community-datasets/crime_and_punish · Datasets at Hugging Face

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see, that’s the way to Sofya Semyonovna. Look, there is no one at home.
Don’t you believe me? Ask Kapernaumov. She leaves the key with him. Here
is Madame de Kapernaumov herself. Hey, what? She is rather deaf. Has she
gone out? Where? Did you hear? She is not in and won’t be till late in
the evening probably. Well, come to my room; you wanted to come and see
me, didn’t you? Here we are. Madame Resslich’s not at home. She is a
woman who is always busy, an excellent woman I assure you.... She might
have been of use to you if you had been a little more sensible. Now,
see! I take this five-per-cent bond out of the bureau--see what a lot
I’ve got of them still--this one will be turned into cash to-day. I
mustn’t waste any more time. The bureau is locked, the flat is locked,
and here we are again on the stairs. Shall we take a cab? I’m going to
the Islands. Would you like a lift? I’ll take this carriage. Ah, you
refuse? You are tired of it! Come for a drive! I believe it will come on
to rain. Never mind, we’ll put down the hood....”

Svidrigaïlov was already in the carriage. Raskolnikov decided that his
suspicions were at least for that moment unjust. Without answering a
word he turned and walked back towards the Hay Market. If he had only
turned round on his way he might have seen Svidrigaïlov get out not a
hundred paces off, dismiss the cab and walk along the pavement. But he
had turned the corner and could see nothing. Intense disgust drew him
away from Svidrigaïlov.

“To think that I could for one instant have looked for help from that
coarse brute, that depraved sensualist and blackguard!” he cried.

Raskolnikov’s judgment was uttered too lightly and hastily: there was
something about Svidrigaïlov which gave him a certain original, even a
mysterious character. As concerned his sister, Raskolnikov was convinced
that Svidrigaïlov would not leave her in peace. But it was too tiresome
and unbearable to go on thinking and thinking about this.

When he was alone, he had not gone twenty paces before he sank, as
usual, into deep thought. On the bridge he stood by the railing and
began gazing at the water. And his sister was standing close by him.

He met her at the entrance to the bridge, but passed by without seeing
her. Dounia had never met him like this in the street before and was
struck with dismay. She stood still and did not know whether to call
to him or not. Suddenly she saw Svidrigaïlov coming quickly from the
direction of the Hay Market.

He seemed to be approaching cautiously. He did not go on to the
bridge, but stood aside on the pavement, doing all he could to avoid
Raskolnikov’s seeing him. He had observed Dounia for some time and had
been making signs to her. She fancied he was signalling to beg her not
to speak to her brother, but to come to him.

That was what Dounia did. She stole by her brother and went up to
Svidrigaïlov.

“Let us make haste away,” Svidrigaïlov whispered to her, “I don’t want
Rodion Romanovitch to know of our meeting. I must tell you I’ve been
sitting with him in the restaurant close by, where he looked me up and
I had great difficulty in getting rid of him. He has somehow heard of
my letter to you and suspects something. It wasn’t you who told him, of
course, but if not you, who then?”

“Well, we’ve turned the corner now,” Dounia interrupted, “and my brother
won’t see us. I have to tell you that I am going no further with you.
Speak to me here. You can tell it all in the street.”

“In the first place, I can’t say it in the street; secondly, you must
hear Sofya Semyonovna too; and, thirdly, I will show you some papers....
Oh well, if you won’t agree to come with me, I shall refuse to give
any explanation and go away at once. But I beg you not to forget that
a very curious secret of your beloved brother’s is entirely in my
keeping.”

Dounia stood still, hesitating, and looked at Svidrigaïlov with
searching eyes.

“What are you afraid of?” he observed quietly. “The town is not the
country. And even in the country you did me more harm than I did you.”

“Have you prepared Sofya Semyonovna?”

“No, I have not said a word to her and am not quite certain whether she
is at home now. But most likely she is. She has buried her stepmother
to-day: she is not likely to go visiting on such a day. For the time I
don’t want to speak to anyone about it and I half regret having spoken
to you. The slightest indiscretion is as bad as betrayal in a thing like
this. I live there in that house, we are coming to it. That’s the porter
of our house--he knows me very well; you see, he’s bowing; he sees I’m
coming with a lady and no doubt he has noticed your face already and you
will be glad of that if you are afraid of me and suspicious. Excuse
my putting things so coarsely. I haven’t a flat to myself; Sofya
Semyonovna’s room is next to mine--she lodges in the next flat. The
whole floor is let out in lodgings. Why are you frightened like a child?
Am I really so terrible?”

Svidrigaïlov’s lips were twisted in a condescending smile; but he was in
no smiling mood. His heart was throbbing and he could scarcely breathe.
He spoke rather loud to cover his growing excitement. But Dounia did not
notice this peculiar excitement, she was so irritated by his remark that
she was frightened of him like a child and that he was so terrible to
her.

