Текст книги "Crime and Punishment"
Автор книги: Fyodor Dostoevsky
Соавторы: Fyodor Dostoevsky
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Классическая проза
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II
Raskolnikov was not used to crowds and, as has already been mentioned, fled all company, especially of late. But now something suddenly drew him to people. Something new was happening in him, as it were, and with that a certain thirst for people made itself felt. After a whole month of this concentrated anguish, this gloomy excitement of his, he was so tired out that he wished, if only for a moment, to draw a breath in another world, whatever it might be, and, despite all the filthiness of the situation, it was with pleasure that he now went on sitting in the tavern.
The proprietor of the establishment was in another room, but frequently came into the main room, descending a flight of stairs from somewhere, his foppish black boots with their wide red tops appearing first. He was wearing a long-skirted coat and a terribly greasy black satin waistcoat, with no necktie, and his whole face was as if oiled like an iron padlock. Behind the counter was a lad of about fourteen, and there was another younger lad who served when anything was asked for. There were chopped pickles, dry black bread, and fish cut into pieces, all quite evil-smelling. It was so stuffy that it was almost impossible to sit there, and everything was so saturated with wine-smell that it seemed one could get drunk in five minutes from the air alone.
We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken. Such was precisely the impression made on Raskolnikov by the guest who sat apart and looked like a retired official. Later the young man recalled this first impression more than once and even ascribed it to a presentiment. He kept glancing at the official, also no doubt because the latter was looking persistently at him, and one could see that he very much wanted to start a conversation. But at the others in the tavern, not excluding the proprietor, the official looked somehow habitually and even with boredom, and at the same time also with a certain shade of haughty disdain, as at people of lower position and development with whom he saw no point in talking. He was a man already past fifty, of average height and solid build, with some gray in his hair and a large bald spot, with a yellow, even greenish, face, swollen from constant drinking, and with puffy eyelids behind which his reddish eyes shone, tiny as slits, but lively. Yet there was something very strange in him; his eyes seemed even to be lit with rapture—perhaps there were sense and reason as well, but at the same time there seemed also to be a flicker of madness in them. He was dressed in an old, completely ragged black frock coat, which had shed all its buttons. Only one still somehow hung on, and this one he kept buttoned, obviously not wishing to shirk convention. From under his nankeen waistcoat a shirtfront stuck out, all crumpled, soiled, and stained. His face had been shaved in official style, but a good while ago, so that thick, blue-gray bristles were beginning to show on it. And there was indeed something solidly official in his ways. Yet he was agitated, kept ruffling his hair, and every once in a while leaned his head on his hands in anguish, resting his torn elbows on the spilt-upon and sticky table. Finally he looked straight at Raskolnikov and said loudly and firmly:
“May I venture, my dear sir, to engage you in a conversation of decency? For though you are not of important aspect, my experience nevertheless distinguishes in you an educated man, and one unaccustomed to drink. I myself have always respected education, coupled with the feelings of the heart, and moreover I am a titular councillor. [2]2
There were nine grades of councillors in the Russian civil service; titular councillor was the ninth, or lowest.
[Закрыть] Marmeladov—such is my name—titular councillor. May I venture to ask whether you have been in government service?”
“No, studying . . .” the young man replied, surprised partly at the peculiarly ornate turn of speech and partly at being addressed so directly, point-blank. In spite of his recent momentary wish for at least some communion with people, at the first word actually addressed to him he suddenly felt his usual unpleasant and irritable feeling of loathing towards any stranger who touched or merely wanted to touch his person.
“A student, then, or a former student!” [3]3
It was customary for Russians to identify themselves formally by giving their social "rank" as well as their name. "Student"—and thus "former student"—was such a rank. The reader will find mention of ranks throughout C&P.The lowest was "simple person" or peasant; "tradesman" was a bit higher; and so on.
