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Chapter no 10

Crime and Punishment

He was not completely unconscious, however, all the time he was ill; he was in a feverish state, sometimes delirious, sometimes half conscious. He remembered a great deal afterwards. Sometimes it seemed as though there were a number of people round him; they wanted to take him away somewhere, there was a great deal of squabbling and discussing about him. Then he would be alone in the room; they had all gone away afraid of him, and only now and then opened the door a crack to look at him; they threatened him, plotted something together, laughed, and mocked at him. He remembered Nastasya often at his bedside; he distinguished another person, too, whom he seemed to know very well, though he could not remember who he was, and this fretted him, even made him cry. Sometimes he fancied he had been lying there a month; at other times it all seemed part of the same day. But ofย thatโ€”ofย thatย he had no recollection, and yet every minute he felt that he had forgotten something he ought to remember. He worried and tormented himself trying to remember, moaned, flew into a rage, or sank into awful, intolerable terror. Then he struggled to get up, would have run away, but someone always prevented him by force, and he sank back into impotence and forgetfulness. At last he returned to complete consciousness.

It happened at ten oโ€™clock in the morning. On fine days the sun shone into the room at that hour, throwing a streak of light on the right wall and the corner near the door. Nastasya was standing beside him with another person, a complete stranger, who was looking at him very inquisitively. He was a young man with a beard, wearing a full, short-waisted coat, and looked like a messenger. The landlady was peeping in at the half-opened door. Raskolnikov sat up.

โ€œWho is this, Nastasya?โ€ he asked, pointing to the young man.

โ€œI say, heโ€™s himself again!โ€ she said.

โ€œHe is himself,โ€ echoed the man.

Concluding that he had returned to his senses, the landlady closed the door and disappeared. She was always shy and dreaded conversations or discussions. She was a woman of forty, not at all bad-looking, fat and buxom, with black eyes and eyebrows, good-natured from fatness and laziness, and absurdly bashful.

โ€œWho… are you?โ€ he went on, addressing the man. But at that moment the door was flung open, and, stooping a little, as he was so tall, Razumihin came in.

โ€œWhat a cabin it is!โ€ he cried. โ€œI am always knocking my head. You call this a lodging! So you are conscious, brother? Iโ€™ve just heard the news from Pashenka.โ€

โ€œHe has just come to,โ€ said Nastasya.

โ€œJust come to,โ€ echoed the man again, with a smile.

โ€œAnd who are you?โ€ Razumihin asked, suddenly addressing him. โ€œMy name is Vrazumihin, at your service; not Razumihin, as I am always called, but Vrazumihin, a student and gentleman; and he is my friend. And who are you?โ€

โ€œI am the messenger from our office, from the merchant Shelopaev, and Iโ€™ve come on business.โ€

โ€œPlease sit down.โ€ Razumihin seated himself on the other side of the table. โ€œItโ€™s a good thing youโ€™ve come to, brother,โ€ he went on to Raskolnikov. โ€œFor the last four days you have scarcely eaten or drunk anything. We had to give you tea in spoonfuls. I brought Zossimov to see you twice. You remember Zossimov? He examined you carefully and said at once it was nothing seriousโ€”something seemed to have gone to your head. Some nervous nonsense, the result of bad feeding, he says you have not had enough beer and radish, but itโ€™s nothing much, it will pass and you will be all right. Zossimov is a first-rate fellow! He is making quite a name. Come, I wonโ€™t keep you,โ€ he said, addressing the man again. โ€œWill you explain what you want? You must know, Rodya, this is the second time they have sent from the office; but it was another man last time, and I talked to him. Who was it came before?โ€

โ€œThat was the day before yesterday, I venture to say, if you please, sir. That was Alexey Semyonovitch; he is in our office, too.โ€

โ€œHe was more intelligent than you, donโ€™t you think so?โ€

โ€œYes, indeed, sir, he is of more weight than I am.โ€

โ€œQuite so; go on.โ€

โ€œAt your mammaโ€™s request, through Afanasy Ivanovitch Vahrushin, of whom I presume you have heard more than once, a remittance is sent to you from our office,โ€ the man began, addressing Raskolnikov. โ€œIf you are in an intelligible condition, Iโ€™ve thirty-five roubles to remit to you, as Semyon Semyonovitch has received from Afanasy Ivanovitch at your mammaโ€™s request instructions to that effect, as on previous occasions. Do you know him, sir?โ€

โ€œYes, I remember… Vahrushin,โ€ Raskolnikov said dreamily.

