 Crime and Punishment Part 1 Chapter 5 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Crime and Punishment by Theodor Dostoevsky. Translated by Konstantz Garnet. Part 1 Chapter 5 Of course, I've been meaning lightly to go to resummations to ask for work, to ask him to get me lessons or something. That's conical thought. But what help can he beat me now? Suppose he gets me lessons, suppose he shares his last farthing with me, if he has any farthings so that I could get some boots and make myself tidy enough to give lessons. Hmm. Well, and what then? Which shall I do that the few coppers are in? That's not what I want now. It's really absurd for me to go to resummation. The question, why he was going to resummation, agitated him even more than he was himself aware. He kept uneasily seeking for some sinister significance in this apparently ordinary action. Could I have expected to set it all straight, and to find a way out by means of resummation alone? He asked himself, in perplexity, he pondered and rubbed his head, and, strange to say, after wrong-musing suddenly, as if it was spontaneously, and by chance, a fantastic thought came into his head. Hmm. To resummage, he said all at once, calmly, although he had reached a final destination, I shall go to resummations, of course, but not now. I shall go to him on the next day after it, when it will be over and everything will begin afresh. And suddenly he realized that he was faking. After it, he shouted, jumping off from the seat. But is it really going to happen? Is it possible it really will happen? He left the seat, and went off almost at a run. He meant to turn back homewards, but the thought of going home suddenly filled him with intense loathing, and that howl, and that awful little cupboard of his. All this had for a month passed, been growing up in him, and he worked on a trandom. His nervous shudder had passed into a fever that made him feel shivering, in spite of the heat he felt cold. With the kind of effort he began almost unconsciously from some inner craving to stare at all the objects before him, as though looking for something to distract his attention, but he did not succeed, he kept dropping every moment into brooding. When with a start he lifted his head again and looked round, he forgot at once what he had just been thinking about, and even where he was going. And this way, he worked right across the Silevsky Arstraf, came out onto the lesser Neva, crossed the bridge, and turned towards the islands. The greenness and freshness were first restful to his weary eyes after the dust of the town, and the huge houses that hemmed him in and whiffed upon him. Here there were no talents, no stifling closeness, no stench, but soon these new pleasant sensations passed into the morbid irritability. Sometimes he stood still before a brightly painted summer villa standing along green foliage. He cased through the fence, he saw in the distance smartly dressed women on the verandas and balconies and children running in the gardens. The flowers especially caught his attention, he gazed at them longer than at anything. He was met too by luxurious carriages and by a man and woman on horseback. He watched them with curious eyes and forgot about them before they had vanished from his sight. Once he stood still and counted his money, he found he had 30 carpaks, fented to the policeman, threatened a stasiola letter, so I must have given 47 or 50 to Marmaladevs yesterday. He thought, reckoning it up for some unknown reason, but he soon forgot the what object he had taken the money out of his pocket. He recalled it on passing an eating house or tavern and felt that he was hungry. Going into the tavern he drank a glass of vodka and ate a pie of some sort. He finished eating it as he worked away. It was a long while since. He had taken vodka and it had an effect upon him at once, though he only drank a wine glassful. His legs fell suddenly heavy and a great drowsiness came upon him. He turned homewards, but reached in Petrovsky-Ostrov. He stood completely exhausted, turned off the road into the bushes, sang down upon the grass and instantly fell asleep. In a morbid condition of the brain, dreams often have the singular actuality, vividness and extraordinary semblance of reality. At times monstrous images are created, but the setting, the whole pictures are so tooth-like and filled with details so delicate, so unexpectedly, but so artistically consistent that the dreamer, were he an artist like Pushkin or Turgavian even, could never have invented them in the waking state. Such sick dreams always remain long in the memory and make a powerful impression on the over rough and drenched nervous system. Raskolnikov had a fearful dream. He dreamt he was back in his childhood in the little town of his birth. He was a child about seven years old, walking into the country with his father on the evening of a holiday. It was a grey and heavy day. The country was exactly as he remembered it. Indeed, he recalled it far more vividly in his dream than he had done in memory. The little town stood on a level flat, as bare as the hand, not even a willow knee it. Only in the far distance, a corpse lay, a dark blur on the very edge of the horizon. A few paces beyond the last marked gardens stood a tavern, a big tavern which had always surrounded him a feeling of aversion, even of fear, when he walked by with his father. There was always a crowd there, always shouting, laughter and abuse, hideous horse singing and often fighting. Drunken and horrible looking figures were hanging about the tavern. He used to cling close to his father, trembling all over when he met them. Near the tavern, the road became a dusty track, the dust of which was always black. It was a winding road, and about a hundred paces further on it turned to the right, to the graveyard. In the middle of the graveyard stood a stone church, there was a green cupola where he used to go to Mass two or three times a year with his father and mother when a service was held in memory of his grandmother who had longed been dead and whom he had never seen. On these occasions, they used to take on a wide dish, tied up in a table napkin, a special sort of rice pudding, the phrase in Stuckin' Ed in the shape of the cross. He loved that church, the all-fashioned and adorned icons and the old priest that the shaken had. Near his grandmother's grave, which was marked by a stone, was the little grave of his younger brother who had died at six months old. He did not remember him at all, but he had been told about his little brother and whenever he visited the graveyard, he used religiously and reverently to crush himself and to bow down and to kiss the little grave. And now he dreamt that he was walking with his father past the tavern on the way to the graveyard. He was holding his father's hand and looking the dread at the tavern. A peculiar circumstance attracted his attention. There seemed to be some kind of festivity going on. There were crowds of gaily dressed townspeople, peasant women, their husbands, and riff-raff of all sorts, all singing and all more as drunk. Neither entrance of the taverns to the cart, but a strange cart. It was only one of those big carts usually drawn by heavy cart horses and laden with carts of wine or other heavy goods. He always liked looking at those great cart horses as they along man's thick legs and slow, even pace, drawing along a perfect mountain with no appearance of effort, as though it were easier going through a load than without it. But now, strange to say, in the shafts of such a cart he saw a thin little sorrel paste. One of those peasant snags, which he had often seemed straining their art most under a load of wood or hay, especially when the wheels were stuck in the mud or in a rod. And the peasants would beat them so cruelly, sometimes even above the nose and eyes, and he felt so sorry, so sorry for them, that he almost cried, and his mother always used to take him away from the window. All of a sudden there was a great uproar of shouting, singing, and the ball-liker, and from the town, a number of thick and very drunken peasants came out, wearing crete and blue shirts and a coat shown over their shoulders. Get in, get in, shouted one of them, a young thick-necked peasant with a flashy face red as a carrot. I'll take you all, get in. But at once there was an outbreak of laughter and exclamation to the crowd. Take us all. There's a beast like that. Why, Macalga, are you crazy to put an egg like that in such a cart? And this may as 20 if she's a daymate. Get in, I'll take you all, Macalga shouted again, leaping first into the cart, seizing the reins and standing straight up in front. The bear has gone the mad way he shouted from the cart, and this brood mate is just breaking my heart. I feel as if I could kill her. She's just eating her head off. Get in, I'll tell you. I'll make her gallop. She'll gallop, and he picked up the whip preparing himself with relish to flock the little mare. Get in, come along, the crowd laughed at. Do hear she'll gallop. Gallop indeed, she has not had a gallop in her for the last ten years. She'll duck along. Don't you