Raskolnikov got up, and sat down on the sofa. He waved his hand weakly to Razumihin to cut short the flow of warm and incoherent consolations he was addressing to his mother and sister, took them both by the hand and for a minute or two gazed from one to the other without speaking. His mother was alarmed by his expression. It revealed an emotion agonisingly poignant, and at the same time something immovable, almost insane. Pulcheria Alexandrovna began to cry.
Avdotya Romanovna was pale; her hand trembled in her brother's.
"Go home . . . with him," he said in a broken voice, pointing to Razumihin, "good-bye till to-morrow; to-morrow everything . . . Is it long since you arrived?"
"This evening, Rodya," answered Pulcheria Alexandrovna, "the train was awfully late. But, Rodya, nothing would induce me to leave you now! I will spend the night here, near you . . ."
"Don't torture me!" he said with a gesture of irritation.
"I will stay with him," cried Razumihin, "I won't leave him for a moment. Bother all my visitors! Let them rage to their hearts' content! My uncle is presiding there."
"How, how can I thank you!" Pulcheria Alexandrovna was beginning, once more pressing Razumihin's hands, but Raskolnikov interrupted her again.
"I can't have it! I can't have it!" he repeated irritably, "don't worry me! Enough, go away . . . I can't stand it!"
"Come, mamma, come out of the room at least for a minute," Dounia whispered in dismay; "we are distressing him, that's evident."
"Mayn't I look at him after three years?" wept Pulcheria Alexandrovna.
"Stay," he stopped them again, "you keep interrupting me, and my ideas get muddled. . . . Have you seen Luzhin?"
"No, Rodya, but he knows already of our arrival. We have heard, Rodya, that Pyotr Petrovitch was so kind as to visit you today," Pulcheria Alexandrovna added somewhat timidly.
"Yes . . . he was so kind . . . Dounia, I promised Luzhin I'd throw him downstairs and told him to go to hell. . . ."
"Rodya, what are you saying! Surely, you don't mean to tell us . . ." Pulcheria Alexandrovna began in alarm, but she stopped, looking at Dounia.
Avdotya Romanovna was looking attentively at her brother, waiting for what would come next. Both of them had heard of the quarrel from Nastasya, so far as she had succeeded in understanding and reporting it, and were in painful perplexity and suspense.
"Dounia," Raskolnikov continued with an effort, "I don't want that marriage, so at the first opportunity to-morrow you must refuse Luzhin, so that we may never hear his name again."
"Good Heavens!" cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna.
"Brother, think what you are saying!" Avdotya Romanovna began impetuously, but immediately checked herself. "You are not fit to talk now, perhaps; you are tired," she added gently.
"You think I am delirious? No . . . You are marrying Luzhin for /my/ sake. But I won't accept the sacrifice. And so write a letter before to-morrow, to refuse him . . . Let me read it in the morning and that will be the end of it!"
"That I can't do!" the girl cried, offended, "what right have you . . ."
"Dounia, you are hasty, too, be quiet, to-morrow . . . Don't you see . . ." the mother interposed in dismay. "Better come away!"
"He is raving," Razumihin cried tipsily, "or how would he dare! To-morrow all this nonsense will be over . . . to-day he certainly did drive him away. That was so. And Luzhin got angry, too. . . . He made speeches here, wanted to show off his learning and he went out crest- fallen. . . ."
"Then it's true?" cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna.
"Good-bye till to-morrow, brother," said Dounia compassionately--"let us go, mother . . . Good-bye, Rodya."
"Do you hear, sister," he repeated after them, making a last effort, "I am not delirious; this marriage is--an infamy. Let me act like a scoundrel, but you mustn't . . . one is enough . . . and though I am a scoundrel, I wouldn't own such a sister. It's me or Luzhin! Go now. . . ."
"But you're out of your mind! Despot!" roared Razumihin; but Raskolnikov did not and perhaps could not answer. He lay down on the sofa, and turned to the wall, utterly exhausted. Avdotya Romanovna looked with interest at Razumihin; her black eyes flashed; Razumihin positively started at her glance.
Pulcheria Alexandrovna stood overwhelmed.
"Nothing would induce me to go," she whispered in despair to Razumihin. "I will stay somewhere here . . . escort Dounia home."
"You'll spoil everything," Razumihin answered in the same whisper, losing patience--"come out on to the stairs, anyway. Nastasya, show a light! I assure you," he went on in a half whisper on the stairs- "that he was almost beating the doctor and me this afternoon! Do you understand? The doctor himself! Even he gave way and left him, so as not to irritate him. I remained downstairs on guard, but he dressed at once and slipped off. And he will slip off again if you irritate him, at this time of night, and will do himself some mischief. . . ."
"What are you saying?"
"And Avdotya Romanovna can't possibly be left in those lodgings without you. Just think where you are staying! That blackguard Pyotr Petrovitch couldn't find you better lodgings . . . But you know I've had a little to drink, and that's what makes me . . . swear; don't mind it. . . ."
"But I'll go to the landlady here," Pulcheria Alexandrovna insisted, "Ill beseech her to find some corner for Dounia and me for the night. I can't leave him like that, I cannot!"
This conversation took place on the landing just before the landlady's door. Nastasya lighted them from a step below. Razumihin was in extraordinary excitement. Half an hour earlier, while he was bringing Raskolnikov home, he had indeed talked too freely, but he was aware of it himself, and his head was clear in spite of the vast quantities he had imbibed. Now he was in a state bordering on ecstasy, and all that he had drunk seemed to fly to his head with redoubled effect. He stood with the two ladies, seizing both by their hands, persuading them, and giving them reasons with astonishing plainness of speech, and at almost every word he uttered, probably to emphasise his arguments, he squeezed their hands painfully as in a vise. He stared at Avdotya Romanovna without the least regard for good manners. They sometimes pulled their hands out of his huge bony paws, but far from noticing what was the matter, he drew them all the closer to him. If they'd told him to jump head foremost from the staircase, he would have done it without thought or hesitation in their service. Though Pulcheria Alexandrovna felt that the young man was really too eccentric and pinched her hand too much, in her anxiety over her Rodya she looked on his presence as providential, and was unwilling to notice all his peculiarities. But though Avdotya Romanovna shared her anxiety, and was not of timorous disposition, she could not see the glowing light in his eyes without wonder and almost alarm. It was only the unbounded confidence inspired by Nastasya's account of her brother's queer friend, which prevented her from trying to run away from him, and to persuade her mother to do the same. She realised, too, that even running away was perhaps impossible now. Ten minutes later, however, she was considerably reassured; it was characteristic of Razumihin that he showed his true nature at once, whatever mood he might be in, so that people quickly saw the sort of man they had to deal with.
