除了在樓梯上碰到過的那兩個醉鬼，又有吵吵嚷嚷的一群人跟着他們走了出去，他們這一夥約摸有五、六個人，其中有一個姑娘，還帶着一架手風琴。他們走了以後，變得靜悄悄、空蕩蕩的。剩下的人中有一個已經醉了，不過醉得並不厲害，坐在擺着啤酒的桌邊，看樣子是個小市民；他的同伴是個胖子，身材魁梧，穿一件竪領打褶的細腰短呢上衣，蓄一部花白的大鬍子，已經喝得酩酊大醉，正坐在長凳上打瞌睡，有時突然似乎半睡半醒，伸開雙手，開始用手指打榧子，他並沒有從長凳上站起來，上身卻不時往上動一動，而且在胡亂哼着一首什麽歌麯，竭力想記起歌詞，好像是：
整整一年我和妻子親親熱熱，
整——整一年我和妻——子親親——熱熱……
要麽是突然醒來，又唱道：
我去波季亞契大街閑逛，
找到了自己從前的婆娘……
但誰也不分享他的幸福；他那個沉默寡言的夥伴對這些感情爆發甚至抱有敵意，而且持懷疑態度。那兒還有一個人，看樣子好像是個退職的官吏。他面對自己的酒杯，單獨坐在一張桌子旁邊，有時喝一口酒，並嚮四周看看。他似乎也有點兒激動不安。
He had successfully avoided meeting his landlady on the staircase. His garret was under the roof of a high, five-storied house and was more like a cupboard than a room. The landlady who provided him with garret, dinners, and attendance, lived on the floor below, and every time he went out he was obliged to pass her kitchen, the door of which invariably stood open. And each time he passed, the young man had a sick, frightened feeling, which made him scowl and feel ashamed. He was hopelessly in debt to his landlady, and was afraid of meeting her.
This was not because he was cowardly and abject, quite the contrary; but for some time past he had been in an overstrained irritable condition, verging on hypochondria. He had become so completely absorbed in himself, and isolated from his fellows that he dreaded meeting, not only his landlady, but anyone at all. He was crushed by poverty, but the anxieties of his position had of late ceased to weigh upon him. He had given up attending to matters of practical importance; he had lost all desire to do so. Nothing that any landlady could do had a real terror for him. But to be stopped on the stairs, to be forced to listen to her trivial, irrelevant gossip, to pestering demands for payment, threats and complaints, and to rack his brains for excuses, to prevaricate, to lie--no, rather than that, he would creep down the stairs like a cat and slip out unseen.
This evening, however, on coming out into the street, he became acutely aware of his fears.
"I want to attempt a thing /like that/ and am frightened by these trifles," he thought, with an odd smile. "Hm . . . yes, all is in a man's hands and he lets it all slip from cowardice, that's an axiom. It would be interesting to know what it is men are most afraid of. Taking a new step, uttering a new word is what they fear most. . . . But I am talking too much. It's because I chatter that I do nothing. Or perhaps it is that I chatter because I do nothing. I've learned to chatter this last month, lying for days together in my den thinking . . . of Jack the Giant-killer. Why am I going there now? Am I capable of /that/? Is /that/ serious? It is not serious at all. It's simply a fantasy to amuse myself; a plaything! Yes, maybe it is a plaything."
The heat in the street was terrible: and the airlessness, the bustle and the plaster, scaffolding, bricks, and dust all about him, and that special Petersburg stench, so familiar to all who are unable to get out of town in summer--all worked painfully upon the young man's already overwrought nerves. The insufferable stench from the pot- houses, which are particularly numerous in that part of the town, and the drunken men whom he met continually, although it was a working day, completed the revolting misery of the picture. An expression of the profoundest disgust gleamed for a moment in the young man's refined face. He was, by the way, exceptionally handsome, above the average in height, slim, well-built, with beautiful dark eyes and dark brown hair. Soon he sank into deep thought, or more accurately speaking into a complete blankness of mind; he walked along not observing what was about him and not caring to observe it. From time to time, he would mutter something, from the habit of talking to himself, to which he had just confessed. At these moments he would become conscious that his ideas were sometimes in a tangle and that he was very weak; for two days he had scarcely tasted food.
He was so badly dressed that even a man accustomed to shabbiness would have been ashamed to be seen in the street in such rags. In that quarter of the town, however, scarcely any shortcoming in dress would have created surprise. Owing to the proximity of the Hay Market, the number of establishments of bad character, the preponderance of the trading and working class population crowded in these streets and alleys in the heart of Petersburg, types so various were to be seen in the streets that no figure, however queer, would have caused surprise. But there was such accumulated bitterness and contempt in the young man's heart, that, in spite of all the fastidiousness of youth, he minded his rags least of all in the street. It was a different matter when he met with acquaintances or with former fellow students, whom, indeed, he disliked meeting at any time. And yet when a drunken man who, for some unknown reason, was being taken somewhere in a huge waggon dragged by a heavy dray horse, suddenly shouted at him as he drove past: "Hey there, German hatter" bawling at the top of his voice and pointing at him--the young man stopped suddenly and clutched tremulously at his hat. It was a tall round hat from Zimmerman's, but completely worn out, rusty with age, all torn and bespattered, brimless and bent on one side in a most unseemly fashion. Not shame, however, but quite another feeling akin to terror had overtaken him.
"I knew it," he muttered in confusion, "I thought so! That's the worst of all! Why, a stupid thing like this, the most trivial detail might spoil the whole plan. Yes, my hat is too noticeable. . . . It looks absurd and that makes it noticeable. . . . With my rags I ought to wear a cap, any sort of old pancake, but not this grotesque thing. Nobody wears such a hat, it would be noticed a mile off, it would be remembered. . . . What matters is that people would remember it, and that would give them a clue. For this business one should be as little conspicuous as possible. . . . Trifles, trifles are what matter! Why, it's just such trifles that always ruin everything. . . ."
He had not far to go; he knew indeed how many steps it was from the gate of his lodging house: exactly seven hundred and thirty. He had counted them once when he had been lost in dreams. At the time he had put no faith in those dreams and was only tantalising himself by their hideous but daring recklessness. Now, a month later, he had begun to look upon them differently, and, in spite of the monologues in which he jeered at his own impotence and indecision, he had involuntarily come to regard this "hideous" dream as an exploit to be attempted, although he still did not realise this himself. He was positively going now for a "rehearsal" of his project, and at every step his excitement grew more and more violent.
With a sinking heart and a nervous tremor, he went up to a huge house which on one side looked on to the canal, and on the other into the street. This house was let out in tiny tenements and was inhabited by working people of all kinds--tailors, locksmiths, cooks, Germans of sorts, girls picking up a living as best they could, petty clerks, etc. There was a continual coming and going through the two gates and in the two courtyards of the house. Three or four door-keepers were employed on the building. The young man was very glad to meet none of them, and at once slipped unnoticed through the door on the right, and up the staircase. It was a back staircase, dark and narrow, but he was familiar with it already, and knew his way, and he liked all these surroundings: in such darkness even the most inquisitive eyes were not to be dreaded.
"If I am so scared now, what would it be if it somehow came to pass that I were really going to do it?" he could not help asking himself as he reached the fourth storey. There his progress was barred by some porters who were engaged in moving furniture out of a flat. He knew that the flat had been occupied by a German clerk in the civil service, and his family. This German was moving out then, and so the fourth floor on this staircase would be untenanted except by the old woman. "That's a good thing anyway," he thought to himself, as he rang the bell of the old woman's flat. The bell gave a faint tinkle as though it were made of tin and not of copper. The little flats in such houses always have bells that ring like that. He had forgotten the note of that bell, and now its peculiar tinkle seemed to remind him of something and to bring it clearly before him. . . . He started, his nerves were terribly overstrained by now. In a little while, the door was opened a tiny crack: the old woman eyed her visitor with evident distrust through the crack, and nothing could be seen but her little eyes, glittering in the darkness. But, seeing a number of people on the landing, she grew bolder, and opened the door wide. The young man stepped into the dark entry, which was partitioned off from the tiny kitchen. The old woman stood facing him in silence and looking inquiringly at him. She was a diminutive, withered up old woman of sixty, with sharp malignant eyes and a sharp little nose. Her colourless, somewhat grizzled hair was thickly smeared with oil, and she wore no kerchief over it. Round her thin long neck, which looked like a hen's leg, was knotted some sort of flannel rag, and, in spite of the heat, there hung flapping on her shoulders, a mangy fur cape, yellow with age. The old woman coughed and groaned at every instant. The young man must have looked at her with a rather peculiar expression, for a gleam of mistrust came into her eyes again.
"Raskolnikov, a student, I came here a month ago," the young man made haste to mutter, with a half bow, remembering that he ought to be more polite.
"I remember, my good sir, I remember quite well your coming here," the old woman said distinctly, still keeping her inquiring eyes on his face.
"And here . . . I am again on the same errand," Raskolnikov continued, a little disconcerted and surprised at the old woman's mistrust. "Perhaps she is always like that though, only I did not notice it the other time," he thought with an uneasy feeling.
The old woman paused, as though hesitating; then stepped on one side, and pointing to the door of the room, she said, letting her visitor pass in front of her:
"Step in, my good sir."
The little room into which the young man walked, with yellow paper on the walls, geraniums and muslin curtains in the windows, was brightly lighted up at that moment by the setting sun.
"So the sun will shine like this /then/ too!" flashed as it were by chance through Raskolnikov's mind, and with a rapid glance he scanned everything in the room, trying as far as possible to notice and remember its arrangement. But there was nothing special in the room. The furniture, all very old and of yellow wood, consisted of a sofa with a huge bent wooden back, an oval table in front of the sofa, a dressing-table with a looking-glass fixed on it between the windows, chairs along the walls and two or three half-penny prints in yellow frames, representing German damsels with birds in their hands--that was all. In the corner a light was burning before a small ikon. Everything was very clean; the floor and the furniture were brightly polished; everything shone.
"Lizaveta's work," thought the young man. There was not a speck of dust to be seen in the whole flat.
"It's in the houses of spiteful old widows that one finds such cleanliness," Raskolnikov thought again, and he stole a curious glance at the cotton curtain over the door leading into another tiny room, in which stood the old woman's bed and chest of drawers and into which he had never looked before. These two rooms made up the whole flat.
"What do you want?" the old woman said severely, coming into the room and, as before, standing in front of him so as to look him straight in the face.
"I've brought something to pawn here," and he drew out of his pocket an old-fashioned flat silver watch, on the back of which was engraved a globe; the chain was of steel.
"But the time is up for your last pledge. The month was up the day before yesterday."
"I will bring you the interest for another month; wait a little."
"But that's for me to do as I please, my good sir, to wait or to sell your pledge at once."
"How much will you give me for the watch, Alyona Ivanovna?"
"You come with such trifles, my good sir, it's scarcely worth anything. I gave you two roubles last time for your ring and one could buy it quite new at a jeweler's for a rouble and a half."
"Give me four roubles for it, I shall redeem it, it was my father's. I shall be getting some money soon."
"A rouble and a half, and interest in advance, if you like!"
"A rouble and a half!" cried the young man.
"Please yourself"--and the old woman handed him back the watch. The young man took it, and was so angry that he was on the point of going away; but checked himself at once, remembering that there was nowhere else he could go, and that he had had another object also in coming.
"Hand it over," he said roughly.
The old woman fumbled in her pocket for her keys, and disappeared behind the curtain into the other room. The young man, left standing alone in the middle of the room, listened inquisitively, thinking. He could hear her unlocking the chest of drawers.
"It must be the top drawer," he reflected. "So she carries the keys in a pocket on the right. All in one bunch on a steel ring. . . . And there's one key there, three times as big as all the others, with deep notches; that can't be the key of the chest of drawers . . . then there must be some other chest or strong-box . . . that's worth knowing. Strong-boxes always have keys like that . . . but how degrading it all is."
The old woman came back.
