community-datasets/crime_and_punish · Datasets at Hugging Face

line stringlengths 2 76

“Poor girl!” he said, looking at the empty corner where she had
sat--“She will come to herself and weep, and then her mother will find
out.... She will give her a beating, a horrible, shameful beating and
then maybe, turn her out of doors.... And even if she does not, the
Darya Frantsovnas will get wind of it, and the girl will soon be
slipping out on the sly here and there. Then there will be the hospital
directly (that’s always the luck of those girls with respectable
mothers, who go wrong on the sly) and then... again the hospital...
drink... the taverns... and more hospital, in two or three years--a
wreck, and her life over at eighteen or nineteen.... Have not I seen
cases like that? And how have they been brought to it? Why, they’ve all
come to it like that. Ugh! But what does it matter? That’s as it should
be, they tell us. A certain percentage, they tell us, must every year
go... that way... to the devil, I suppose, so that the rest may remain
chaste, and not be interfered with. A percentage! What splendid words
they have; they are so scientific, so consolatory.... Once you’ve said
‘percentage’ there’s nothing more to worry about. If we had any other
word... maybe we might feel more uneasy.... But what if Dounia were one
of the percentage! Of another one if not that one?

“But where am I going?” he thought suddenly. “Strange, I came out for
something. As soon as I had read the letter I came out.... I was going
to Vassilyevsky Ostrov, to Razumihin. That’s what it was... now I
remember. What for, though? And what put the idea of going to Razumihin
into my head just now? That’s curious.”

He wondered at himself. Razumihin was one of his old comrades at the
university. It was remarkable that Raskolnikov had hardly any friends at
the university; he kept aloof from everyone, went to see no one, and did
not welcome anyone who came to see him, and indeed everyone soon gave
him up. He took no part in the students’ gatherings, amusements or
conversations. He worked with great intensity without sparing himself,
and he was respected for this, but no one liked him. He was very poor,
and there was a sort of haughty pride and reserve about him, as though
he were keeping something to himself. He seemed to some of his comrades
to look down upon them all as children, as though he were superior in
development, knowledge and convictions, as though their beliefs and
interests were beneath him.

With Razumihin he had got on, or, at least, he was more unreserved and
communicative with him. Indeed it was impossible to be on any other
terms with Razumihin. He was an exceptionally good-humoured and candid
youth, good-natured to the point of simplicity, though both depth and
dignity lay concealed under that simplicity. The better of his comrades
understood this, and all were fond of him. He was extremely intelligent,
though he was certainly rather a simpleton at times. He was of striking
appearance--tall, thin, blackhaired and always badly shaved. He was
sometimes uproarious and was reputed to be of great physical strength.
One night, when out in a festive company, he had with one blow laid
a gigantic policeman on his back. There was no limit to his drinking
powers, but he could abstain from drink altogether; he sometimes went
too far in his pranks; but he could do without pranks altogether.
Another thing striking about Razumihin, no failure distressed him, and
it seemed as though no unfavourable circumstances could crush him. He
could lodge anywhere, and bear the extremes of cold and hunger. He was
very poor, and kept himself entirely on what he could earn by work of
one sort or another. He knew of no end of resources by which to earn
money. He spent one whole winter without lighting his stove, and used to
declare that he liked it better, because one slept more soundly in
the cold. For the present he, too, had been obliged to give up the
university, but it was only for a time, and he was working with all his
might to save enough to return to his studies again. Raskolnikov had
not been to see him for the last four months, and Razumihin did not even
know his address. About two months before, they had met in the street,
but Raskolnikov had turned away and even crossed to the other side that
he might not be observed. And though Razumihin noticed him, he passed
him by, as he did not want to annoy him.



CHAPTER V

“Of course, I’ve been meaning lately to go to Razumihin’s to ask for
work, to ask him to get me lessons or something...” Raskolnikov thought,
“but what help can he be to 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...
hm... Well and what then? What shall I do with the few coppers I
earn? That’s not what I want now. It’s really absurd for me to go to
Razumihin....”

The question why he was now going to Razumihin 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 Razumihin alone?” he asked himself in perplexity.

He pondered and rubbed his forehead, and, strange to say, after long
musing, suddenly, as if it were spontaneously and by chance, a fantastic
thought came into his head.

“Hm... to Razumihin’s,” he said all at once, calmly, as though he had
reached a final determination. “I shall go to Razumihin’s 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 realised what he was thinking.