โ€œYou hear, he knows Vahrushin,โ€ cried Razumihin. โ€œHe is in โ€˜an intelligible conditionโ€™! And I see you are an intelligent man too. Well, itโ€™s always pleasant to hear words of wisdom.โ€

โ€œThatโ€™s the gentleman, Vahrushin, Afanasy Ivanovitch. And at the request of your mamma, who has sent you a remittance once before in the same manner through him, he did not refuse this time also, and sent instructions to Semyon Semyonovitch some days since to hand you thirty-five roubles in the hope of better to come.โ€

โ€œThat โ€˜hoping for better to comeโ€™ is the best thing youโ€™ve said, though โ€˜your mammaโ€™ is not bad either. Come then, what do you say? Is he fully conscious, eh?โ€

โ€œThatโ€™s all right. If only he can sign this little paper.โ€

โ€œHe can scrawl his name. Have you got the book?โ€

โ€œYes, hereโ€™s the book.โ€

โ€œGive it to me. Here, Rodya, sit up. Iโ€™ll hold you. Take the pen and scribble โ€˜Raskolnikovโ€™ for him. For just now, brother, money is sweeter to us than treacle.โ€

โ€œI donโ€™t want it,โ€ said Raskolnikov, pushing away the pen.

โ€œNot want it?โ€

โ€œI wonโ€™t sign it.โ€

โ€œHow the devil can you do without signing it?โ€

โ€œI donโ€™t want… the money.โ€

โ€œDonโ€™t want the money! Come, brother, thatโ€™s nonsense, I bear witness. Donโ€™t trouble, please, itโ€™s only that he is on his travels again. But thatโ€™s pretty common with him at all times though…. You are a man of judgment and we will take him in hand, that is, more simply, take his hand and he will sign it. Here.โ€

โ€œBut I can come another time.โ€

โ€œNo, no. Why should we trouble you? You are a man of judgment…. Now, Rodya, donโ€™t keep your visitor, you see he is waiting,โ€ and he made ready to hold Raskolnikovโ€™s hand in earnest.

โ€œStop, Iโ€™ll do it alone,โ€ said the latter, taking the pen and signing his name.

The messenger took out the money and went away.

โ€œBravo! And now, brother, are you hungry?โ€

โ€œYes,โ€ answered Raskolnikov.

โ€œIs there any soup?โ€

โ€œSome of yesterdayโ€™s,โ€ answered Nastasya, who was still standing there.

โ€œWith potatoes and rice in it?โ€

โ€œYes.โ€

โ€œI know it by heart. Bring soup and give us some tea.โ€

โ€œVery well.โ€

Raskolnikov looked at all this with profound astonishment and a dull, unreasoning terror. He made up his mind to keep quiet and see what would happen. โ€œI believe I am not wandering. I believe itโ€™s reality,โ€ he thought.

In a couple of minutes Nastasya returned with the soup, and announced that the tea would be ready directly. With the soup she brought two spoons, two plates, salt, pepper, mustard for the beef, and so on. The table was set as it had not been for a long time. The cloth was clean.

โ€œIt would not be amiss, Nastasya, if Praskovya Pavlovna were to send us up a couple of bottles of beer. We could empty them.โ€

โ€œWell, you are a cool hand,โ€ muttered Nastasya, and she departed to carry out his orders.

Raskolnikov still gazed wildly with strained attention. Meanwhile Razumihin sat down on the sofa beside him, as clumsily as a bear put his left arm round Raskolnikovโ€™s head, although he was able to sit up, and with his right hand gave him a spoonful of soup, blowing on it that it might not burn him. But the soup was only just warm. Raskolnikov swallowed one spoonful greedily, then a second, then a third. But after giving him a few more spoonfuls of soup, Razumihin suddenly stopped, and said that he must ask Zossimov whether he ought to have more.

Nastasya came in with two bottles of beer.

โ€œAnd will you have tea?โ€

โ€œYes.โ€

โ€œCut along, Nastasya, and bring some tea, for tea we may venture on without the faculty. But here is the beer!โ€ He moved back to his chair, pulled the soup and meat in front of him, and began eating as though he had not touched food for three days.