mar her mate, bring a whip each of you. Get ready? Alright, give it to her. They all clambered into Macalga's cart, laughing and making jokes. Six men got in, and Ted was still room for more. They hurled in a fat, rosy-cheeked woman. She was dressed in a red cotton and a pointed beaded headdress and the thick leather shoes. She was cracking nuts and laughing. The crowd round them was laughing too, and indeed, how could they help laughing? That wretched nag was to drag all the cartload of them at a gallop. Two young fellows in a cart were just getting whips ready to help Macalga. With the cry of now, the mare tucked of all her might, but far from galloping, could scarcely move forward. She struggled her legs, gasping and shrinking from the blows of the three whips, which were showered upon her like kale. The laughter in the cart and in the crowd was redoubled, but Macalga flew into a rage and curiously trashed the mare, as though he suppose he really could gallop. Let me in too, my childhood young man in the crowd, whose appetite was roused. Get in, or get in, cried Macalga. She will draw you all, albeit her to death, and he chased and chased at the mare beside himself the fury. Father, father, he cried. Father, what they are doing? Father, they are beating the poor horse. Come along, come along, said his father. They are drunken and foolish. They are in fun. Come away, don't look. And he tried to draw him away, but he tore himself away from his hand and beside himself the horror ran to the horse. The poor beast was in a bad way. She was gasping, standing still, then tugging again and almost falling. Be her to death, cried Macalga. It's come to that. I'll do to her. What are you about? Are you a Christian? You devil shouted an old man in the crowd. Did anyone ever see the like, a rich neck like that, pulling such a cotloads at another? You'll kill her, shouted the third. Don't matter it's my property, I'll do what I choose. Get in, morph you, get in all of you. I will have her go at a gallop. All it wants left to broke into a row and covet everything. The mare roasts by the shower of blows began feebly kicking. Even the old man could not help smiling. To think of a wretched little beast like that, trying to keg. Two lads in the crowd snatched up whips and run to the mare to beat her about the ribs. One run each side, hit her in the face, and the eyes, and the eyes, cried Macalga. Give us a song, mate, shouted someone in the cot, and everyone in the cot joined in a riotous song, jingling, a tambourine, and whistling. The woman went on cracking nuts and laughing. He ran beside the mare, ran in front of her, saw her being whipped across the eyes, right in the eyes. He was crying, he thought shocking, his tears were screaming. One of the men gave him a cut with the whip across the face. He did not feel it. Ringing his hands and screaming, he rushed up to the grey-headed old man with the grey beard who was shaking his head in disapproval. One woman seized him by the hand and would have taken him away, but he told himself from her and run back to the mare. She was almost at the last gasp, but began kicking once more. I'll teach you to kick Macalga, shouted ferociously. He threw down the whip, went forward, and picked up from the bottom of the cot a long thick shaft. He took hold of one hand with both hands and with an effort brandished it over the mare. He crushed her, was shouted round him. He'll kill her. It's my property, shouted Macalga, and brought the shaft down with the swinging blow. There was a sound of a heavy thud. Trash her! Trash her! Why have you stopped, shouted voices in the crowd? And Macalga swung the shaft a second time and it fell a second time on the spine of the luckless mare. She sang back on her haunches with lurch forward and tucked forward with all her force, tucked first on one side and then on the other, trying to move the cot. But the six whips were attacking her in all directions and the shaft was raised again and fell upon her a third time, then a fourth with heavy measured blows. Macalga was in a theory that he could not kill her at one blow. She's a tough one, was shouted in the crowd. She'll fall in a minute, mate. There will soon be an end of her, said an admiring spectator in the crowd. That an axe to her finished her off, shouted a third. I shall you stand, Macalga screamed frantically. He threw down the shaft, stooped down in the cot and picked up an iron crowbar. Look out! He shouted with all his might he dealt a stunning blow at the poor mare. The blow fell, the mare staggered, sung back, tried to pull, but the bar felt again with the swinging blow on her back and she felt on the ground like a log. Finish her off, shouted Macalga and he leaped the sign himself out of the cot. Several young men also flushed the drink, seized anything they could come across, whips, sticks, pulse and ran to the dying mare. Macalga stood on one side and began dealing random blows with the crowbar. The mare stretched out on her head, drew a long breath and died. You butchered her someone shouted in the crowd. Why wouldn't she have, then? My property shouted Macalga with her bloodshed eyes brandishing the bar in his hands. He stood as though regretting that he had nothing more to beat. No mistake about it, you are not a Christian many voices were shouting in the crowd. But the poor boy beside himself made his way screaming through the crowd to the sore neck, put his arms round her bleeding dead head and kissed it, kissed the eyes and kissed the lips. Then he jumped up and flew in a frenzy with his little fist out at Macalga. At that instant his father who had been running after him snatched him up and had him out of the crowd. Come along, let us go home. He said to him, Father, why did they kill the poor horse? He sobbed but his voice broke and the words came in shrieks from his panting chest. They're drunk, they're brutal. It's not our business, said his father. He put his arms round his father but he felt shocked, shocked. He tried to draw a breath to cry out and woke up. He waked up gasping for breath. His hair soaked the perspiration and stood up in terror. Thank God, that was only a dream, he said, sitting down under a tree and drawing deep breaths. But what is it? Is it some favor coming on? Such a hideous dream. He felt utterly broke and darkness and confusion were in his soul. He rested his elbows and his knees and leaned his head on his hands. Good God, he cried, can it be, can it be that I shall really take an axe that I shall stride her on the head, split her skull open that I shall set in the sticky warm blood, break the lock, steal and tumble hide all splattered in the blood where the axe, good God, can it be. He was shaking like a leaf as he said this. But why am I going on like this? He continued, sitting up again as it were in profound amazement I knew what I could never bring myself to hurt. So what have I been torturing myself for till now? Yesterday, yesterday when I want to make that experiment, yesterday I realized completely what I could never bear to do it. Why am I going over it again then? Why am I hesitating? As I came down the stairs yesterday I said myself that this was a space lovesome file file, the very thought of it made me feel sick and filled me with horror No, I couldn't do it, I couldn't do it granted, granted that there is no flaw in all that reasoning that all that I have concluded this last month is clear as day too, as arithmetic. My God anyway, I couldn't bring myself to it I couldn't do it, I couldn't do it Why, why am I still? He rose to his feet, looked round in wonder as though surprised at finding himself in this place and went towards the bridge He was pale, his eyes glowed he was exhausted in every limb but he seemed suddenly to breathe more easily, he felt he had cast off the fearful burden that had so long been waving upon him and all at once there was a sense of relief and a peace in his soul Lord he prayed, show me my path I renounced that it cursed dream of mine, crossing the bridge he gazed quietly and calmly at the neither, at the glowing sun setting and the glowing sky in spite of his weakness he was not conscious of the tick it was as though an abscess that had been forming for a month past in his heart had suddenly broken Freedom, freedom he was free from that spell that sorcery, that obsession later on when he recalled that time and all that happened to him during those days, minute by minute point by point, he was superstitiously impressed by one circumstance which though in itself now not very exceptional always seemed to him afterwards the predestined turning point of his fate he could now understand and explain to himself why, when he was tired and worn out when it would have been more convenient for him to go home by the shortest and most direct way he returned by a hay market where he had no need to go it was obviously and quite and necessarily out of his way though not much so, it is true that happened to him dozens of times to return home without noticing which streets he passed to but why, he was always asking himself why had such an important such a decisive and at the same time such an