community-datasets/crime_and_punish · Datasets at Hugging Face

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“One can’t go out to give lessons without boots. And I’m sick of it.”

“Don’t quarrel with your bread and butter.”

“They pay so little for lessons. What’s the use of a few coppers?” he
answered, reluctantly, as though replying to his own thought.

“And you want to get a fortune all at once?”

He looked at her strangely.

“Yes, I want a fortune,” he answered firmly, after a brief pause.

“Don’t be in such a hurry, you quite frighten me! Shall I get you the
loaf or not?”

“As you please.”

“Ah, I forgot! A letter came for you yesterday when you were out.”

“A letter? for me! from whom?”

“I can’t say. I gave three copecks of my own to the postman for it. Will
you pay me back?”

“Then bring it to me, for God’s sake, bring it,” cried Raskolnikov
greatly excited--“good God!”

A minute later the letter was brought him. That was it: from his mother,
from the province of R----. He turned pale when he took it. It was a
long while since he had received a letter, but another feeling also
suddenly stabbed his heart.

“Nastasya, leave me alone, for goodness’ sake; here are your three
copecks, but for goodness’ sake, make haste and go!”

The letter was quivering in his hand; he did not want to open it in her
presence; he wanted to be left _alone_ with this letter. When Nastasya
had gone out, he lifted it quickly to his lips and kissed it; then he
gazed intently at the address, the small, sloping handwriting, so dear
and familiar, of the mother who had once taught him to read and write.
He delayed; he seemed almost afraid of something. At last he opened it;
it was a thick heavy letter, weighing over two ounces, two large sheets
of note paper were covered with very small handwriting.

“My dear Rodya,” wrote his mother--“it’s two months since I last had a
talk with you by letter which has distressed me and even kept me
awake at night, thinking. But I am sure you will not blame me for my
inevitable silence. You know how I love you; you are all we have to look
to, Dounia and I, you are our all, our one hope, our one stay. What a
grief it was to me when I heard that you had given up the university
some months ago, for want of means to keep yourself and that you had
lost your lessons and your other work! How could I help you out of my
hundred and twenty roubles a year pension? The fifteen roubles I sent
you four months ago I borrowed, as you know, on security of my pension,
from Vassily Ivanovitch Vahrushin a merchant of this town. He is a
kind-hearted man and was a friend of your father’s too. But having given
him the right to receive the pension, I had to wait till the debt was
paid off and that is only just done, so that I’ve been unable to send
you anything all this time. But now, thank God, I believe I shall
be able to send you something more and in fact we may congratulate
ourselves on our good fortune now, of which I hasten to inform you. In
the first place, would you have guessed, dear Rodya, that your sister
has been living with me for the last six weeks and we shall not be
separated in the future. Thank God, her sufferings are over, but I will
tell you everything in order, so that you may know just how everything
has happened and all that we have hitherto concealed from you. When you
wrote to me two months ago that you had heard that Dounia had a great
deal to put up with in the Svidrigaïlovs’ house, when you wrote that
and asked me to tell you all about it--what could I write in answer to
you? If I had written the whole truth to you, I dare say you would have
thrown up everything and have come to us, even if you had to walk all
the way, for I know your character and your feelings, and you would not
let your sister be insulted. I was in despair myself, but what could I
do? And, besides, I did not know the whole truth myself then. What
made it all so difficult was that Dounia received a hundred roubles
in advance when she took the place as governess in their family, on
condition of part of her salary being deducted every month, and so it
was impossible to throw up the situation without repaying the debt.
This sum (now I can explain it all to you, my precious Rodya) she took
chiefly in order to send you sixty roubles, which you needed so terribly
then and which you received from us last year. We deceived you then,
writing that this money came from Dounia’s savings, but that was not
so, and now I tell you all about it, because, thank God, things have
suddenly changed for the better, and that you may know how Dounia loves
you and what a heart she has. At first indeed Mr. Svidrigaïlov treated
her very rudely and used to make disrespectful and jeering remarks at
table.... But I don’t want to go into all those painful details, so as
not to worry you for nothing when it is now all over. In short, in spite
of the kind and generous behaviour of Marfa Petrovna, Mr. Svidrigaïlov’s
wife, and all the rest of the household, Dounia had a very hard time,
especially when Mr. Svidrigaïlov, relapsing into his old regimental
habits, was under the influence of Bacchus. And how do you think it
was all explained later on? Would you believe that the crazy fellow had
conceived a passion for Dounia from the beginning, but had concealed
it under a show of rudeness and contempt. Possibly he was ashamed and
horrified himself at his own flighty hopes, considering his years and
his being the father of a family; and that made him angry with Dounia.
And possibly, too, he hoped by his rude and sneering behaviour to hide
the truth from others. But at last he lost all control and had the face

“One can’t go out to give lessons without boots. And I’m sick of it.”

