community-datasets/crime_and_punish · Datasets at Hugging Face

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reading the letter. The essential question was settled, and irrevocably
settled, in his mind: “Never such a marriage while I am alive and
Mr. Luzhin be damned!” “The thing is perfectly clear,” he muttered
to himself, with a malignant smile anticipating the triumph of his
decision. “No, mother, no, Dounia, you won’t deceive me! and then they
apologise for not asking my advice and for taking the decision without
me! I dare say! They imagine it is arranged now and can’t be broken
off; but we will see whether it can or not! A magnificent excuse:
‘Pyotr Petrovitch is such a busy man that even his wedding has to be in
post-haste, almost by express.’ No, Dounia, I see it all and I know what
you want to say to me; and I know too what you were thinking about, when
you walked up and down all night, and what your prayers were like before
the Holy Mother of Kazan who stands in mother’s bedroom. Bitter is
the ascent to Golgotha.... Hm... so it is finally settled; you have
determined to marry a sensible business man, Avdotya Romanovna, one
who has a fortune (has _already_ made his fortune, that is so much
more solid and impressive), a man who holds two government posts and who
shares the ideas of our most rising generation, as mother writes, and
who _seems_ to be kind, as Dounia herself observes. That _seems_ beats
everything! And that very Dounia for that very ‘_seems_’ is marrying
him! Splendid! splendid!

“... But I should like to know why mother has written to me about ‘our
most rising generation’? Simply as a descriptive touch, or with the idea
of prepossessing me in favour of Mr. Luzhin? Oh, the cunning of them!
I should like to know one thing more: how far they were open with one
another that day and night and all this time since? Was it all put into
_words_, or did both understand that they had the same thing at heart
and in their minds, so that there was no need to speak of it aloud, and
better not to speak of it. Most likely it was partly like that, from
mother’s letter it’s evident: he struck her as rude _a little_, and
mother in her simplicity took her observations to Dounia. And she was
sure to be vexed and ‘answered her angrily.’ I should think so! Who
would not be angered when it was quite clear without any naïve questions
and when it was understood that it was useless to discuss it. And why
does she write to me, ‘love Dounia, Rodya, and she loves you more than
herself’? Has she a secret conscience-prick at sacrificing her daughter
to her son? ‘You are our one comfort, you are everything to us.’ Oh,
mother!”

His bitterness grew more and more intense, and if he had happened to
meet Mr. Luzhin at the moment, he might have murdered him.

“Hm... yes, that’s true,” he continued, pursuing the whirling ideas that
chased each other in his brain, “it is true that ‘it needs time and care
to get to know a man,’ but there is no mistake about Mr. Luzhin. The
chief thing is he is ‘a man of business and _seems_ kind,’ that was
something, wasn’t it, to send the bags and big box for them! A kind man,
no doubt after that! But his _bride_ and her mother are to drive in a
peasant’s cart covered with sacking (I know, I have been driven in
it). No matter! It is only ninety versts and then they can ‘travel very
comfortably, third class,’ for a thousand versts! Quite right, too. One
must cut one’s coat according to one’s cloth, but what about you, Mr.
Luzhin? She is your bride.... And you must be aware that her mother has
to raise money on her pension for the journey. To be sure it’s a matter
of business, a partnership for mutual benefit, with equal shares and
expenses;--food and drink provided, but pay for your tobacco. The
business man has got the better of them, too. The luggage will cost less
than their fares and very likely go for nothing. How is it that they
don’t both see all that, or is it that they don’t want to see? And
they are pleased, pleased! And to think that this is only the first
blossoming, and that the real fruits are to come! But what really
matters is not the stinginess, is not the meanness, but the _tone_
of the whole thing. For that will be the tone after marriage, it’s a
foretaste of it. And mother too, why should she be so lavish? What will
she have by the time she gets to Petersburg? Three silver roubles or
two ‘paper ones’ as _she_ says.... that old woman... hm. What does
she expect to live upon in Petersburg afterwards? She has her reasons
already for guessing that she _could not_ live with Dounia after the
marriage, even for the first few months. The good man has no doubt let
slip something on that subject also, though mother would deny it: ‘I
shall refuse,’ says she. On whom is she reckoning then? Is she counting
on what is left of her hundred and twenty roubles of pension when
Afanasy Ivanovitch’s debt is paid? She knits woollen shawls and
embroiders cuffs, ruining her old eyes. And all her shawls don’t add
more than twenty roubles a year to her hundred and twenty, I know
that. So she is building all her hopes all the time on Mr. Luzhin’s
generosity; ‘he will offer it of himself, he will press it on me.’
You may wait a long time for that! That’s how it always is with these
Schilleresque noble hearts; till the last moment every goose is a swan
with them, till the last moment, they hope for the best and will see
nothing wrong, and although they have an inkling of the other side of
the picture, yet they won’t face the truth till they are forced to; the
very thought of it makes them shiver; they thrust the truth away with
both hands, until the man they deck out in false colours puts a fool’s
cap on them with his own hands. I should like to know whether Mr. Luzhin
has any orders of merit; I bet he has the Anna in his buttonhole and
that he puts it on when he goes to dine with contractors or merchants.
He will be sure to have it for his wedding, too! Enough of him, confound
him!

