community-datasets/crime_and_punish · Datasets at Hugging Face

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least afraid of you. Lead the way,” she said with apparent composure,
but her face was very pale.

Svidrigaïlov stopped at Sonia’s room.

“Allow me to inquire whether she is at home.... She is not. How
unfortunate! But I know she may come quite soon. If she’s gone out, it
can only be to see a lady about the orphans. Their mother is dead....
I’ve been meddling and making arrangements for them. If Sofya Semyonovna
does not come back in ten minutes, I will send her to you, to-day if
you like. This is my flat. These are my two rooms. Madame Resslich,
my landlady, has the next room. Now, look this way. I will show you
my chief piece of evidence: this door from my bedroom leads into two
perfectly empty rooms, which are to let. Here they are... You must look
into them with some attention.”

Svidrigaïlov occupied two fairly large furnished rooms. Dounia was
looking about her mistrustfully, but saw nothing special in the
furniture or position of the rooms. Yet there was something to observe,
for instance, that Svidrigaïlov’s flat was exactly between two sets of
almost uninhabited apartments. His rooms were not entered directly
from the passage, but through the landlady’s two almost empty rooms.
Unlocking a door leading out of his bedroom, Svidrigaïlov showed Dounia
the two empty rooms that were to let. Dounia stopped in the doorway, not
knowing what she was called to look upon, but Svidrigaïlov hastened to
explain.

“Look here, at this second large room. Notice that door, it’s locked.
By the door stands a chair, the only one in the two rooms. I brought it
from my rooms so as to listen more conveniently. Just the other side of
the door is Sofya Semyonovna’s table; she sat there talking to Rodion
Romanovitch. And I sat here listening on two successive evenings, for
two hours each time--and of course I was able to learn something, what
do you think?”

“You listened?”

“Yes, I did. Now come back to my room; we can’t sit down here.”

He brought Avdotya Romanovna back into his sitting-room and offered her
a chair. He sat down at the opposite side of the table, at least seven
feet from her, but probably there was the same glow in his eyes which
had once frightened Dounia so much. She shuddered and once more looked
about her distrustfully. It was an involuntary gesture; she evidently
did not wish to betray her uneasiness. But the secluded position of
Svidrigaïlov’s lodging had suddenly struck her. She wanted to ask
whether his landlady at least were at home, but pride kept her from
asking. Moreover, she had another trouble in her heart incomparably
greater than fear for herself. She was in great distress.

“Here is your letter,” she said, laying it on the table. “Can it be true
what you write? You hint at a crime committed, you say, by my brother.
You hint at it too clearly; you daren’t deny it now. I must tell you
that I’d heard of this stupid story before you wrote and don’t believe a
word of it. It’s a disgusting and ridiculous suspicion. I know the story
and why and how it was invented. You can have no proofs. You promised to
prove it. Speak! But let me warn you that I don’t believe you! I don’t
believe you!”

Dounia said this, speaking hurriedly, and for an instant the colour
rushed to her face.

“If you didn’t believe it, how could you risk coming alone to my rooms?
Why have you come? Simply from curiosity?”

“Don’t torment me. Speak, speak!”

“There’s no denying that you are a brave girl. Upon my word, I thought
you would have asked Mr. Razumihin to escort you here. But he was not
with you nor anywhere near. I was on the look-out. It’s spirited of
you, it proves you wanted to spare Rodion Romanovitch. But everything
is divine in you.... About your brother, what am I to say to you? You’ve
just seen him yourself. What did you think of him?”

“Surely that’s not the only thing you are building on?”

“No, not on that, but on his own words. He came here on two successive
evenings to see Sofya Semyonovna. I’ve shown you where they sat. He made
a full confession to her. He is a murderer. He killed an old woman, a
pawnbroker, with whom he had pawned things himself. He killed her sister
too, a pedlar woman called Lizaveta, who happened to come in while he
was murdering her sister. He killed them with an axe he brought with
him. He murdered them to rob them and he did rob them. He took money and
various things.... He told all this, word for word, to Sofya Semyonovna,
the only person who knows his secret. But she has had no share by word
or deed in the murder; she was as horrified at it as you are now. Don’t
be anxious, she won’t betray him.”

“It cannot be,” muttered Dounia, with white lips. She gasped for breath.
“It cannot be. There was not the slightest cause, no sort of ground....
It’s a lie, a lie!”

“He robbed her, that was the cause, he took money and things. It’s true
that by his own admission he made no use of the money or things, but hid
them under a stone, where they are now. But that was because he dared
not make use of them.”

“But how could he steal, rob? How could he dream of it?” cried Dounia,
and she jumped up from the chair. “Why, you know him, and you’ve seen
him, can he be a thief?”

least afraid of you. Lead the way,” she said with apparent composure,

but her face was very pale.