"Here, sir: as we say ten copecks the rouble a month, so I must take fifteen copecks from a rouble and a half for the month in advance. But for the two roubles I lent you before, you owe me now twenty copecks on the same reckoning in advance. That makes thirty-five copecks altogether. So I must give you a rouble and fifteen copecks for the watch. Here it is."
"What! only a rouble and fifteen copecks now!"
"Just so."
The young man did not dispute it and took the money. He looked at the old woman, and was in no hurry to get away, as though there was still something he wanted to say or to do, but he did not himself quite know what.
"I may be bringing you something else in a day or two, Alyona Ivanovna --a valuable thing--silver--a cigarette-box, as soon as I get it back from a friend . . ." he broke off in confusion.
"Well, we will talk about it then, sir."
"Good-bye--are you always at home alone, your sister is not here with you?" He asked her as casually as possible as he went out into the passage.
"What business is she of yours, my good sir?"
"Oh, nothing particular, I simply asked. You are too quick. . . . Good-day, Alyona Ivanovna."
Raskolnikov went out in complete confusion. This confusion became more and more intense. As he went down the stairs, he even stopped short, two or three times, as though suddenly struck by some thought. When he was in the street he cried out, "Oh, God, how loathsome it all is! and can I, can I possibly. . . . No, it's nonsense, it's rubbish!" he added resolutely. "And how could such an atrocious thing come into my head? What filthy things my heart is capable of. Yes, filthy above all, disgusting, loathsome, loathsome!--and for a whole month I've been. . . ." But no words, no exclamations, could express his agitation. The feeling of intense repulsion, which had begun to oppress and torture his heart while he was on his way to the old woman, had by now reached such a pitch and had taken such a definite form that he did not know what to do with himself to escape from his wretchedness. He walked along the pavement like a drunken man, regardless of the passers-by, and jostling against them, and only came to his senses when he was in the next street. Looking round, he noticed that he was standing close to a tavern which was entered by steps leading from the pavement to the basement. At that instant two drunken men came out at the door, and abusing and supporting one another, they mounted the steps. Without stopping to think, Raskolnikov went down the steps at once. Till that moment he had never been into a tavern, but now he felt giddy and was tormented by a burning thirst. He longed for a drink of cold beer, and attributed his sudden weakness to the want of food. He sat down at a sticky little table in a dark and dirty corner; ordered some beer, and eagerly drank off the first glassful. At once he felt easier; and his thoughts became clear.
"All that's nonsense," he said hopefully, "and there is nothing in it all to worry about! It's simply physical derangement. Just a glass of beer, a piece of dry bread--and in one moment the brain is stronger, the mind is clearer and the will is firm! Phew, how utterly petty it all is!"
But in spite of this scornful reflection, he was by now looking cheerful as though he were suddenly set free from a terrible burden: and he gazed round in a friendly way at the people in the room. But even at that moment he had a dim foreboding that this happier frame of mind was also not normal.
There were few people at the time in the tavern. Besides the two drunken men he had met on the steps, a group consisting of about five men and a girl with a concertina had gone out at the same time. Their departure left the room quiet and rather empty. The persons still in the tavern were a man who appeared to be an artisan, drunk, but not extremely so, sitting before a pot of beer, and his companion, a huge, stout man with a grey beard, in a short full-skirted coat. He was very drunk: and had dropped asleep on the bench; every now and then, he began as though in his sleep, cracking his fingers, with his arms wide apart and the upper part of his body bounding about on the bench, while he hummed some meaningless refrain, trying to recall some such lines as these:
"His wife a year he fondly loved His wife a--a year he--fondly loved."
Or suddenly waking up again:
"Walking along the crowded row He met the one he used to know."
But no one shared his enjoyment: his silent companion looked with positive hostility and mistrust at all these manifestations. There was another man in the room who looked somewhat like a retired government clerk. He was sitting apart, now and then sipping from his pot and looking round at the company. He, too, appeared to be in some agitation.
拉斯科利尼科夫不慣於與人來往，而且正像已經說過的，他總是逃避一切交際應酬，特別是最近一個時期。但現在不知是什麽突然使他想跟人接觸了。他心裏似乎産生了某種新想法，同時感到渴望與人交往。整整一個月獨自忍受強烈的憂愁，經受心情憂鬱緊張的折磨，他已經感到如此疲倦，因此希望，哪怕衹是一分鐘也好，能在另一個世界裏喘一口氣，隨便在什麽樣的環境裏都可以，因此儘管這裏骯髒不堪，現在他還是很高興待在小酒館裏。
酒館的老闆待在另一間屋裏，不過常從那兒走下幾級臺階，進入這間主要的店堂，而且首先讓人看到的總是他那雙有紅色大翻口、搽了一層油的時髦靴子。他穿一件腰部打褶的長外衣和一件油跡斑駁的黑緞子坎肩，沒打領帶，滿臉上似乎都搽了油，就像給鐵鎖上油一樣。櫃臺後站着一個十三、四歲的小男孩，還有個年紀更小的男孩子，有人要酒時，他就給送去。擺着切碎的黃瓜，黑面包幹，切成一塊塊的魚；這一切都有一股難聞的氣味。又悶又熱，坐在這裏簡直讓人受不了，而且一切都滲透了酒味，似乎單聞聞這兒的空氣，不消五分鐘就會給熏得醺醺大醉。
有時會碰到這樣一些人，我們和他們甚至素不相識，但不知怎的，連一句話都還沒說，卻突然一下子，剛一見面就引起我們的興趣。那個坐得稍遠、好像退職官吏的客人，就正是讓拉斯科利尼科夫産生了這樣的印象。以後這年輕人不止一次回想起這第一次印象，甚至認為這是由預感造成的。他不斷地打量那個官吏，當然，這也是因為那人也在一個勁兒地瞅着他，而且看得出來，那人很想開口跟他說話。對酒館裏其餘的人，包括老闆在內，那官吏卻不知怎地似乎早已經看慣了，甚至感到無聊，而且帶有某種傲慢的藐視意味，就像對待社會地位和文化程度都很低的人們那樣，覺得跟他們根本無話可談。這是一個已經年過半百的人，中等身材，體格健壯，鬢有白發，頭頂上禿了老大一塊，由於經常酗酒，浮腫的黃臉甚至有點兒發緑，稍微腫脹的眼皮底下，一雙細得像兩條細縫、然而很有精神、微微發紅的小眼睛炯炯發光。但他身上有某種很奇怪的現象；他的目光裏流露出甚至仿佛是興高采烈的神情，——看來，既有理性，又有智慧，——但同時又隱約顯示出瘋狂的跡象。他穿一件已經完全破破爛爛的黑色舊燕尾服，鈕扣幾乎都掉光了。衹有一顆還勉強連在上面，他就是用這顆鈕扣把衣服扣上，看來是希望保持體面。黃土布坎肩下露出皺得不像樣子、污跡斑斑的髒胸衣。和所有官員一樣，他沒留鬍子，不過臉已經颳過很久了，所以已經開始長出了濃密的、灰藍色的鬍子茬。而且他的行為舉止當真都有一種官員們所特有的莊重風度。但是他顯得煩躁不安，把頭髮弄得亂蓬蓬的，有時神情憂鬱，把袖子已經磨破的胳膊肘撐在很髒而且黏搭搭的桌子上，用雙手托着腦袋。最後，他直對着拉斯科利尼科夫看了一眼，高聲而堅决地說：
“我的先生，恕我冒昧，不知能否與您攀談幾句？因為雖然您衣著並不考究，但憑我的經驗卻能看出，您是一位受過教育的人，也不常喝酒。我一嚮尊重受過教育而且真心誠意的人，除此而外，我還是個九等文官①呢。馬爾梅拉多夫——這是我的姓；九等文官。恕我冒昧，請問您在工作嗎？”
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①一七二二年彼得大帝製訂“等級表”，所有文武官員分為十四等，一等最高，十四等最低。九等文官相當於大尉。
“不，我在求學……”青年人回答。他感到驚訝，這有一部分是由於對方說話的語氣特別矯揉造作，也由於他竟是那麽直截了當地和他說話。儘管不久前有那麽短暫的瞬間他想與人交往，不管是什麽樣的交往都好，但當真有人和他說話時，纔聽到第一句話，他就又突然感到厭惡和惱怒了，——對所有與他接觸、或想要和他接觸的人，通常他都會産生這種厭惡和惱怒的心情。
“那麽說，是大學生了，或者以前是大學生！”官吏高聲說，“我就是這樣想的！經驗嘛，先生，屢試不爽的經驗了！”並且自我吹噓地把一根手指按在前額上。“以前是大學生，或者搞過學術研究！對不起……”他欠起身來，搖晃了一下，拿起自己的酒壺和酒杯，坐到青年人旁邊，稍有點兒斜對着他。他喝醉了，不過仍然健談，說話也很流利，衹是偶爾有的地方前言不搭後語，而且羅裏羅唆。他甚至那樣急切地渴望與拉斯科利尼科夫交談，好像有整整一個月沒跟人說過話似的。
“先生，”他幾乎是鄭重其事地開始說，“貧窮不是罪惡，這是真理。我知道，酗酒不是美德，這更是真理。可是赤貧，先生，赤貧卻是罪惡。貧窮的時候，您還能保持自己天生感情的高尚氣度，在赤貧的情況下，卻無論什麽時候，無論什麽人都做不到。為了赤貧，甚至不是把人用棍子趕走，而是拿掃帚把他從人類社會裏清掃出去，讓他受更大的；而且這是公正的，因為在赤貧的情況下，我自己首先就準備自己。於是就找到了酒！先生，一個月以前，我太太讓列別賈特尼科夫先生痛打了一頓，不過我太太可不是我這種人！您明白嗎？對不起，我還要問您一聲，即使衹是出於一般的好奇心：您在涅瓦河上的幹草船①裏過過夜嗎？”
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①十九世紀六十年代，那裏是彼得堡無傢可歸者過夜的地方。
“沒有，沒有過過夜，”拉斯科利尼科夫回答。“這是什麽意思？”
“唉，我就是從那兒來的，已經是第五夜了……”
他斟了一杯酒，喝幹了，於是陷入沉思。真的，他的衣服上，甚至連他的頭髮裏，有些地方還可以看到粘在上面的一根根幹草。很有可能，他已經五天沒脫衣服，也沒洗臉了。尤其是一雙手髒得要命，滿手油垢，發紅，指甲裏嵌滿黑色的污泥。
他的話好像引起了大傢的註意。雖說這註意也是無精打采的。櫃臺後面的兩個男孩子吃吃地笑起來。老闆好像故意從上面的房間裏下來，好來聽聽這個“逗樂的傢夥”在說什麽。他坐到稍遠一點兒的地方，懶洋洋地、但神氣十足地打着呵欠。顯然，馬爾梅拉多夫早已是這兒大傢都熟悉的人了。而且他愛用矯揉造作的語氣說話，大概是由於他習慣經常和酒館裏形形色色素不相識的人談話。這種習慣對有些酒鬼已經變成了一種需要，主要是他們當中那些在傢裏嚴受管束、經常受到壓製的人。因此他們在同樣嗜酒如命的這夥人中間，纔總是力圖為自己表白，仿佛是設法給自己辯解，如果可能的話，甚至試圖博得別人的尊敬。
“逗樂的傢夥！”老闆高聲說。“可你幹嗎不去工作，幹嗎不去辦公，既然你是個官員？”
“我為什麽不去辦公嗎，先生，”馬爾梅拉多夫接住話茬說，這話是單對着拉斯科利尼科夫說的，仿佛這是他嚮他提出了這個問題。“為什麽不去辦公嗎？難道我自輕自賤、徒然降低自己的身份，自己不覺得心痛嗎？一個月以前，當列別賈特尼科夫先生動手打我妻子的時候，我喝得醉醺醺地躺在床上，難道我不感到痛苦嗎？對不起，年輕人，您是不是有過……嗯哼……雖然明知毫無希望，可還是不得不開口嚮人借錢？”
“有過……毫無希望是什麽意思？”
“就是完全沒有希望，事先就知道這絶不會有什麽結果。喏，譬如說吧，您早就知道，而且有充分根據，知道這個人，這個心地最善良、對社會最有益的公民無論如何也不會把錢藉給您。因為，請問，他為什麽要給呢？不是嗎，他明明知道，這不會還給他。出於同情心嗎？可是列別賈特尼科夫先生，這個經常留心各種新思想的人，不久前解釋說，在我們這個時代，就連科學也不允許有同情心，在有了經濟學的英國就是這樣①請問，他為什麽要給錢呢？瞧，您事先就知道，他絶不會藉給您，可您還是去了……”
“為什麽要去呢？”拉斯科利尼科夫追問一句。
“如果沒有別人可找，如果再也無處可去呢！不是嗎，得讓每個人至少有個什麽可以去的地方啊。因為常常有這樣的時候，一定得至少有個可以去的地方！我的獨生女兒頭一次去拉生意的時候，我也去了……（因為我女兒靠黃色執照②生活……）”他附帶加上了一句，同時有點兒神色不安地看了看青年人。“沒什麽，先生，沒什麽！”櫃臺後面的兩個男孩噗嗤一聲笑了出來，老闆也微微一笑，這時他立刻匆匆忙忙地說，看來神情是安詳的。“沒什麽！這些人搖頭我不會感到不好意思，因為這一切大傢都已經知道了，一切秘密都公開了；而且我不是以蔑視的態度，而是懷着恭順的心情來對待這一切的。由它去吧！讓他們笑吧！‘你們看這個人！’③對不起，年輕人：您能不能……可是，不，用一種更加有力、更富有表現力的方式，說得更清楚些：您能不能，您敢不敢現在看着我肯定地說，“我不是豬玀？”
