Crime and Punishment: A New Translation by Fyodor Dostoevsky

Author:Fyodor Dostoevsky [Dostoevsky, Fyodor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Liveright
Published: 2017-11-21T07:00:00+00:00

I

“Can this really be the continuation of my dream?” Raskolnikov wondered again. He stared cautiously and distrustfully at the unexpected guest.

“Svidrigaylov? What nonsense! It couldn’t be!” he uttered aloud at last, in perplexity.

The visitor did not seem surprised at all by this exclamation.

“I’ve come to see you for two reasons: first, for some time I’ve heard extremely interesting and favorable reports of you, and I wanted to make your acquaintance; second, I hope that perhaps you won’t refuse to assist me in an undertaking that directly concerns the interests of your sister, Avdotya Romanovna. As a result of prejudice, she might not agree to see me alone without a recommendation; on the other hand, with your help, I can count on . . .”

“You count badly,” Raskolnikov interrupted him.

“May I ask if they just arrived yesterday?”

Raskolnikov made no reply.

“Yesterday, I know. I myself arrived only two days ago. Well, sir, this is what I have to say to you on that score, Rodion Romanovich; I consider it unnecessary to justify myself, but allow me to inquire: in this entire affair, was there, as a matter of fact, anything criminal on my part, that is, judging sensibly and without prejudice?”

Raskolnikov continued examining him in silence.

“The fact that in my own home I pursued a defenseless young woman and ‘insulted her with my vile proposals’—is that it? (I’m jumping ahead!) But you must assume that I’m merely a human being, et nihil humanum* . . . in a word, that I’m capable of being attracted and falling in love (which, of course, doesn’t depend on our own will); then everything can be explained in the most natural manner. Here the whole question is: am I a monster or a victim myself? Well, how can I be a victim? When I proposed to the object of my affections that she run away with me to America or Switzerland, perhaps I nourished the most honorable feelings in myself and even thought I was making arrangements for our mutual happiness! One’s reason serves one’s passions; perhaps I did more harm to myself than to anyone else!”

“That’s not the point,” Raskolnikov interrupted with disgust. “You’re simply repulsive, whether you’re right or not. They don’t even want to know you, and they want you to leave. So go away!”

Svidrigaylov suddenly burst out laughing.

“However . . . however, there’s no way of knocking you off track!” he said, laughing in a most sincere manner. “I thought I could outwit you, but no, right away you put your finger exactly on the main point!”

“You continue trying to outwit me even now.”

“What if I do? What if I do?” repeated Svidrigaylov, laughing aloud. “It’s what’s called bonne guerre,† and the most permissible deceit! But you interrupted me all the same. One way or another, I can state once more: there would’ve been no unpleasantness if it hadn’t been for the incident in the garden. Marfa Petrovna . . .”

“They say you also hastened Marfa Petrovna’s end,” Raskolnikov interrupted rudely.

“You’ve heard

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