“Don’t quarrel with your bread and butter.”

“They pay so little for lessons. What’s the use of a few coppers?” he

answered, reluctantly, as though replying to his own thought.

“And you want to get a fortune all at once?”

He looked at her strangely.

“Yes, I want a fortune,” he answered firmly, after a brief pause.

“Don’t be in such a hurry, you quite frighten me! Shall I get you the

loaf or not?”

“As you please.”

“Ah, I forgot! A letter came for you yesterday when you were out.”

“A letter? for me! from whom?”

“I can’t say. I gave three copecks of my own to the postman for it. Will

you pay me back?”

“Then bring it to me, for God’s sake, bring it,” cried Raskolnikov

greatly excited--“good God!”

A minute later the letter was brought him. That was it: from his mother,

from the province of R----. He turned pale when he took it. It was a

long while since he had received a letter, but another feeling also

suddenly stabbed his heart.

“Nastasya, leave me alone, for goodness’ sake; here are your three

copecks, but for goodness’ sake, make haste and go!”

The letter was quivering in his hand; he did not want to open it in her

presence; he wanted to be left _alone_ with this letter. When Nastasya

had gone out, he lifted it quickly to his lips and kissed it; then he

gazed intently at the address, the small, sloping handwriting, so dear

and familiar, of the mother who had once taught him to read and write.

He delayed; he seemed almost afraid of something. At last he opened it;

it was a thick heavy letter, weighing over two ounces, two large sheets

of note paper were covered with very small handwriting.

“My dear Rodya,” wrote his mother--“it’s two months since I last had a

talk with you by letter which has distressed me and even kept me

awake at night, thinking. But I am sure you will not blame me for my

inevitable silence. You know how I love you; you are all we have to look

to, Dounia and I, you are our all, our one hope, our one stay. What a

grief it was to me when I heard that you had given up the university

some months ago, for want of means to keep yourself and that you had

lost your lessons and your other work! How could I help you out of my

hundred and twenty roubles a year pension? The fifteen roubles I sent

you four months ago I borrowed, as you know, on security of my pension,

from Vassily Ivanovitch Vahrushin a merchant of this town. He is a

kind-hearted man and was a friend of your father’s too. But having given

him the right to receive the pension, I had to wait till the debt was

paid off and that is only just done, so that I’ve been unable to send

you anything all this time. But now, thank God, I believe I shall

be able to send you something more and in fact we may congratulate

ourselves on our good fortune now, of which I hasten to inform you. In

the first place, would you have guessed, dear Rodya, that your sister

has been living with me for the last six weeks and we shall not be

separated in the future. Thank God, her sufferings are over, but I will

tell you everything in order, so that you may know just how everything

has happened and all that we have hitherto concealed from you. When you

wrote to me two months ago that you had heard that Dounia had a great

deal to put up with in the Svidrigaïlovs’ house, when you wrote that

and asked me to tell you all about it--what could I write in answer to

you? If I had written the whole truth to you, I dare say you would have

thrown up everything and have come to us, even if you had to walk all

the way, for I know your character and your feelings, and you would not

let your sister be insulted. I was in despair myself, but what could I

do? And, besides, I did not know the whole truth myself then. What

made it all so difficult was that Dounia received a hundred roubles

in advance when she took the place as governess in their family, on

condition of part of her salary being deducted every month, and so it

was impossible to throw up the situation without repaying the debt.

This sum (now I can explain it all to you, my precious Rodya) she took

chiefly in order to send you sixty roubles, which you needed so terribly

then and which you received from us last year. We deceived you then,

writing that this money came from Dounia’s savings, but that was not

so, and now I tell you all about it, because, thank God, things have

suddenly changed for the better, and that you may know how Dounia loves

you and what a heart she has. At first indeed Mr. Svidrigaïlov treated

her very rudely and used to make disrespectful and jeering remarks at

table.... But I don’t want to go into all those painful details, so as

not to worry you for nothing when it is now all over. In short, in spite

of the kind and generous behaviour of Marfa Petrovna, Mr. Svidrigaïlov’s

wife, and all the rest of the household, Dounia had a very hard time,

especially when Mr. Svidrigaïlov, relapsing into his old regimental

habits, was under the influence of Bacchus. And how do you think it

was all explained later on? Would you believe that the crazy fellow had

conceived a passion for Dounia from the beginning, but had concealed

it under a show of rudeness and contempt. Possibly he was ashamed and

horrified himself at his own flighty hopes, considering his years and

his being the father of a family; and that made him angry with Dounia.

And possibly, too, he hoped by his rude and sneering behaviour to hide

the truth from others. But at last he lost all control and had the face