community-datasets/crime_and_punish · Datasets at Hugging Face

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moving with my uncle. I have an uncle living with me now. But that’s
no matter, to business. Give me the parcel, Nastasya. We will open it
directly. And how do you feel now, brother?”

“I am quite well, I am not ill. Razumihin, have you been here long?”

“I tell you I’ve been waiting for the last three hours.”

“No, before.”

“How do you mean?”

“How long have you been coming here?”

“Why I told you all about it this morning. Don’t you remember?”

Raskolnikov pondered. The morning seemed like a dream to him. He could
not remember alone, and looked inquiringly at Razumihin.

“Hm!” said the latter, “he has forgotten. I fancied then that you were
not quite yourself. Now you are better for your sleep.... You really
look much better. First-rate! Well, to business. Look here, my dear
boy.”

He began untying the bundle, which evidently interested him.

“Believe me, brother, this is something specially near my heart. For we
must make a man of you. Let’s begin from the top. Do you see this
cap?” he said, taking out of the bundle a fairly good though cheap and
ordinary cap. “Let me try it on.”

“Presently, afterwards,” said Raskolnikov, waving it off pettishly.

“Come, Rodya, my boy, don’t oppose it, afterwards will be too late; and
I shan’t sleep all night, for I bought it by guess, without measure.
Just right!” he cried triumphantly, fitting it on, “just your size! A
proper head-covering is the first thing in dress and a recommendation in
its own way. Tolstyakov, a friend of mine, is always obliged to take off
his pudding basin when he goes into any public place where other
people wear their hats or caps. People think he does it from slavish
politeness, but it’s simply because he is ashamed of his bird’s nest;
he is such a boastful fellow! Look, Nastasya, here are two specimens of
headgear: this Palmerston”--he took from the corner Raskolnikov’s old,
battered hat, which for some unknown reason, he called a Palmerston--“or
this jewel! Guess the price, Rodya, what do you suppose I paid for it,
Nastasya!” he said, turning to her, seeing that Raskolnikov did not
speak.

“Twenty copecks, no more, I dare say,” answered Nastasya.

“Twenty copecks, silly!” he cried, offended. “Why, nowadays you would
cost more than that--eighty copecks! And that only because it has been
worn. And it’s bought on condition that when’s it’s worn out, they will
give you another next year. Yes, on my word! Well, now let us pass to
the United States of America, as they called them at school. I assure
you I am proud of these breeches,” and he exhibited to Raskolnikov a
pair of light, summer trousers of grey woollen material. “No holes, no
spots, and quite respectable, although a little worn; and a waistcoat
to match, quite in the fashion. And its being worn really is an
improvement, it’s softer, smoother.... You see, Rodya, to my thinking,
the great thing for getting on in the world is always to keep to the
seasons; if you don’t insist on having asparagus in January, you keep
your money in your purse; and it’s the same with this purchase. It’s
summer now, so I’ve been buying summer things--warmer materials will be
wanted for autumn, so you will have to throw these away in any case...
especially as they will be done for by then from their own lack of
coherence if not your higher standard of luxury. Come, price them! What
do you say? Two roubles twenty-five copecks! And remember the condition:
if you wear these out, you will have another suit for nothing! They only
do business on that system at Fedyaev’s; if you’ve bought a thing once,
you are satisfied for life, for you will never go there again of your
own free will. Now for the boots. What do you say? You see that they are
a bit worn, but they’ll last a couple of months, for it’s foreign work
and foreign leather; the secretary of the English Embassy sold them last
week--he had only worn them six days, but he was very short of cash.
Price--a rouble and a half. A bargain?”

“But perhaps they won’t fit,” observed Nastasya.

“Not fit? Just look!” and he pulled out of his pocket Raskolnikov’s
old, broken boot, stiffly coated with dry mud. “I did not go
empty-handed--they took the size from this monster. We all did our best.
And as to your linen, your landlady has seen to that. Here, to begin
with are three shirts, hempen but with a fashionable front.... Well
now then, eighty copecks the cap, two roubles twenty-five copecks the
suit--together three roubles five copecks--a rouble and a half for the
boots--for, you see, they are very good--and that makes four roubles
fifty-five copecks; five roubles for the underclothes--they were
bought in the lot--which makes exactly nine roubles fifty-five copecks.
Forty-five copecks change in coppers. Will you take it? And so, Rodya,
you are set up with a complete new rig-out, for your overcoat will
serve, and even has a style of its own. That comes from getting one’s
clothes from Sharmer’s! As for your socks and other things, I leave them
to you; we’ve twenty-five roubles left. And as for Pashenka and paying
for your lodging, don’t you worry. I tell you she’ll trust you for
anything. And now, brother, let me change your linen, for I daresay you
will throw off your illness with your shirt.”