“Though I know that you are not a man... of honour, I am not in the

see, that’s the way to Sofya Semyonovna. Look, there is no one at home.

Don’t you believe me? Ask Kapernaumov. She leaves the key with him. Here

is Madame de Kapernaumov herself. Hey, what? She is rather deaf. Has she

gone out? Where? Did you hear? She is not in and won’t be till late in

the evening probably. Well, come to my room; you wanted to come and see

me, didn’t you? Here we are. Madame Resslich’s not at home. She is a

woman who is always busy, an excellent woman I assure you.... She might

have been of use to you if you had been a little more sensible. Now,

see! I take this five-per-cent bond out of the bureau--see what a lot

I’ve got of them still--this one will be turned into cash to-day. I

mustn’t waste any more time. The bureau is locked, the flat is locked,

and here we are again on the stairs. Shall we take a cab? I’m going to

the Islands. Would you like a lift? I’ll take this carriage. Ah, you

refuse? You are tired of it! Come for a drive! I believe it will come on

to rain. Never mind, we’ll put down the hood....”

Svidrigaïlov was already in the carriage. Raskolnikov decided that his

suspicions were at least for that moment unjust. Without answering a

word he turned and walked back towards the Hay Market. If he had only

turned round on his way he might have seen Svidrigaïlov get out not a

hundred paces off, dismiss the cab and walk along the pavement. But he

had turned the corner and could see nothing. Intense disgust drew him

away from Svidrigaïlov.

“To think that I could for one instant have looked for help from that

coarse brute, that depraved sensualist and blackguard!” he cried.

Raskolnikov’s judgment was uttered too lightly and hastily: there was

something about Svidrigaïlov which gave him a certain original, even a

mysterious character. As concerned his sister, Raskolnikov was convinced

that Svidrigaïlov would not leave her in peace. But it was too tiresome

and unbearable to go on thinking and thinking about this.

When he was alone, he had not gone twenty paces before he sank, as

usual, into deep thought. On the bridge he stood by the railing and

began gazing at the water. And his sister was standing close by him.

He met her at the entrance to the bridge, but passed by without seeing

her. Dounia had never met him like this in the street before and was

struck with dismay. She stood still and did not know whether to call

to him or not. Suddenly she saw Svidrigaïlov coming quickly from the

direction of the Hay Market.

He seemed to be approaching cautiously. He did not go on to the

bridge, but stood aside on the pavement, doing all he could to avoid

Raskolnikov’s seeing him. He had observed Dounia for some time and had

been making signs to her. She fancied he was signalling to beg her not

to speak to her brother, but to come to him.

That was what Dounia did. She stole by her brother and went up to

Svidrigaïlov.

“Let us make haste away,” Svidrigaïlov whispered to her, “I don’t want

Rodion Romanovitch to know of our meeting. I must tell you I’ve been

sitting with him in the restaurant close by, where he looked me up and

I had great difficulty in getting rid of him. He has somehow heard of

my letter to you and suspects something. It wasn’t you who told him, of

course, but if not you, who then?”

“Well, we’ve turned the corner now,” Dounia interrupted, “and my brother

won’t see us. I have to tell you that I am going no further with you.

Speak to me here. You can tell it all in the street.”

“In the first place, I can’t say it in the street; secondly, you must

hear Sofya Semyonovna too; and, thirdly, I will show you some papers....

Oh well, if you won’t agree to come with me, I shall refuse to give

any explanation and go away at once. But I beg you not to forget that

a very curious secret of your beloved brother’s is entirely in my

keeping.”

Dounia stood still, hesitating, and looked at Svidrigaïlov with

searching eyes.

“What are you afraid of?” he observed quietly. “The town is not the

country. And even in the country you did me more harm than I did you.”

“Have you prepared Sofya Semyonovna?”

“No, I have not said a word to her and am not quite certain whether she

is at home now. But most likely she is. She has buried her stepmother

to-day: she is not likely to go visiting on such a day. For the time I

don’t want to speak to anyone about it and I half regret having spoken

to you. The slightest indiscretion is as bad as betrayal in a thing like

this. I live there in that house, we are coming to it. That’s the porter

of our house--he knows me very well; you see, he’s bowing; he sees I’m

coming with a lady and no doubt he has noticed your face already and you

will be glad of that if you are afraid of me and suspicious. Excuse

my putting things so coarsely. I haven’t a flat to myself; Sofya

Semyonovna’s room is next to mine--she lodges in the next flat. The

whole floor is let out in lodgings. Why are you frightened like a child?

Am I really so terrible?”

Svidrigaïlov’s lips were twisted in a condescending smile; but he was in

no smiling mood. His heart was throbbing and he could scarcely breathe.

He spoke rather loud to cover his growing excitement. But Dounia did not

notice this peculiar excitement, she was so irritated by his remark that

she was frightened of him like a child and that he was so terrible to

her.

“Though I know that you are not a man... of honour, I am not in the