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①指英國哲學家、經濟學家約·斯·米利（一八○六——一八七三）的《經濟學原理），該書的俄譯本是一八六五年出版的。米利認為，人的行為、願望乃至苦難都是由他們的經濟地位事先决定的。陀思妥耶夫斯基不同意這種觀點。
②指作妓女。帝俄時，妓女要在局領黃色執照。
③引自《新約全書·約翰福音》第十九章第五節：“耶穌出來，戴着荊棘冠冕，穿着紫袍，彼拉多對他們說，你們看這個人。”
年輕人什麽也沒有回答。
“嗯，”等到屋裏隨之而來的吃吃的笑聲停下來以後，這位演說傢又莊重地，這一回甚至是更加尊嚴地接着說：“嗯，就算我是豬玀吧，可她是一位太太！我的形象像畜生，而卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜，我的妻子，是個受過教育的人，是位校級軍官的女兒。就算，就算我是個下流坯吧，她卻有一顆高尚的心，受過教育，滿懷崇高的感情。然而，……噢，如果她憐憫我的話！先生，先生，要知道，得讓每個人至少有個能憐憫他的地方啊！而卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜雖然是一位寬洪大量的太太，可是她不公正……雖然我自己也知道，她揪我頭髮的時候，衹不過是出於她的憐憫心，因為，我反復說，她揪我的頭髮，我並不感到難為情，年輕人，”他又聽見一陣吃吃的笑聲，懷着加倍的自尊承認道，“不過，天哪，如果她哪怕是僅僅有一次……可是，不！不！這一切都是徒然的，沒什麽好說的！沒什麽好說的了！……因為我所希望的已經不止一次成為現實，已經不止一次憐憫過我了，可是……
我就是這麽個德性，我是個天生的畜生！”
“可不是！”老闆打着呵欠說。
馬爾梅拉多夫堅决地用拳頭捶了捶桌子。
“我就是這麽個德性！您知道嗎，先生，我連她的長襪都拿去賣掉，喝光了？不是鞋子，因為這至少還多少合乎情理。可是長襪，把她的長襪賣掉，喝光了！她的一條山羊毛頭巾也讓我賣掉，喝光了，是人傢從前送給她的，是她自己的，而不是我的；可我們住在半間寒冷的房屋裏，這個鼕天她着了涼，咳嗽起來，已經吐血了。我們有三個小孩子，卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜從早到晚忙個不停，擦啊，洗啊，給孩子們洗澡，因為她從小就愛幹淨，可她的胸部不健康，很可能害了癆病，這我也感覺到了。難道我感覺不到嗎？酒喝得越多，越感覺得出來。就是為此我纔喝酒的，想在酒中尋找同情和愛情……我喝酒，是因為我想得到加倍的痛苦！”說着，他仿佛絶望地朝桌子垂下了頭。
“年輕人，”他又挺直了腰，接着說，“我從您臉上看出，您好像有什麽不幸的事情。您一進來，我就看出來了，所以立刻就跟您交談起來。因為，我把自己的生活故事告訴您，並不是想在這些遊手好閑的傢夥面前作踐自己，這一切，我不說他們也都知道，我說這些，是為了尋找一個富有同情心和受過教育的人。您聽我說，我的妻子在省裏一所貴族高等女子學校裏受過教育，畢業的時候，省長和其他社會名流都在座，她跳了披巾舞①，為此得了一枚金質奬章和一張奬狀。奬章嘛……奬章讓我賣掉換酒喝光了……已經很久了……嗯，……奬狀到現在還放在她的箱子裏，不久前她還拿給女房東看過。雖然她跟房東經常不斷地爭吵，不過還是想在人前誇耀一番，把過去的幸福日子告訴人傢，不管他是什麽人都行。我並不指責她，我並不責備她，因為這是她記憶裏剩下的最後一點安慰，其餘的全都煙消雲散了。是啊，是啊；是一位性情急躁，高傲而又倔強的太太。自己擦洗地板，啃黑面包，可是絶不讓人不尊重自己。正是因此她不肯原諒列別賈特尼科夫先生的無禮行為，列別賈特尼科夫先生為這打了她以後，她躺倒在床上，這與其說是因為挨了打，倒不如說是因為傷了她的心。我娶她的時候，她已經是個寡婦，帶着三個孩子，一個比一個小。她嫁的第一個丈夫是個步兵軍官，她愛他，跟他離傢私奔了。她別提多愛自己的丈夫了，可是他玩上了牌，落得出庭受審，就這麽死了。最後他還打她，雖然她不原諒他，這我確實知道，而且有可靠的證據，但是直到現在她還經常眼淚汪汪地想起他來，用他來教訓我，而我卻感到高興，我所以高興，是因為，至少在她想象中，她認為自己有一個時期是幸福的……他死了以後，她和三個年齡很小的孩子留在一個極其偏遠的縣城裏，當時我正好也在那兒，她生活極端貧睏，幾乎陷於絶境，雖說我見過許許多多各式各樣不同尋常的事情，可就連我也無法描繪她的處境。親戚都不認她了。而且她高傲得很，高傲得太過分了……而那時候，先生，那時候我也成了鰥夫，有個前妻留下的十四歲的女兒，於是我嚮她求婚了，因為我不忍心看到她受這樣的苦。一個受過教育、又有教養、出身名門的女人，竟同意下嫁給我，單憑這點您就可以想見，她的苦難已經達到了什麽地步！可是她嫁給了我！她痛哭流涕，悲痛欲絶，——可是嫁給了我！因為走投無路啊。您可明白，您可明白，先生，當一個人已經走投無路的時候意味着什麽嗎？不！這一點您還不明白……整整一年，我虔誠、嚴格地履行自己的義務，從未碰過這玩意兒（他伸出一隻手指碰了碰那個能裝半什托夫②的酒壺），因為我有感情。不過就是這樣，我也沒能贏得她的歡心；而這時候我失業了，也不是因為我有什麽過錯，而是因為人事變動，於是我喝起酒來！……一年半以前，經過長途跋涉和數不盡的災難之後，我們終於來到了這宏偉壯麗、用無數紀念碑裝飾起來的首都。在這兒我又找到了工作……找到了，又丟掉了。您明白嗎？這次可是由於我自己的過錯，丟掉了差事，因為我的劣根性暴露了……目前我們住在半間房屋裏，住在女房東阿瑪莉婭·費多羅芙娜·利佩韋赫澤爾那兒，我們靠什麽過活，拿什麽付房租，我自己也不知道。那兒住着很多人，除了我們……簡直是所多瑪③，混亂極了……嗯……是的……就在這時候，我前妻生的女兒長大了，她，我女兒，在那長大成人的這段時間裏受過繼母多少，這我就不說了。因為卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜雖然寬洪大量，卻是一位性情急躁、很容易生氣的太太，而且不讓別人說話……是啊！唉，這些都沒什麽好回憶的！索尼婭沒受過教育，這您可以想象得出來。四年前我曾嘗試教她地理和世界通史；不過我自己懂得的也不多，而且沒有適當的教科書，因為僅有的一些書籍……嗯！……唉，這些書現在已經沒有了，所以全部教育就這樣結束了。我們衹讀到了波斯的居魯士大帝④。後來，她已經成年以後，看過幾本愛情小說，不久以前，通過列別賈特尼科夫先生，還看過一本劉易士的《生理學》⑤，——您知道這本書嗎？——她懷着很大的興趣看完了，甚至還給我們念過其中的幾個片斷：這就是她所受的全部教育。現在我問您，我的先生，我以我自己的名義嚮您提出一個非正式的問題：照您看，一個貧窮、然而清白無瑕的姑娘，靠自己誠實的勞動能掙到很多錢嗎？……先生，如果她清清白白，又沒有特殊才能，即使雙手一刻不停地幹活，一天也掙不到十五個戈比！而且五等文官剋洛普什托剋，伊萬·伊萬諾維奇，——這個人您聽說過嗎？——藉口她做的襯衣領子尺寸不對，而且縫歪了，不僅那半打荷蘭襯衣的工錢到現在還沒給，甚至仗勢欺人，跺跺腳，用很難聽的話破口大駡，把她趕了出來。可是這時候幾個孩子都在挨餓……這時候卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜痛苦地搓着手，在屋裏走來走去，臉上泛出紅暈，——害這種病的人總是這樣：‘你，這個好吃懶做的傢夥，’她說，‘住在我們這兒，又吃，又喝，還要取暖，’可這兒有什麽好喝、好吃的呢，既然孩子們已經三天沒見到面了！當時我正躺着……唉，有什麽好說的呢？我醉醺醺地躺着，聽到我的索尼婭說（她性情溫和，說話的聲音也是那麽柔和……一頭淡黃色的頭髮，小臉蛋兒蒼白，消瘦），她說，‘怎麽，卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜，難道我非得去幹這種事情嗎？’而達裏婭·弗蘭佐芙娜，這個居心不良的女人，局裏對她也熟悉得很，她已經通過女房東來過三次了。‘有什麽呢？’。卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜嘲笑地回答，‘愛護貞節幹什麽？嘿，這可真是個寶貝啊！’不過請別責備她，請別責備她，先生，請別責備她！她說這話是在失去理性的時候，精神已經不正常了，是在感情激動而且有病的情況下，是在聽到挨餓的孩子哭聲的時候，而且她說這話與其說是真有這個意思，不如說是為了侮辱她……因為卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜就是這樣的性格，衹要孩子們一哭，哪怕是因為餓得慌，她也立刻動手去打他們。我看到，大約五點多鐘的時候，索涅奇卡起來，包上頭巾，披上鬥篷，從屋裏走了出去，到八點多鐘回來了。她一回來，徑直走到卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜跟前，一聲不響地把三十個盧布擺到她面前的桌子上。這麽做的時候她一句話也沒有說，哪怕看她一眼也好，可連看都沒看，衹是拿了我們那塊緑色德拉德達姆呢的大頭巾（我們有這麽一塊公用的頭巾，是德拉德達姆呢的），用它把頭和臉全都蒙起來，躺到床上，臉衝着墻，衹看見瘦小的肩膀和全身一個勁兒地抖個不停……而我，還是像不久以前那樣躺着……當時我看到，年輕人，我看見，在這以後，卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜也是那樣一言不發，走到索涅奇卡床前，在她腳邊跪了整整一夜，吻她的腳，不想起來，後來，她倆抱在一起，就這樣睡着了……
兩人一道……兩人一道……而我……卻醉醺醺地躺着。”
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①在畢業晚會上跳披巾舞是成績優異的畢業生的特權。
②容量單位，一什托夫約等於一·二公升。
③見《舊約·創世紀》十九章二十四節：所多瑪和蛾摩拉兩城因罪孽深重被耶和華用硫磺和火燒毀。
④居魯士，前五五八——前五二九年的波斯國王。
⑤指英國實證主義哲學家和生理學家喬治·劉易士（一八一七——一八七八）的《日常生活的生理學》，十九世紀六十年代，在具有唯物主義觀點的青年人中，這本書很受歡迎。
馬爾梅拉多夫沉默了，仿佛他的聲音突然斷了。隨後，他忽然匆匆斟了一杯酒，一口喝幹，清了清嗓子。
“從那時候起，我的先生，”沉默了一會兒以後，他接着說，“由於發生了一件不幸的事，也由於有些居心不良的人告發，——特別是達裏婭·弗蘭佐芙娜起了一定作用，仿佛是為了沒對她表示應有的尊敬，——從那時候起，我的女兒，索菲婭·謝苗諾芙娜，就領了黃色執照，因此不能和我們住在一起了。因為我們的女房東阿瑪莉婭·費多羅芙娜不願意讓她住在這裏（可是以前她倒幫過達裏婭·弗蘭佐芙娜的忙），再說列別賈特尼科夫先生……嗯……正是為了索尼婭，他和卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜之間纔發生了那件不愉快的事。起初是他自己要跟索尼婭來往，這時卻突然變得高傲自大了：‘怎麽，’他說，‘我，一個這麽有文化的人，竟要跟這樣一個女人住在一幢房子裏嗎？’卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜不服氣，為她辯解……於是就吵了起來……現在索涅奇卡多半是在黃昏來我們這裏，給卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜幫幫忙，力所能及地給送點兒錢來……她住在裁縫卡佩爾納烏莫夫的房子裏，嚮他們租了一間住房，卡佩爾納烏莫夫是個跛子，說話發音不清楚，他那一大傢子人個個說話也都口齒不清。連他老婆說話發音也不清楚……他們都住在一間屋裏，我的索尼婭另有一間屋子，是用隔板隔開的……嗯，是啊……是些最窮苦的窮人，話都說不清楚……是啊……不過那一天清早我起來了，穿上我的破衣爛衫，舉起雙手嚮上天祈禱，然後去見伊萬·阿凡納西耶維奇大人。請問您認識伊萬·阿凡納西耶維奇大人嗎？……不認識？這樣一位道德高尚的人，您竟會不認識！心腸像蠟一樣軟……上帝面前的蠟；會像蠟一樣融化！……聽完我的話，他甚至掉下淚來。‘唉，’他說，‘馬爾梅拉多夫，有一次你已經辜負了我的期望……我就再任用你一次吧，這完全由我個人負責，’他這麽說，‘你可要記住，’他說，‘回去吧！’我吻了吻他腳上的灰塵，不過是在想象之中，因為他身為顯貴，有治國的新思想、新文化，是不允許當真這麽做的；我回到傢裏，剛一說出，我又被錄用，又會領到薪俸了，天哪，那時候大傢那個高興勁兒啊……”
The master of the establishment was in another room, but he frequently came down some steps into the main room, his jaunty, tarred boots with red turn-over tops coming into view each time before the rest of his person. He wore a full coat and a horribly greasy black satin waistcoat, with no cravat, and his whole face seemed smeared with oil like an iron lock. At the counter stood a boy of about fourteen, and there was another boy somewhat younger who handed whatever was wanted. On the counter lay some sliced cucumber, some pieces of dried black bread, and some fish, chopped up small, all smelling very bad. It was insufferably close, and so heavy with the fumes of spirits that five minutes in such an atmosphere might well make a man drunk.
There are chance meetings with strangers that interest us from the first moment, before a word is spoken. Such was the impression made on Raskolnikov by the person sitting a little distance from him, who looked like a retired clerk. The young man often recalled this impression afterwards, and even ascribed it to presentiment. He looked repeatedly at the clerk, partly no doubt because the latter was staring persistently at him, obviously anxious to enter into conversation. At the other persons in the room, including the tavern- keeper, the clerk looked as though he were used to their company, and weary of it, showing a shade of condescending contempt for them as persons of station and culture inferior to his own, with whom it would be useless for him to converse. He was a man over fifty, bald and grizzled, of medium height, and stoutly built. His face, bloated from continual drinking, was of a yellow, even greenish, tinge, with swollen eyelids out of which keen reddish eyes gleamed like little chinks. But there was something very strange in him; there was a light in his eyes as though of intense feeling--perhaps there were even thought and intelligence, but at the same time there was a gleam of something like madness. He was wearing an old and hopelessly ragged black dress coat, with all its buttons missing except one, and that one he had buttoned, evidently clinging to this last trace of respectability. A crumpled shirt front, covered with spots and stains, protruded from his canvas waistcoat. Like a clerk, he wore no beard, nor moustache, but had been so long unshaven that his chin looked like a stiff greyish brush. And there was something respectable and like an official about his manner too. But he was restless; he ruffled up his hair and from time to time let his head drop into his hands dejectedly resting his ragged elbows on the stained and sticky table. At last he looked straight at Raskolnikov, and said loudly and resolutely:
