community-datasets/crime_and_punish · Datasets at Hugging Face

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“Why, you might have challenged them... altogether it must have been
lively.”

“I won’t contradict you, and besides I am no hand at philosophy. I
confess that I hastened here for the sake of the women.”

“As soon as you buried Marfa Petrovna?”

“Quite so,” Svidrigaïlov smiled with engaging candour. “What of it? You
seem to find something wrong in my speaking like that about women?”

“You ask whether I find anything wrong in vice?”

“Vice! Oh, that’s what you are after! But I’ll answer you in order,
first about women in general; you know I am fond of talking. Tell me,
what should I restrain myself for? Why should I give up women, since I
have a passion for them? It’s an occupation, anyway.”

“So you hope for nothing here but vice?”

“Oh, very well, for vice then. You insist on its being vice. But anyway
I like a direct question. In this vice at least there is something
permanent, founded indeed upon nature and not dependent on fantasy,
something present in the blood like an ever-burning ember, for ever
setting one on fire and, maybe, not to be quickly extinguished, even
with years. You’ll agree it’s an occupation of a sort.”

“That’s nothing to rejoice at, it’s a disease and a dangerous one.”

“Oh, that’s what you think, is it! I agree, that it is a disease like
everything that exceeds moderation. And, of course, in this one must
exceed moderation. But in the first place, everybody does so in one way
or another, and in the second place, of course, one ought to be moderate
and prudent, however mean it may be, but what am I to do? If I hadn’t
this, I might have to shoot myself. I am ready to admit that a decent
man ought to put up with being bored, but yet...”

“And could you shoot yourself?”

“Oh, come!” Svidrigaïlov parried with disgust. “Please don’t speak of
it,” he added hurriedly and with none of the bragging tone he had shown
in all the previous conversation. His face quite changed. “I admit it’s
an unpardonable weakness, but I can’t help it. I am afraid of death and
I dislike its being talked of. Do you know that I am to a certain extent
a mystic?”

“Ah, the apparitions of Marfa Petrovna! Do they still go on visiting
you?”

“Oh, don’t talk of them; there have been no more in Petersburg, confound
them!” he cried with an air of irritation. “Let’s rather talk of that...
though... H’m! I have not much time, and can’t stay long with you,
it’s a pity! I should have found plenty to tell you.”

“What’s your engagement, a woman?”

“Yes, a woman, a casual incident.... No, that’s not what I want to talk
of.”

“And the hideousness, the filthiness of all your surroundings, doesn’t
that affect you? Have you lost the strength to stop yourself?”

“And do you pretend to strength, too? He-he-he! You surprised me just
now, Rodion Romanovitch, though I knew beforehand it would be so.
You preach to me about vice and æsthetics! You--a Schiller, you--an
idealist! Of course that’s all as it should be and it would be
surprising if it were not so, yet it is strange in reality.... Ah,
what a pity I have no time, for you’re a most interesting type! And,
by-the-way, are you fond of Schiller? I am awfully fond of him.”

“But what a braggart you are,” Raskolnikov said with some disgust.

“Upon my word, I am not,” answered Svidrigaïlov laughing. “However, I
won’t dispute it, let me be a braggart, why not brag, if it hurts no
one? I spent seven years in the country with Marfa Petrovna, so now when
I come across an intelligent person like you--intelligent and highly
interesting--I am simply glad to talk and, besides, I’ve drunk that
half-glass of champagne and it’s gone to my head a little. And besides,
there’s a certain fact that has wound me up tremendously, but about that
I... will keep quiet. Where are you off to?” he asked in alarm.

Raskolnikov had begun getting up. He felt oppressed and stifled and,
as it were, ill at ease at having come here. He felt convinced that
Svidrigaïlov was the most worthless scoundrel on the face of the earth.

“A-ach! Sit down, stay a little!” Svidrigaïlov begged. “Let them bring
you some tea, anyway. Stay a little, I won’t talk nonsense, about
myself, I mean. I’ll tell you something. If you like I’ll tell you how a
woman tried ‘to save’ me, as you would call it? It will be an answer to
your first question indeed, for the woman was your sister. May I tell
you? It will help to spend the time.”

“Tell me, but I trust that you...”

“Oh, don’t be uneasy. Besides, even in a worthless low fellow like me,
Avdotya Romanovna can only excite the deepest respect.”