"You can't go to the landlady, that's perfect nonsense!" he cried. "If you stay, though you are his mother, you'll drive him to a frenzy, and then goodness knows what will happen! Listen, I'll tell you what I'll do: Nastasya will stay with him now, and I'll conduct you both home, you can't be in the streets alone; Petersburg is an awful place in that way. . . . But no matter! Then I'll run straight back here and a quarter of an hour later, on my word of honour, I'll bring you news how he is, whether he is asleep, and all that. Then, listen! Then I'll run home in a twinkling--I've a lot of friends there, all drunk--I'll fetch Zossimov--that's the doctor who is looking after him, he is there, too, but he is not drunk; he is not drunk, he is never drunk! I'll drag him to Rodya, and then to you, so that you'll get two reports in the hour--from the doctor, you understand, from the doctor himself, that's a very different thing from my account of him! If there's anything wrong, I swear I'll bring you here myself, but, if it's all right, you go to bed. And I'll spend the night here, in the passage, he won't hear me, and I'll tell Zossimov to sleep at the landlady's, to be at hand. Which is better for him: you or the doctor? So come home then! But the landlady is out of the question; it's all right for me, but it's out of the question for you: she wouldn't take you, for she's . . . for she's a fool . . . She'd be jealous on my account of Avdotya Romanovna and of you, too, if you want to know . . . of Avdotya Romanovna certainly. She is an absolutely, absolutely unaccountable character! But I am a fool, too! . . . No matter! Come along! Do you trust me? Come, do you trust me or not?"
"Let us go, mother," said Avdotya Romanovna, "he will certainly do what he has promised. He has saved Rodya already, and if the doctor really will consent to spend the night here, what could be better?"
"You see, you . . . you . . . understand me, because you are an angel!" Razumihin cried in ecstasy, "let us go! Nastasya! Fly upstairs and sit with him with a light; I'll come in a quarter of an hour."
Though Pulcheria Alexandrovna was not perfectly convinced, she made no further resistance. Razumihin gave an arm to each and drew them down the stairs. He still made her uneasy, as though he was competent and good-natured, was he capable of carrying out his promise? He seemed in such a condition. . . .
"Ah, I see you think I am in such a condition!" Razumihin broke in upon her thoughts, guessing them, as he strolled along the pavement with huge steps, so that the two ladies could hardly keep up with him, a fact he did not observe, however. "Nonsense! That is . . . I am drunk like a fool, but that's not it; I am not drunk from wine. It's seeing you has turned my head . . . But don't mind me! Don't take any notice: I am talking nonsense, I am not worthy of you. . . . I am utterly unworthy of you! The minute I've taken you home, I'll pour a couple of pailfuls of water over my head in the gutter here, and then I shall be all right. . . . If only you knew how I love you both! Don't laugh, and don't be angry! You may be angry with anyone, but not with me! I am his friend, and therefore I am your friend, too, I want to be . . . I had a presentiment . . . Last year there was a moment . . . though it wasn't a presentiment really, for you seem to have fallen from heaven. And I expect I shan't sleep all night . . . Zossimov was afraid a little time ago that he would go mad . . . that's why he mustn't be irritated."
"What do you say?" cried the mother.
"Did the doctor really say that?" asked Avdotya Romanovna, alarmed.
"Yes, but it's not so, not a bit of it. He gave him some medicine, a powder, I saw it, and then your coming here. . . . Ah! It would have been better if you had come to-morrow. It's a good thing we went away. And in an hour Zossimov himself will report to you about everything. He is not drunk! And I shan't be drunk. . . . And what made me get so tight? Because they got me into an argument, damn them! I've sworn never to argue! They talk such trash! I almost came to blows! I've left my uncle to preside. Would you believe, they insist on complete absence of individualism and that's just what they relish! Not to be themselves, to be as unlike themselves as they can. That's what they regard as the highest point of progress. If only their nonsense were their own, but as it is . . ."
"Listen!" Pulcheria Alexandrovna interrupted timidly, but it only added fuel to the flames.
"What do you think?" shouted Razumihin, louder than ever, "you think I am attacking them for talking nonsense? Not a bit! I like them to talk nonsense. That's man's one privilege over all creation. Through error you come to the truth! I am a man because I err! You never reach any truth without making fourteen mistakes and very likely a hundred and fourteen. And a fine thing, too, in its way; but we can't even make mistakes on our own account! Talk nonsense, but talk your own nonsense, and I'll kiss you for it. To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's. In the first case you are a man, in the second you're no better than a bird. Truth won't escape you, but life can be cramped. There have been examples. And what are we doing now? In science, development, thought, invention, ideals, aims, liberalism, judgment, experience and everything, everything, everything, we are still in the preparatory class at school. We prefer to live on other people's ideas, it's what we are used to! Am I right, am I right?" cried Razumihin, pressing and shaking the two ladies' hands.
"Oh, mercy, I do not know," cried poor Pulcheria Alexandrovna.
"Yes, yes . . . though I don't agree with you in everything," added Avdotya Romanovna earnestly and at once uttered a cry, for he squeezed her hand so painfully.
"Yes, you say yes . . . well after that you . . . you . . ." he cried in a transport, "you are a fount of goodness, purity, sense . . . and perfection. Give me your hand . . . you give me yours, too! I want to kiss your hands here at once, on my knees . . ." and he fell on his knees on the pavement, fortunately at that time deserted.
"Leave off, I entreat you, what are you doing?" Pulcheria Alexandrovna cried, greatly distressed.
"Get up, get up!" said Dounia laughing, though she, too, was upset.
"Not for anything till you let me kiss your hands! That's it! Enough! I get up and we'll go on! I am a luckless fool, I am unworthy of you and drunk . . . and I am ashamed. . . . I am not worthy to love you, but to do homage to you is the duty of every man who is not a perfect beast! And I've done homage. . . . Here are your lodgings, and for that alone Rodya was right in driving your Pyotr Petrovitch away. . . . How dare he! how dare he put you in such lodgings! It's a scandal! Do you know the sort of people they take in here? And you his betrothed! You are his betrothed? Yes? Well, then, I'll tell you, your /fiance/ is a scoundrel."
"Excuse me, Mr. Razumihin, you are forgetting . . ." Pulcheria Alexandrovna was beginning.
"Yes, yes, you are right, I did forget myself, I am ashamed of it," Razumihin made haste to apologise. "But . . . but you can't be angry with me for speaking so! For I speak sincerely and not because . . . hm, hm! That would be disgraceful; in fact not because I'm in . . . hm! Well, anyway, I won't say why, I daren't. . . . But we all saw to-day when he came in that that man is not of our sort. Not because he had his hair curled at the barber's, not because he was in such a hurry to show his wit, but because he is a spy, a speculator, because he is a skin-flint and a buffoon. That's evident. Do you think him clever? No, he is a fool, a fool. And is he a match for you? Good heavens! Do you see, ladies?" he stopped suddenly on the way upstairs to their rooms, "though all my friends there are drunk, yet they are all honest, and though we do talk a lot of trash, and I do, too, yet we shall talk our way to the truth at last, for we are on the right path, while Pyotr Petrovitch . . . is not on the right path. Though I've been calling them all sorts of names just now, I do respect them all . . . though I don't respect Zametov, I like him, for he is a puppy, and that bullock Zossimov, because he is an honest man and knows his work. But enough, it's all said and forgiven. Is it forgiven? Well, then, let's go on. I know this corridor, I've been here, there was a scandal here at Number 3. . . . Where are you here? Which number? eight? Well, lock yourselves in for the night, then. Don't let anybody in. In a quarter of an hour I'll come back with news, and half an hour later I'll bring Zossimov, you'll see! Good- bye, I'll run."