[Закрыть] the official cried. “Just as I thought! Experience, my dear sir, oft-repeated experience!” And he put his finger to his forehead in a sign of self-praise. “You were a student, or were engaged in some scholarly pursuit! Allow me . . .” He rose slightly, swayed, picked up his little crock and glass, and sat himself down with the young man, somewhat catercorner to him. He was drunk, but spoke loquaciously and glibly, only now and then getting a bit confused in places and dragging out his speech. He even fell upon Raskolnikov with a sort of greediness, as though he, too, had not talked to anyone for a whole month.
“My dear sir,” he began almost solemnly, “poverty is no vice, that is the truth. I know that drunkenness is also no virtue, and that is even more so. But destitution, my dear sir, destitution is a vice, sir. In poverty you may still preserve the nobility of your inborn feelings, but in destitution no one ever does. For destitution one does not even get driven out of human company with a stick; one is swept out with a broom, to make it more insulting; and justly so, for in destitution I am the first to insult myself. Hence the drinking! My dear sir, a month ago Mr. Lebezyatnikov gave my wife a beating, and my wife is a far cry from me! Do you understand, sir? Allow me to ask you something else, if only for the sake of curiosity: did you ever happen to spend your nights on the Neva, on the hay barges?” [4]4
The hay barges on the Neva were well known in Petersburg during the 1860s as a place where beggars and bums spent the night.
[Закрыть]
“No, never,” Raskolnikov replied. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, sir, but that's where I've come from, and it's already the fifth night, sir . . .”
He poured himself a glass, drank it, and lapsed into thought. Indeed, one could see bits of hay stuck here and there on his clothes and even in his hair. It was quite possible that he had not undressed and washed for five days. His hands were especially dirty—greasy, red, with black under the nails.
His conversation seemed to arouse general, if lax, attention. The lads at the counter began to snigger. It seemed the proprietor came down from the upstairs room on purpose to listen to the “funnyman,” and sat some distance away, occasionally yawning lazily but grandly. It was obvious that Marmeladov had long been a familiar there. And his penchant for ornate speech he had probably acquired as a result of his habit of frequent tavern conversation with various strangers. This habit turns into a necessity for certain drunkards, mostly those who are treated harshly and ordered about at home. Hence, in a company of drinkers, they always seem eager to solicit justification for themselves and, if possible, even respect as well.
“Funnyman,” the proprietor said loudly. “And why don't you work, why don't you serve, since you're an official?”
“Why do I not serve, my dear sir?” Marmeladov picked up, addressing Raskolnikov exclusively, as if it were he who had asked the question. “Why do I not serve? And does my heart not ache over this vain groveling? When Mr. Lebezyatnikov gave my wife a beating a month ago, with his own hands, while I was lying there in my cups, did I not suffer? Excuse me, young man, has it ever happened to you...hm...let's say, to ask hopelessly for a loan of money?”
“It's happened...that is, what do you mean by hopelessly?”
“That is, completely hopelessly, sir, knowing beforehand that nothing will come of it. Say, for example, you know beforehand and thoroughly well that this man, this most well-intentioned and most useful citizen, will under no circumstances give you any money—for why should he, may I ask? He knows I won't repay it. Out of compassion? But Mr. Lebezyatnikov, who follows all the new ideas, explained the other day that in our time compassion is even forbidden by science, as is already happening in England, where they have political economy. Why, then, should he give, may I ask? And so, knowing beforehand that he will not give anything, you still set out on your way and . . .”
“But why go?” Raskolnikov put in.
“And what if there is no one else, if there is nowhere else to go! It is necessary that every man have at least somewhere to go. For there are times when one absolutely must go at least somewhere! When my only-begotten daughter went out for the first time with a yellow pass, [5]5
The "yellow pass" was an official certificate issued to prostitutes.
[Закрыть] and I went, too, then...(for my daughter lives on a yellow pass, sir...),” he added parenthetically, glancing somewhat worriedly at the young man. “Never mind, my dear sir, never mind!” he hastened to declare at once and with apparent calm, when both lads at the counter snorted and the proprietor himself smiled.
“Never mind, sir. I am not troubled by this wagging of heads, for everything is already known to everyone, and everything hidden will be made manifest; [6]6
See Matthew 10:26: "there is nothing covered, that shall not be revealed; and hid, that shall not be known."