“Well,... mother I don’t wonder at, it’s like her, God bless her, but
how could Dounia? Dounia darling, as though I did not know you! You were
nearly twenty when I saw you last: I understood you then. Mother writes
that ‘Dounia can put up with a great deal.’ I know that very well. I
knew that two years and a half ago, and for the last two and a half
years I have been thinking about it, thinking of just that, that ‘Dounia
can put up with a great deal.’ If she could put up with Mr. Svidrigaïlov
and all the rest of it, she certainly can put up with a great deal. And
now mother and she have taken it into their heads that she can put up

reading the letter. The essential question was settled, and irrevocably

settled, in his mind: “Never such a marriage while I am alive and

Mr. Luzhin be damned!” “The thing is perfectly clear,” he muttered

to himself, with a malignant smile anticipating the triumph of his

decision. “No, mother, no, Dounia, you won’t deceive me! and then they

apologise for not asking my advice and for taking the decision without

me! I dare say! They imagine it is arranged now and can’t be broken

off; but we will see whether it can or not! A magnificent excuse:

‘Pyotr Petrovitch is such a busy man that even his wedding has to be in

post-haste, almost by express.’ No, Dounia, I see it all and I know what

you want to say to me; and I know too what you were thinking about, when

you walked up and down all night, and what your prayers were like before

the Holy Mother of Kazan who stands in mother’s bedroom. Bitter is

the ascent to Golgotha.... Hm... so it is finally settled; you have

determined to marry a sensible business man, Avdotya Romanovna, one

who has a fortune (has _already_ made his fortune, that is so much

more solid and impressive), a man who holds two government posts and who

shares the ideas of our most rising generation, as mother writes, and

who _seems_ to be kind, as Dounia herself observes. That _seems_ beats

everything! And that very Dounia for that very ‘_seems_’ is marrying

him! Splendid! splendid!

“... But I should like to know why mother has written to me about ‘our

most rising generation’? Simply as a descriptive touch, or with the idea

of prepossessing me in favour of Mr. Luzhin? Oh, the cunning of them!

I should like to know one thing more: how far they were open with one

another that day and night and all this time since? Was it all put into

_words_, or did both understand that they had the same thing at heart

and in their minds, so that there was no need to speak of it aloud, and

better not to speak of it. Most likely it was partly like that, from

mother’s letter it’s evident: he struck her as rude _a little_, and

mother in her simplicity took her observations to Dounia. And she was

sure to be vexed and ‘answered her angrily.’ I should think so! Who

would not be angered when it was quite clear without any naïve questions

and when it was understood that it was useless to discuss it. And why

does she write to me, ‘love Dounia, Rodya, and she loves you more than

herself’? Has she a secret conscience-prick at sacrificing her daughter

to her son? ‘You are our one comfort, you are everything to us.’ Oh,

mother!”

His bitterness grew more and more intense, and if he had happened to

meet Mr. Luzhin at the moment, he might have murdered him.

“Hm... yes, that’s true,” he continued, pursuing the whirling ideas that

chased each other in his brain, “it is true that ‘it needs time and care

to get to know a man,’ but there is no mistake about Mr. Luzhin. The

chief thing is he is ‘a man of business and _seems_ kind,’ that was

something, wasn’t it, to send the bags and big box for them! A kind man,

no doubt after that! But his _bride_ and her mother are to drive in a

peasant’s cart covered with sacking (I know, I have been driven in

it). No matter! It is only ninety versts and then they can ‘travel very

comfortably, third class,’ for a thousand versts! Quite right, too. One

must cut one’s coat according to one’s cloth, but what about you, Mr.

Luzhin? She is your bride.... And you must be aware that her mother has

to raise money on her pension for the journey. To be sure it’s a matter

of business, a partnership for mutual benefit, with equal shares and

expenses;--food and drink provided, but pay for your tobacco. The

business man has got the better of them, too. The luggage will cost less

than their fares and very likely go for nothing. How is it that they

don’t both see all that, or is it that they don’t want to see? And

they are pleased, pleased! And to think that this is only the first

blossoming, and that the real fruits are to come! But what really

matters is not the stinginess, is not the meanness, but the _tone_

of the whole thing. For that will be the tone after marriage, it’s a

foretaste of it. And mother too, why should she be so lavish? What will

she have by the time she gets to Petersburg? Three silver roubles or

two ‘paper ones’ as _she_ says.... that old woman... hm. What does

she expect to live upon in Petersburg afterwards? She has her reasons

already for guessing that she _could not_ live with Dounia after the

marriage, even for the first few months. The good man has no doubt let

slip something on that subject also, though mother would deny it: ‘I

shall refuse,’ says she. On whom is she reckoning then? Is she counting

on what is left of her hundred and twenty roubles of pension when

Afanasy Ivanovitch’s debt is paid? She knits woollen shawls and

embroiders cuffs, ruining her old eyes. And all her shawls don’t add

more than twenty roubles a year to her hundred and twenty, I know

that. So she is building all her hopes all the time on Mr. Luzhin’s

generosity; ‘he will offer it of himself, he will press it on me.’

You may wait a long time for that! That’s how it always is with these

Schilleresque noble hearts; till the last moment every goose is a swan

with them, till the last moment, they hope for the best and will see

nothing wrong, and although they have an inkling of the other side of

the picture, yet they won’t face the truth till they are forced to; the

very thought of it makes them shiver; they thrust the truth away with

both hands, until the man they deck out in false colours puts a fool’s

cap on them with his own hands. I should like to know whether Mr. Luzhin

has any orders of merit; I bet he has the Anna in his buttonhole and

that he puts it on when he goes to dine with contractors or merchants.

He will be sure to have it for his wedding, too! Enough of him, confound

him!

“Well,... mother I don’t wonder at, it’s like her, God bless her, but

how could Dounia? Dounia darling, as though I did not know you! You were

nearly twenty when I saw you last: I understood you then. Mother writes

that ‘Dounia can put up with a great deal.’ I know that very well. I

knew that two years and a half ago, and for the last two and a half

years I have been thinking about it, thinking of just that, that ‘Dounia

can put up with a great deal.’ If she could put up with Mr. Svidrigaïlov

and all the rest of it, she certainly can put up with a great deal. And

now mother and she have taken it into their heads that she can put up