absolutely chance meeting happened in the hay market where he had moreover a reason to go, at the very hour the very minute of his life when he was just in a very mood and in a very circumstances in which that meeting was able to exert the gravest and most decisive influence on his whole destiny as though it had been lying in wait for him for purpose about 9 o'clock when he crossed the hay market at the tables and the barrows at the booths and the shops all the market people were closing their establishments or clearing away and packing up their wares and like their customers were going home rack pickers and customongers of all kinds rounding round the taverns in the 30 and stinking courtyards of the hay market as Kolnikov particularly liked this place and the neighbouring alleys when he wandered aimlessly in the streets here his racks did not attract contemptous attention and one could walk about in any attire without scandalising people at the corner of an alley a hoaxter and his wife had two tables set out with tapes, thread, cutting handkerchiefs etc they too had to get up to go home but were lingering in conversation with a friend who had just come up to them this friend was Lizaveta Ivanovna or as everyone called her Lizaveta the younger sister of the all pawnbroker Liana Ivanovna whom Raskolnikov had visited the previous day to pawn his watch and make his experiment he already knew all about Lizaveta and she knew him a little too she was a single woman on about 35 tall, clumsy, timid, submissive and almost idiotic she was a complete slave and went in fear and trembling of her sister who made her work day and night and even beat her she was standing with a bundle before a hoaxter and his wife listening earnestly and doubtfully they were talking of something with special warmth the moment Raskolnikov caught sight of her he was overcome by a strange sensation as it were of intense astonishment that there was nothing astonishing about this meeting you could make up your mind for yourself Lizaveta Ivanovna the hoaxter was saying aloud come round tomorrow about 7 they will be here too tomorrow said Lizaveta slowly and thoughtfully as though unable to make up her mind upon my word where the fright you are in of Aliana Ivanovna gabbled the hoaxter's wife a lively little woman I look at you you are like some little babe and she is not your own sister even nothing but a step sister hand she keeps over you but this time don't say a word to Liana Ivanovna her husband interrupted that's my advice but come round to us without asking it will be worth your while later on your sister herself may have the notion am I to come about 7 o'clock tomorrow and they will be here you will be able to decide for yourself and we'll have a cup of tea added his wife alright I'll come said Lizaveta still pondering and she began slowly moving away Raskarnikov had just passed and heard no more he passed softly and noticed trying not to miss a word his first amazement was followed by a shiver running down his spine he had learned he had suddenly quite unexpectedly learned that the next day at 7 o'clock Lizaveta the old woman's sister an old companion would be away from home and that therefore at 7 o'clock precisely the old woman would be left alone he was only a few steps from his lodging he went in like a man condemned to death he thought of nothing and was incapable of thinking but he felt suddenly in his whole being that he had no more freedom of thought no will and that everything was suddenly and irrevocably decided certainly if he had to wait whole years for a suitable opportunity he could not reckon on more certain steps towards the success of the plan than that which had just presented itself in any case it would have been difficult to find out beforehand at worth certainly worth greater exactness and less risk and without dangerous inquiries and investigations that next day at a certain time an old woman on whose life an attempt was contemplated would be at home and entirely alone End of Part 1 Chapter 5 This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky Translated by Konstantin Skonet Chapter 6 Part 1 Later on Raskolnikov happened to find out why the huckster and his wife had invited to the theater It was a very ordinary matter and there was nothing exceptional about it A family who had come to the town and being reduced to poverty were selling their household goods and clothes, all of them and things As the things would have been fetched little in the market they were upon looking for a dealer This was Lizaveta's business She undertook such jobs and was frequently employed as she was very honest and always fixed a fair price and stuck to it She spoke as a rule will and as we have said already she was very submissive and timid But Raskolnikov had become superstitious of play The traces of superstition remaining him long after and were almost ineradicable and in all this he was always afterwards disposed to see something strange and mysterious with where the presence of some peculiar influences and coincidences In the previous window a student he knew called Pokarev who had left for Kharkov had chanted the conversation to give him the address of Alyona Ivanovna the old porn broker in case he might want to porn anything or along while he did not go to her or he had lessons and managed to get along somehow Six weeks ago he had remembered the address he had two articles which could be porned His father's old silver watch and a little gold ring with three red stones a present from his sister at potting He decided to take the ring Then he found the old woman he had felt an insurmountable repulsion for her at first glance though he knew nothing special about her He got two rubles from her and went into the miserable little tavern on his way home He asked for tea, sat down and sunk into the deep food A strange idea was pecking at his brain like a chicken in the egg and very very much absorbed him Almost beside him at the next table there was sitting a student who did not know and had never seen and with him a young officer they had played a game of billiards and began drinking tea All at once he heard the student mention to the officer the porn broker Elena Ivanovna and give him her address This off itself seemed strange to Raskolnikov He had just come from her and here at once he heard her name It was a chance but he could not shake off a very extraordinary impression and here someone seemed to be speaking expressly for him The student began telling his friend various details about Elena Ivanovna She is a thirst rate, he said You can always get money from her She is a rich as is due He can give you 5000 rubles at the same time and she is not above taking a pledge for a ruble Lots of other fellows have had dealings with her but she is an awful old heartbeat and he began describing how spiteful and uncertain she was how few were only a day later with your interest the pledge was lost how she gave a quote of the value of an article and took 5 or even 7% a month on it and so on The student chatted on saying that she had a sister, Lizaveta whom the wretch little creature was continually beating and kept in the complete bandage like a small child though Lizaveta was at least 6 feet high There is a thermometer for you cried the student and he left They began talking about Lizaveta The student spoke about her with a peculiar relish and was continually laughing and the officer listened with great interest and asked him to send Lizaveta to do some mending for him Raskolnikov did not miss a word and learned everything about her Lizaveta was younger than the old woman and was her half-sister Being the child of the different mother She worked day and night for her sister and besides doing the cooking and the washing she did sewing and worked as a chairwoman and gave her sister all she earned She did not dare to accept an order or job of any kind without her sister's permission The old woman had already made her will and Lizaveta knew of it and by this will she would not get a farthing nothing but the movables, chairs and so on All the money was left to the monastery and the province of Anne that prayers might be set for her and her perpetuity Lizaveta was of the lower rank and her sister and married an awfully unconfirmed appearance and remarkably tall with long feet that look as if they were bent outwards She always wore better at go-skinned shoes and was cleaner her person What the student expressed most surprise and amusement about was the fact that Lizaveta was continually the child But you say she's a hideous observed the officer Yes, she's a dark-skinned and looks like a soldier dressed up but you know she is not at all hideous She has such a good natural face and eyes Strictly so and the proof of it is that lots of people are attracted by her She is such a soft, gentle creature ready to put up with anything always willing, willing to do anything and her smile is really very sweet You seem to find her attractive yourself left the officer From her quirkness now I'll tell you what I could kill that damn old woman and make out with her money I assure you without the faintest conscious prick