"Good heavens, Dounia, what is going to happen?" said Pulcheria Alexandrovna, addressing her daughter with anxiety and dismay.
"Don't worry yourself, mother," said Dounia, taking off her hat and cape. "God has sent this gentleman to our aid, though he has come from a drinking party. We can depend on him, I assure you. And all that he has done for Rodya. . . ."
"Ah. Dounia, goodness knows whether he will come! How could I bring myself to leave Rodya? . . . And how different, how different I had fancied our meeting! How sullen he was, as though not pleased to see us. . . ."
Tears came into her eyes.
"No, it's not that, mother. You didn't see, you were crying all the time. He is quite unhinged by serious illness--that's the reason."
"Ah, that illness! What will happen, what will happen? And how he talked to you, Dounia!" said the mother, looking timidly at her daughter, trying to read her thoughts and, already half consoled by Dounia's standing up for her brother, which meant that she had already forgiven him. "I am sure he will think better of it to-morrow," she added, probing her further.
"And I am sure that he will say the same to-morrow . . . about that," Avdotya Romanovna said finally. And, of course, there was no going beyond that, for this was a point which Pulcheria Alexandrovna was afraid to discuss. Dounia went up and kissed her mother. The latter warmly embraced her without speaking. Then she sat down to wait anxiously for Razumihin's return, timidly watching her daughter who walked up and down the room with her arms folded, lost in thought. This walking up and down when she was thinking was a habit of Avdotya Romanovna's and the mother was always afraid to break in on her daughter's mood at such moments.
Razumihin, of course, was ridiculous in his sudden drunken infatuation for Avdotya Romanovna. Yet apart from his eccentric condition, many people would have thought it justified if they had seen Avdotya Romanovna, especially at that moment when she was walking to and fro with folded arms, pensive and melancholy. Avdotya Romanovna was remarkably good looking; she was tall, strikingly well-proportioned, strong and self-reliant--the latter quality was apparent in every gesture, though it did not in the least detract from the grace and softness of her movements. In face she resembled her brother, but she might be described as really beautiful. Her hair was dark brown, a little lighter than her brother's; there was a proud light in her almost black eyes and yet at times a look of extraordinary kindness. She was pale, but it was a healthy pallor; her face was radiant with freshness and vigour. Her mouth was rather small; the full red lower lip projected a little as did her chin; it was the only irregularity in her beautiful face, but it gave it a peculiarly individual and almost haughty expression. Her face was always more serious and thoughtful than gay; but how well smiles, how well youthful, lighthearted, irresponsible, laughter suited her face! It was natural enough that a warm, open, simple-hearted, honest giant like Razumihin, who had never seen anyone like her and was not quite sober at the time, should lose his head immediately. Besides, as chance would have it, he saw Dounia for the first time transfigured by her love for her brother and her joy at meeting him. Afterwards he saw her lower lip quiver with indignation at her brother's insolent, cruel and ungrateful words--and his fate was sealed.
He had spoken the truth, moreover, when he blurted out in his drunken talk on the stairs that Praskovya Pavlovna, Raskolnikov's eccentric landlady, would be jealous of Pulcheria Alexandrovna as well as of Avdotya Romanovna on his account. Although Pulcheria Alexandrovna was forty-three, her face still retained traces of her former beauty; she looked much younger than her age, indeed, which is almost always the case with women who retain serenity of spirit, sensitiveness and pure sincere warmth of heart to old age. We may add in parenthesis that to preserve all this is the only means of retaining beauty to old age. Her hair had begun to grow grey and thin, there had long been little crow's foot wrinkles round her eyes, her cheeks were hollow and sunken from anxiety and grief, and yet it was a handsome face. She was Dounia over again, twenty years older, but without the projecting underlip. Pulcheria Alexandrovna was emotional, but not sentimental, timid and yielding, but only to a certain point. She could give way and accept a great deal even of what was contrary to her convictions, but there was a certain barrier fixed by honesty, principle and the deepest convictions which nothing would induce her to cross.
Exactly twenty minutes after Razumihin's departure, there came two subdued but hurried knocks at the door: he had come back.
"I won't come in, I haven't time," he hastened to say when the door was opened. "He sleeps like a top, soundly, quietly, and God grant he may sleep ten hours. Nastasya's with him; I told her not to leave till I came. Now I am fetching Zossimov, he will report to you and then you'd better turn in; I can see you are too tired to do anything. . . ."
And he ran off down the corridor.
"What a very competent and . . . devoted young man!" cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna exceedingly delighted.
"He seems a splendid person!" Avdotya Romanovna replied with some warmth, resuming her walk up and down the room.
It was nearly an hour later when they heard footsteps in the corridor and another knock at the door. Both women waited this time completely relying on Razumihin's promise; he actually had succeeded in bringing Zossimov. Zossimov had agreed at once to desert the drinking party to go to Raskolnikov's, but he came reluctantly and with the greatest suspicion to see the ladies, mistrusting Razumihin in his exhilarated condition. But his vanity was at once reassured and flattered; he saw that they were really expecting him as an oracle. He stayed just ten minutes and succeeded in completely convincing and comforting Pulcheria Alexandrovna. He spoke with marked sympathy, but with the reserve and extreme seriousness of a young doctor at an important consultation. He did not utter a word on any other subject and did not display the slightest desire to enter into more personal relations with the two ladies. Remarking at his first entrance the dazzling beauty of Avdotya Romanovna, he endeavoured not to notice her at all during his visit and addressed himself solely to Pulcheria Alexandrovna. All this gave him extraordinary inward satisfaction. He declared that he thought the invalid at this moment going on very satisfactorily. According to his observations the patient's illness was due partly to his unfortunate material surroundings during the last few months, but it had partly also a moral origin, "was, so to speak, the product of several material and moral influences, anxieties, apprehensions, troubles, certain ideas . . . and so on." Noticing stealthily that Avdotya Romanovna was following his words with close attention, Zossimov allowed himself to enlarge on this theme. On Pulcheria Alexandrovna's anxiously and timidly inquiring as to "some suspicion of insanity," he replied with a composed and candid smile that his words had been exaggerated; that certainly the patient had some fixed idea, something approaching a monomania--he, Zossimov, was now particularly studying this interesting branch of medicine--but that it must be recollected that until to-day the patient had been in delirium and . . . and that no doubt the presence of his family would have a favourable effect on his recovery and distract his mind, "if only all fresh shocks can be avoided," he added significantly. Then he got up, took leave with an impressive and affable bow, while blessings, warm gratitude, and entreaties were showered upon him, and Avdotya Romanovna spontaneously offered her hand to him. He went out exceedingly pleased with his visit and still more so with himself.