“Let me be! I don’t want to!” Raskolnikov waved him off. He had listened
with disgust to Razumihin’s efforts to be playful about his purchases.

moving with my uncle. I have an uncle living with me now. But that’s

no matter, to business. Give me the parcel, Nastasya. We will open it

directly. And how do you feel now, brother?”

“I am quite well, I am not ill. Razumihin, have you been here long?”

“I tell you I’ve been waiting for the last three hours.”

“No, before.”

“How do you mean?”

“How long have you been coming here?”

“Why I told you all about it this morning. Don’t you remember?”

Raskolnikov pondered. The morning seemed like a dream to him. He could

not remember alone, and looked inquiringly at Razumihin.

“Hm!” said the latter, “he has forgotten. I fancied then that you were

not quite yourself. Now you are better for your sleep.... You really

look much better. First-rate! Well, to business. Look here, my dear

boy.”

He began untying the bundle, which evidently interested him.

“Believe me, brother, this is something specially near my heart. For we

must make a man of you. Let’s begin from the top. Do you see this

cap?” he said, taking out of the bundle a fairly good though cheap and

ordinary cap. “Let me try it on.”

“Presently, afterwards,” said Raskolnikov, waving it off pettishly.

“Come, Rodya, my boy, don’t oppose it, afterwards will be too late; and

I shan’t sleep all night, for I bought it by guess, without measure.

Just right!” he cried triumphantly, fitting it on, “just your size! A

proper head-covering is the first thing in dress and a recommendation in

its own way. Tolstyakov, a friend of mine, is always obliged to take off

his pudding basin when he goes into any public place where other

people wear their hats or caps. People think he does it from slavish

politeness, but it’s simply because he is ashamed of his bird’s nest;

he is such a boastful fellow! Look, Nastasya, here are two specimens of

headgear: this Palmerston”--he took from the corner Raskolnikov’s old,

battered hat, which for some unknown reason, he called a Palmerston--“or

this jewel! Guess the price, Rodya, what do you suppose I paid for it,

Nastasya!” he said, turning to her, seeing that Raskolnikov did not

speak.

“Twenty copecks, no more, I dare say,” answered Nastasya.

“Twenty copecks, silly!” he cried, offended. “Why, nowadays you would

cost more than that--eighty copecks! And that only because it has been

worn. And it’s bought on condition that when’s it’s worn out, they will

give you another next year. Yes, on my word! Well, now let us pass to

the United States of America, as they called them at school. I assure

you I am proud of these breeches,” and he exhibited to Raskolnikov a

pair of light, summer trousers of grey woollen material. “No holes, no

spots, and quite respectable, although a little worn; and a waistcoat

to match, quite in the fashion. And its being worn really is an

improvement, it’s softer, smoother.... You see, Rodya, to my thinking,

the great thing for getting on in the world is always to keep to the

seasons; if you don’t insist on having asparagus in January, you keep

your money in your purse; and it’s the same with this purchase. It’s

summer now, so I’ve been buying summer things--warmer materials will be

wanted for autumn, so you will have to throw these away in any case...

especially as they will be done for by then from their own lack of

coherence if not your higher standard of luxury. Come, price them! What

do you say? Two roubles twenty-five copecks! And remember the condition:

if you wear these out, you will have another suit for nothing! They only

do business on that system at Fedyaev’s; if you’ve bought a thing once,

you are satisfied for life, for you will never go there again of your

own free will. Now for the boots. What do you say? You see that they are

a bit worn, but they’ll last a couple of months, for it’s foreign work

and foreign leather; the secretary of the English Embassy sold them last

week--he had only worn them six days, but he was very short of cash.

Price--a rouble and a half. A bargain?”

“But perhaps they won’t fit,” observed Nastasya.

“Not fit? Just look!” and he pulled out of his pocket Raskolnikov’s

old, broken boot, stiffly coated with dry mud. “I did not go

empty-handed--they took the size from this monster. We all did our best.

And as to your linen, your landlady has seen to that. Here, to begin

with are three shirts, hempen but with a fashionable front.... Well

now then, eighty copecks the cap, two roubles twenty-five copecks the

suit--together three roubles five copecks--a rouble and a half for the

boots--for, you see, they are very good--and that makes four roubles

fifty-five copecks; five roubles for the underclothes--they were

bought in the lot--which makes exactly nine roubles fifty-five copecks.

Forty-five copecks change in coppers. Will you take it? And so, Rodya,

you are set up with a complete new rig-out, for your overcoat will

serve, and even has a style of its own. That comes from getting one’s

clothes from Sharmer’s! As for your socks and other things, I leave them

to you; we’ve twenty-five roubles left. And as for Pashenka and paying

for your lodging, don’t you worry. I tell you she’ll trust you for

anything. And now, brother, let me change your linen, for I daresay you

will throw off your illness with your shirt.”

“Let me be! I don’t want to!” Raskolnikov waved him off. He had listened

with disgust to Razumihin’s efforts to be playful about his purchases.