[Закрыть] I regard it not with disdain, but with humility. Let it be! Let it be! 'Behold the man!' [7]7
Pontius Pilate's words about Christ; see John 19:5.
[Закрыть] Excuse me, young man, but can you...Or, no, to expound it more forcefully and more expressively: not canyou, but would you venture,looking upon me at this hour, to say of me affirmatively that I am not a swine?”
The young man did not answer a word.
“Well, sir,” the orator went on, having waited sedately and this time with greater dignity for the renewed sniggering in the room to die down. “Well, sir, so I am a swine, and she is a lady! I have the image of a beast, and Katerina Ivanovna, my spouse, is an educated person and by birth an officer's daughter. Granted, granted I am a scoundrel, while she has a lofty heart and is full of sentiments ennobled by good breeding. And yet. .. oh, if only she felt pity for me! My dear sir, my dear sir, but it is necessary that every man have at least one such place where he, too, is pitied! And Katerina Ivanovna, though she is a magnanimous lady, is unjust... And though I myself understand that when she pulls me by these tufts of mine, she does it for no other reason than her heart's pity—for, I repeat it without embarrassment, she does pull these tufts of mine, young man,” he confirmed with increased dignity, having heard more sniggering, “but, God, if she would only just once...But no! no! it is all in vain, and there is no use talking, no use talking! ... for my wish has already been granted more than once, and already more than once I have been pitied, but...such is my trait, and I am a born brute!”
“That you are!” the proprietor remarked, yawning.
Marmeladov banged his fist resolutely on the table.
“Such is my trait! Do you know, do you know, sir, that I even drank up her stockings? Not her shoes, sir, for that would at least somehow resemble the order of things, but her stockings, I drank up her stockings, sir! Her angora kerchief I also drank up—a gift, a former one, hers, not mine; and our corner is cold, and this winter she caught a chill and took to coughing, with blood now. And we have three small children, and Katerina Ivanovna works day and night, scrubbing and cleaning and washing the children, for she has been used to cleanliness since childhood, and she has a weak chest and is inclined to consumption, and I feel it. Do I not feel it? And the more I drink, the more I feel it. It is for this I drink, that in drinking I may seek compassion and feeling. It is not joy I seek, but sorrow only...I drink, for I wish doubly to suffer!” And he bent his head to the table as if in despair. “Young man,” he continued, unbending again, “in your face I read, as it were, a certain sorrow. I read it when you entered, and therefore I addressed you at once. For by telling you the story of my life, I do not wish to expose myself to disgrace before these lovers of idleness, who know everything anyway, but am seeking a sensitive and educated man. Know, then, that my spouse was educated in an aristocratic provincial institute for the nobility and at her graduation danced with a shawl before the governor and other notables, [8]8
Dancing with a shawl was an honor granted to the most successful students of girls' boarding schools at graduation.
[Закрыть] for which she received a gold medal and a certificate of merit. The medal...well, we sold the medal...long ago...hm...the certificate of merit is still lying in her trunk, she showed it to our landlady just recently. And though she is in the most ceaseless strife with our landlady, still she wished to feel proud before someone at least and to tell of the happy days gone by. And I do not judge, I do not judge, for this is the last thing left to her in her memories, and the rest has all gone to ruin! Yes, yes, she is a hot, proud, and unbending lady. She washes the floors herself and eats black bread, but disrespect for herself she will not tolerate. That is why she would not let Mr. Lebezyatnikov get away with his rudeness, and when Mr. Lebezyatnikov gave her a beating for it, she took to her bed, not so much from the beating as from emotion. She came to me already a widow, with three children, each one smaller than the next. She had married her first husband, an infantry officer, out of love, and eloped with him