"We'll talk to-morrow; go to bed at once!" Razumihin said in conclusion, following Zossimov out. "I'll be with you to-morrow morning as early as possible with my report."
"That's a fetching little girl, Avdotya Romanovna," remarked Zossimov, almost licking his lips as they both came out into the street.
"Fetching? You said fetching?" roared Razumihin and he flew at Zossimov and seized him by the throat. "If you ever dare. . . . Do you understand? Do you understand?" he shouted, shaking him by the collar and squeezing him against the wall. "Do you hear?"
"Let me go, you drunken devil," said Zossimov, struggling and when he had let him go, he stared at him and went off into a sudden guffaw. Razumihin stood facing him in gloomy and earnest reflection.
"Of course, I am an ass," he observed, sombre as a storm cloud, "but still . . . you are another."
"No, brother, not at all such another. I am not dreaming of any folly."
They walked along in silence and only when they were close to Raskolnikov's lodgings, Razumihin broke the silence in considerable anxiety.
"Listen," he said, "you're a first-rate fellow, but among your other failings, you're a loose fish, that I know, and a dirty one, too. You are a feeble, nervous wretch, and a mass of whims, you're getting fat and lazy and can't deny yourself anything--and I call that dirty because it leads one straight into the dirt. You've let yourself get so slack that I don't know how it is you are still a good, even a devoted doctor. You--a doctor--sleep on a feather bed and get up at night to your patients! In another three or four years you won't get up for your patients . . . But hang it all, that's not the point! . . . You are going to spend to-night in the landlady's flat here. (Hard work I've had to persuade her!) And I'll be in the kitchen. So here's a chance for you to get to know her better. . . . It's not as you think! There's not a trace of anything of the sort, brother . . .!"
"But I don't think!"
"Here you have modesty, brother, silence, bashfulness, a savage virtue . . . and yet she's sighing and melting like wax, simply melting! Save me from her, by all that's unholy! She's most prepossessing . . . I'll repay you, I'll do anything. . . ."
Zossimov laughed more violently than ever.
"Well, you are smitten! But what am I to do with her?"
"It won't be much trouble, I assure you. Talk any rot you like to her, as long as you sit by her and talk. You're a doctor, too; try curing her of something. I swear you won't regret it. She has a piano, and you know, I strum a little. I have a song there, a genuine Russian one: 'I shed hot tears.' She likes the genuine article--and well, it all began with that song; Now you're a regular performer, a /maitre/, a Rubinstein. . . . I assure you, you won't regret it!"
"But have you made her some promise? Something signed? A promise of marriage, perhaps?"
"Nothing, nothing, absolutely nothing of the kind! Besides she is not that sort at all. . . . Tchebarov tried that. . . ."
"Well then, drop her!"
"But I can't drop her like that!"
"Why can't you?"
"Well, I can't, that's all about it! There's an element of attraction here, brother."
"Then why have you fascinated her?"
"I haven't fascinated her; perhaps I was fascinated myself in my folly. But she won't care a straw whether it's you or I, so long as somebody sits beside her, sighing. . . . I can't explain the position, brother . . . look here, you are good at mathematics, and working at it now . . . begin teaching her the integral calculus; upon my soul, I'm not joking, I'm in earnest, it'll be just the same to her. She will gaze at you and sigh for a whole year together. I talked to her once for two days at a time about the Prussian House of Lords (for one must talk of something)--she just sighed and perspired! And you mustn't talk of love--she's bashful to hysterics--but just let her see you can't tear yourself away--that's enough. It's fearfully comfortable; you're quite at home, you can read, sit, lie about, write. You may even venture on a kiss, if you're careful."
"But what do I want with her?"
"Ach, I can't make you understand! You see, you are made for each other! I have often been reminded of you! . . . You'll come to it in the end! So does it matter whether it's sooner or later? There's the feather-bed element here, brother--ach! and not only that! There's an attraction here--here you have the end of the world, an anchorage, a quiet haven, the navel of the earth, the three fishes that are the foundation of the world, the essence of pancakes, of savoury fish- pies, of the evening samovar, of soft sighs and warm shawls, and hot stoves to sleep on--as snug as though you were dead, and yet you're alive--the advantages of both at once! Well, hang it, brother, what stuff I'm talking, it's bedtime! Listen. I sometimes wake up at night; so I'll go in and look at him. But there's no need, it's all right. Don't you worry yourself, yet if you like, you might just look in once, too. But if you notice anything--delirium or fever--wake me at once. But there can't be. . . ."