โ€œI must tell you, Rodya, I dine like this here every day now,โ€ he mumbled with his mouth full of beef, โ€œand itโ€™s all Pashenka, your dear little landlady, who sees to that; she loves to do anything for me. I donโ€™t ask for it, but, of course, I donโ€™t object. And hereโ€™s Nastasya with the tea. She is a quick girl. Nastasya, my dear, wonโ€™t you have some beer?โ€

โ€œGet along with your nonsense!โ€

โ€œA cup of tea, then?โ€

โ€œA cup of tea, maybe.โ€

โ€œPour it out. Stay, Iโ€™ll pour it out myself. Sit down.โ€

He poured out two cups, left his dinner, and sat on the sofa again. As before, he put his left arm round the sick manโ€™s head, raised him up and gave him tea in spoonfuls, again blowing each spoonful steadily and earnestly, as though this process was the principal and most effective means towards his friendโ€™s recovery. Raskolnikov said nothing and made no resistance, though he felt quite strong enough to sit up on the sofa without support and could not merely have held a cup or a spoon, but even perhaps could have walked about. But from some queer, almost animal, cunning he conceived the idea of hiding his strength and lying low for a time, pretending if necessary not to be yet in full possession of his faculties, and meanwhile listening to find out what was going on. Yet he could not overcome his sense of repugnance. After sipping a dozen spoonfuls of tea, he suddenly released his head, pushed the spoon away capriciously, and sank back on the pillow. There were actually real pillows under his head now, down pillows in clean cases, he observed that, too, and took note of it.

โ€œPashenka must give us some raspberry jam to-day to make him some raspberry tea,โ€ said Razumihin, going back to his chair and attacking his soup and beer again.

โ€œAnd where is she to get raspberries for you?โ€ asked Nastasya, balancing a saucer on her five outspread fingers and sipping tea through a lump of sugar.

โ€œSheโ€™ll get it at the shop, my dear. You see, Rodya, all sorts of things have been happening while you have been laid up. When you decamped in that rascally way without leaving your address, I felt so angry that I resolved to find you out and punish you. I set to work that very day. How I ran about making inquiries for you! This lodging of yours I had forgotten, though I never remembered it, indeed, because I did not know it; and as for your old lodgings, I could only remember it was at the Five Corners, Harlamovโ€™s house. I kept trying to find that Harlamovโ€™s house, and afterwards it turned out that it was not Harlamovโ€™s, but Buchโ€™s. How one muddles up sound sometimes! So I lost my temper, and I went on the chance to the address bureau next day, and only fancy, in two minutes they looked you up! Your name is down there.โ€

โ€œMy name!โ€

โ€œI should think so; and yet a General Kobelev they could not find while I was there. Well, itโ€™s a long story. But as soon as I did land on this place, I soon got to know all your affairsโ€”all, all, brother, I know everything; Nastasya here will tell you. I made the acquaintance of Nikodim Fomitch and Ilya Petrovitch, and the house-porter and Mr. Zametov, Alexandr Grigorievitch, the head clerk in the police office, and, last, but not least, of Pashenka; Nastasya here knows….โ€

โ€œHeโ€™s got round her,โ€ Nastasya murmured, smiling slyly.

โ€œWhy donโ€™t you put the sugar in your tea, Nastasya Nikiforovna?โ€

โ€œYou are a one!โ€ Nastasya cried suddenly, going off into a giggle. โ€œI am not Nikiforovna, but Petrovna,โ€ she added suddenly, recovering from her mirth.

โ€œIโ€™ll make a note of it. Well, brother, to make a long story short, I was going in for a regular explosion here to uproot all malignant influences in the locality, but Pashenka won the day. I had not expected, brother, to find her so… prepossessing. Eh, what do you think?โ€

Raskolnikov did not speak, but he still kept his eyes fixed upon him, full of alarm.

โ€œAnd all that could be wished, indeed, in every respect,โ€ Razumihin went on, not at all embarrassed by his silence.

โ€œAh, the sly dog!โ€ Nastasya shrieked again. This conversation afforded her unspeakable delight.

โ€œItโ€™s a pity, brother, that you did not set to work in the right way at first. You ought to have approached her differently. She is, so to speak, a most unaccountable character. But we will talk about her character later…. How could you let things come to such a pass that she gave up sending you your dinner? And that I O U? You must have been mad to sign an I O U. And that promise of marriage when her daughter, Natalya Yegorovna, was alive?… I know all about it! But I see thatโ€™s a delicate matter and I am an ass; forgive me. But, talking of foolishness, do you know Praskovya Pavlovna is not nearly so foolish as you would think at first sight?โ€

โ€œNo,โ€ mumbled Raskolnikov, looking away, but feeling that it was better to keep up the conversation.