the student added with warmth the officer laughed again while Raskolnikov shuddered how strange it was Listen, I want to ask you a serious question the student said halfly I was joking of course but you... but look here on the one side we have a stupid, senseless, worthless, spiteful, a link-hearted old woman not simply useless but doing actual mid-chief who was not an idea what she is living for herself and who will die in a day or two in any case You understand? Yes, yes, I understand hence where the officer watching his excited companion attentively they'll listen then on the other side fresh young lives thrown away for want of help and by thousands on every side a hundred thousand good deeds could be done and a help on that old woman's money which will be buried in a monastery hundreds, thousands perhaps might be set on the right path dozens of families saved from destitution from ruin, from wise from the law hospitals and all the her money Kill her, tear her money and let the half of the devout ones help to the service of humanity and the good of all What do you think? Would not one tiny crime be wiped out by thousands of good deeds? For one life thousands would be saved from corruption and decay One death in a hundred lives in exchange It's simple and it's method Besides, the value has the life of that sickly stupid ill-natured old woman in the balance of existence No more than the life of the loose of the black beetle less in fact because the old woman is doing harm she is wearing off the lives of others the other day she bit Lizaveta's finger out of spite it almost had to be unputated Of course she does not deserve to live remarked the officer but there it is it's nature Oh well brother but we have to correct in direct nature but for that we should run in an ocean of prejudice but for that there would never have been a single great man they talk of duty conscious I don't want to say anything against duty and conscious but the point is what do we mean by them? stay I have another question to ask you listen now you stay I'll ask you a question well you are talking and speechifying away but Almi would you kill the old woman yourself? of course not I was only arguing the justice of it it's nothing to do with me but I think if you would not do it yourself there is no justice about it let us have another game Raskolnikov was violently agitated of course it was all ordinary youthful talk and thought such as he had often heard before in different forms and on different themes but why had he happened to heard such a discussion and such ideas at their moment when his own brain was just conceiving the their same ideas and why just at the moment when he had brought away the embryo of his idea from the old woman had he dropped it once upon a conversation about her this coincidence always seemed strange to him this trivial talk in the tavern had an immense influence on him in his leader action as both there had really been in it something preordained some kind of hint on returning from the hay market he flung himself in the sofa and sat for a whole hour without stirring meanwhile it got dark he had no candle and indeed it did not occur to him to light up he could never recollect whether he had been thinking about anything at that time at last he was conscious of his form fever and shivering and he realized the relief what he could lie down on the sofa soon had leading sleep came over him as it were crushing him he slept an extraordinary long time in the hall dreaming Nastasia coming into his room at 10 o'clock the next morning had difficulty in rousing him she brought him tea and bread the tea was again the second brew and again a wrong teapot my goodness how he sleeps she cried indignantly and he always asleep he got up with an effort his head ached he stood up took a turn in his carrot and sang back into the sofa again going to sleep again cried Nastasia are you ill? he made another reply do you want some tea? afterwards he sat with an effort closing his eyes again and turning to the wall Nastasia stood over him perhaps he really is ill she sat turned and went out she came in again at 2 o'clock the soup he was lying as before the tea stood untouched Nastasia fell positively offended and begun rightfully rousing him why are you lying? like a log she shouted looking at him with repulsion he got up and sat down again but said nothing and stared at the floor are you ill or not as Nastasia again received no answer you better go out and get a breath of air she sat after a pause will you eat it or not? afterwards he sat weakly you can go and he motioned her out she remained a little blonger looked at him with compassion and went out a few minutes afterwards he raised his eyes and looked for a long while the tea and the soup then he took the bread took up a spoon and began to eat he ate a little 3 or 4 spoonfuls without appetite as if there mechanically his head ached less after his meal he stretched himself on the sofa again but now he could not sleep he lay without stirring with his face and the pillow he was haunted by daydreams and such strange daydreams and one that kept recurring he found that he was in Africa in Egypt and some sort of ases the car one was resting the candles were peacefully lying down the palm stood all around in the complete circle all the party were a dinner but he was drinking water from the spring which floated girl in clothes by and it was so cool it was wonderful wonderful blue cold water running among the party colored stones and all the clean sand would glisten it here and there like gold suddenly he heard the clock strike he started round himself raise his head look out of the window and seeing how late it was suddenly jumped up wide awake as though someone had pulled him off the sofa he crept on tiptoe to the door stealthily open it and began listening on the staircase his high beat terribly but all was quiet on the stairs as if everyone was asleep it seemed to him strange and monstrous that he could have slept in such forgetfulness from the previous day and had done nothing had prepared nothing yet and meanwhile perhaps he had strike six and his drowsiness and stupefaction were followed by an extraordinary theorish as it were distracted haste but the preparations to be made were few he concentrated all his energies on thinking of everything and forgetting nothing and his heart kept beating and pumping so that he could hardly breathe he had to make a news and saw it into his all the coat a work of the moment he rummaged under his pillow and picked out amongst the lenient stuffed away under it a worn out old unwatched shirt from its racks he tore a long strip a couple of inches wide and about sixteen inches long he folded this strip in two took off his wide strong summer of the coat of some stout cotton material his only outer garment and began sewing the two ends of the rag on the inside under the left armhole his hands showed as he showed but he did it successfully so that nothing showed outside and he put the coat on again the needle and thread he had got read along before and they learned his table in a piece of paper as for the news it was a very ingenious device of his own the news was intended for the axe it was impossible for him to carry the axe through the streets in his hands and hidden under his coat he would still have had to support it with his hand which would have been noticeable now he had only to put the head of the axe in the news and it would hang quietly under his arm on the inside putting his hand in his coat pocket he could hold the end of the handle all the way so that it did not swing and as the coat was full a regular sacked in fact it could not be seen from outside when he was holding something with the hand that was in the pocket this news too he had designed a fourth knife before when he had finished with this he thrust his hand into a little opening between his sofa and the floor fumble in the left corner and drew out the pledge which he had got ready long before and hidden there this pledge was however only a smoothly planned piece of wood the size and thickness of the silver cigarette case he picked up this piece of wood in one of his wanderings in a courtyard where there was some sort of a workshop afterwards he had added to the wood a thin smooth piece of iron which he had also picked up at the same time in the street putting the iron which was a little bit smaller in the piece of wood he fastened them very firmly crossing and re-crossing the thread around them then wrapped them carefully and daintily in the clean white paper and tied up the parcels so that it would be very difficult to untie it this was in order to divert the tension of the old woman for a time while she was trying to undo the knot and so to gain a moment the iron strip was added to give weight so that the woman might not guess the first minute what the thing was made of wood all this had been stored by him beforehand under the sofa he had only just got the pledge out when he heard someone suddenly about in the yard it struck 6 long ago long ago my god he rushed to the door caught up his head and began to descend his 13 steps cautiously nicely