拉斯科利尼科夫欠起身来，坐到沙发上。
拉祖米欣正滔一滔一不一绝地劝慰母亲和妹妹，他的话前言不搭后语，然而热情洋溢；拉斯科利尼科夫虚弱无力地朝拉祖米欣摆摆手，叫他别再说下去了，然后拉住母亲和妹妹的手，一会儿看看这个，一会儿看看那个，有两分钟光景默默不语。他的目光让母亲感到害怕了。他的目光中透露出一种强烈到痛苦程度的感情，但同时神情又是呆滞的，甚至几乎是疯狂的。普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜哭了。
阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜面色苍白；她的手在哥哥的手里簌簌发一抖。
“你们回去吧，……跟他一道走，”他声音断断续续地说着指指拉祖米欣，“到明天，明天一切……你们早就来了吗？”
“晚上到的，罗佳，”普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜回答，“火车晚点，迟了很久。不过，罗佳，无论如何我现在也不离开你。我就在这儿住一一夜，在旁边守着你……”
“别折磨我了！”他说，恼怒地挥了挥手。
“我留下来守着他！”拉祖米欣高声说，“一分钟也不离开他，我那儿那些人，叫他们都见鬼去，让他们去生气好了！那里有我舅舅全权处理。”
“叫我怎么，怎么感谢您呢！”普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜说，又紧紧一握住拉祖米欣的手，但是拉斯科利尼科夫又打断了她的话：
“我受不了，我受不了，”他恼怒地反复说，“请你们别折磨我！够了，你们走吧……我受不了！……”
“咱们走吧，一妈一妈一，哪怕从屋里出去一会儿也好，”惊恐的杜尼娅悄悄地说，“我们让他觉得很痛苦，这可以看得出来。”
“难道三年没见，我都不能好好地看看他吗！”普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜哭了起来。
“等一等！”他又叫住了她们，“你们老是打断我，我的思想给搞乱了……你们见到卢任了吗？”
“没有，罗佳，不过他已经知道我们来了。我们听说，彼得·彼特罗维奇心那么好，今天来看过你，”普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜有点儿胆怯地补充说。
“是啊……他的心那么好……杜尼娅，不久前我对卢任说，我要把他赶下楼去，我把他赶走了……”
“罗佳，你怎么了！你，大概……你不是想要说，”普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜惊恐地说，但是看看杜尼娅，又把话咽回去了。
阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜凝神注视着哥哥，等着他往下说。她俩已经事先从娜斯塔西娅那里听说过发生争吵的事，后者就她所理解的，尽可能把事情的经过告诉了她们，她们都困惑不解，感到异常痛苦，等着他说下去。
“杜尼娅，”拉斯科利尼科夫勉强控制着自己，接着说，“我不赞成这门婚事，所以你应当明天一开口就拒绝卢任，叫他再也不要来了。”
“我的天哪！”普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜喊了一声。
“哥哥，你想想看，你说的是什么！”阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜开始气愤地说，但是又立刻忍住了。“也许你现在身一体不好，你累了，”她简短地说。
“我在说一胡一话吗？不……你是为了我才嫁给卢任的。可是我不接受你的牺牲。所以，明天以前，你就写信……拒绝他……明天早晨让我看看，这事就了结了！”
“这我不能做！”受了委屈的姑一娘一高声说。“你有什么权力……”
“杜涅奇卡，你也太急躁了，别说了，明天……难道你没看到……”母亲惊呆了，赶快对杜尼娅说。“唉，咱们最好还是走吧！”
“他在说一胡一话！”微带醉意的拉祖米欣高声叫嚷，“要不然，他怎么敢！明天就会聪明些了……不过今天他当真赶走了他。是有这么回事。嗯，那一个也光火了……他在这儿大发议论，炫耀自己的知识，可走的时候却是夹一着尾巴……”
“那么这是真的了？”普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜高声惊呼。
“明天见，哥哥，”杜尼娅满怀同情地说，“咱们走吧，一妈一妈一……再见，罗佳！”
“你听到吗，妹妹，”他鼓足最后一点力气对着她们的背影重复说，“我不是说一胡一话；结这门亲事是可耻的。就算我是个卑鄙的人吧，但是我不会把这样的妹妹看作妹妹。要么是我，要么是卢任！你们走吧……”
“你疯了吗！独断专横的家伙！”拉祖米欣吼叫起来，但是拉斯科利尼科夫已经不再回答，不过也许是没有力气回答了。他躺到沙发上，疲惫不堪地转过脸去，面对着墙壁。阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜好奇地看了看拉祖米欣，她那乌黑的眼睛炯炯发光：在这目光的注视下，拉祖米欣甚至颤栗了一下。普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜仿佛吃了一惊，一动不动地站着。
“我无论如何也不能走！”她几乎是绝望地悄悄对拉祖米欣说，“我留在这儿，随便在什么地方……请您送送杜尼娅。”
“您会把事情全都弄糟了的！”拉祖米欣失去自制，也低声说，“咱们走吧，至少到楼梯上去。娜斯塔西娅，给照个亮！我向您发誓，”已经到了楼梯上，他又小声接着说，“不久前他差点儿没把我和医生都痛打一顿！您明白这意味着什么吗？要打医生！医生让步了，免得惹他生气，他走了，我留下，在楼下守着，可他立刻穿上衣服，溜出去了。要是惹火了他，现在他还会溜，夜里溜出去，不知会干出什么事来……”
“哎哟，您说些什么呀！”
“再说，您不回去，阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜也不能独自一个人住在旅馆里！请您想想看，你们是住在一个什么样的地方！而彼得·彼特罗维奇，这个坏蛋，难道就不能给你们找个好一点儿的住处吗……不过，你们要知道，我有点儿醉了，所以……说了骂人的话；请别在意……”
“不过，我去找找女房东，”普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜坚持说，“我求求她，求她随便给找个地方，让我和杜尼娅住一一夜。我不能这样丢下他不管，我不能！”