from her parental home. She loved her husband exceedingly, but he got into card-playing, was taken to court, and thereupon died. He used to beat her towards the end; and though she would not let him get away with it, as I am informed of a certainty and with documents, yet to this day she remembers him with tears and holds him up to me in reproach—and I am glad, I am glad, for at least in her imaginings she beholds herself as having once been happy...And after him she was left with three young children in a remote and savage district, where I was living at the time, and she was left in such hopeless destitution as I, though my adventures have been many and varied, am scarcely able to describe. And her relations had all renounced her. Besides, she was proud, much too proud...And it was then, my dear sir, it was then that I, being a widower myself, and having a fourteen-year-old daughter from my first wife, offered her my hand, for I could not look on at such suffering. You may judge thereby what degree her calamities had reached, if she, well educated and well bred, and of a known family, consented to marry me! But she did! Weeping and sobbing and wringing her hands—she did! For she had nowhere to go. Do you understand, do you understand, my dear sir, what it means when there is no longer anywhere to go? No! That you do not understand yet...And for a whole year I fulfilled my duties piously and sacredly and did not touch this” (he jabbed a finger at his bottle), “for I do have feelings. But even so I could not please her; and then I lost my position, also through no fault of my own, but because of a change of staff, and then I did touch it! ... It is now a year and a half since we finally ended up, after much wandering and numerous calamities, in this splendid capital adorned with numerous monuments. And here I found a position...Found it, and lost it again. Do you understand, sir? This time I lost it through my own fault, for this trait of mine appeared again...We now live in a corner at Amalia Fyodorovna Lippewechsel's, and what we live on and pay with I do not know. [9]9
It was possible to "live in a corner," that is, to rent only part of a room, though Marmeladov turns out to be renting a whole room from Mrs. Lippewechsel.
[Закрыть] There are many others living there besides ourselves...A Sodom, sir, a most outrageous one...hm...yes... And meanwhile my daughter from my first marriage also grew up, and what she had to suffer from her stepmother while she was growing up, that I shall pass over in silence. For though Katerina Ivanovna is filled with magnanimous feelings, she is a hot and irritable lady, and an abrupt one...Yes, sir! Well, no use going over that! Sonya, as you can imagine, received no education. I tried four years ago to teach her geography and world history; but since I myself was not firm in this knowledge, and there were besides no suitable textbooks, for whatever books we had left. . . hm! ... well, there are no books anymore, so that was the end of all education. We stopped at Cyrus of Persia. [10]10
Cyrus the Great (600?-529 b.c.), king of Persia from 550-529, founder of the Persian empire.
[Закрыть] Later, having reached maturity, she read several books of a novelistic purport, and recently, thanks to Mr. Lebezyatnikov, one more book—Lewes's Physiology, [11]11
A Russian translation of The Physiology of Everyday Life,by the English philosopher and critic George Henry Lewes (1817-78), was published in Moscow in 1861. Dostoevsky owned a copy of the second edition. The book, influenced by the thought of the French positivist Auguste Comte (1798-1857), suited the practical-minded tastes of the time and was especially popular among progressive young women.
[Закрыть] perhaps you know it, sir?—read it with great interest and even recited some extracts aloud for us: that is the whole of her enlightenment. And now, my dear sir, I will address you with a private question of my own: how much, in your opinion, can a poor but honest girl earn by honest labor?... Not even fifteen kopecks a day, sir, if she is honest and has no special talents, and even then only if her hands are never still for a moment. And even then the state councillor [12]12
State councillor was the fifth grade of councillors in the civil service; a fairly high position.