like a cat he had still the most important thing to do to steal the axe from the kitchen that the deed must be done with an axe he had decided long ago he had also a pocket pruning knife but he could not rely on the knife and still less on his own strength and so resolved finally on the axe we may note in the passing one peculiarity in regard to all the final resolutions taken by him the matter they had one strange characteristic the more final they were the more hideous and the more absurd where it once became in his eyes that of all his organizing inner struggle he never for a single instant all that time could believe in the carrying out of his plans and indeed if it had ever happened that everything to the least point could have been considered and finally settled and no uncertain the authentic kind had remained it would it seems I have renounced it all as absurd, monstrous and impossible but a whole mass of unsettled points and uncertainties remain as forgetting the axe that rifling business cause him no anxiety for nothing could be easier Nassazia was continually out of the house especially in the evenings she would run into the neighbors or to a shop the door door it was the one thing the landlady was calling her about and so when the time came he could only have to go quietly into the kitchen and to take the axe and an hour later when everything was over go and put it back again but these were doubtful points supposing he return an hour later to put it back and Nassazia had come back and was on the spot he would of course have to go by and wait till she went out again but supposing she were in the meantime to miss the axe look for it, make an outcry what would mean suspicion or at least grounds for suspicion but those were all trifles which he had not even begun to consider and indeed he had no time he was thinking of the chief point and put off trifling details until he could believe in it all but that seemed utterly unattainable so it seemed to himself at least he could not imagine for instance would he, would sometime leap off thinking get up and simply go there even his late experiment that is his visit with the object of the final survey of the place was simply an attempt at an experiment far from being the real thing as well one should say come, let us go and try it why dream about it and at once he had broken down and had run away cursing in the frenzy with himself meanwhile it would seem as regards the moral question that his analysis was complete his casus tree had become keen as a razor and he could not find rational objections in himself but in the last resort he simply ceased to believe in himself and dug at least, lavishly sought arguments in all directions fumbling for them as though someone were forcing and drawing him to it at first long before indeed he had been much occupied with one question why almost all crimes are so badly concealed and so easily detected and why almost all criminals leave such obvious traces he had come gradually to many different and curious conclusions and in his opinion the chief reasonably not so much in the material impossibility of concealing the crime as in the criminal himself almost every criminal is subject to failure or will and reasoning power by childish and phenomenal heedlessness an instant when prudence and a cushion of most essential it was his conviction that this eclipse of reason and failure of will power attacked a man like a disease develop gradually and reach its highest point just before the perpetration of the crime continue with equal violence at the moment of the crime and for longer time after according to the individual case and then passed off like any other disease the question whether the disease gives rise to the crime whether the crime of its own peculiar nature is always accompanied by something of the nature of disease he did not yet feel able to decide when he reached these conclusions he decided that in his own case where could not be such a morbid reaction that his reason and will would remain an appeared at the time of carrying out his design for the simple reason that his design was not a crime we will admit all the process by means of which he arrived at this last conclusion we have run too far ahead already we may add only that the practical, purely material difficulties of that fear occupied a secondary position in his mind one has but to keep all one's will power and reason to deal with them and they will all be overcome at the time when once one has familiarize oneself with the minutes details of the business but this preparation had never been begun his final decisions were what he came to trust at least and when the hour struck it all came to pass quite differently as it were accidentally and unexpectedly one trifle in circumstance upset his calculations before he had even left the staircase when he reached the landlady's kitchen the door of which was open as usual he glanced cautiously into see there in a stazious absence the landlady herself was there or if not the door to her own room was closed so that she might not be out when he went in for the acts but what was his amazement when he suddenly saw that nastazio was not only at home in the kitchen but was occupied there taking clenient out of the basket and hang it on a line seeing him she left hanging with the clothes turning to him and started him all the time he was passing he turned away his eyes and walked past as well he noticed nothing but it was the end of everything he had not the acts he was overwhelmed what made me think he reflected as he went under the gateway what made me think which she would be sure to be at home at that moment why why why did I zoom this so suddenly he was crashed and even humiliated he could laugh at himself in his anger and all animal rage boiled the in him he stood hesitating in the gateway to go into the street to go a walk for appearance sake was revolting to go back to his room even more revolting and what a chance I have lost forever he met her at standing aimlessly in the gateway just opposite the portes little dark room which was also open suddenly he started from the portes room two paces away from him something shining under the bench to the right could his eye he looked about him nobody he approached the room on tip-tie then down two steps into it and in a faint voice called the porter yes not at a home somewhere near though in the yard for the door is wide open he dashed to the axe it was an axe and pulled it out from under the bench lay between two shanks of wood at once before going out he made it fast in the news he thrust both hands into his pockets and went out of the room no one had noticed him when reasons fail so the devil helps he fought with a strain in grin this chance raised his spirits extraordinarily quietly and sedately without a hurry to avoid awakening suspicion he scarcely looked at the passersby trying to escape looking at their faces at all and to be as little noticeable as possible suddenly he thought of his head good helens I had the money of the day before yesterday and did not get a gap to there instead he rose from the bottom of his soul glancing out of the corner of his eye into a shop he saw by a clock on the wall that it was 10 minutes past 7 he had to may haste and at the same time to go some way around so as to approach the house from the other side when he happened to imagine all this beforehand he sometimes thought that he would be very much afraid but he was not very much afraid now was not afraid at all indeed his mind was even occupied by irrelevant matters but by nothing for long as he passed the usurp of garden he was deeply absorbed in considering the building of great fountains and of their refreshing effect on the atmosphere in all the squares by degrees he passed to the conviction that if the summer garden were extended to the fields of Mars and perhaps joined to the garden of the Mikolkovsky Palace it would be a splendid thing and a great benefit to the town then he was interested by the question why in all great towns men are not simply driven by necessity but in some peculiar way inclined to live in those parts of the town where there are no gardens, no fountains there there is most dirt and smell and all sorts of nastiness then his own works through the hay market came back to his mind and for a moment he waked up to reality what nonsense he thought but a think of nothing at all so probably men let execution clench mentally at every object that meets them on the way fledged to his mind but simply fledged like lightning he made haste to dismiss this thought and bar now he was near he was the house he was the gate suddenly a clock somewhere struck once what can it be half past seven impossible it must be fast luckily for him everything went well again at the gate at that very moment as though expressly for his benefit a huge wagon of hay had just driven in at the gate completely screening him as he passed under the gateway and the wagon he had scarcely had time to drive through into the yard before he had slipped in a flash to the right on the other side of the wagon he could hear shouting and quarreling but no one noticed him