โ€œShe isnโ€™t, is she?โ€ cried Razumihin, delighted to get an answer out of him. โ€œBut she is not very clever either, eh? She is essentially, essentially an unaccountable character! I am sometimes quite at a loss, I assure you…. She must be forty; she says she is thirty-six, and of course she has every right to say so. But I swear I judge her intellectually, simply from the metaphysical point of view; there is a sort of symbolism sprung up between us, a sort of algebra or what not! I donโ€™t understand it! Well, thatโ€™s all nonsense. Only, seeing that you are not a student now and have lost your lessons and your clothes, and that through the young ladyโ€™s death she has no need to treat you as a relation, she suddenly took fright; and as you hid in your den and dropped all your old relations with her, she planned to get rid of you. And sheโ€™s been cherishing that design a long time, but was sorry to lose the I O U, for you assured her yourself that your mother would pay.โ€

โ€œIt was base of me to say that…. My mother herself is almost a beggar… and I told a lie to keep my lodging… and be fed,โ€ Raskolnikov said loudly and distinctly.

โ€œYes, you did very sensibly. But the worst of it is that at that point Mr. Tchebarov turns up, a business man. Pashenka would never have thought of doing anything on her own account, she is too retiring; but the business man is by no means retiring, and first thing he puts the question, โ€˜Is there any hope of realising the I O U?โ€™ Answer: there is, because he has a mother who would save her Rodya with her hundred and twenty-five roubles pension, if she has to starve herself; and a sister, too, who would go into bondage for his sake. Thatโ€™s what he was building upon…. Why do you start? I know all the ins and outs of your affairs now, my dear boyโ€”itโ€™s not for nothing that you were so open with Pashenka when you were her prospective son-in-law, and I say all this as a friend…. But I tell you what it is; an honest and sensitive man is open; and a business man โ€˜listens and goes on eatingโ€™ you up. Well, then she gave the I O U by way of payment to this Tchebarov, and without hesitation he made a formal demand for payment. When I heard of all this I wanted to blow him up, too, to clear my conscience, but by that time harmony reigned between me and Pashenka, and I insisted on stopping the whole affair, engaging that you would pay. I went security for you, brother. Do you understand? We called Tchebarov, flung him ten roubles and got the I O U back from him, and here I have the honour of presenting it to you. She trusts your word now. Here, take it, you see I have torn it.โ€

Razumihin put the note on the table. Raskolnikov looked at him and turned to the wall without uttering a word. Even Razumihin felt a twinge.

โ€œI see, brother,โ€ he said a moment later, โ€œthat I have been playing the fool again. I thought I should amuse you with my chatter, and I believe I have only made you cross.โ€

โ€œWas it you I did not recognise when I was delirious?โ€ Raskolnikov asked, after a momentโ€™s pause without turning his head.

โ€œYes, and you flew into a rage about it, especially when I brought Zametov one day.โ€

โ€œZametov? The head clerk? What for?โ€ Raskolnikov turned round quickly and fixed his eyes on Razumihin.

โ€œWhatโ€™s the matter with you?… What are you upset about? He wanted to make your acquaintance because I talked to him a lot about you…. How could I have found out so much except from him? He is a capital fellow, brother, first-rate… in his own way, of course. Now we are friendsโ€”see each other almost every day. I have moved into this part, you know. I have only just moved. Iโ€™ve been with him to Luise Ivanovna once or twice…. Do you remember Luise, Luise Ivanovna?

โ€œDid I say anything in delirium?โ€

โ€œI should think so! You were beside yourself.โ€

โ€œWhat did I rave about?โ€

โ€œWhat next? What did you rave about? What people do rave about…. Well, brother, now I must not lose time. To work.โ€ He got up from the table and took up his cap.

โ€œWhat did I rave about?โ€

โ€œHow he keeps on! Are you afraid of having let out some secret? Donโ€™t worry yourself; you said nothing about a countess. But you said a lot about a bulldog, and about ear-rings and chains, and about Krestovsky Island, and some porter, and Nikodim Fomitch and Ilya Petrovitch, the assistant superintendent. And another thing that was of special interest to you was your own sock. You whined, โ€˜Give me my sock.โ€™ Zametov hunted all about your room for your socks, and with his own scented, ring-bedecked fingers he gave you the rag. And only then were you comforted, and for the next twenty-four hours you held the wretched thing in your hand; we could not get it from you. It is most likely somewhere under your quilt at this moment. And then you asked so piteously for fringe for your trousers. We tried to find out what sort of fringe, but we could not make it out. Now to business! Here are thirty-five roubles; I take ten of them, and shall give you an account of them in an hour or two. I will let Zossimov know at the same time, though he ought to have been here long ago, for it is nearly twelve. And you, Nastasya, look in pretty often while I am away, to see whether he wants a drink or anything else. And I will tell Pashenka what is wanted myself. Good-bye!โ€

โ€œHe calls her Pashenka! Ah, heโ€™s a deep one!โ€ said Nastasya as he went out; then she opened the door and stood listening, but could not resist running downstairs after him. She was very eager to hear what he would say to the landlady. She was evidently quite fascinated by Razumihin.