他们说这些话的时候是站在楼梯平台上，就站在女房东的房门前。娜斯塔西娅从楼梯的下面一级上给他们照着亮。拉祖米欣异常兴奋。半小时前他送拉斯科利尼科夫回家的时候，虽然废话说得太多，他自己也知道这一点，可是他的一精一神却十分饱满，头脑也几乎是清醒的，尽管这天晚上他喝的酒多得惊人。现在他的心情甚至好像异常高兴，同时他喝下去的那些酒仿佛又一下子以加倍的力量冲进他的头脑里。他和两位妇女站在一起，拉住她们两人的手，劝说她们，以惊人的坦率态度向她们列举一条条理由，大概是为了更有说服力，几乎每说一句话，他都把她俩的手攥得更紧，就像夹在老虎钳里一样，把她们的手都攥痛了，而且贪婪地拿眼睛直盯着阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜，似乎一点儿也不觉得不好意思。有时她们痛得想从他那双瘦骨嶙嶙的大手里把自己的手一抽一出来，但是他不仅没发觉这是怎么回事，反而更用力把她们的手往自己这边拉。如果她们为了自己的利益，现在叫他头朝下冲下楼梯，他也会不假思索，毫不迟疑，立刻执行她们的命令。普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜一心想着她的罗佳，焦急不安，尽管感觉到这个年轻人有点儿古怪，而且把她的手攥得太痛，但是因为她同时又把他看作神明，所以不想注意这些古怪的小节。然而，虽说阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜同样为哥哥担心，虽然就一性一格来说，她并不胆小，但是看到她哥哥的朋友那闪射着异样光芒的目光，却感到惊讶，甚至是感到恐惧了，只不过因为娜斯塔西娅说的关于这个怪人的那些话，使她对他产生了无限信任，这才没有试图从他身边逃跑，而且把母亲也拉着，和自己一同跑掉。她也明白，看来现在她们是不能逃避他的。不过，十分钟以后，她已经大为放心：拉祖米欣有个特点，不管他心情如何，都能很快把自己的真实感情完全流露出来，所以不一会儿人们就会了解，自己是在和一个什么样的人打一交一道了。
“可不能去找女房东，这想法最荒唐也不过了！”他高声叫嚷，竭力让普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜相信。“虽然您是母亲，可如果您留下来，就会使他发疯，那可就不知会闹出什么事来了！您听我说，我看这么办好了：这会儿先让娜斯塔西娅坐在他那里，我把你们送回去，因为没有人陪着，你们自己可不能在街上行走，在我们彼得堡，对这……唉，管它去呢！……然后我立刻从你们那儿跑回这里，一刻钟以后，我以人格担保，就会给你们送消息去：他情况怎么样？睡了，还是没睡？以及其他等等。然后，你们听我说！然后又从你们那里很快跑回家去——我那里有客人，都喝醉了，——去叫佐西莫夫——这是给他看病的医生，现在他在我家里，他没醉；这个人不喝酒，永远不会醉！我把他拖到罗季卡那里，然后立刻到你们这里来，这就是说，一个钟头之内你们可以得到两次关于他的消息，——而且是从医生那儿来的消息，你们明白吗，是从医生本人那里得到的消息；这可就不仅是听我说说了！如果情况不好，我发誓，我自己会领你们到这儿来，如果情况良好，那么你们就可以睡了。我整夜都睡在这儿，睡在穿堂里，他听不见的，我让佐西莫夫睡在房东那里，这样可以随时找到他。你们看，现在对他来说，谁守着他最好呢，是您，还是医生？医生更有用，更有用，不是吗。好，那么就请你们回去吧！去女房东那里却不行；我去可以，你们去不行：她不会让你们去……因为她傻。她会为了我嫉妒阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜，您要知道，她也会嫉妒您……不过对阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜，她是一定会嫉妒的。是个完全、完全让人摸不透的女人！不过，我也是个傻瓜……这算不了什么！咱们走吧！你们相信我吗？嗯，你们相信，还是不相信我？”
“咱们走吧，一妈一妈一，”阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜说，“他答应了，一定会这么做的。他已经救过哥哥的命，如果医生真的同意夜里住在这儿，那不是再好不过了吗？”
“瞧，您……您……理解我，因为您是天使！”拉祖米欣欣喜若狂地高声叫喊。“走吧！娜斯塔西娅！马上上楼去，坐在他身边，带着灯；一刻钟后我就来……”
普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜虽然还不完全相信，可也没再反对。拉祖米欣挽住她俩的手，把她们拉下楼去。不过他还是叫她不放心：“虽然他人很机灵，心肠也好，可是他答应的事能办得到吗？他有点儿醉了，不是吗……”
“我明白，您心里在想，我喝醉了！”拉祖米欣猜到了她的想法，打断了她的思路，同时迈开大步在人行道上走着，以致两位妇女勉强才能跟上他，不过他却没有发觉。“没有的事！也就是说……我醉得像个傻瓜一样了，可是问题不在这里，我醉了，可不是因为喝了酒。而是，我一看到你们，就像喝醉了一样……别睬我！请别介意：我在一胡一说八道，我配不上你们……我一点儿也配不上你们！……我把你们一送回去，立刻就在这儿，在河里，往自己头上浇两桶冷水，就会清醒过来了……但愿你们知道，我是多么一爱一你们两位！……请别笑我，也别生气！……你们对谁都可以生气，可别生我的气！我是他的朋友，所以也是你们的朋友。我希望如此……这我已经预感到了……去年，有这样的一瞬间……不过，根本不是预感到，因为你们好似从天而降。而我，大概会一一夜都睡不着……这个佐西莫夫不久前担心他会发疯……所以不应该惹他生气……”
“您说什么！”母亲高声叫喊。
“难道医生这么说过吗？”阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜吃了一惊，问。
“说过，不过不是这么回事，完全不是这么回事。他还给他吃过这么一种药，一种药粉，我看到的，可这时你们来了……唉！……你们明天再来就好了！我们走了，这很好。再过一个钟头，佐西莫夫会亲自向你们报告一切。他这个人可不会喝醉！我也不再喝醉了……我为什么喝得这么醉呢？因为他们把我拖入了一场争论，这些该死的家伙！我已经发过誓不参加争论了！……他们都在一胡一说八道！差点儿没打起来！我让舅舅待在那儿，招待他们……嗯，你们相信吗：他们要求人完全没有个一性一，还觉得其中有极大的乐趣！要是自己不是自己，要是自己尽可能不像自己，那该多好！他们认为，这就是最大的进步。要是他们是按照自己的想法一胡一说八道，倒也罢了，可是……”
“请您听我说，”普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜怯生生地打断了他，但这只不过更加激起了他的热情。
“您认为怎样？”拉祖米欣把嗓门提得更高，大声叫喊，“您认为我是为了他们一胡一说八道生他们的气吗？没有的事！我喜欢人们一胡一扯！一胡一扯是一切生物中只有人类才享有的唯一特权。通过一胡一扯，可以得到真理！我也一胡一扯，所以我也是人。如果不先一胡一扯十四次，就不会获得一个真理，也许，得先一胡一扯一百十四次，从某一方面来看，这也是值得尊敬的；唉，可是我们连独出心裁地一胡一扯都不会！你跟我一胡一扯好了，不过要独出心裁，是自己想出来的，那么我就会吻你。独出心裁地一胡一扯，要知道，这几乎胜过只重复别人的真理；在第一种情况下，你是人，而在第二种情况下，你只不过是一只鹦鹉！真理是跑不了的，却可以使生活停滞不前；有过这样的例子。嗯，现在我们怎么样呢？在科学、文化修养、思维、发明、思想观念、愿望、自一由主义、理一性一、经验，以及一切，一切，一切，一切，一切领域，我们大家无一例外，还都是中学预备班一年级的学生！喜欢靠人家的智慧混日子，——已经一习一以为常了！是不是这样呢？我说得对吗？”拉祖米欣高声叫喊，说着握紧并摇晃着两位女士的手，“是不是这样呢？”
“噢，我的天哪，我不知道，”可怜的普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜说。
“是这样的，是这样的……虽说我并不完全同意您的意见，”阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜郑重其事地补上一句，并且立刻大叫了一声，因为这一次他把她的手攥得实在太痛了。
“是这样的？您说，是这样的？那么在这以后，您……您……”他欣喜若狂地高声呼喊，“您是善良、纯洁、理智和……完美的源泉！请把您的手伸给我，请您……也把您的手伸给我，我想吻吻你们的手，就在这儿，现在，跪下来吻你们的手！”