"May I venture, honoured sir, to engage you in polite conversation? Forasmuch as, though your exterior would not command respect, my experience admonishes me that you are a man of education and not accustomed to drinking. I have always respected education when in conjunction with genuine sentiments, and I am besides a titular counsellor in rank. Marmeladov--such is my name; titular counsellor. I make bold to inquire--have you been in the service?"
"No, I am studying," answered the young man, somewhat surprised at the grandiloquent style of the speaker and also at being so directly addressed. In spite of the momentary desire he had just been feeling for company of any sort, on being actually spoken to he felt immediately his habitual irritable and uneasy aversion for any stranger who approached or attempted to approach him.
"A student then, or formerly a student," cried the clerk. "Just what I thought! I'm a man of experience, immense experience, sir," and he tapped his forehead with his fingers in self-approval. "You've been a student or have attended some learned institution! . . . But allow me. . . ." He got up, staggered, took up his jug and glass, and sat down beside the young man, facing him a little sideways. He was drunk, but spoke fluently and boldly, only occasionally losing the thread of his sentences and drawling his words. He pounced upon Raskolnikov as greedily as though he too had not spoken to a soul for a month.
"Honoured sir," he began almost with solemnity, "poverty is not a vice, that's a true saying. Yet I know too that drunkenness is not a virtue, and that that's even truer. But beggary, honoured sir, beggary is a vice. In poverty you may still retain your innate nobility of soul, but in beggary--never--no one. For beggary a man is not chased out of human society with a stick, he is swept out with a broom, so as to make it as humiliating as possible; and quite right, too, forasmuch as in beggary I am ready to be the first to humiliate myself. Hence the pot-house! Honoured sir, a month ago Mr. Lebeziatnikov gave my wife a beating, and my wife is a very different matter from me! Do you understand? Allow me to ask you another question out of simple curiosity: have you ever spent a night on a hay barge, on the Neva?"
"No, I have not happened to," answered Raskolnikov. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I've just come from one and it's the fifth night I've slept so. . . ." He filled his glass, emptied it and paused. Bits of hay were in fact clinging to his clothes and sticking to his hair. It seemed quite probable that he had not undressed or washed for the last five days. His hands, particularly, were filthy. They were fat and red, with black nails.
His conversation seemed to excite a general though languid interest. The boys at the counter fell to sniggering. The innkeeper came down from the upper room, apparently on purpose to listen to the "funny fellow" and sat down at a little distance, yawning lazily, but with dignity. Evidently Marmeladov was a familiar figure here, and he had most likely acquired his weakness for high-flown speeches from the habit of frequently entering into conversation with strangers of all sorts in the tavern. This habit develops into a necessity in some drunkards, and especially in those who are looked after sharply and kept in order at home. Hence in the company of other drinkers they try to justify themselves and even if possible obtain consideration.
"Funny fellow!" pronounced the innkeeper. "And why don't you work, why aren't you at your duty, if you are in the service?"
"Why am I not at my duty, honoured sir," Marmeladov went on, addressing himself exclusively to Raskolnikov, as though it had been he who put that question to him. "Why am I not at my duty? Does not my heart ache to think what a useless worm I am? A month ago when Mr. Lebeziatnikov beat my wife with his own hands, and I lay drunk, didn't I suffer? Excuse me, young man, has it ever happened to you . . . hm . . . well, to petition hopelessly for a loan?"
"Yes, it has. But what do you mean by hopelessly?"
"Hopelessly in the fullest sense, when you know beforehand that you will get nothing by it. You know, for instance, beforehand with positive certainty that this man, this most reputable and exemplary citizen, will on no consideration give you money; and indeed I ask you why should he? For he knows of course that I shan't pay it back. From compassion? But Mr. Lebeziatnikov who keeps up with modern ideas explained the other day that compassion is forbidden nowadays by science itself, and that that's what is done now in England, where there is political economy. Why, I ask you, should he give it to me? And yet though I know beforehand that he won't, I set off to him and . . ."
"Why do you go?" put in Raskolnikov.
"Well, when one has no one, nowhere else one can go! For every man must have somewhere to go. Since there are times when one absolutely must go somewhere! When my own daughter first went out with a yellow ticket, then I had to go . . . (for my daughter has a yellow passport)," he added in parenthesis, looking with a certain uneasiness at the young man. "No matter, sir, no matter!" he went on hurriedly and with apparent composure when both the boys at the counter guffawed and even the innkeeper smiled--"No matter, I am not confounded by the wagging of their heads; for everyone knows everything about it already, and all that is secret is made open. And I accept it all, not with contempt, but with humility. So be it! So be it! 'Behold the man!' Excuse me, young man, can you. . . . No, to put it more strongly and more distinctly; not /can/ you but /dare/ you, looking upon me, assert that I am not a pig?"
The young man did not answer a word.
"Well," the orator began again stolidly and with even increased dignity, after waiting for the laughter in the room to subside. "Well, so be it, I am a pig, but she is a lady! I have the semblance of a beast, but Katerina Ivanovna, my spouse, is a person of education and an officer's daughter. Granted, granted, I am a scoundrel, but she is a woman of a noble heart, full of sentiments, refined by education. And yet . . . oh, if only she felt for me! Honoured sir, honoured sir, you know every man ought to have at least one place where people feel for him! But Katerina Ivanovna, though she is magnanimous, she is unjust. . . . And yet, although I realise that when she pulls my hair she only does it out of pity--for I repeat without being ashamed, she pulls my hair, young man," he declared with redoubled dignity, hearing the sniggering again--"but, my God, if she would but once. . . . But no, no! It's all in vain and it's no use talking! No use talking! For more than once, my wish did come true and more than once she has felt for me but . . . such is my fate and I am a beast by nature!"
"Rather!" assented the innkeeper yawning. Marmeladov struck his fist resolutely on the table.
"Such is my fate! Do you know, sir, do you know, I have sold her very stockings for drink? Not her shoes--that would be more or less in the order of things, but her stockings, her stockings I have sold for drink! Her mohair shawl I sold for drink, a present to her long ago, her own property, not mine; and we live in a cold room and she caught cold this winter and has begun coughing and spitting blood too. We have three little children and Katerina Ivanovna is at work from morning till night; she is scrubbing and cleaning and washing the children, for she's been used to cleanliness from a child. But her chest is weak and she has a tendency to consumption and I feel it! Do you suppose I don't feel it? And the more I drink the more I feel it. That's why I drink too. I try to find sympathy and feeling in drink. . . . I drink so that I may suffer twice as much!" And as though in despair he laid his head down on the table.