No sooner had she left the room than the sick man flung off the bedclothes and leapt out of bed like a madman. With burning, twitching impatience he had waited for them to be gone so that he might set to work. But to what work? Now, as though to spite him, it eluded him.

โ€œGood God, only tell me one thing: do they know of it yet or not? What if they know it and are only pretending, mocking me while I am laid up, and then they will come in and tell me that itโ€™s been discovered long ago and that they have only… What am I to do now? Thatโ€™s what Iโ€™ve forgotten, as though on purpose; forgotten it all at once, I remembered a minute ago.โ€

He stood in the middle of the room and gazed in miserable bewilderment about him; he walked to the door, opened it, listened; but that was not what he wanted. Suddenly, as though recalling something, he rushed to the corner where there was a hole under the paper, began examining it, put his hand into the hole, fumbledโ€”but that was not it. He went to the stove, opened it and began rummaging in the ashes; the frayed edges of his trousers and the rags cut off his pocket were lying there just as he had thrown them. No one had looked, then! Then he remembered the sock about which Razumihin had just been telling him. Yes, there it lay on the sofa under the quilt, but it was so covered with dust and grime that Zametov could not have seen anything on it.

โ€œBah, Zametov! The police office! And why am I sent for to the police office? Whereโ€™s the notice? Bah! I am mixing it up; that was then. I looked at my sock then, too, but now… now I have been ill. But what did Zametov come for? Why did Razumihin bring him?โ€ he muttered, helplessly sitting on the sofa again. โ€œWhat does it mean? Am I still in delirium, or is it real? I believe it is real…. Ah, I remember; I must escape! Make haste to escape. Yes, I must, I must escape! Yes… but where? And where are my clothes? Iโ€™ve no boots. Theyโ€™ve taken them away! Theyโ€™ve hidden them! I understand! Ah, here is my coatโ€”they passed that over! And here is money on the table, thank God! And hereโ€™s the I O U… Iโ€™ll take the money and go and take another lodging. They wonโ€™t find me!… Yes, but the address bureau? Theyโ€™ll find me, Razumihin will find me. Better escape altogether… far away… to America, and let them do their worst! And take the I O U… it would be of use there…. What else shall I take? They think I am ill! They donโ€™t know that I can walk, ha-ha-ha! I could see by their eyes that they know all about it! If only I could get downstairs! And what if they have set a watch thereโ€”policemen! Whatโ€™s this tea? Ah, and here is beer left, half a bottle, cold!โ€

He snatched up the bottle, which still contained a glassful of beer, and gulped it down with relish, as though quenching a flame in his breast. But in another minute the beer had gone to his head, and a faint and even pleasant shiver ran down his spine. He lay down and pulled the quilt over him. His sick and incoherent thoughts grew more and more disconnected, and soon a light, pleasant drowsiness came upon him. With a sense of comfort he nestled his head into the pillow, wrapped more closely about him the soft, wadded quilt which had replaced the old, ragged greatcoat, sighed softly and sank into a deep, sound, refreshing sleep.

He woke up, hearing someone come in. He opened his eyes and saw Razumihin standing in the doorway, uncertain whether to come in or not. Raskolnikov sat up quickly on the sofa and gazed at him, as though trying to recall something.

โ€œAh, you are not asleep! Here I am! Nastasya, bring in the parcel!โ€ Razumihin shouted down the stairs. โ€œYou shall have the account directly.โ€

โ€œWhat time is it?โ€ asked Raskolnikov, looking round uneasily.