“Why, you might have challenged them... altogether it must have been

lively.”

“I won’t contradict you, and besides I am no hand at philosophy. I

confess that I hastened here for the sake of the women.”

“As soon as you buried Marfa Petrovna?”

“Quite so,” Svidrigaïlov smiled with engaging candour. “What of it? You

seem to find something wrong in my speaking like that about women?”

“You ask whether I find anything wrong in vice?”

“Vice! Oh, that’s what you are after! But I’ll answer you in order,

first about women in general; you know I am fond of talking. Tell me,

what should I restrain myself for? Why should I give up women, since I

have a passion for them? It’s an occupation, anyway.”

“So you hope for nothing here but vice?”

“Oh, very well, for vice then. You insist on its being vice. But anyway

I like a direct question. In this vice at least there is something

permanent, founded indeed upon nature and not dependent on fantasy,

something present in the blood like an ever-burning ember, for ever

setting one on fire and, maybe, not to be quickly extinguished, even

with years. You’ll agree it’s an occupation of a sort.”

“That’s nothing to rejoice at, it’s a disease and a dangerous one.”

“Oh, that’s what you think, is it! I agree, that it is a disease like

everything that exceeds moderation. And, of course, in this one must

exceed moderation. But in the first place, everybody does so in one way

or another, and in the second place, of course, one ought to be moderate

and prudent, however mean it may be, but what am I to do? If I hadn’t

this, I might have to shoot myself. I am ready to admit that a decent

man ought to put up with being bored, but yet...”

“And could you shoot yourself?”

“Oh, come!” Svidrigaïlov parried with disgust. “Please don’t speak of

it,” he added hurriedly and with none of the bragging tone he had shown

in all the previous conversation. His face quite changed. “I admit it’s

an unpardonable weakness, but I can’t help it. I am afraid of death and

I dislike its being talked of. Do you know that I am to a certain extent

a mystic?”

“Ah, the apparitions of Marfa Petrovna! Do they still go on visiting

you?”

“Oh, don’t talk of them; there have been no more in Petersburg, confound

them!” he cried with an air of irritation. “Let’s rather talk of that...

though... H’m! I have not much time, and can’t stay long with you,

it’s a pity! I should have found plenty to tell you.”

“What’s your engagement, a woman?”

“Yes, a woman, a casual incident.... No, that’s not what I want to talk

of.”

“And the hideousness, the filthiness of all your surroundings, doesn’t

that affect you? Have you lost the strength to stop yourself?”

“And do you pretend to strength, too? He-he-he! You surprised me just

now, Rodion Romanovitch, though I knew beforehand it would be so.

You preach to me about vice and æsthetics! You--a Schiller, you--an

idealist! Of course that’s all as it should be and it would be

surprising if it were not so, yet it is strange in reality.... Ah,

what a pity I have no time, for you’re a most interesting type! And,

by-the-way, are you fond of Schiller? I am awfully fond of him.”

“But what a braggart you are,” Raskolnikov said with some disgust.

“Upon my word, I am not,” answered Svidrigaïlov laughing. “However, I

won’t dispute it, let me be a braggart, why not brag, if it hurts no

one? I spent seven years in the country with Marfa Petrovna, so now when

I come across an intelligent person like you--intelligent and highly

interesting--I am simply glad to talk and, besides, I’ve drunk that

half-glass of champagne and it’s gone to my head a little. And besides,

there’s a certain fact that has wound me up tremendously, but about that

I... will keep quiet. Where are you off to?” he asked in alarm.

Raskolnikov had begun getting up. He felt oppressed and stifled and,

as it were, ill at ease at having come here. He felt convinced that

Svidrigaïlov was the most worthless scoundrel on the face of the earth.

“A-ach! Sit down, stay a little!” Svidrigaïlov begged. “Let them bring

you some tea, anyway. Stay a little, I won’t talk nonsense, about

myself, I mean. I’ll tell you something. If you like I’ll tell you how a

woman tried ‘to save’ me, as you would call it? It will be an answer to

your first question indeed, for the woman was your sister. May I tell

you? It will help to spend the time.”

“Tell me, but I trust that you...”

“Oh, don’t be uneasy. Besides, even in a worthless low fellow like me,

Avdotya Romanovna can only excite the deepest respect.”