[Закрыть] Klopstock, Ivan Ivanovich—perhaps you've heard of him?—has not only still not paid for the half dozen holland shirts she made him, but even offended her and chased her away, stamping his feet and calling her bad names, on the pretext that the collars were the wrong size and too pointed. And here the children were hungry...And here Katerina Ivanovna was pacing the room, wringing her hands, and flushed spots came out on her cheeks—as always happens with this illness: 'You live with us,' she says, 'you good-for-nothing, you eat and drink and use up warmth'—and what is there to eat and drink, if even the children don't see a crust of bread for three days on end! I was lying there...well, what of it! ... lying there in my cups, sir, and I heard Sonya say (she's uncomplaining, and has such a meek little voice...she's fair, her face is always so pale, thin), and so she said, 'What, Katerina Ivanovna, must I really go and do such a thing?' And Darya Frantsevna, an ill-meaning woman and one oft-known to the police, had already made inquiries three times through the landlady. 'And what,' Katerina Ivanovna answered mockingly, 'what's there to save? Some treasure!' But do not blame her, do not blame her, my dear sir, do not blame her! She said this not in her right mind but in emotional agitation, in sickness, and with the children crying from hunger, and said it, besides, more for the sake of the insult than in any strict sense...For such is Katerina Ivanovna's character, and when the children get to crying, even if it's from hunger, she starts beating them at once. So then, some time after five, I see Sonechka get up, put on her kerchief, put on her wrap, and go out, and she came back home after eight. She came in, went straight to Katerina Ivanovna, and silently laid thirty roubles on the table in front of her. Not a word with it, not even a glance; she just took our big green flannel shawl (we have this one flannel shawl for all of us), covered her head and face with it completely, and lay down on her bed, face to the wall; only her little shoulders and her whole body kept trembling...And I was lying there in the same aspect as previously, sir...And then I saw, young man, after that I saw Katerina Ivanovna go over to Sonechka's bed, also without saying a word, and for the whole evening she stayed kneeling at her feet, kissing her feet, and would not get up, and then they both fell asleep together, embracing each other...both...both...yes, sir...and I...was lying there in my cups, sir.”
Marmeladov fell silent, as though his voice had failed him. Then suddenly he poured a quick glass, drank it, and grunted.
“Since then, my dear sir,” he went on after some silence, “since then, owing to an unfortunate occurrence and reports made by ill-meaning persons—which Darya Frantsevna especially abetted, on the pretext that she had not been shown due respect—since then my daughter, Sofya Semyonovna, has been obliged to carry a yellow pass, and under such circumstances could no longer remain with us. For the landlady, Amalia Fyodorovna, would not allow it (though she herself had abetted Darya Frantsevna before), and Mr. Lebezyatnikov also...hm...It was because of Sonya that this story happened between him and Katerina Ivanovna. First he sought after Sonya himself, but then he suddenly got puffed up: 'What?' he said. 'Is such an enlightened man as myself to live in the same apartment with such a woman?' And Katerina Ivanovna would not let that pass, she interfered...well, so it happened...And now Sonechka comes to us mostly at dusk, and helps Katerina Ivanovna, and brings whatever means she can...But she lives at the tailor Kapernaumov's, she rents a room from him, and Kapernaumov is lame and tongue-tied, and the whole of his extremely numerous family is also tongue-tied. And his wife, too, is tongue-tied...They occupy one room, and Sonya has her own, separately, with a partition...Hm, yes...The poorest people, and all of them tongue-tied...yes...So I got up that next morning, sir, put my rags on, lifted up my hands to heaven, and went to see his excellency, Ivan Afanasyevich. Do you know his excellency, Ivan Afanasyevich? No? Then you have missed knowing a man of God! He is wax...wax before the face of the Lord; as the wax melteth! [13]13
See Psalm 68:2: "as wax melteth before the fire, so let the wicked perish at the presence of God."
[Закрыть] ...He even shed a tear when he heard it all. 'Well, Marmeladov,' he said, 'you have deceived my expectations once already....I am taking you one more time, on my personal responsibility'—that's just what he said. 'Remember that,' he said, 'and now go!' I kissed the dust at his feet—mentally, because in reality he would not have allowed it, being a dignitary, and a man of the new political and educated thinking; I went home again, and when I announced that I had been taken back into the service and would have a salary, Lord, what went on then! . . .”
Marmeladov again stopped in great agitation. At that moment a whole party of drinkers walked in from the street, already drunk to begin with, and from the entrance came the sounds of a hired barrel organ and a child's cracked seven-year-old voice singing “The Little Farm.” [14]14
"The Little Farm" was a popular Russian song of the mid-nineteenth century, with words by A. V. Koltsov (1809-42), a poet of humble origin.
[Закрыть] It became noisy. The proprietor and servants occupied themselves with the newcomers. Marmeladov, ignoring the newcomers, went on with his story. He seemed to have grown quite weak, but the drunker he got, the more loquacious he became. The recollection of his recent success in the service seemed to animate him and was even reflected in his face as a sort of radiance. Raskolnikov listened attentively.