"Young man," he went on, raising his head again, "in your face I seem to read some trouble of mind. When you came in I read it, and that was why I addressed you at once. For in unfolding to you the story of my life, I do not wish to make myself a laughing-stock before these idle listeners, who indeed know all about it already, but I am looking for a man of feeling and education. Know then that my wife was educated in a high-class school for the daughters of noblemen, and on leaving she danced the shawl dance before the governor and other personages for which she was presented with a gold medal and a certificate of merit. The medal . . . well, the medal of course was sold--long ago, hm . . . but the certificate of merit is in her trunk still and not long ago she showed it to our landlady. And although she is most continually on bad terms with the landlady, yet she wanted to tell someone or other of her past honours and of the happy days that are gone. I don't condemn her for it, I don't blame her, for the one thing left her is recollection of the past, and all the rest is dust and ashes. Yes, yes, she is a lady of spirit, proud and determined. She scrubs the floors herself and has nothing but black bread to eat, but won't allow herself to be treated with disrespect. That's why she would not overlook Mr. Lebeziatnikov's rudeness to her, and so when he gave her a beating for it, she took to her bed more from the hurt to her feelings than from the blows. She was a widow when I married her, with three children, one smaller than the other. She married her first husband, an infantry officer, for love, and ran away with him from her father's house. She was exceedingly fond of her husband; but he gave way to cards, got into trouble and with that he died. He used to beat her at the end: and although she paid him back, of which I have authentic documentary evidence, to this day she speaks of him with tears and she throws him up to me; and I am glad, I am glad that, though only in imagination, she should think of herself as having once been happy. . . . And she was left at his death with three children in a wild and remote district where I happened to be at the time; and she was left in such hopeless poverty that, although I have seen many ups and downs of all sort, I don't feel equal to describing it even. Her relations had all thrown her off. And she was proud, too, excessively proud. . . . And then, honoured sir, and then, I, being at the time a widower, with a daughter of fourteen left me by my first wife, offered her my hand, for I could not bear the sight of such suffering. You can judge the extremity of her calamities, that she, a woman of education and culture and distinguished family, should have consented to be my wife. But she did! Weeping and sobbing and wringing her hands, she married me! For she had nowhere to turn! Do you understand, sir, do you understand what it means when you have absolutely nowhere to turn? No, that you don't understand yet. . . . And for a whole year, I performed my duties conscientiously and faithfully, and did not touch this" (he tapped the jug with his finger), "for I have feelings. But even so, I could not please her; and then I lost my place too, and that through no fault of mine but through changes in the office; and then I did touch it! . . . It will be a year and a half ago soon since we found ourselves at last after many wanderings and numerous calamities in this magnificent capital, adorned with innumerable monuments. Here I obtained a situation. . . . I obtained it and I lost it again. Do you understand? This time it was through my own fault I lost it: for my weakness had come out. . . . We have now part of a room at Amalia Fyodorovna Lippevechsel's; and what we live upon and what we pay our rent with, I could not say. There are a lot of people living there besides ourselves. Dirt and disorder, a perfect Bedlam . . . hm . . . yes . . . And meanwhile my daughter by my first wife has grown up; and what my daughter has had to put up with from her step-mother whilst she was growing up, I won't speak of. For, though Katerina Ivanovna is full of generous feelings, she is a spirited lady, irritable and short--tempered. . . . Yes. But it's no use going over that! Sonia, as you may well fancy, has had no education. I did make an effort four years ago to give her a course of geography and universal history, but as I was not very well up in those subjects myself and we had no suitable books, and what books we had . . . hm, anyway we have not even those now, so all our instruction came to an end. We stopped at Cyrus of Persia. Since she has attained years of maturity, she has read other books of romantic tendency and of late she had read with great interest a book she got through Mr. Lebeziatnikov, Lewes' Physiology--do you know it?--and even recounted extracts from it to us: and that's the whole of her education. And now may I venture to address you, honoured sir, on my own account with a private question. Do you suppose that a respectable poor girl can earn much by honest work? Not fifteen farthings a day can she earn, if she is respectable and has no special talent and that without putting her work down for an instant! And what's more, Ivan Ivanitch Klopstock the civil counsellor--have you heard of him?--has not to this day paid her for the half-dozen linen shirts she made him and drove her roughly away, stamping and reviling her, on the pretext that the shirt collars were not made like the pattern and were put in askew. And there are the little ones hungry. . . . And Katerina Ivanovna walking up and down and wringing her hands, her cheeks flushed red, as they always are in that disease: 'Here you live with us,' says she, 'you eat and drink and are kept warm and you do nothing to help.' And much she gets to eat and drink when there is not a crust for the little ones for three days! I was lying at the time . . . well, what of it! I was lying drunk and I heard my Sonia speaking (she is a gentle creature with a soft little voice . . . fair hair and such a pale, thin little face). She said: 'Katerina Ivanovna, am I really to do a thing like that?' And Darya Frantsovna, a woman of evil character and very well known to the police, had two or three times tried to get at her through the landlady. 'And why not?' said Katerina Ivanovna with a jeer, 'you are something mighty precious to be so careful of!' But don't blame her, don't blame her, honoured sir, don't blame her! She was not herself when she spoke, but driven to distraction by her illness and the crying of the hungry children; and it was said more to wound her than anything else. . . . For that's Katerina Ivanovna's character, and when children cry, even from hunger, she falls to beating them at once. At six o'clock I saw Sonia get up, put on her kerchief and her cape, and go out of the room and about nine o'clock she came back. She walked straight up to Katerina Ivanovna and she laid thirty roubles on the table before her in silence. She did not utter a word, she did not even look at her, she simply picked up our big green /drap de dames/ shawl (we have a shawl, made of /drap de dames/), put it over her head and face and lay down on the bed with her face to the wall; only her little shoulders and her body kept shuddering. . . . And I went on lying there, just as before. . . . And then I saw, young man, I saw Katerina Ivanovna, in the same silence go up to Sonia's little bed; she was on her knees all the evening kissing Sonia's feet, and would not get up, and then they both fell asleep in each other's arms . . . together, together . . . yes . . . and I . . . lay drunk."
Marmeladov stopped short, as though his voice had failed him. Then he hurriedly filled his glass, drank, and cleared his throat.