于是他在人行道当中跪了下来，幸而这时人行道上阒无一人。
“别这样，我求您，您这是做什么？”完全惊慌失措的普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜高声叫喊。
“请您起来，请起来吧！”杜尼娅笑着说，她也感到惊慌不安了。
“你们不把手伸给我，我无论如何也不起来！对，就这样，够了，我起来了，咱们走吧！我是个不幸的傻瓜，我配不上你们，而且喝醉了，我感到羞愧……我不配一爱一你们，可是，跪在你们面前——这是每个人的义务，只要他不是十足的畜生！所以我跪下来了……瞧，这就是你们的旅馆，不久前罗季昂赶走了你们的彼得·彼特罗维奇，单就这一点来说，他做得对！这个人怎么敢让你们住在这样的旅馆里？这是丢脸的事！你们可知道，到这儿来的都是些什么人？可您是他的未婚妻，不是吗！您是他的未婚妻，对吗？哼，所以我要对您说，您的未婚夫会做出这样的事来，可见他是个卑鄙的家伙！”
“您听我说，拉祖米欣先生，您忘了……”普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜开口说。
“对，对，您说得对，我太放肆了，我惭愧！”拉祖米欣猛然醒悟，“不过……不过……你们不会因为我这样说而生我的气吧！因为我这样说是出于至诚，而不是由于……嗯哼！这是卑鄙的；总而言之，不是由于我对您……嗯哼！……好，就这样吧，用不着，我不说由于什么，我不敢说！……不久前我们就全明白了，他一进来，我们就知道这个人跟我们不是一道的。不是因为他在理发师那儿卷过头发，也不是因为他急于炫耀自己的才智，而是因为，他是个密探和投机分子；因为他是个吝啬鬼和小丑，这是看得出来的。您认为他聪明吗？不，他是个傻瓜，傻瓜！哼，他配得上您吗？噢，我的天哪！你们要知道，女士们，”他已经走在旅馆的楼梯上，却突然站住了，“虽然我那儿那些人都喝醉了，然而他们都是正直的人，虽然我们也一胡一说八道，所以我也一胡一说八道，可是最后我们还是会明白，什么是真理，因为我们是走在光明正大的道路上，而彼得·彼特罗维奇走的却不是光明正大的道路。我虽然现在痛骂他们，可是我尊敬他们大家；就连扎苗托夫，虽说我并不尊敬他，可是喜欢他，因为他是条小狗崽！就连这个畜生佐西莫夫也是一样，因为他正直，而且一精一通业务……不过够了，什么都说完了，也得到了宽恕。得到宽恕了吗？是这样吗？好，咱们走吧。我熟悉这条走廊，来过不止一次了；瞧，就在这儿，三号房间里，发生过一件丢脸的事……喂，你们住在这里哪个房间？几号？八号吗？好，那么夜里可要锁上门，谁也别让他进来。一刻钟后我带着消息回来，然后，再过半个钟头，还要和佐西莫夫一道来，你们会知道的！再见，我走了！”
“我的天哪，杜涅奇卡，会出什么事吗？”普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜惊慌而又胆怯地对女儿说。
“您放心好了，一妈一妈一，”杜尼娅回答，说着摘下帽子，取下披肩，“是上帝亲自给我们派来了这位先生，尽管他是直接从酒宴上来的。对他是可以信赖的，请您相信。而且他为哥哥已经做过的一切……”
“唉，杜涅奇卡。天知道他还会不会来！我怎么能决定丢下罗佳不管呢！……我完全，完全想象不到，会这样见到他！
他的神情多么冷酷，就像他不高兴看到我们似的……”
她眼里出现了泪珠。
“不，不是这样的，一妈一妈一。您没细看，您一直在哭。由于生了一场大病，他心情很不好，——一切都是因为这个缘故。”
“唉，这场病啊！会出什么事，会出什么事吗！而且他是怎么跟你说话啊，杜尼娅！”母亲说，一边怯生生地看看女儿的眼睛，想从眼睛里看出她心里的全部想法，因为女儿护着罗佳，这使她获得了一半安慰：如此看来，女儿原谅了他。
“我深信，明天他准会改变主意，”她加上一句，想彻底摸透女儿的想法。
“可我深信，关于这件事……明天他还是会这么说……”阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜斩钉截铁地回答，当然，这是个难题，因为这一点是普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜现在很怕谈起的。杜尼娅走近前去，吻了吻母亲。母亲默默地紧紧拥抱了她。然后坐下，焦急不安地等着拉祖米欣回来，同时怯生生地注视着女儿，女儿也在等待着，双手一交一叉，抱在胸前，在屋里踱来踱去，一面在暗自思索着什么。这样沉思着从一个角落走到另一个角落，是阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜通常的一习一惯，不知为什么母亲总是怕在这样的时候打断她的沉思。
拉祖米欣酒醉后突然对阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜产生了火热的一爱一情，这当然好笑；但是看一看阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜，特别是现在，当她双臂一交一叉，抱在胸前，忧郁而若有所思地在屋里踱来踱去的时候，也许很多人都会原谅他，更何况他是处于一种反常的心理状态呢。阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜十分漂亮，——高高的个儿，身材异常苗条匀称，强壮有力，而且很自信，——在她的每个姿态中都流露出这种自信，不过这丝毫也不损害她举止的柔美和优雅。她的脸像她的哥哥，不过甚至可以把她叫作美人儿。她的头发是褐色的，比她哥哥的头发稍淡一些；眼睛几乎是黑的，炯炯发光，神情傲慢，但有时，虽然并不是经常的，看上去却又异常善良。她肤色白皙，但不是病态的苍白；她的脸光艳一照人，娇一艳而健康。她的嘴略小了点儿，红艳艳的下嘴唇和下巴一起稍稍向前突出，——这是这张美丽的脸上唯一的缺陷，但是也赋予她的脸一种特殊的一性一格，仿佛使她脸上有了一种傲慢的神态。她脸上的表情总是严肃多于快乐，总是好像在沉思默想；然而这张脸是多么适于微笑，愉快而无忧无虑的、青春的笑容对她来说是多么合适啊！热情、坦诚、单纯而轻信、正直、像勇士一般强壮有力、又有点儿醉意的拉祖米欣，从未见过类似的女一性一，对她一见倾心，这是可以理解的。更何况好像老天故意安排下这样一个机会，让他第一次看到杜尼娅的时候，恰好是她与哥哥晤面、心中充满兄妹情谊和欢乐的美好时刻呢。后来他又看到，在她愤怒地回答哥哥无礼的、忘恩负义、冷酷无情的命令时，她的下嘴唇突然颤一抖了一下，——
这时他就再也不能自持了。
不过，因为他已微带醉意，不久前在楼梯上脱口而出，说拉斯科利尼科夫那个一性一情古怪的女房东普拉斯科维娅·帕夫洛芙娜不但会为了他嫉妒阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜，而且看来也会嫉妒普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜，那倒是说的实话。尽管普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜已经四十三岁，她的容貌却依然保持着昔日的风采，而且看上去比她的实际年龄年轻得多，那些直到老年都能保持心情开朗，能给人留下鲜明印象，而且满怀正直、真诚而热情的妇女，几乎总是这样。咱们附带说一声，能够保持这一切，是即使到了老年也不致失去美色的唯一方法。她的头发已经开始斑白，渐渐疏稀，细碎的鱼尾纹早已爬满了她的眼角，由于忧虑和痛苦，双颊已经凹陷和干瘪，但这张脸还是美丽的。这是一幅杜涅奇卡的脸的肖像，不过是二十年以后的肖像，再就是她那并不向前突出的下嘴唇的表情，和女儿的不大一样。普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜多情善感，不过不致使人感到肉麻，她胆小，忍让，可也有一定的限度：很多事情她都能忍让，对很多事情她都能同意，就连对那些与她的信念相反的事，也是如此，不过总是有这么一条由正直、原则和绝对不能放弃的信念划定的界线，无论什么情况也不能迫使她越过这条界线。