Svidrigaïlov stopped at Sonia’s room.

“Allow me to inquire whether she is at home.... She is not. How

unfortunate! But I know she may come quite soon. If she’s gone out, it

can only be to see a lady about the orphans. Their mother is dead....

I’ve been meddling and making arrangements for them. If Sofya Semyonovna

does not come back in ten minutes, I will send her to you, to-day if

you like. This is my flat. These are my two rooms. Madame Resslich,

my landlady, has the next room. Now, look this way. I will show you

my chief piece of evidence: this door from my bedroom leads into two

perfectly empty rooms, which are to let. Here they are... You must look

into them with some attention.”

Svidrigaïlov occupied two fairly large furnished rooms. Dounia was

looking about her mistrustfully, but saw nothing special in the

furniture or position of the rooms. Yet there was something to observe,

for instance, that Svidrigaïlov’s flat was exactly between two sets of

almost uninhabited apartments. His rooms were not entered directly

from the passage, but through the landlady’s two almost empty rooms.

Unlocking a door leading out of his bedroom, Svidrigaïlov showed Dounia

the two empty rooms that were to let. Dounia stopped in the doorway, not

knowing what she was called to look upon, but Svidrigaïlov hastened to

explain.

“Look here, at this second large room. Notice that door, it’s locked.

By the door stands a chair, the only one in the two rooms. I brought it

from my rooms so as to listen more conveniently. Just the other side of

the door is Sofya Semyonovna’s table; she sat there talking to Rodion

Romanovitch. And I sat here listening on two successive evenings, for

two hours each time--and of course I was able to learn something, what

do you think?”

“You listened?”

“Yes, I did. Now come back to my room; we can’t sit down here.”

He brought Avdotya Romanovna back into his sitting-room and offered her

a chair. He sat down at the opposite side of the table, at least seven

feet from her, but probably there was the same glow in his eyes which

had once frightened Dounia so much. She shuddered and once more looked

about her distrustfully. It was an involuntary gesture; she evidently

did not wish to betray her uneasiness. But the secluded position of

Svidrigaïlov’s lodging had suddenly struck her. She wanted to ask

whether his landlady at least were at home, but pride kept her from

asking. Moreover, she had another trouble in her heart incomparably

greater than fear for herself. She was in great distress.

“Here is your letter,” she said, laying it on the table. “Can it be true

what you write? You hint at a crime committed, you say, by my brother.

You hint at it too clearly; you daren’t deny it now. I must tell you

that I’d heard of this stupid story before you wrote and don’t believe a

word of it. It’s a disgusting and ridiculous suspicion. I know the story

and why and how it was invented. You can have no proofs. You promised to

prove it. Speak! But let me warn you that I don’t believe you! I don’t

believe you!”

Dounia said this, speaking hurriedly, and for an instant the colour

rushed to her face.

“If you didn’t believe it, how could you risk coming alone to my rooms?

Why have you come? Simply from curiosity?”

“Don’t torment me. Speak, speak!”

“There’s no denying that you are a brave girl. Upon my word, I thought

you would have asked Mr. Razumihin to escort you here. But he was not

with you nor anywhere near. I was on the look-out. It’s spirited of

you, it proves you wanted to spare Rodion Romanovitch. But everything

is divine in you.... About your brother, what am I to say to you? You’ve

just seen him yourself. What did you think of him?”

“Surely that’s not the only thing you are building on?”

“No, not on that, but on his own words. He came here on two successive

evenings to see Sofya Semyonovna. I’ve shown you where they sat. He made

a full confession to her. He is a murderer. He killed an old woman, a

pawnbroker, with whom he had pawned things himself. He killed her sister

too, a pedlar woman called Lizaveta, who happened to come in while he

was murdering her sister. He killed them with an axe he brought with

him. He murdered them to rob them and he did rob them. He took money and

various things.... He told all this, word for word, to Sofya Semyonovna,

the only person who knows his secret. But she has had no share by word

or deed in the murder; she was as horrified at it as you are now. Don’t

be anxious, she won’t betray him.”

“It cannot be,” muttered Dounia, with white lips. She gasped for breath.

“It cannot be. There was not the slightest cause, no sort of ground....

It’s a lie, a lie!”

“He robbed her, that was the cause, he took money and things. It’s true

that by his own admission he made no use of the money or things, but hid

them under a stone, where they are now. But that was because he dared

not make use of them.”

“But how could he steal, rob? How could he dream of it?” cried Dounia,

and she jumped up from the chair. “Why, you know him, and you’ve seen

him, can he be a thief?”