Part 4 Chapter 1

"Can this be still a dream?" Raskolnikov thought once more.

He looked carefully and suspiciously at the unexpected visitor.

"Svidrigailov! What nonsense! It can't be!" he said at last aloud in bewilderment.

His visitor did not seem at all surprised at this exclamation.

"I've come to you for two reasons. In the first place, I wanted to make your personal acquaintance, as I have already heard a great deal about you that is interesting and flattering; secondly, I cherish the hope that you may not refuse to assist me in a matter directly concerning the welfare of your sister, Avdotya Romanovna. For without your support she might not let me come near her now, for she is prejudiced against me, but with your assistance I reckon on . . ."

"You reckon wrongly," interrupted Raskolnikov.

"They only arrived yesterday, may I ask you?"

Raskolnikov made no reply.

"It was yesterday, I know. I only arrived myself the day before. Well, let me tell you this, Rodion Romanovitch, I don't consider it necessary to justify myself, but kindly tell me what was there particularly criminal on my part in all this business, speaking without prejudice, with common sense?"

Raskolnikov continued to look at him in silence.

"That in my own house I persecuted a defenceless girl and 'insulted her with my infamous proposals'--is that it? (I am anticipating you.) But you've only to assume that I, too, am a man /et nihil humanum/ . . . in a word, that I am capable of being attracted and falling in love (which does not depend on our will), then everything can be explained in the most natural manner. The question is, am I a monster, or am I myself a victim? And what if I am a victim? In proposing to the object of my passion to elope with me to America or Switzerland, I may have cherished the deepest respect for her and may have thought that I was promoting our mutual happiness! Reason is the slave of passion, you know; why, probably, I was doing more harm to myself than anyone!"

"But that's not the point," Raskolnikov interrupted with disgust. "It's simply that whether you are right or wrong, we dislike you. We don't want to have anything to do with you. We show you the door. Go out!"

Svidrigailov broke into a sudden laugh.

"But you're . . . but there's no getting round you," he said, laughing in the frankest way. "I hoped to get round you, but you took up the right line at once!"

"But you are trying to get round me still!"

"What of it? What of it?" cried Svidrigailov, laughing openly. "But this is what the French call /bonne guerre/, and the most innocent form of deception! . . . But still you have interrupted me; one way or another, I repeat again: there would never have been any unpleasantness except for what happened in the garden. Marfa Petrovna . . ."

"You have got rid of Marfa Petrovna, too, so they say?" Raskolnikov interrupted rudely.

"Oh, you've heard that, too, then? You'd be sure to, though. . . . But as for your question, I really don't know what to say, though my own conscience is quite at rest on that score. Don't suppose that I am in any apprehension about it. All was regular and in order; the medical inquiry diagnosed apoplexy due to bathing immediately after a heavy dinner and a bottle of wine, and indeed it could have proved nothing else. But I'll tell you what I have been thinking to myself of late, on my way here in the train, especially: didn't I contribute to all that . . . calamity, morally, in a way, by irritation or something of the sort. But I came to the conclusion that that, too, was quite out of the question."

Raskolnikov laughed.

"I wonder you trouble yourself about it!"

"But what are you laughing at? Only consider, I struck her just twice with a switch--there were no marks even . . . don't regard me as a cynic, please; I am perfectly aware how atrocious it was of me and all that; but I know for certain, too, that Marfa Petrovna was very likely pleased at my, so to say, warmth. The story of your sister had been wrung out to the last drop; for the last three days Marfa Petrovna had been forced to sit at home; she had nothing to show herself with in the town. Besides, she had bored them so with that letter (you heard about her reading the letter). And all of a sudden those two switches fell from heaven! Her first act was to order the carriage to be got out. . . . Not to speak of the fact that there are cases when women are very, very glad to be insulted in spite of all their show of indignation. There are instances of it with everyone; human beings in general, indeed, greatly love to be insulted, have you noticed that? But it's particularly so with women. One might even say it's their only amusement."

At one time Raskolnikov thought of getting up and walking out and so finishing the interview. But some curiosity and even a sort of prudence made him linger for a moment.