“Poor girl!” he said, looking at the empty corner where she had

sat--“She will come to herself and weep, and then her mother will find

out.... She will give her a beating, a horrible, shameful beating and

then maybe, turn her out of doors.... And even if she does not, the

Darya Frantsovnas will get wind of it, and the girl will soon be

slipping out on the sly here and there. Then there will be the hospital

directly (that’s always the luck of those girls with respectable

mothers, who go wrong on the sly) and then... again the hospital...

drink... the taverns... and more hospital, in two or three years--a

wreck, and her life over at eighteen or nineteen.... Have not I seen

cases like that? And how have they been brought to it? Why, they’ve all

come to it like that. Ugh! But what does it matter? That’s as it should

be, they tell us. A certain percentage, they tell us, must every year

go... that way... to the devil, I suppose, so that the rest may remain

chaste, and not be interfered with. A percentage! What splendid words

they have; they are so scientific, so consolatory.... Once you’ve said

‘percentage’ there’s nothing more to worry about. If we had any other

word... maybe we might feel more uneasy.... But what if Dounia were one

of the percentage! Of another one if not that one?

“But where am I going?” he thought suddenly. “Strange, I came out for

something. As soon as I had read the letter I came out.... I was going

to Vassilyevsky Ostrov, to Razumihin. That’s what it was... now I

remember. What for, though? And what put the idea of going to Razumihin

into my head just now? That’s curious.”

He wondered at himself. Razumihin was one of his old comrades at the

university. It was remarkable that Raskolnikov had hardly any friends at

the university; he kept aloof from everyone, went to see no one, and did

not welcome anyone who came to see him, and indeed everyone soon gave

him up. He took no part in the students’ gatherings, amusements or

conversations. He worked with great intensity without sparing himself,

and he was respected for this, but no one liked him. He was very poor,

and there was a sort of haughty pride and reserve about him, as though

he were keeping something to himself. He seemed to some of his comrades

to look down upon them all as children, as though he were superior in

development, knowledge and convictions, as though their beliefs and

interests were beneath him.

With Razumihin he had got on, or, at least, he was more unreserved and

communicative with him. Indeed it was impossible to be on any other

terms with Razumihin. He was an exceptionally good-humoured and candid

youth, good-natured to the point of simplicity, though both depth and

dignity lay concealed under that simplicity. The better of his comrades

understood this, and all were fond of him. He was extremely intelligent,

though he was certainly rather a simpleton at times. He was of striking

appearance--tall, thin, blackhaired and always badly shaved. He was

sometimes uproarious and was reputed to be of great physical strength.

One night, when out in a festive company, he had with one blow laid

a gigantic policeman on his back. There was no limit to his drinking

powers, but he could abstain from drink altogether; he sometimes went

too far in his pranks; but he could do without pranks altogether.

Another thing striking about Razumihin, no failure distressed him, and

it seemed as though no unfavourable circumstances could crush him. He

could lodge anywhere, and bear the extremes of cold and hunger. He was

very poor, and kept himself entirely on what he could earn by work of

one sort or another. He knew of no end of resources by which to earn

money. He spent one whole winter without lighting his stove, and used to

declare that he liked it better, because one slept more soundly in

the cold. For the present he, too, had been obliged to give up the

university, but it was only for a time, and he was working with all his

might to save enough to return to his studies again. Raskolnikov had

not been to see him for the last four months, and Razumihin did not even

know his address. About two months before, they had met in the street,

but Raskolnikov had turned away and even crossed to the other side that

he might not be observed. And though Razumihin noticed him, he passed

him by, as he did not want to annoy him.

CHAPTER V

“Of course, I’ve been meaning lately to go to Razumihin’s to ask for

work, to ask him to get me lessons or something...” Raskolnikov thought,

“but what help can he be to 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...

hm... Well and what then? What shall I do with the few coppers I

earn? That’s not what I want now. It’s really absurd for me to go to

Razumihin....”

The question why he was now going to Razumihin 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 Razumihin alone?” he asked himself in perplexity.

He pondered and rubbed his forehead, and, strange to say, after long

musing, suddenly, as if it were spontaneously and by chance, a fantastic

thought came into his head.

“Hm... to Razumihin’s,” he said all at once, calmly, as though he had

reached a final determination. “I shall go to Razumihin’s 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 realised what he was thinking.