and no one met him many windows looking into that huge could wrangle or yard were open at that moment but he did not raise his head he had knocked the stream too the staircase leading to the old woman's room was closed by just on the right of the gateway he was already on the stairs drawing a breath pressing his hand against his throbbing heart and once more feeling for the axe and setting it straight he began softly and cautiously ascending the stairs listening every minute but the stairs too were quite deserted all the doors were shut he met nowhere one flat indeed on the first floor was wide open and painters were working it but they did not glance at him he stood still 40 minutes and went on of course it would be better if they had not been here but it's two stories above them and there was the fourth story here was the door here was the flat opposite the empty one the flat underneath the old woman's was apparently empty also the wizarding card nailed on the door had been turned off they had gone away he was out of breath for one instant the fort floated through his mind shall I go back but he made no answer and began listening at the old woman's door at that silence then he listened again on the staircase listened long and intently then looked about him for the last time pulled himself together drew himself off and once more tried the axe in the news am I their pale he wondered am I not evidently agitated she is mistrustful had a better way to live longer till my heart leaves off thumping but his heart did not leave off on the contrary as though to spy to him it shrugged more and more violently he could stand it no longer he slowly put out his hand to the bell and rang a minute later he ranked again more loudly no answer to go in ringing he was useless and out of place the old woman was of course at home but she was suspicious and alone he had some knowledge of her habits and once more he put his ear to the door either his senses were peculiar keen which it is difficult to suppose anyway he suddenly heard something like the cautious touch of a hand on the lock and the rustle of the skirt at the very door someone was standing stealthily close to the lock and just as he was doing on the outside was secretly listening to the hand and seemed to have her ear to the door he moved a little on purpose and muttered something loud that he might not have the appearance of hiding then rang a third time but quietly soberly and without impatience recalling it afterwards that moment stood out in his mind vividly distinctly forever he could not make out how he had had such cunning for his mind was as it were clouded at moment and he was almost unconscious of his body an instant later he heard the latch and fastened end of chapter 6 part 1 this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org crime and punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky translated by Constance Connit part 1 chapter 7 the door was as before opened a tiny crack and again too sharp and suspicious eyes stared at him out of the darkness then Raskolnikov lost his head and nearly made a great mistake fearing the old woman would be frightened by her being alone and not hoping that the sight of him would disarm her suspicions he te halted the door and drew it towards him to prevent the old woman from attempting to shut it again seeing this she did not move the door back but she did not let go the handle so that he almost drag her out with it onto the stairs seeing that she was standing in the doorway not allowing him to pass he advanced straight upon her she stepped back in alarm tried to say something but seemed unable to speak and stared with open eyes at him good evening Kalana Ivanovna he began trying to speak easily but his voice would not obey him it broke and shook I have come I have brought something but we'd better command to the light and leaving her he passed right into the room uninvited the old woman ran after him her tank was enlosed good heavens, what it is who is it what do you want why, Ivanovna Ivanovna, you know me Raskolnikov here I brought you the pledge I promised the other day and he held out the pledge the old woman glanced for a moment of the pledge but at once stared in the eyes of her uninvited visitor she looked intently maliciously and mistrustfully a minute passed he even fenced in something like a sneer in her eyes as though she had already guessed everything he felt that he was losing his head that he was almost frightened so frightened that if she were to look like that and not say a word for another half minute he thought he would have run away from her why do you look at me as though you did not know me he said suddenly also that malice take if you like if not I'll go elsewhere he had not even thought of saying this but it was suddenly set of itself the old woman recovered herself and her visitors resolute tone restored her confidence but why my good sir all of the minute what is it she asked looking at the pledge the silver cigarette case I spoke of that last time you know she held out her hand but how pale you are to be sure and your hands are trembling too have you been bathing or what fever he answered abruptly you can't help getting pale if you have nothing to eat he added the difficulty articulating the words his strength was failing him again but his answer sounded like the truth what is it she asked once more scanning grass calling up intently and waving the pledge on her hand a thing cigarette case silver look at it it does not seem somehow like silver how he has wrapped it up trying to untie the string and turning to the window to the light all her windows were shut in spite of the stifling heat she left him altogether for some seconds and stood her back to him he unbuttoned his coat and freed the axe from the news but did not yet take it out altogether simply holding it in his right hand under the coat his hands were fearfully weak he felt them every moment growing more numb and more wooden he was afraid he would let the axe slip and fall a sudden giddiness came over him but what has he tied it up like this for the old woman cried the fixation and moved towards him he had not a minute more to lose he pulled the axe quiet out swung it to both arms scarcely conscious of himself and almost without effort almost mechanically brought the blend side down on her head he seemed not to use his own strength in this but as soon as he had once brought the axe down his strength returned to him the old woman was as always bareheaded her thin, light hair streaked with gray thickly smeared with grease was plated in a red stale fastened by a broken horn comb which stood out on the nape of her neck as she was so short the blow felt on the very top of her skull she cried out with very faintly and suddenly sank all of the heap on the floor raising her hands to her head in one hand she still held the pledge then he bell her mother and another blow with the blend side and on the same spot the blood gushed as from an overturned glass the body fell back he stepped back let it fall and at once bent over her face she was dead her eyes seemed to be starting out of the sockets the brow and the whole face were drawn and contorted conversively he laid the axe on the ground near the dead body and felt it once in her pocket trying to avoid the streaming body of the same right hand pocket from which she had taken the key on his last visit he was in full possession of his faculties free from confusion and bitterness but his hands were still trembling he remembered afterwards that he had been particularly collected and careful trying all the time not to get smear of the blood he pulled out the keys at once they were all as before in one bunch on a steel ring he ran at once into the bedroom with them there was a very small room with a whole shrine of holy images against the other walls stood a big bed very clean and covered with a sole patch where a quitted quilt against a third wall was a chest of drawers strange to say so soon as he began to fit the keys into the chest so soon as he heard the jingling a convulsive shudder passed over him he suddenly felt tempted again to give it all up and go away but that was only for an instant it was too late to go back he positively smiled and himself then suddenly another terrifying idea occurred to his mind he suddenly suggested that the old woman might be still alive and might recover her senses leaving the keys in the chest he ran back to the body snatched up the axe and lifted it once more although the old woman but did not bring it down there was no doubt that she was dead bending down and examining her more closely he saw clearly that the skull was broken and even battered on the one side he was about to feel it with his finger but drew by his hand and indeed it was evident without that meanwhile there was a perfect pool of blood all at once he noticed a string on her neck he tugged at it but the string was strong and did not snap and besides it was soaked the blood he tried to pull it out from the front of the dress but something held it and prevented its coming in his impatience he raised the axe again to cut the string from