community-datasets/crime_and_punish · Datasets at Hugging Face

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though with a strong German accent, “and no sort of scandal, and his
honour came drunk, and it’s the whole truth I am telling, Mr. Captain,
and I am not to blame.... Mine is an honourable house, Mr. Captain,
and honourable behaviour, Mr. Captain, and I always, always dislike any
scandal myself. But he came quite tipsy, and asked for three bottles
again, and then he lifted up one leg, and began playing the pianoforte
with one foot, and that is not at all right in an honourable house, and
he _ganz_ broke the piano, and it was very bad manners indeed and I said
so. And he took up a bottle and began hitting everyone with it. And then
I called the porter, and Karl came, and he took Karl and hit him in the
eye; and he hit Henriette in the eye, too, and gave me five slaps on the
cheek. And it was so ungentlemanly in an honourable house, Mr. Captain,
and I screamed. And he opened the window over the canal, and stood in
the window, squealing like a little pig; it was a disgrace. The idea of
squealing like a little pig at the window into the street! Fie upon him!
And Karl pulled him away from the window by his coat, and it is true,
Mr. Captain, he tore _sein rock_. And then he shouted that _man muss_
pay him fifteen roubles damages. And I did pay him, Mr. Captain, five
roubles for _sein rock_. And he is an ungentlemanly visitor and caused
all the scandal. ‘I will show you up,’ he said, ‘for I can write to all
the papers about you.’”

“Then he was an author?”

“Yes, Mr. Captain, and what an ungentlemanly visitor in an honourable
house....”

“Now then! Enough! I have told you already...”

“Ilya Petrovitch!” the head clerk repeated significantly.

The assistant glanced rapidly at him; the head clerk slightly shook his
head.

“... So I tell you this, most respectable Luise Ivanovna, and I tell it
you for the last time,” the assistant went on. “If there is a scandal
in your honourable house once again, I will put you yourself in the
lock-up, as it is called in polite society. Do you hear? So a literary
man, an author took five roubles for his coat-tail in an ‘honourable
house’? A nice set, these authors!”

And he cast a contemptuous glance at Raskolnikov. “There was a scandal
the other day in a restaurant, too. An author had eaten his dinner and
would not pay; ‘I’ll write a satire on you,’ says he. And there was
another of them on a steamer last week used the most disgraceful
language to the respectable family of a civil councillor, his wife and
daughter. And there was one of them turned out of a confectioner’s shop
the other day. They are like that, authors, literary men, students,
town-criers.... Pfoo! You get along! I shall look in upon you myself one
day. Then you had better be careful! Do you hear?”

With hurried deference, Luise Ivanovna fell to curtsying in all
directions, and so curtsied herself to the door. But at the door, she
stumbled backwards against a good-looking officer with a fresh, open
face and splendid thick fair whiskers. This was the superintendent of
the district himself, Nikodim Fomitch. Luise Ivanovna made haste
to curtsy almost to the ground, and with mincing little steps, she
fluttered out of the office.

“Again thunder and lightning--a hurricane!” said Nikodim Fomitch to Ilya
Petrovitch in a civil and friendly tone. “You are aroused again, you are
fuming again! I heard it on the stairs!”

“Well, what then!” Ilya Petrovitch drawled with gentlemanly nonchalance;
and he walked with some papers to another table, with a jaunty swing of
his shoulders at each step. “Here, if you will kindly look: an author,
or a student, has been one at least, does not pay his debts, has given
an I O U, won’t clear out of his room, and complaints are constantly
being lodged against him, and here he has been pleased to make a protest
against my smoking in his presence! He behaves like a cad himself, and
just look at him, please. Here’s the gentleman, and very attractive he
is!”

“Poverty is not a vice, my friend, but we know you go off like powder,
you can’t bear a slight, I daresay you took offence at something and
went too far yourself,” continued Nikodim Fomitch, turning affably to
Raskolnikov. “But you were wrong there; he is a capital fellow, I assure
you, but explosive, explosive! He gets hot, fires up, boils over, and no
stopping him! And then it’s all over! And at the bottom he’s a heart of
gold! His nickname in the regiment was the Explosive Lieutenant....”

“And what a regiment it was, too,” cried Ilya Petrovitch, much gratified
at this agreeable banter, though still sulky.

Raskolnikov had a sudden desire to say something exceptionally pleasant
to them all. “Excuse me, Captain,” he began easily, suddenly addressing
Nikodim Fomitch, “will you enter into my position?... I am ready to
ask pardon, if I have been ill-mannered. I am a poor student, sick
and shattered (shattered was the word he used) by poverty. I am not
studying, because I cannot keep myself now, but I shall get money.... I
have a mother and sister in the province of X. They will send it to
me, and I will pay. My landlady is a good-hearted woman, but she is so
exasperated at my having lost my lessons, and not paying her for the
last four months, that she does not even send up my dinner... and I
don’t understand this I O U at all. She is asking me to pay her on this
I O U. How am I to pay her? Judge for yourselves!...”

“But that is not our business, you know,” the head clerk was observing.