โ€œYes, you had a fine sleep, brother, itโ€™s almost evening, it will be six oโ€™clock directly. You have slept more than six hours.โ€

โ€œGood heavens! Have I?โ€

โ€œAnd why not? It will do you good. Whatโ€™s the hurry? A tryst, is it? Weโ€™ve all time before us. Iโ€™ve been waiting for the last three hours for you; Iโ€™ve been up twice and found you asleep. Iโ€™ve called on Zossimov twice; not at home, only fancy! But no matter, he will turn up. And Iโ€™ve been out on my own business, too. You know Iโ€™ve been moving to-day, moving with my uncle. I have an uncle living with me now. But thatโ€™s no matter, to business. Give me the parcel, Nastasya. We will open it directly. And how do you feel now, brother?โ€

โ€œI am quite well, I am not ill. Razumihin, have you been here long?โ€

โ€œI tell you Iโ€™ve been waiting for the last three hours.โ€

โ€œNo, before.โ€

โ€œHow do you mean?โ€

โ€œHow long have you been coming here?โ€

โ€œWhy I told you all about it this morning. Donโ€™t you remember?โ€

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

โ€œHm!โ€ said the latter, โ€œhe 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.โ€

He began untying the bundle, which evidently interested him.

โ€œBelieve me, brother, this is something specially near my heart. For we must make a man of you. Letโ€™s begin from the top. Do you see this cap?โ€ he said, taking out of the bundle a fairly good though cheap and ordinary cap. โ€œLet me try it on.โ€

โ€œPresently, afterwards,โ€ said Raskolnikov, waving it off pettishly.

โ€œCome, Rodya, my boy, donโ€™t oppose it, afterwards will be too late; and I shanโ€™t sleep all night, for I bought it by guess, without measure. Just right!โ€ he cried triumphantly, fitting it on, โ€œjust 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 itโ€™s simply because he is ashamed of his birdโ€™s nest; he is such a boastful fellow! Look, Nastasya, here are two specimens of headgear: this Palmerstonโ€โ€”he took from the corner Raskolnikovโ€™s old, battered hat, which for some unknown reason, he called a Palmerstonโ€”โ€œor this jewel! Guess the price, Rodya, what do you suppose I paid for it, Nastasya!โ€ he said, turning to her, seeing that Raskolnikov did not speak.

โ€œTwenty copecks, no more, I dare say,โ€ answered Nastasya.

โ€œTwenty copecks, silly!โ€ he cried, offended. โ€œWhy, nowadays you would cost more than thatโ€”eighty copecks! And that only because it has been worn. And itโ€™s bought on condition that whenโ€™s itโ€™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,โ€ and he exhibited to Raskolnikov a pair of light, summer trousers of grey woollen material. โ€œNo 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, itโ€™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 donโ€™t insist on having asparagus in January, you keep your money in your purse; and itโ€™s the same with this purchase. Itโ€™s summer now, so Iโ€™ve been buying summer thingsโ€”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 Fedyaevโ€™s; if youโ€™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 theyโ€™ll last a couple of months, for itโ€™s foreign work and foreign leather; the secretary of the English Embassy sold them last weekโ€”he had only worn them six days, but he was very short of cash. Priceโ€”a rouble and a half. A bargain?โ€

โ€œBut perhaps they wonโ€™t fit,โ€ observed Nastasya.

โ€œNot fit? Just look!โ€ and he pulled out of his pocket Raskolnikovโ€™s old, broken boot, stiffly coated with dry mud. โ€œI did not go empty-handedโ€”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 suitโ€”together three roubles five copecksโ€”a rouble and a half for the bootsโ€”for, you see, they are very goodโ€”and that makes four roubles fifty-five copecks; five roubles for the underclothesโ€”they were bought in the lotโ€”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 oneโ€™s clothes from Sharmerโ€™s! As for your socks and other things, I leave them to you; weโ€™ve twenty-five roubles left. And as for Pashenka and paying for your lodging, donโ€™t you worry. I tell you sheโ€™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.โ€

โ€œLet me be! I donโ€™t want to!โ€ Raskolnikov waved him off. He had listened with disgust to Razumihinโ€™s efforts to be playful about his purchases.

โ€œCome, brother, donโ€™t tell me Iโ€™ve been trudging around for nothing,โ€ Razumihin insisted. โ€œNastasya, donโ€™t be bashful, but help meโ€”thatโ€™s it,โ€ and in spite of Raskolnikovโ€™s resistance he changed his linen. The latter sank back on the pillows and for a minute or two said nothing.

โ€œIt will be long before I get rid of them,โ€ he thought. โ€œWhat money was all that bought with?โ€ he asked at last, gazing at the wall.

โ€œMoney? Why, your own, what the messenger brought from Vahrushin, your mother sent it. Have you forgotten that, too?โ€

โ€œI remember now,โ€ said Raskolnikov after a long, sullen silence. Razumihin looked at him, frowning and uneasy.

The door opened and a tall, stout man whose appearance seemed familiar to Raskolnikov came in.

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