above on the body but it not there and with difficulty smearing his hand and the axe in the blood after two minutes hard effort he cut the string and took it off without touching the body with the axe he was no mistaken it was a purse on the string were two crosses one of cypress wood and one of copper and an image in silver filigree and with them a small greasy chamois leather purse with the steel rim and ring the purse was stuffed very full Raskolnikov thrust it in his pocket without looking at it flung the crosses on the old woman's body and rushed back into the bedroom this time taking the axe with him he was in terrible haste he snatched the keys and began trying them again but he was unsuccessful they would not fit in the locks it was not so much that his hands were shaking but that he kept making mistakes well he saw for instance that the key was not the right one and would not fit still he tried to put it in suddenly he remembered and realized that the big key that the deep notches which was hanging there with the small keys could not possibly belong to the chest of drawers on his last visit this had struck him but to some strong box and that everything in that box he leapt the chest of drawers and at once felt under the bedstead knowing that all women usually keep boxes under their beds and so it was there was a good size box under the bed at least a yarding length with an arch lid covered with red leather and studded the steel nails the notch fitted at once and unlocked it at the top under white sheet with a coat of red brocade lined it with hair skin under it was a silk dress then a shawl and it seemed as though there was nothing below with clothes the first thing he did was to wipe the blood stain in hands on the red brocade it's red and on red blood will be less noticeable the thought passed to his mind then he suddenly came to himself good god I am going out of my senses he fought with terror but no sooner he did touch the clothes the salt watch slipped from under the fur coat he made haste to turn them all over they turned out to be warriors articles made of gold among the clothes probably all pledges unredeemed or waiting to be redeemed bracelets chains earrings, pins and such things were in cases other simply wrapped in newspaper carefully and exactly folded and tied around the tape without any delay he began filling up the pockets of his trousers and overcoat without examining or undoing the parcels and cases but he had not time to take many he suddenly after steps in the room were the old woman lay he stopped short and was still as death but all was quiet so it must have been his fancy all at once he heard distantly a faint cry as though someone had uttered a low broken moan then again dead silence for a minute or two he sets quoting on his heels by the box and waited holding his breath suddenly he jumped up sees the axe and run out of the bedroom in the middle of the room stood Elizabeth the big bundle in her arms she was gazing in sleuth faction at her murdered sister wide as a sheet and seeming not to have the strength to cry out seeing him run out of the bedroom she began faintly quivering all over like a leaf a shredder ran down her face she lifted her hand opened her mouth but still did not scream she began slowly backing away from him into the corner staring intently insistently at him but still uttered no sound as though she could not get breathed to scream he rushed her her with the axe her mouth twitched piteously as one sees baby's mouths when they begin to be frightened stirred intently at what frightens them are on the point of screaming and this hapless avietta was so simple and had been so thoroughly crushed and scared that she did not even raise a hand to guard her face though that was the most necessary and natural action at the moment for the axe was raised over her face she only put up her empty left hand but not to her face slowly holding it out before her as though motioning him away the axe fell with the sharp edge just on the skull and split at one blow all the top of the head she fell heavily at once rascaleco completely lost his head smashing up her bundle dropped it again and run into the entry fear gained more and more mastery over him especially after this second quite unexpected murder he longed to run away from place as fast as possible and at that moment he had been capable of seeing and reasoning more correctly if he had been able to realize all the difficulties of his position the hopelessness the hiddenness and the absurdity of that he could have understood how many obstacles and perhaps crimes he had still to overcome or to commit to get out of that place and to make his way home it is very possible that he would have flung up everything and would have gone to give himself up and not from fear but from simple horror feeling of what he had done the feeling of loathing especially surge up in him and grew stronger every minute he would not now have gone to the box or even into the room for anything in the world but a certain blankness even dreaminess had begun by degrees to take possession of him at moments he forgot himself or rather forgot what was of importance and caught at trifles glancing however into the kitchen and seeing a bucket half full of water on a bench he before him of washing his hands and the axe his hands were sticky with blood he dropped the axe with the blade in the water snatched a piece of soap that lay in a broken saucer on the window and began washing his hands in the pocket when they were clean he took out the axe washed the blade and spent a long time about 3 minutes washing through the wood where there were spots of blood rubbing them with soap then he wiped it all with some lunean that was hanging to dry in the kitchen and then he was a long while attentively examining the axe at the window there was no trace left on it only the wood was still damp he carefully hung the axe on the news under his coat then as far as was possible in the dim light in the kitchen he looked over his overcoat his trousers and his boot at the third glance there seemed to be nothing but stains on the boot he wetted the rag and rubbed the boot but he knew he was not looking thoroughly that there might be something quite noticeable what he was overlooking he stood in the middle of the room lost in food and quickly dears rose in his mind the idea that he was mad and that that moment he was incapable of reasoning of protecting himself that he ought perhaps to be doing something utterly different from what he was now doing good god he murdered I must fly, fly and he rushed into the entry but Hiroshakov terror-weighted him such as he had never known before he stood engaged and could not believe his eyes the door the outer door from the stairs at which he had not long before waited and rung was standing and fastened and at least six inches open no lock no bolt all the time all that time the old woman he had not shouted after him perhaps as a precaution but good god why he had seen Lizaveta afterwards and how could he how could he have failed to reflect that she must have come and somehow she could not have come to the wall he dashed to the door and fastened the latch but no the wrong thing again I must get away get away he and fastened the latch opened the door and began listening on the staircase he listened a long time somewhere far away it might be in the gateway two voices were loudly and truly shouting quirling and scalding where are they about he waited patiently at last all was still as well suddenly cut off and evaporated he was meaning to go out but suddenly on the floor below a door was nicely opened and someone began going downstairs humming a tune how is it we all make such a noise flash to his mind once more he closed the door and waited and last all was still not a soul staring he was just taking a step towards the stairs when he heard fresh footsteps the steps sounded very far off at the very bottom of the stairs but he remembered quite clearly and distinctly that from the first sound he began for some reason to suspect that which was someone coming there to the fourth floor to the old woman why? the sound somehow peculiar significant the steps were heavy even an unheard now he had passed the first floor now he was mounting higher it was growing more and more distinct he could hear his heavy breathing and now the third story had been reached coming here and it seemed to him all at once that he was turned to stone that it was like a dream in which one is being pursued nearly caught and will be killed and it's rooted to the spot and cannot even move one's arms at last when the unknown was mounting to the fourth floor he suddenly started and succeeded in slipping neatly and quickly back into the flat and closing the door behind him then he took the hook and softly nicely fixed it in the catch instinct helped him when he had done this he crowd holding his breath by the door the unknown visitor was by now also at the door they were now standing opposite one another as he had just before been standing with the old woman when the door divided them and he was listening the visitor panted several times he must be