“That was all five weeks ago, sir. Yes...As soon as the two of them, Katerina Ivanovna and Sonechka, found out, Lord, it was just as though I'd moved into the Kingdom of God. I used to lie there like a brute, all I heard was abuse! But now they were tiptoeing around, quieting the children: 'Semyon Zakharych is tired from his work, he's resting, shh!' They brought me coffee before work, with scalded cream! They started getting real cream, do you hear! How they managed to knock together eleven roubles and fifty kopecks to have me decently outfitted, I don't understand. Boots, cotton shirtfronts– most magnificent, a uniform, they cooked it all up for eleven fifty, in the most excellent aspect, sir. The first day I came home after a morning's work, I saw that Katerina Ivanovna had prepared two courses, soup and corned beef with horseradish, which we'd had no notion of before then. She doesn't have any dresses...I mean, not any, sir, and here it was as if she were going to a party, all dressed up, and not just in anything, no, she knows how to do it all out of nothing: she fixed her hair, put on some clean collar, some cuffs, and—quite a different person emerged, younger and prettier. Sonechka, my dove, contributed only money, and as for herself, she said, for the time being it's not proper for me to visit you too often, or only when it's dark, so no one can see me. Do you hear? Do you hear? I went to take a nap after dinner, and what do you suppose? Katerina Ivanovna simply couldn't help herself: just a week earlier she had quarreled to the ultimate degree with the landlady, Amalia Ivodorovna, and now she invited her for a cup of coffee. They sat whispering for two hours: 'So,' she said, 'Semyon Zakharych has work now and is getting a salary, and he went to his excellency himself, and his excellency came out in person, and told everyone to wait, and took Semyon Zakharych by the arm, and led him past everyone into the office.' Do you hear? Do you hear? ' “Of course I remember your merits, Semyon Zakharych, and though you were given to that frivolous weakness, since you have now promised, and, moreover, since without you things have gone badly for us” ' (hear that, hear that!), ' “I shall now place my hopes,” he said, “in your gentleman's word” '—that is, I must tell you, she up and invented it all, and not really out of frivolousness, not merely to boast, sir! No, she believed it all, she delights in her own fancies, by God, sir! And I do not condemn that, no, I do not condemn it! ... And six days ago, when I brought home my first salary—twenty-three roubles and forty kopecks—brought it in full, she called me a sweet little thing: 'You sweet little thing!' she said. We were by ourselves, sir, you understand. And what sort of beauty would you say is in me, and what sort of husband am I? But no, she pinched my cheek and said, 'You sweet little thing!’”
Marmeladov stopped, wanted to smile, but suddenly his chin began to tremble. He restrained himself, however. The pot-house, the depraved look of the man, the five nights on the hay barges, the half-litre bottle, and at the same time this morbid love for his wife and family, bewildered his listener. Raskolnikov listened tensely, but with a morbid sensation. He was annoyed that he had stopped at the place.
“My dear sir, my dear sir!” Marmeladov exclaimed, recovering himself. “Oh, sir, perhaps it's all just a laughing matter for you, as it is for everyone else, and I am merely bothering you with the foolishness of all these measly details of my domestic life, but for me it's no laughing matter! For I can feel it all... And in the course of that whole paradisal day of my life and of that whole evening I spent in fleeting dreams– that is, how I would arrange it all, and would dress the children, and would give her peace, and would bring back my only-begotten daughter from dishonor into the bosom of the family...And so much, so much...It's permissible, sir. And then, my dear sir” (Marmeladov suddenly gave a sort of start, raised his head, and looked straight at his listener), “and then, sir, the very next day after all those dreams (that is, exactly five days ago), towards evening, by means of cunning deceit, like a thief in the night, I stole the key to Katerina Ivanovna's trunk from her, took out all that remained of the salary I had brought home, I don't remember how much, and now, sir, look at me, all of you! Five days away from home, they're looking for me there, and it's the end of my service, and my uniform is lying in a tavern near the Egyptian Bridge, and these garments I received in exchange for it...and it is the end of everything!”