"Since then, sir," he went on after a brief pause--"Since then, owing to an unfortunate occurrence and through information given by evil- intentioned persons--in all which Darya Frantsovna took a leading part on the pretext that she had been treated with want of respect--since then my daughter Sofya Semyonovna has been forced to take a yellow ticket, and owing to that she is unable to go on living with us. For our landlady, Amalia Fyodorovna would not hear of it (though she had backed up Darya Frantsovna before) and Mr. Lebeziatnikov too . . . hm. . . . All the trouble between him and Katerina Ivanovna was on Sonia's account. At first he was for making up to Sonia himself and then all of a sudden he stood on his dignity: 'how,' said he, 'can a highly educated man like me live in the same rooms with a girl like that?' And Katerina Ivanovna would not let it pass, she stood up for her . . . and so that's how it happened. And Sonia comes to us now, mostly after dark; she comforts Katerina Ivanovna and gives her all she can. . . . She has a room at the Kapernaumovs' the tailors, she lodges with them; Kapernaumov is a lame man with a cleft palate and all of his numerous family have cleft palates too. And his wife, too, has a cleft palate. They all live in one room, but Sonia has her own, partitioned off. . . . Hm . . . yes . . . very poor people and all with cleft palates . . . yes. Then I got up in the morning, and put on my rags, lifted up my hands to heaven and set off to his excellency Ivan Afanasyvitch. His excellency Ivan Afanasyvitch, do you know him? No? Well, then, it's a man of God you don't know. He is wax . . . wax before the face of the Lord; even as wax melteth! . . . His eyes were dim when he heard my story. 'Marmeladov, once already you have deceived my expectations . . . I'll take you once more on my own responsibility'--that's what he said, 'remember,' he said, 'and now you can go.' I kissed the dust at his feet--in thought only, for in reality he would not have allowed me to do it, being a statesman and a man of modern political and enlightened ideas. I returned home, and when I announced that I'd been taken back into the service and should receive a salary, heavens, what a to-do there was . . .!"
酒館的老闆待在另一間屋裏，不過常從那兒走下幾級臺階，進入這間主要的店堂，而且首先讓人看到的總是他那雙有紅色大翻口、搽了一層油的時髦靴子。他穿一件腰部打褶的長外衣和一件油跡斑駁的黑緞子坎肩，沒打領帶，滿臉上似乎都搽了油，就像給鐵鎖上油一樣。櫃臺後站着一個十三、四歲的小男孩，還有個年紀更小的男孩子，有人要酒時，他就給送去。擺着切碎的黃瓜，黑面包幹，切成一塊塊的魚；這一切都有一股難聞的氣味。又悶又熱，坐在這裏簡直讓人受不了，而且一切都滲透了酒味，似乎單聞聞這兒的空氣，不消五分鐘就會給熏得醺醺大醉。
有時會碰到這樣一些人，我們和他們甚至素不相識，但不知怎的，連一句話都還沒說，卻突然一下子，剛一見面就引起我們的興趣。那個坐得稍遠、好像退職官吏的客人，就正是讓拉斯科利尼科夫産生了這樣的印象。以後這年輕人不止一次回想起這第一次印象，甚至認為這是由預感造成的。他不斷地打量那個官吏，當然，這也是因為那人也在一個勁兒地瞅着他，而且看得出來，那人很想開口跟他說話。對酒館裏其餘的人，包括老闆在內，那官吏卻不知怎地似乎早已經看慣了，甚至感到無聊，而且帶有某種傲慢的藐視意味，就像對待社會地位和文化程度都很低的人們那樣，覺得跟他們根本無話可談。這是一個已經年過半百的人，中等身材，體格健壯，鬢有白發，頭頂上禿了老大一塊，由於經常酗酒，浮腫的黃臉甚至有點兒發緑，稍微腫脹的眼皮底下，一雙細得像兩條細縫、然而很有精神、微微發紅的小眼睛炯炯發光。但他身上有某種很奇怪的現象；他的目光裏流露出甚至仿佛是興高采烈的神情，——看來，既有理性，又有智慧，——但同時又隱約顯示出瘋狂的跡象。他穿一件已經完全破破爛爛的黑色舊燕尾服，鈕扣幾乎都掉光了。衹有一顆還勉強連在上面，他就是用這顆鈕扣把衣服扣上，看來是希望保持體面。黃土布坎肩下露出皺得不像樣子、污跡斑斑的髒胸衣。和所有官員一樣，他沒留鬍子，不過臉已經颳過很久了，所以已經開始長出了濃密的、灰藍色的鬍子茬。而且他的行為舉止當真都有一種官員們所特有的莊重風度。但是他顯得煩躁不安，把頭髮弄得亂蓬蓬的，有時神情憂鬱，把袖子已經磨破的胳膊肘撐在很髒而且黏搭搭的桌子上，用雙手托着腦袋。最後，他直對着拉斯科利尼科夫看了一眼，高聲而堅决地說：
“我的先生，恕我冒昧，不知能否與您攀談幾句？因為雖然您衣著並不考究，但憑我的經驗卻能看出，您是一位受過教育的人，也不常喝酒。我一嚮尊重受過教育而且真心誠意的人，除此而外，我還是個九等文官①呢。馬爾梅拉多夫——這是我的姓；九等文官。恕我冒昧，請問您在工作嗎？”
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①一七二二年彼得大帝製訂“等級表”，所有文武官員分為十四等，一等最高，十四等最低。九等文官相當於大尉。
“不，我在求學……”青年人回答。他感到驚訝，這有一部分是由於對方說話的語氣特別矯揉造作，也由於他竟是那麽直截了當地和他說話。儘管不久前有那麽短暫的瞬間他想與人交往，不管是什麽樣的交往都好，但當真有人和他說話時，纔聽到第一句話，他就又突然感到厭惡和惱怒了，——對所有與他接觸、或想要和他接觸的人，通常他都會産生這種厭惡和惱怒的心情。
“那麽說，是大學生了，或者以前是大學生！”官吏高聲說，“我就是這樣想的！經驗嘛，先生，屢試不爽的經驗了！”並且自我吹噓地把一根手指按在前額上。“以前是大學生，或者搞過學術研究！對不起……”他欠起身來，搖晃了一下，拿起自己的酒壺和酒杯，坐到青年人旁邊，稍有點兒斜對着他。他喝醉了，不過仍然健談，說話也很流利，衹是偶爾有的地方前言不搭後語，而且羅裏羅唆。他甚至那樣急切地渴望與拉斯科利尼科夫交談，好像有整整一個月沒跟人說過話似的。
“先生，”他幾乎是鄭重其事地開始說，“貧窮不是罪惡，這是真理。我知道，酗酒不是美德，這更是真理。可是赤貧，先生，赤貧卻是罪惡。貧窮的時候，您還能保持自己天生感情的高尚氣度，在赤貧的情況下，卻無論什麽時候，無論什麽人都做不到。為了赤貧，甚至不是把人用棍子趕走，而是拿掃帚把他從人類社會裏清掃出去，讓他受更大的；而且這是公正的，因為在赤貧的情況下，我自己首先就準備自己。於是就找到了酒！先生，一個月以前，我太太讓列別賈特尼科夫先生痛打了一頓，不過我太太可不是我這種人！您明白嗎？對不起，我還要問您一聲，即使衹是出於一般的好奇心：您在涅瓦河上的幹草船①裏過過夜嗎？”
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①十九世紀六十年代，那裏是彼得堡無傢可歸者過夜的地方。
“沒有，沒有過過夜，”拉斯科利尼科夫回答。“這是什麽意思？”
“唉，我就是從那兒來的，已經是第五夜了……”
他斟了一杯酒，喝幹了，於是陷入沉思。真的，他的衣服上，甚至連他的頭髮裏，有些地方還可以看到粘在上面的一根根幹草。很有可能，他已經五天沒脫衣服，也沒洗臉了。尤其是一雙手髒得要命，滿手油垢，發紅，指甲裏嵌滿黑色的污泥。
他的話好像引起了大傢的註意。雖說這註意也是無精打采的。櫃臺後面的兩個男孩子吃吃地笑起來。老闆好像故意從上面的房間裏下來，好來聽聽這個“逗樂的傢夥”在說什麽。他坐到稍遠一點兒的地方，懶洋洋地、但神氣十足地打着呵欠。顯然，馬爾梅拉多夫早已是這兒大傢都熟悉的人了。而且他愛用矯揉造作的語氣說話，大概是由於他習慣經常和酒館裏形形色色素不相識的人談話。這種習慣對有些酒鬼已經變成了一種需要，主要是他們當中那些在傢裏嚴受管束、經常受到壓製的人。因此他們在同樣嗜酒如命的這夥人中間，纔總是力圖為自己表白，仿佛是設法給自己辯解，如果可能的話，甚至試圖博得別人的尊敬。
“逗樂的傢夥！”老闆高聲說。“可你幹嗎不去工作，幹嗎不去辦公，既然你是個官員？”
“我為什麽不去辦公嗎，先生，”馬爾梅拉多夫接住話茬說，這話是單對着拉斯科利尼科夫說的，仿佛這是他嚮他提出了這個問題。“為什麽不去辦公嗎？難道我自輕自賤、徒然降低自己的身份，自己不覺得心痛嗎？一個月以前，當列別賈特尼科夫先生動手打我妻子的時候，我喝得醉醺醺地躺在床上，難道我不感到痛苦嗎？對不起，年輕人，您是不是有過……嗯哼……雖然明知毫無希望，可還是不得不開口嚮人借錢？”
“有過……毫無希望是什麽意思？”
“就是完全沒有希望，事先就知道這絶不會有什麽結果。喏，譬如說吧，您早就知道，而且有充分根據，知道這個人，這個心地最善良、對社會最有益的公民無論如何也不會把錢藉給您。因為，請問，他為什麽要給呢？不是嗎，他明明知道，這不會還給他。出於同情心嗎？可是列別賈特尼科夫先生，這個經常留心各種新思想的人，不久前解釋說，在我們這個時代，就連科學也不允許有同情心，在有了經濟學的英國就是這樣①請問，他為什麽要給錢呢？瞧，您事先就知道，他絶不會藉給您，可您還是去了……”
“為什麽要去呢？”拉斯科利尼科夫追問一句。
“如果沒有別人可找，如果再也無處可去呢！不是嗎，得讓每個人至少有個什麽可以去的地方啊。因為常常有這樣的時候，一定得至少有個可以去的地方！我的獨生女兒頭一次去拉生意的時候，我也去了……（因為我女兒靠黃色執照②生活……）”他附帶加上了一句，同時有點兒神色不安地看了看青年人。“沒什麽，先生，沒什麽！”櫃臺後面的兩個男孩噗嗤一聲笑了出來，老闆也微微一笑，這時他立刻匆匆忙忙地說，看來神情是安詳的。“沒什麽！這些人搖頭我不會感到不好意思，因為這一切大傢都已經知道了，一切秘密都公開了；而且我不是以蔑視的態度，而是懷着恭順的心情來對待這一切的。由它去吧！讓他們笑吧！‘你們看這個人！’③對不起，年輕人：您能不能……可是，不，用一種更加有力、更富有表現力的方式，說得更清楚些：您能不能，您敢不敢現在看着我肯定地說，“我不是豬玀？”
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①指英國哲學家、經濟學家約·斯·米利（一八○六——一八七三）的《經濟學原理），該書的俄譯本是一八六五年出版的。米利認為，人的行為、願望乃至苦難都是由他們的經濟地位事先决定的。陀思妥耶夫斯基不同意這種觀點。
②指作妓女。帝俄時，妓女要在局領黃色執照。
③引自《新約全書·約翰福音》第十九章第五節：“耶穌出來，戴着荊棘冠冕，穿着紫袍，彼拉多對他們說，你們看這個人。”
年輕人什麽也沒有回答。
“嗯，”等到屋裏隨之而來的吃吃的笑聲停下來以後，這位演說傢又莊重地，這一回甚至是更加尊嚴地接着說：“嗯，就算我是豬玀吧，可她是一位太太！我的形象像畜生，而卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜，我的妻子，是個受過教育的人，是位校級軍官的女兒。就算，就算我是個下流坯吧，她卻有一顆高尚的心，受過教育，滿懷崇高的感情。然而，……噢，如果她憐憫我的話！先生，先生，要知道，得讓每個人至少有個能憐憫他的地方啊！而卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜雖然是一位寬洪大量的太太，可是她不公正……雖然我自己也知道，她揪我頭髮的時候，衹不過是出於她的憐憫心，因為，我反復說，她揪我的頭髮，我並不感到難為情，年輕人，”他又聽見一陣吃吃的笑聲，懷着加倍的自尊承認道，“不過，天哪，如果她哪怕是僅僅有一次……可是，不！不！這一切都是徒然的，沒什麽好說的！沒什麽好說的了！……因為我所希望的已經不止一次成為現實，已經不止一次憐憫過我了，可是……
我就是這麽個德性，我是個天生的畜生！”
“可不是！”老闆打着呵欠說。
馬爾梅拉多夫堅决地用拳頭捶了捶桌子。
“我就是這麽個德性！您知道嗎，先生，我連她的長襪都拿去賣掉，喝光了？不是鞋子，因為這至少還多少合乎情理。可是長襪，把她的長襪賣掉，喝光了！她的一條山羊毛頭巾也讓我賣掉，喝光了，是人傢從前送給她的，是她自己的，而不是我的；可我們住在半間寒冷的房屋裏，這個鼕天她着了涼，咳嗽起來，已經吐血了。我們有三個小孩子，卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜從早到晚忙個不停，擦啊，洗啊，給孩子們洗澡，因為她從小就愛幹淨，可她的胸部不健康，很可能害了癆病，這我也感覺到了。難道我感覺不到嗎？酒喝得越多，越感覺得出來。就是為此我纔喝酒的，想在酒中尋找同情和愛情……我喝酒，是因為我想得到加倍的痛苦！”說着，他仿佛絶望地朝桌子垂下了頭。
“年輕人，”他又挺直了腰，接着說，“我從您臉上看出，您好像有什麽不幸的事情。您一進來，我就看出來了，所以立刻就跟您交談起來。因為，我把自己的生活故事告訴您，並不是想在這些遊手好閑的傢夥面前作踐自己，這一切，我不說他們也都知道，我說這些，是為了尋找一個富有同情心和受過教育的人。您聽我說，我的妻子在省裏一所貴族高等女子學校裏受過教育，畢業的時候，省長和其他社會名流都在座，她跳了披巾舞①，為此得了一枚金質奬章和一張奬狀。奬章嘛……奬章讓我賣掉換酒喝光了……已經很久了……嗯，……奬狀到現在還放在她的箱子裏，不久前她還拿給女房東看過。雖然她跟房東經常不斷地爭吵，不過還是想在人前誇耀一番，把過去的幸福日子告訴人傢，不管他是什麽人都行。我並不指責她，我並不責備她，因為這是她記憶裏剩下的最後一點安慰，其餘的全都煙消雲散了。是啊，是啊；是一位性情急躁，高傲而又倔強的太太。自己擦洗地板，啃黑面包，可是絶不讓人不尊重自己。正是因此她不肯原諒列別賈特尼科夫先生的無禮行為，列別賈特尼科夫先生為這打了她以後，她躺倒在床上，這與其說是因為挨了打，倒不如說是因為傷了她的心。我娶她的時候，她已經是個寡婦，帶着三個孩子，一個比一個小。她嫁的第一個丈夫是個步兵軍官，她愛他，跟他離傢私奔了。她別提多愛自己的丈夫了，可是他玩上了牌，落得出庭受審，就這麽死了。最後他還打她，雖然她不原諒他，這我確實知道，而且有可靠的證據，但是直到現在她還經常眼淚汪汪地想起他來，用他來教訓我，而我卻感到高興，我所以高興，是因為，至少在她想象中，她認為自己有一個時期是幸福的……他死了以後，她和三個年齡很小的孩子留在一個極其偏遠的縣城裏，當時我正好也在那兒，她生活極端貧睏，幾乎陷於絶境，雖說我見過許許多多各式各樣不同尋常的事情，可就連我也無法描繪她的處境。親戚都不認她了。而且她高傲得很，高傲得太過分了……而那時候，先生，那時候我也成了鰥夫，有個前妻留下的十四歲的女兒，於是我嚮她求婚了，因為我不忍心看到她受這樣的苦。一個受過教育、又有教養、出身名門的女人，竟同意下嫁給我，單憑這點您就可以想見，她的苦難已經達到了什麽地步！可是她嫁給了我！她痛哭流涕，悲痛欲絶，——可是嫁給了我！因為走投無路啊。您可明白，您可明白，先生，當一個人已經走投無路的時候意味着什麽嗎？不！這一點您還不明白……整整一年，我虔誠、嚴格地履行自己的義務，從未碰過這玩意兒（他伸出一隻手指碰了碰那個能裝半什托夫②的酒壺），因為我有感情。不過就是這樣，我也沒能贏得她的歡心；而這時候我失業了，也不是因為我有什麽過錯，而是因為人事變動，於是我喝起酒來！……一年半以前，經過長途跋涉和數不盡的災難之後，我們終於來到了這宏偉壯麗、用無數紀念碑裝飾起來的首都。在這兒我又找到了工作……找到了，又丟掉了。您明白嗎？這次可是由於我自己的過錯，丟掉了差事，因為我的劣根性暴露了……目前我們住在半間房屋裏，住在女房東阿瑪莉婭·費多羅芙娜·利佩韋赫澤爾那兒，我們靠什麽過活，拿什麽付房租，我自己也不知道。那兒住着很多人，除了我們……簡直是所多瑪③，混亂極了……嗯……是的……就在這時候，我前妻生的女兒長大了，她，我女兒，在那長大成人的這段時間裏受過繼母多少，這我就不說了。因為卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜雖然寬洪大量，卻是一位性情急躁、很容易生氣的太太，而且不讓別人說話……是啊！唉，這些都沒什麽好回憶的！索尼婭沒受過教育，這您可以想象得出來。四年前我曾嘗試教她地理和世界通史；不過我自己懂得的也不多，而且沒有適當的教科書，因為僅有的一些書籍……嗯！……唉，這些書現在已經沒有了，所以全部教育就這樣結束了。我們衹讀到了波斯的居魯士大帝④。後來，她已經成年以後，看過幾本愛情小說，不久以前，通過列別賈特尼科夫先生，還看過一本劉易士的《生理學》⑤，——您知道這本書嗎？——她懷着很大的興趣看完了，甚至還給我們念過其中的幾個片斷：這就是她所受的全部教育。現在我問您，我的先生，我以我自己的名義嚮您提出一個非正式的問題：照您看，一個貧窮、然而清白無瑕的姑娘，靠自己誠實的勞動能掙到很多錢嗎？……先生，如果她清清白白，又沒有特殊才能，即使雙手一刻不停地幹活，一天也掙不到十五個戈比！而且五等文官剋洛普什托剋，伊萬·伊萬諾維奇，——這個人您聽說過嗎？——藉口她做的襯衣領子尺寸不對，而且縫歪了，不僅那半打荷蘭襯衣的工錢到現在還沒給，甚至仗勢欺人，跺跺腳，用很難聽的話破口大駡，把她趕了出來。可是這時候幾個孩子都在挨餓……這時候卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜痛苦地搓着手，在屋裏走來走去，臉上泛出紅暈，——害這種病的人總是這樣：‘你，這個好吃懶做的傢夥，’她說，‘住在我們這兒，又吃，又喝，還要取暖，’可這兒有什麽好喝、好吃的呢，既然孩子們已經三天沒見到面了！當時我正躺着……唉，有什麽好說的呢？我醉醺醺地躺着，聽到我的索尼婭說（她性情溫和，說話的聲音也是那麽柔和……一頭淡黃色的頭髮，小臉蛋兒蒼白，消瘦），她說，‘怎麽，卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜，難道我非得去幹這種事情嗎？’而達裏婭·弗蘭佐芙娜，這個居心不良的女人，局裏對她也熟悉得很，她已經通過女房東來過三次了。‘有什麽呢？’。卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜嘲笑地回答，‘愛護貞節幹什麽？嘿，這可真是個寶貝啊！’不過請別責備她，請別責備她，先生，請別責備她！她說這話是在失去理性的時候，精神已經不正常了，是在感情激動而且有病的情況下，是在聽到挨餓的孩子哭聲的時候，而且她說這話與其說是真有這個意思，不如說是為了侮辱她……因為卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜就是這樣的性格，衹要孩子們一哭，哪怕是因為餓得慌，她也立刻動手去打他們。我看到，大約五點多鐘的時候，索涅奇卡起來，包上頭巾，披上鬥篷，從屋裏走了出去，到八點多鐘回來了。她一回來，徑直走到卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜跟前，一聲不響地把三十個盧布擺到她面前的桌子上。這麽做的時候她一句話也沒有說，哪怕看她一眼也好，可連看都沒看，衹是拿了我們那塊緑色德拉德達姆呢的大頭巾（我們有這麽一塊公用的頭巾，是德拉德達姆呢的），用它把頭和臉全都蒙起來，躺到床上，臉衝着墻，衹看見瘦小的肩膀和全身一個勁兒地抖個不停……而我，還是像不久以前那樣躺着……當時我看到，年輕人，我看見，在這以後，卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜也是那樣一言不發，走到索涅奇卡床前，在她腳邊跪了整整一夜，吻她的腳，不想起來，後來，她倆抱在一起，就這樣睡着了……