“Yes, yes. I perfectly agree with you. But allow me to explain...”

though with a strong German accent, “and no sort of scandal, and his

honour came drunk, and it’s the whole truth I am telling, Mr. Captain,

and I am not to blame.... Mine is an honourable house, Mr. Captain,

and honourable behaviour, Mr. Captain, and I always, always dislike any

scandal myself. But he came quite tipsy, and asked for three bottles

again, and then he lifted up one leg, and began playing the pianoforte

with one foot, and that is not at all right in an honourable house, and

he _ganz_ broke the piano, and it was very bad manners indeed and I said

so. And he took up a bottle and began hitting everyone with it. And then

I called the porter, and Karl came, and he took Karl and hit him in the

eye; and he hit Henriette in the eye, too, and gave me five slaps on the

cheek. And it was so ungentlemanly in an honourable house, Mr. Captain,

and I screamed. And he opened the window over the canal, and stood in

the window, squealing like a little pig; it was a disgrace. The idea of

squealing like a little pig at the window into the street! Fie upon him!

And Karl pulled him away from the window by his coat, and it is true,

Mr. Captain, he tore _sein rock_. And then he shouted that _man muss_

pay him fifteen roubles damages. And I did pay him, Mr. Captain, five

roubles for _sein rock_. And he is an ungentlemanly visitor and caused

all the scandal. ‘I will show you up,’ he said, ‘for I can write to all

the papers about you.’”

“Then he was an author?”

“Yes, Mr. Captain, and what an ungentlemanly visitor in an honourable

house....”

“Now then! Enough! I have told you already...”

“Ilya Petrovitch!” the head clerk repeated significantly.

The assistant glanced rapidly at him; the head clerk slightly shook his

head.

“... So I tell you this, most respectable Luise Ivanovna, and I tell it

you for the last time,” the assistant went on. “If there is a scandal

in your honourable house once again, I will put you yourself in the

lock-up, as it is called in polite society. Do you hear? So a literary

man, an author took five roubles for his coat-tail in an ‘honourable

house’? A nice set, these authors!”

And he cast a contemptuous glance at Raskolnikov. “There was a scandal

the other day in a restaurant, too. An author had eaten his dinner and

would not pay; ‘I’ll write a satire on you,’ says he. And there was

another of them on a steamer last week used the most disgraceful

language to the respectable family of a civil councillor, his wife and

daughter. And there was one of them turned out of a confectioner’s shop

the other day. They are like that, authors, literary men, students,

town-criers.... Pfoo! You get along! I shall look in upon you myself one

day. Then you had better be careful! Do you hear?”

With hurried deference, Luise Ivanovna fell to curtsying in all

directions, and so curtsied herself to the door. But at the door, she

stumbled backwards against a good-looking officer with a fresh, open

face and splendid thick fair whiskers. This was the superintendent of

the district himself, Nikodim Fomitch. Luise Ivanovna made haste

to curtsy almost to the ground, and with mincing little steps, she

fluttered out of the office.

“Again thunder and lightning--a hurricane!” said Nikodim Fomitch to Ilya

Petrovitch in a civil and friendly tone. “You are aroused again, you are

fuming again! I heard it on the stairs!”

“Well, what then!” Ilya Petrovitch drawled with gentlemanly nonchalance;

and he walked with some papers to another table, with a jaunty swing of

his shoulders at each step. “Here, if you will kindly look: an author,

or a student, has been one at least, does not pay his debts, has given

an I O U, won’t clear out of his room, and complaints are constantly

being lodged against him, and here he has been pleased to make a protest

against my smoking in his presence! He behaves like a cad himself, and

just look at him, please. Here’s the gentleman, and very attractive he

is!”

“Poverty is not a vice, my friend, but we know you go off like powder,

you can’t bear a slight, I daresay you took offence at something and

went too far yourself,” continued Nikodim Fomitch, turning affably to

Raskolnikov. “But you were wrong there; he is a capital fellow, I assure

you, but explosive, explosive! He gets hot, fires up, boils over, and no

stopping him! And then it’s all over! And at the bottom he’s a heart of

gold! His nickname in the regiment was the Explosive Lieutenant....”

“And what a regiment it was, too,” cried Ilya Petrovitch, much gratified

at this agreeable banter, though still sulky.

Raskolnikov had a sudden desire to say something exceptionally pleasant

to them all. “Excuse me, Captain,” he began easily, suddenly addressing

Nikodim Fomitch, “will you enter into my position?... I am ready to

ask pardon, if I have been ill-mannered. I am a poor student, sick

and shattered (shattered was the word he used) by poverty. I am not

studying, because I cannot keep myself now, but I shall get money.... I

have a mother and sister in the province of X. They will send it to

me, and I will pay. My landlady is a good-hearted woman, but she is so

exasperated at my having lost my lessons, and not paying her for the

last four months, that she does not even send up my dinner... and I

don’t understand this I O U at all. She is asking me to pay her on this

I O U. How am I to pay her? Judge for yourselves!...”

“But that is not our business, you know,” the head clerk was observing.

“Yes, yes. I perfectly agree with you. But allow me to explain...”