Marmeladov struck himself on the forehead with his fist, clenched his teeth, closed his eyes, and leaned heavily on the table with his elbow. But a moment later his face suddenly changed and, glancing at Raskolnikov with a certain affected coyness and forced insolence, he laughed and said:
“And today I went to see Sonya and asked her for the hair of the dog! ... Heh, heh, heh!”
“Did she give it to you?” one of the newcomers shouted from the side, shouted and guffawed at the top of his lungs.
“This very bottle here was bought on her money, sir,” Marmeladov said, addressing Raskolnikov exclusively. “She took out thirty kopecks for me, with her own hands, the last she had, I saw it myself...She didn't say anything, she just looked at me silently...That is not done on earth, but up there...people are grieved for, wept over, and not reproached, not reproached! And it hurts more, it hurts more, sir, when one is not reproached! . .. Thirty kopecks, yes, sir. And doesn't she also need them now, eh? What do you think, my dear gentlemen? For she has to observe her cleanliness now. This cleanliness—of a special sort, you understand—costs money. Understand? And to buy a bit of pomade as well, can't do without that, sir; starched petticoats, some shoes of a frippery sort to show off her foot when she steps over a puddle. Do you understand, do you understand, sir, what this cleanliness means? So, sir, and now I, her blood father, snatched, these thirty kopecks for the hair of the dog! And I'm drinking, sir! And I've already drunk them up, sir! ... So, who's going to pity the likes of me? Eh? Do you pity me now, sir, or do you not? Speak, sir, do you or do you not? Heh, heh, heh, heh!”
He wanted to pour some more, but there was nothing left. The bottle was empty.
“Why pity you?” shouted the proprietor, who turned up near them again.
There was laughter and even swearing. The laughter and swearing came both from those who were listening and from those who were not listening but merely looking at the figure of the retired official.
“Pity! Why pity me!” Marmeladov suddenly cried out, rising with his hand stretched forth, in decided inspiration, as if he had only been waiting for these words. “Why pity me, you say? Yes! There's nothing to pity me for! I ought to be crucified, crucified on a cross, and not pitied! But crucify, judge, crucify, and having crucified, pity the man! And then I myself will come to you to be crucified, for I thirst not for joy, but for sorrow and tears! ... Do you think, wine-merchant, that this bottle of yours brought me sweetness? Sorrow, sorrow I sought at its bottom, sorrow and tears, and I tasted it and found it; and He will pity us who pitied everyone, and who understood all men and all women, He alone, and He is the judge. On that day He will come and ask, 'Where is the daughter who gave herself for a wicked and consumptive stepmother, for a stranger's little children? Where is the daughter who pitied her earthly father, a foul drunkard, not shrinking from his beastliness?' And He will say, 'Come! I have already forgiven you once...I have forgiven you once...And now, too, your many sins are forgiven, for you have loved much [15]15
See Luke 7:47.
[Закрыть] ...' And He will forgive my Sonya, He will forgive her, I know He will... Today, when I was with her, I felt it in my heart! And He will judge and forgive all, the good and the wicked, the wise and the humble...And when He has finished with everyone, then He will say unto us, too, 'You, too, come forth!' He will say. 'Come forth, my drunk ones, my weak ones, my shameless ones!' And we will all come forth, without being ashamed, and stand there. And He will say, 'Swine you are! Of the image of the beast and of his seal; [16]16
See Revelation 13:15-16.
[Закрыть] but come, you, too!' And the wise and the reasonable will say unto Him, 'Lord, why do you receive such as these?' And He will say, 'I receive them, my wise and reasonable ones, forasmuch as not one of them considered himself worthy of this thing . . .' And He will stretch out His arms to us, and we will fall at His feet. . . and weep...and understand everything! Then we will understand everything! ... and everyone will understand...and Katerina Ivanovna...she, too, will understand...Lord, Thy kingdom come!” [17]17
The second petition of the Lord's Prayer; see Matthew 6:10, Luke 11:2.
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