兩人一道……兩人一道……而我……卻醉醺醺地躺着。”
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①在畢業晚會上跳披巾舞是成績優異的畢業生的特權。
②容量單位，一什托夫約等於一·二公升。
③見《舊約·創世紀》十九章二十四節：所多瑪和蛾摩拉兩城因罪孽深重被耶和華用硫磺和火燒毀。
④居魯士，前五五八——前五二九年的波斯國王。
⑤指英國實證主義哲學家和生理學家喬治·劉易士（一八一七——一八七八）的《日常生活的生理學》，十九世紀六十年代，在具有唯物主義觀點的青年人中，這本書很受歡迎。
馬爾梅拉多夫沉默了，仿佛他的聲音突然斷了。隨後，他忽然匆匆斟了一杯酒，一口喝幹，清了清嗓子。
“從那時候起，我的先生，”沉默了一會兒以後，他接着說，“由於發生了一件不幸的事，也由於有些居心不良的人告發，——特別是達裏婭·弗蘭佐芙娜起了一定作用，仿佛是為了沒對她表示應有的尊敬，——從那時候起，我的女兒，索菲婭·謝苗諾芙娜，就領了黃色執照，因此不能和我們住在一起了。因為我們的女房東阿瑪莉婭·費多羅芙娜不願意讓她住在這裏（可是以前她倒幫過達裏婭·弗蘭佐芙娜的忙），再說列別賈特尼科夫先生……嗯……正是為了索尼婭，他和卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜之間纔發生了那件不愉快的事。起初是他自己要跟索尼婭來往，這時卻突然變得高傲自大了：‘怎麽，’他說，‘我，一個這麽有文化的人，竟要跟這樣一個女人住在一幢房子裏嗎？’卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜不服氣，為她辯解……於是就吵了起來……現在索涅奇卡多半是在黃昏來我們這裏，給卡捷琳娜·伊萬諾芙娜幫幫忙，力所能及地給送點兒錢來……她住在裁縫卡佩爾納烏莫夫的房子裏，嚮他們租了一間住房，卡佩爾納烏莫夫是個跛子，說話發音不清楚，他那一大傢子人個個說話也都口齒不清。連他老婆說話發音也不清楚……他們都住在一間屋裏，我的索尼婭另有一間屋子，是用隔板隔開的……嗯，是啊……是些最窮苦的窮人，話都說不清楚……是啊……不過那一天清早我起來了，穿上我的破衣爛衫，舉起雙手嚮上天祈禱，然後去見伊萬·阿凡納西耶維奇大人。請問您認識伊萬·阿凡納西耶維奇大人嗎？……不認識？這樣一位道德高尚的人，您竟會不認識！心腸像蠟一樣軟……上帝面前的蠟；會像蠟一樣融化！……聽完我的話，他甚至掉下淚來。‘唉，’他說，‘馬爾梅拉多夫，有一次你已經辜負了我的期望……我就再任用你一次吧，這完全由我個人負責，’他這麽說，‘你可要記住，’他說，‘回去吧！’我吻了吻他腳上的灰塵，不過是在想象之中，因為他身為顯貴，有治國的新思想、新文化，是不允許當真這麽做的；我回到傢裏，剛一說出，我又被錄用，又會領到薪俸了，天哪，那時候大傢那個高興勁兒啊……”
The master of the establishment was in another room, but he frequently came down some steps into the main room, his jaunty, tarred boots with red turn-over tops coming into view each time before the rest of his person. He wore a full coat and a horribly greasy black satin waistcoat, with no cravat, and his whole face seemed smeared with oil like an iron lock. At the counter stood a boy of about fourteen, and there was another boy somewhat younger who handed whatever was wanted. On the counter lay some sliced cucumber, some pieces of dried black bread, and some fish, chopped up small, all smelling very bad. It was insufferably close, and so heavy with the fumes of spirits that five minutes in such an atmosphere might well make a man drunk.
There are chance meetings with strangers that interest us from the first moment, before a word is spoken. Such was the impression made on Raskolnikov by the person sitting a little distance from him, who looked like a retired clerk. The young man often recalled this impression afterwards, and even ascribed it to presentiment. He looked repeatedly at the clerk, partly no doubt because the latter was staring persistently at him, obviously anxious to enter into conversation. At the other persons in the room, including the tavern- keeper, the clerk looked as though he were used to their company, and weary of it, showing a shade of condescending contempt for them as persons of station and culture inferior to his own, with whom it would be useless for him to converse. He was a man over fifty, bald and grizzled, of medium height, and stoutly built. His face, bloated from continual drinking, was of a yellow, even greenish, tinge, with swollen eyelids out of which keen reddish eyes gleamed like little chinks. But there was something very strange in him; there was a light in his eyes as though of intense feeling--perhaps there were even thought and intelligence, but at the same time there was a gleam of something like madness. He was wearing an old and hopelessly ragged black dress coat, with all its buttons missing except one, and that one he had buttoned, evidently clinging to this last trace of respectability. A crumpled shirt front, covered with spots and stains, protruded from his canvas waistcoat. Like a clerk, he wore no beard, nor moustache, but had been so long unshaven that his chin looked like a stiff greyish brush. And there was something respectable and like an official about his manner too. But he was restless; he ruffled up his hair and from time to time let his head drop into his hands dejectedly resting his ragged elbows on the stained and sticky table. At last he looked straight at Raskolnikov, and said loudly and resolutely:
"May I venture, honoured sir, to engage you in polite conversation? Forasmuch as, though your exterior would not command respect, my experience admonishes me that you are a man of education and not accustomed to drinking. I have always respected education when in conjunction with genuine sentiments, and I am besides a titular counsellor in rank. Marmeladov--such is my name; titular counsellor. I make bold to inquire--have you been in the service?"
"No, I am studying," answered the young man, somewhat surprised at the grandiloquent style of the speaker and also at being so directly addressed. In spite of the momentary desire he had just been feeling for company of any sort, on being actually spoken to he felt immediately his habitual irritable and uneasy aversion for any stranger who approached or attempted to approach him.
"A student then, or formerly a student," cried the clerk. "Just what I thought! I'm a man of experience, immense experience, sir," and he tapped his forehead with his fingers in self-approval. "You've been a student or have attended some learned institution! . . . But allow me. . . ." He got up, staggered, took up his jug and glass, and sat down beside the young man, facing him a little sideways. He was drunk, but spoke fluently and boldly, only occasionally losing the thread of his sentences and drawling his words. He pounced upon Raskolnikov as greedily as though he too had not spoken to a soul for a month.
"Honoured sir," he began almost with solemnity, "poverty is not a vice, that's a true saying. Yet I know too that drunkenness is not a virtue, and that that's even truer. But beggary, honoured sir, beggary is a vice. In poverty you may still retain your innate nobility of soul, but in beggary--never--no one. For beggary a man is not chased out of human society with a stick, he is swept out with a broom, so as to make it as humiliating as possible; and quite right, too, forasmuch as in beggary I am ready to be the first to humiliate myself. Hence the pot-house! Honoured sir, a month ago Mr. Lebeziatnikov gave my wife a beating, and my wife is a very different matter from me! Do you understand? Allow me to ask you another question out of simple curiosity: have you ever spent a night on a hay barge, on the Neva?"
"No, I have not happened to," answered Raskolnikov. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I've just come from one and it's the fifth night I've slept so. . . ." He filled his glass, emptied it and paused. Bits of hay were in fact clinging to his clothes and sticking to his hair. It seemed quite probable that he had not undressed or washed for the last five days. His hands, particularly, were filthy. They were fat and red, with black nails.
His conversation seemed to excite a general though languid interest. The boys at the counter fell to sniggering. The innkeeper came down from the upper room, apparently on purpose to listen to the "funny fellow" and sat down at a little distance, yawning lazily, but with dignity. Evidently Marmeladov was a familiar figure here, and he had most likely acquired his weakness for high-flown speeches from the habit of frequently entering into conversation with strangers of all sorts in the tavern. This habit develops into a necessity in some drunkards, and especially in those who are looked after sharply and kept in order at home. Hence in the company of other drinkers they try to justify themselves and even if possible obtain consideration.