a big fat man of force Raskolnikov squeezing the axe in his hand it seemed like a dream indeed the visitor to hold of the bell and rang it loudly as soon as the tin bell tingled Raskolnikov seemed to be aware of something moving in the room for some seconds he listened quite seriously the unknown rang again waited and suddenly tucked violently and impatiently at the handle of the door Raskolnikov gazed in horror at the hook shaking in its fastening and in blank terror it spectated every minute that the fastening would be pulled out it certainly did seem so violently was he shaking it he was tempted to hold the fastening but he might be aware of it a goodness came over him again I shall fall down flashed through his mind but the unknown began to speak and here occurred himself at once what's up keep or murder Dan them he bawled in a thick wise hey Lanna Ivanovna old witch hey my beauty open the door or Dan them are they asleep or what and again in rage he tucked with all his mind dozen times at the bell he must certainly be a man of authority and intimate acquaintance at this moment lying hard steps would hurt not far off on the stairs someone else was approaching Raskolnikov had not hurt them at first you don't say there is no one at home the newcomer cried in a cheerful ringing wise addressing the first visitor who still went unpooling the bell evening kaha from his voice he must be quite young full to Raskolnikov who the devil can tell I have almost broken the lock answered kaha but how do you come to know me why the day before yesterday I beat you three times running at billiards at Gumbrinas ah so they are not at home that's queer stupid woe where could the old woman have gone I've come on business yes and I have business of her too well what can we do go back I suppose and I was hoping to get some money cried the young man we must give it up of course but what did she fix this time for the old witch fixed the time for me to come herself it's out of my way and where the devil she can have got to I can't make out she sits here from years and to years and the whole hag her legs are bad and yet here all of a sudden she's out for a walk hadn't be better ask the porter what where she's gone and when you'll be back damn it all we might ask but you know she never does go anywhere and he wants more tucked at the door handle damn it all there is nothing to be done we must go stay cried the young man suddenly do you see how the door shakes if you pull it well that shows it's not locked but fastened to the hook clanks well why don't you see that proves that one of them is at home if they were all out we would have locked the door from the outside with the key and not with the hook from inside they do hear how the hook is clanking to fasten the hook on the inside they must be at home don't you see so there they are sitting inside and don't open the door well and so they must be crying kaha astonished where are they about in there and he began furiously shaking the door stay cried the young man again don't pull it it there must be something wrong here you've been ringing and pulling at the door and still they don't open so either they both fainted or what I tell you what let's go fetch the porter let him wake them up all right both were going down stay you stop here while I run down for the porter what for well you'd better all right I'm studying the law you see it's evident there is something wrong here the young man cried heartily and he ran downstairs kaha remained once more he softly touched the bell which gave one tingle then gently as well reflecting and looking about him began touching the door handle pulling it and letting it go to make sure once more where it was only fastened by the hook then and panting he bent down and began looking at the keyhole but the key was in the lock on the inside and so nothing could be seen Raskolnikov stood keeping tight hold of the axe he was in sort of delirium he was even making ready to fight when they should come in while they were knocking and talking together the idea several times occurred to him to end it all at once and shout to them to the door now and then he was tempted to sweep them to jave them while they could not open the door only may haste with the forth that flashed to his mind but what the devil is he about time was passing one minute and another no one came kach began to be restless what the devil he cried suddenly and in patience deserting his sentry duty he too went down bumping with his heavy boots on the stairs the steps died away good heavens what am I to do Raskolnikov and fastened the hook opened the door there was no sound abruptly without an afford at all he went out closing the door as thoroughly as he could and down stairs he had gone down three flights when he suddenly heard the loud voice below where could he go there was no way to hide he was just going back to the flat hey there catch the brood somebody dashed out of the flat below shouting and rather felt and ran down the stairs bawling at the top of his voice mitchka mitchka mitchka bless him the shout ended in a shriek the last sounds came from the yard all was still but at the same instant several men talking loud and fast began nicely mouthing the stairs there were three or four of them they were singing with the ringing voice of the young man they filled with despair he went straight to meet them feeling calm what must if they stop him all was lost if they let him pass all was lost too they would remember him they were approaching they were only a flight from him and suddenly a few steps from him on the right there was an empty flat with the door wide open the flat on the second floor where the painters had been at work and which as though for his benefit they had just left it was they no doubt who had just ran down shouting the floor had only just been painted in the middle of the rooms to the pale and a broken part with paint and brushes in one instant he had whisked and at the open door and hidden behind the wall and only in the nick of time they had already reached the landing when they turned and went on up to the floor talking loudly he waited went out on a tip tie and ran down the stairs no one was on the stairs knowing the gateway he passed quickly to the gateway and turned to the left in the street he knew perfectly well that at that moment they were at the flat they were greatly astonished at finding it unblocked as the door had just been fastened but by now they were looking at the bodies that before another minute had passed they would guess and completely realize that the murderer had just been there and had succeeded in hiding somewhere slipping by them and escaping they would guess most likely that he had been in the empty flat while they were going upstairs and meanwhile he dare not quicken his space much though the next turning was still nearly a hundred years away should he slip to some gateway and wait somewhere in an unknown street no, hopeless should he fling away the axe should he take a cab hopeless hopeless at last he reached the turning he turned down in it more death than alive here he was away to safety and he understood it it was less risky because there was a great crowd of people and he was lost in it like a grain of sand but all he had suffered had so weakened him that he could scarcely move perspiration ran down him and drops his neck was all wet my word and going it someone shouted at him when he came out on the canal bank he was only dimly conscious of himself now and the farther he went the worse it was he remembered however that on coming out into the canal bank he was alarmed at finding few people there and so being more conspicuous and he had thought of turning back though he was almost falling from fatigue he went a long way around so as to get home from quite a different direction he was not fully conscious when he passed through the gateway of his house he was already on the staircase before he recollected the eggs and yet he had a very grave problem before him to put it back and to escape perspiration as far as possible in doing so he was of course incapable of reflecting with it might perhaps be far better not to restore the eggs at all but to drop it later on an insumbodies yard but it all happened fortunately the door of the porter's room was closed but not locked so that it seemed most likely that the porter was at home but he had so completely lost all power or reflection that he walked straight to the door and opened it if the porter had asked him what do you want he would perhaps have simply handed him the eggs but again the porter was not at home and he succeeded in putting the eggs back under the bench even covering it with a chunk of wood as before he met no one not at all afterwards on the way to his room the landlady's door was shut when he was in his room he flung himself on the sofa just as he was he did not sleep but sunk into the blank forgetfulness if anyone had come into his room then he would have jumped up at once and screamed scraps and shreds of food were simply swarming in his brain but he could not catch at one he could not rest on one in spite of all his efforts and a part one