"You are fond of fighting?" he asked carelessly.

"No, not very," Svidrigailov answered, calmly. "And Marfa Petrovna and I scarcely ever fought. We lived very harmoniously, and she was always pleased with me. I only used the whip twice in all our seven years (not counting a third occasion of a very ambiguous character). The first time, two months after our marriage, immediately after we arrived in the country, and the last time was that of which we are speaking. Did you suppose I was such a monster, such a reactionary, such a slave driver? Ha, ha! By the way, do you remember, Rodion Romanovitch, how a few years ago, in those days of beneficent publicity, a nobleman, I've forgotten his name, was put to shame everywhere, in all the papers, for having thrashed a German woman in the railway train. You remember? It was in those days, that very year I believe, the 'disgraceful action of the /Age/' took place (you know, 'The Egyptian Nights,' that public reading, you remember? The dark eyes, you know! Ah, the golden days of our youth, where are they?). Well, as for the gentleman who thrashed the German, I feel no sympathy with him, because after all what need is there for sympathy? But I must say that there are sometimes such provoking 'Germans' that I don't believe there is a progressive who could quite answer for himself. No one looked at the subject from that point of view then, but that's the truly humane point of view, I assure you."

After saying this, Svidrigailov broke into a sudden laugh again. Raskolnikov saw clearly that this was a man with a firm purpose in his mind and able to keep it to himself.

"I expect you've not talked to anyone for some days?" he asked.

"Scarcely anyone. I suppose you are wondering at my being such an adaptable man?"

"No, I am only wondering at your being too adaptable a man."

"Because I am not offended at the rudeness of your questions? Is that it? But why take offence? As you asked, so I answered," he replied, with a surprising expression of simplicity. "You know, there's hardly anything I take interest in," he went on, as it were dreamily, "especially now, I've nothing to do. . . . You are quite at liberty to imagine though that I am making up to you with a motive, particularly as I told you I want to see your sister about something. But I'll confess frankly, I am very much bored. The last three days especially, so I am delighted to see you. . . . Don't be angry, Rodion Romanovitch, but you seem to be somehow awfully strange yourself. Say what you like, there's something wrong with you, and now, too . . . not this very minute, I mean, but now, generally. . . . Well, well, I won't, I won't, don't scowl! I am not such a bear, you know, as you think."

Raskolnikov looked gloomily at him.

"You are not a bear, perhaps, at all," he said. "I fancy indeed that you are a man of very good breeding, or at least know how on occasion to behave like one."

"I am not particularly interested in anyone's opinion," Svidrigailov answered, dryly and even with a shade of haughtiness, "and therefore why not be vulgar at times when vulgarity is such a convenient cloak for our climate . . . and especially if one has a natural propensity that way," he added, laughing again.

"But I've heard you have many friends here. You are, as they say, 'not without connections.' What can you want with me, then, unless you've some special object?"

"That's true that I have friends here," Svidrigailov admitted, not replying to the chief point. "I've met some already. I've been lounging about for the last three days, and I've seen them, or they've seen me. That's a matter of course. I am well dressed and reckoned not a poor man; the emancipation of the serfs hasn't affected me; my property consists chiefly of forests and water meadows. The revenue has not fallen off; but . . . I am not going to see them, I was sick of them long ago. I've been here three days and have called on no one. . . . What a town it is! How has it come into existence among us, tell me that? A town of officials and students of all sorts. Yes, there's a great deal I didn't notice when I was here eight years ago, kicking up my heels. . . . My only hope now is in anatomy, by Jove, it is!"

"Anatomy?"

"But as for these clubs, Dussauts, parades, or progress, indeed, maybe --well, all that can go on without me," he went on, again without noticing the question. "Besides, who wants to be a card-sharper?"

"Why, have you been a card-sharper then?"