"Funny fellow!" pronounced the innkeeper. "And why don't you work, why aren't you at your duty, if you are in the service?"
"Why am I not at my duty, honoured sir," Marmeladov went on, addressing himself exclusively to Raskolnikov, as though it had been he who put that question to him. "Why am I not at my duty? Does not my heart ache to think what a useless worm I am? A month ago when Mr. Lebeziatnikov beat my wife with his own hands, and I lay drunk, didn't I suffer? Excuse me, young man, has it ever happened to you . . . hm . . . well, to petition hopelessly for a loan?"
"Yes, it has. But what do you mean by hopelessly?"
"Hopelessly in the fullest sense, when you know beforehand that you will get nothing by it. You know, for instance, beforehand with positive certainty that this man, this most reputable and exemplary citizen, will on no consideration give you money; and indeed I ask you why should he? For he knows of course that I shan't pay it back. From compassion? But Mr. Lebeziatnikov who keeps up with modern ideas explained the other day that compassion is forbidden nowadays by science itself, and that that's what is done now in England, where there is political economy. Why, I ask you, should he give it to me? And yet though I know beforehand that he won't, I set off to him and . . ."
"Why do you go?" put in Raskolnikov.
"Well, when one has no one, nowhere else one can go! For every man must have somewhere to go. Since there are times when one absolutely must go somewhere! When my own daughter first went out with a yellow ticket, then I had to go . . . (for my daughter has a yellow passport)," he added in parenthesis, looking with a certain uneasiness at the young man. "No matter, sir, no matter!" he went on hurriedly and with apparent composure when both the boys at the counter guffawed and even the innkeeper smiled--"No matter, I am not confounded by the wagging of their heads; for everyone knows everything about it already, and all that is secret is made open. And I accept it all, not with contempt, but with humility. So be it! So be it! 'Behold the man!' Excuse me, young man, can you. . . . No, to put it more strongly and more distinctly; not /can/ you but /dare/ you, looking upon me, assert that I am not a pig?"
The young man did not answer a word.
"Well," the orator began again stolidly and with even increased dignity, after waiting for the laughter in the room to subside. "Well, so be it, I am a pig, but she is a lady! I have the semblance of a beast, but Katerina Ivanovna, my spouse, is a person of education and an officer's daughter. Granted, granted, I am a scoundrel, but she is a woman of a noble heart, full of sentiments, refined by education. And yet . . . oh, if only she felt for me! Honoured sir, honoured sir, you know every man ought to have at least one place where people feel for him! But Katerina Ivanovna, though she is magnanimous, she is unjust. . . . And yet, although I realise that when she pulls my hair she only does it out of pity--for I repeat without being ashamed, she pulls my hair, young man," he declared with redoubled dignity, hearing the sniggering again--"but, my God, if she would but once. . . . But no, no! It's all in vain and it's no use talking! No use talking! For more than once, my wish did come true and more than once she has felt for me but . . . such is my fate and I am a beast by nature!"
"Rather!" assented the innkeeper yawning. Marmeladov struck his fist resolutely on the table.
"Such is my fate! Do you know, sir, do you know, I have sold her very stockings for drink? Not her shoes--that would be more or less in the order of things, but her stockings, her stockings I have sold for drink! Her mohair shawl I sold for drink, a present to her long ago, her own property, not mine; and we live in a cold room and she caught cold this winter and has begun coughing and spitting blood too. We have three little children and Katerina Ivanovna is at work from morning till night; she is scrubbing and cleaning and washing the children, for she's been used to cleanliness from a child. But her chest is weak and she has a tendency to consumption and I feel it! Do you suppose I don't feel it? And the more I drink the more I feel it. That's why I drink too. I try to find sympathy and feeling in drink. . . . I drink so that I may suffer twice as much!" And as though in despair he laid his head down on the table.
"Young man," he went on, raising his head again, "in your face I seem to read some trouble of mind. When you came in I read it, and that was why I addressed you at once. For in unfolding to you the story of my life, I do not wish to make myself a laughing-stock before these idle listeners, who indeed know all about it already, but I am looking for a man of feeling and education. Know then that my wife was educated in a high-class school for the daughters of noblemen, and on leaving she danced the shawl dance before the governor and other personages for which she was presented with a gold medal and a certificate of merit. The medal . . . well, the medal of course was sold--long ago, hm . . . but the certificate of merit is in her trunk still and not long ago she showed it to our landlady. And although she is most continually on bad terms with the landlady, yet she wanted to tell someone or other of her past honours and of the happy days that are gone. I don't condemn her for it, I don't blame her, for the one thing left her is recollection of the past, and all the rest is dust and ashes. Yes, yes, she is a lady of spirit, proud and determined. She scrubs the floors herself and has nothing but black bread to eat, but won't allow herself to be treated with disrespect. That's why she would not overlook Mr. Lebeziatnikov's rudeness to her, and so when he gave her a beating for it, she took to her bed more from the hurt to her feelings than from the blows. She was a widow when I married her, with three children, one smaller than the other. She married her first husband, an infantry officer, for love, and ran away with him from her father's house. She was exceedingly fond of her husband; but he gave way to cards, got into trouble and with that he died. He used to beat her at the end: and although she paid him back, of which I have authentic documentary evidence, to this day she speaks of him with tears and she throws him up to me; and I am glad, I am glad that, though only in imagination, she should think of herself as having once been happy. . . . And she was left at his death with three children in a wild and remote district where I happened to be at the time; and she was left in such hopeless poverty that, although I have seen many ups and downs of all sort, I don't feel equal to describing it even. Her relations had all thrown her off. And she was proud, too, excessively proud. . . . And then, honoured sir, and then, I, being at the time a widower, with a daughter of fourteen left me by my first wife, offered her my hand, for I could not bear the sight of such suffering. You can judge the extremity of her calamities, that she, a woman of education and culture and distinguished family, should have consented to be my wife. But she did! Weeping and sobbing and wringing her hands, she married me! For she had nowhere to turn! Do you understand, sir, do you understand what it means when you have absolutely nowhere to turn? No, that you don't understand yet. . . . And for a whole year, I performed my duties conscientiously and faithfully, and did not touch this" (he tapped the jug with his finger), "for I have feelings. But even so, I could not please her; and then I lost my place too, and that through no fault of mine but through changes in the office; and then I did touch it! . . . It will be a year and a half ago soon since we found ourselves at last after many wanderings and numerous calamities in this magnificent capital, adorned with innumerable monuments. Here I obtained a situation. . . . I obtained it and I lost it again. Do you understand? This time it was through my own fault I lost it: for my weakness had come out. . . . We have now part of a room at Amalia Fyodorovna Lippevechsel's; and what we live upon and what we pay our rent with, I could not say. There are a lot of people living there besides ourselves. Dirt and disorder, a perfect Bedlam . . . hm . . . yes . . . And meanwhile my daughter by my first wife has grown up; and what my daughter has had to put up with from her step-mother whilst she was growing up, I won't speak of. For, though Katerina Ivanovna is full of generous feelings, she is a spirited lady, irritable and short--tempered. . . . Yes. But it's no use going over that! Sonia, as you may well fancy, has had no education. I did make an effort four years ago to give her a course of geography and universal history, but as I was not very well up in those subjects myself and we had no suitable books, and what books we had . . . hm, anyway we have not even those now, so all our instruction came to an end. We stopped at Cyrus of Persia. Since she has attained years of maturity, she has read other books of romantic tendency and of late she had read with great interest a book she got through Mr. Lebeziatnikov, Lewes' Physiology--do you know it?--and even recounted extracts from it to us: and that's the whole of her education. And now may I venture to address you, honoured sir, on my own account with a private question. Do you suppose that a respectable poor girl can earn much by honest work? Not fifteen farthings a day can she earn, if she is respectable and has no special talent and that without putting her work down for an instant! And what's more, Ivan Ivanitch Klopstock the civil counsellor--have you heard of him?--has not to this day paid her for the half-dozen linen shirts she made him and drove her roughly away, stamping and reviling her, on the pretext that the shirt collars were not made like the pattern and were put in askew. And there are the little ones hungry. . . . And Katerina Ivanovna walking up and down and wringing her hands, her cheeks flushed red, as they always are in that disease: 'Here you live with us,' says she, 'you eat and drink and are kept warm and you do nothing to help.' And much she gets to eat and drink when there is not a crust for the little ones for three days! I was lying at the time . . . well, what of it! I was lying drunk and I heard my Sonia speaking (she is a gentle creature with a soft little voice . . . fair hair and such a pale, thin little face). She said: 'Katerina Ivanovna, am I really to do a thing like that?' And Darya Frantsovna, a woman of evil character and very well known to the police, had two or three times tried to get at her through the landlady. 'And why not?' said Katerina Ivanovna with a jeer, 'you are something mighty precious to be so careful of!' But don't blame her, don't blame her, honoured sir, don't blame her! She was not herself when she spoke, but driven to distraction by her illness and the crying of the hungry children; and it was said more to wound her than anything else. . . . For that's Katerina Ivanovna's character, and when children cry, even from hunger, she falls to beating them at once. At six o'clock I saw Sonia get up, put on her kerchief and her cape, and go out of the room and about nine o'clock she came back. She walked straight up to Katerina Ivanovna and she laid thirty roubles on the table before her in silence. She did not utter a word, she did not even look at her, she simply picked up our big green /drap de dames/ shawl (we have a shawl, made of /drap de dames/), put it over her head and face and lay down on the bed with her face to the wall; only her little shoulders and her body kept shuddering. . . . And I went on lying there, just as before. . . . And then I saw, young man, I saw Katerina Ivanovna, in the same silence go up to Sonia's little bed; she was on her knees all the evening kissing Sonia's feet, and would not get up, and then they both fell asleep in each other's arms . . . together, together . . . yes . . . and I . . . lay drunk."
Marmeladov stopped short, as though his voice had failed him. Then he hurriedly filled his glass, drank, and cleared his throat.
"Since then, sir," he went on after a brief pause--"Since then, owing to an unfortunate occurrence and through information given by evil- intentioned persons--in all which Darya Frantsovna took a leading part on the pretext that she had been treated with want of respect--since then my daughter Sofya Semyonovna has been forced to take a yellow ticket, and owing to that she is unable to go on living with us. For our landlady, Amalia Fyodorovna would not hear of it (though she had backed up Darya Frantsovna before) and Mr. Lebeziatnikov too . . . hm. . . . All the trouble between him and Katerina Ivanovna was on Sonia's account. At first he was for making up to Sonia himself and then all of a sudden he stood on his dignity: 'how,' said he, 'can a highly educated man like me live in the same rooms with a girl like that?' And Katerina Ivanovna would not let it pass, she stood up for her . . . and so that's how it happened. And Sonia comes to us now, mostly after dark; she comforts Katerina Ivanovna and gives her all she can. . . . She has a room at the Kapernaumovs' the tailors, she lodges with them; Kapernaumov is a lame man with a cleft palate and all of his numerous family have cleft palates too. And his wife, too, has a cleft palate. They all live in one room, but Sonia has her own, partitioned off. . . . Hm . . . yes . . . very poor people and all with cleft palates . . . yes. Then I got up in the morning, and put on my rags, lifted up my hands to heaven and set off to his excellency Ivan Afanasyvitch. His excellency Ivan Afanasyvitch, do you know him? No? Well, then, it's a man of God you don't know. He is wax . . . wax before the face of the Lord; even as wax melteth! . . . His eyes were dim when he heard my story. 'Marmeladov, once already you have deceived my expectations . . . I'll take you once more on my own responsibility'--that's what he said, 'remember,' he said, 'and now you can go.' I kissed the dust at his feet--in thought only, for in reality he would not have allowed me to do it, being a statesman and a man of modern political and enlightened ideas. I returned home, and when I announced that I'd been taken back into the service and should receive a salary, heavens, what a to-do there was . . .!"