拉祖米欣走后，整整过了二十分钟，传来两声轻微然而急促的敲门声；他回来了。
“我不进去了，没有空！”房门打开以后，他匆匆地说，“他睡得很熟，睡得十分香甜，很安静，上帝保佑，让他睡上十个钟头吧。娜斯塔西娅在他那儿守着；我叫她在我回去以前别出去。现在我去把佐西莫夫拖来，他会向你们报告的，然后你们也睡一会儿；我看得出，你们都累坏了。”
于是他离开她们，顺着走廊走了。
“一个多麻利和……忠实的青年人啊！”非常高兴的普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜高声说。
“看来，是个很好的人！”阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜怀着几分热情回答，又开始在屋里踱来踱去。
几乎过了一个钟头，走廊里传来了脚步声，又听到一下敲门的声音。两位妇女都在等着，因为这一次她们都完全相信拉祖米欣的诺言了；真的，他果然把佐西莫夫拖来了。佐西莫夫立刻同意离开酒宴，去看拉斯科利尼科夫，不过他不相信喝醉了的拉祖米欣，到两位女士这里来，却很不乐意，疑虑重重。但是他的自尊心立刻得到了满足，甚至感到快慰：他明白，人家当真是在等着他，就像是在等候一位先知。他整整坐了十分钟，而且完全说服了普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜，让她放了心。他说话时怀着异乎寻常的同情心，然而态度拘谨，不知怎的显得特别严肃，完全像一个二十七岁的医生在重要的咨询会议上发表意见，没有一句话离题，没有流露出一丝一毫要与这两位女士建立更密切的私人关系的愿望。他一进来就发觉阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜光艳一照人，立刻竭力根本不去注意她，在会见她们的全部时间里，只对普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜一个人说话。这一切使他内心里获得极大的满足。谈到病人，他是这样说的，说是目前病人处于完全令人满意的状态。据他观察，病人的病，除了最近几个月生活上恶劣的物质条件，还有某些一精一神因素，“可以说是许多复杂的一精一神和物质影响的结果，如惊慌、担心、忧虑、某些想法……以及诸如此类的影响”。阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜开始特别留心听着，佐西莫夫对此稍有察觉，于是对这一话题较多地发挥了几句。普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜担心而又怯生生地问：“似乎有点儿怀疑他患了一精一神病？”对这个问题，他安详而且面带坦诚的微笑回答说，他的话被过分夸大了；当然，可以注意到，病人头脑里有某种执拗的想法，显示出偏执狂的症候，——因为他，佐西莫夫，目前正特别注意医学上这一非常有意思的专科，——不过得记住，几乎直到今天，病人神智都不大清楚，那么……当然，他亲人们的到来会促使他恢复健康，消除疑虑，使病情根本好转，“只要能避免再受到新的特殊震动”，他意味深长地补充说。然后他站起来，庄重而亲切地告辞，为他送别的是祝福，热情的感谢，央求，甚至还有阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜向他伸过来的小手，虽然他并没请求，她却主动要和他握手，他出去时对这次访问异常满意，对自己就更加满意了。
“咱们明天再谈；请安歇吧，立刻，一定！”拉祖米欣像作总结似地说，和佐西莫夫一同走了出去。“明天尽可能早一些，我再来向你们报告。”
“不过，这位阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜是个多么迷人的小姑一娘一啊！”当他们俩走到街上的时候，佐西莫夫几乎馋涎欲滴地说。
“迷人吗？你说她迷人！”拉祖米欣吼叫起来，突然扑向佐西莫夫，一把卡住他的咽喉。“要是什么时候你胆敢……你明白吗？明白吗？”他大声叫喊，抓着衣领摇晃着他，把他推到墙跟前，“听到了吗？”
“唉，放手，醉鬼！”佐西莫夫竭力想要挣脱出来，拉祖米欣已经放开他以后，他凝神看了看拉祖米欣，突然哈哈大笑起来。拉祖米欣站在他面前，垂下双手，忧郁而严肃地陷入沉思。
“当然，我是头笨驴，”他神情一陰一郁，好似乌云，“不过……
你也是的。”
“嗳，老兄，不，我可根本不是。我不会痴心梦想。”
他们默默地走着，不过走近拉斯科利尼科夫的住所时，拉祖米欣感到十分担心，这才打破了沉默。
“你听我说，”他对佐西莫夫说，“你是个很不错的人，不过你呀，除了你所有那些恶劣的品质以外，你也是个色鬼，这我知道，而且还是个卑鄙无一耻的色鬼。你是个神经质的、软弱无力的败类，你任一性一胡一来，养得太肥，什么事情都做得出来，——我把这叫作卑鄙无一耻，因为这会使人直接掉进卑鄙无一耻的泥潭里去。你们自己娇惯成了这个样子，老实说，我不能理解的是，与此同时，你怎么能作一个具有忘我一精一神的医生。睡在羽一毛一褥子上（医生嘛！），可是夜里要起来去给人看病！三年以后，你就不会再为了病人在夜里起来了……啊，对了，见鬼，问题不在这里，而在于：今天你得在女房东家里住一一夜（好不容易才说服了她！）可我睡在厨房里；这可是让你们更亲密地熟识的好机会！不过不是你想的那回事！老兄，那种事啊，连影儿都没有……”
“我根本就没想。”
“老兄，这是腼腆、沉默，羞涩以及冷酷无情的贞节，可与此同时，又唉声叹气，像蜡一样在融化，一个劲儿地融化！看在世界上一切妖魔鬼怪的份上，请你帮我摆脱她吧！她是个非常漂亮的女人！……我会报答你的，哪怕牺牲自己的脑袋，也要报答你！”
佐西莫夫哈哈大笑，笑得比以前更厉害了。
“你一爱一得发疯了！我要她干吗？”
“请你相信，麻烦不会太多，不过得说些蠢话，你一爱一说什么，就说什么，只要坐到她身边说就行了。何况你还是个医生，可以治治她的病嘛。我发誓，你不会后悔的。她屋里有架古钢琴；你要知道，我会弹两下，不过弹不好；我那里有一首歌曲，一首真正的俄罗斯歌曲：‘我洒下热泪……’她喜欢真正的俄罗斯歌曲，——于是就从歌曲开始；可你是个弹钢琴的能手，是教师，鲁宾斯坦①……我担保，你不会后悔的！”
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①鲁宾斯坦（一八二九——一八九四），俄罗斯著名钢琴家和作曲家。
“你是不是向她许下了什么诺言？按照程式订了合同，签过了字？也许答应过和她结婚……”
“没有，没有，根本没有这种事！而且她也完全不是这样的人；切巴罗夫追求过她……”
“好，那你就甩掉她好了！”
“可是不能就这样甩掉她！”
“为什么不能？”
“嗯，不知为什么不能这样，就是这么一回事！老兄，这儿有诱一惑力这个因素。”
“那你为什么引一诱她呢？”
“可我根本就没引一诱她，也许，甚至是我受了她的引一诱，这是因为我傻，可对她来说，不论是你，还是我，都完全一样，只要有人坐在她身边叹