"How could I help being? There was a regular set of us, men of the best society, eight years ago; we had a fine time. And all men of breeding, you know, poets, men of property. And indeed as a rule in our Russian society the best manners are found among those who've been thrashed, have you noticed that? I've deteriorated in the country. But I did get into prison for debt, through a low Greek who came from Nezhin. Then Marfa Petrovna turned up; she bargained with him and bought me off for thirty thousand silver pieces (I owed seventy thousand). We were united in lawful wedlock and she bore me off into the country like a treasure. You know she was five years older than I. She was very fond of me. For seven years I never left the country. And, take note, that all my life she held a document over me, the IOU for thirty thousand roubles, so if I were to elect to be restive about anything I should be trapped at once! And she would have done it! Women find nothing incompatible in that."

"If it hadn't been for that, would you have given her the slip?"

"I don't know what to say. It was scarcely the document restrained me. I didn't want to go anywhere else. Marfa Petrovna herself invited me to go abroad, seeing I was bored, but I've been abroad before, and always felt sick there. For no reason, but the sunrise, the bay of Naples, the sea--you look at them and it makes you sad. What's most revolting is that one is really sad! No, it's better at home. Here at least one blames others for everything and excuses oneself. I should have gone perhaps on an expedition to the North Pole, because /j'ai le vin mauvais/ and hate drinking, and there's nothing left but wine. I have tried it. But, I say, I've been told Berg is going up in a great balloon next Sunday from the Yusupov Garden and will take up passengers at a fee. Is it true?"

"Why, would you go up?"

"I . . . No, oh, no," muttered Svidrigailov really seeming to be deep in thought.

"What does he mean? Is he in earnest?" Raskolnikov wondered.

"No, the document didn't restrain me," Svidrigailov went on, meditatively. "It was my own doing, not leaving the country, and nearly a year ago Marfa Petrovna gave me back the document on my name- day and made me a present of a considerable sum of money, too. She had a fortune, you know. 'You see how I trust you, Arkady Ivanovitch'-- that was actually her expression. You don't believe she used it? But do you know I managed the estate quite decently, they know me in the neighbourhood. I ordered books, too. Marfa Petrovna at first approved, but afterwards she was afraid of my over-studying."

"You seem to be missing Marfa Petrovna very much?"

"Missing her? Perhaps. Really, perhaps I am. And, by the way, do you believe in ghosts?"

"What ghosts?"

"Why, ordinary ghosts."

"Do you believe in them?"

"Perhaps not, /pour vous plaire/. . . . I wouldn't say no exactly."

"Do you see them, then?"

Svidrigailov looked at him rather oddly.

"Marfa Petrovna is pleased to visit me," he said, twisting his mouth into a strange smile.

"How do you mean 'she is pleased to visit you'?"

"She has been three times. I saw her first on the very day of the funeral, an hour after she was buried. It was the day before I left to come here. The second time was the day before yesterday, at daybreak, on the journey at the station of Malaya Vishera, and the third time was two hours ago in the room where I am staying. I was alone."

"Were you awake?"

"Quite awake. I was wide awake every time. She comes, speaks to me for a minute and goes out at the door--always at the door. I can almost hear her."

"What made me think that something of the sort must be happening to you?" Raskolnikov said suddenly.

At the same moment he was surprised at having said it. He was much excited.

"What! Did you think so?" Svidrigailov asked in astonishment. "Did you really? Didn't I say that there was something in common between us, eh?"

"You never said so!" Raskolnikov cried sharply and with heat.

"Didn't I?"

"No!"

"I thought I did. When I came in and saw you lying with your eyes shut, pretending, I said to myself at once, 'Here's the man.'"

"What do you mean by 'the man?' What are you talking about?" cried Raskolnikov.

"What do I mean? I really don't know. . . ." Svidrigailov muttered ingenuously, as though he, too, were puzzled.

For a minute they were silent. They stared in each other's faces.

"That's all nonsense!" Raskolnikov shouted with vexation. "What does she say when she comes to you?"

"She! Would you believe it, she talks of the silliest trifles and--man is a strange creature--it makes me angry. The first time she came in (I was tired you know: the funeral service, the funeral ceremony, the lunch afterwards. At last I was left alone in my study. I lighted a cigar and began to think), she came in at the door. 'You've been so busy to-day, Arkady Ivanovitch, you have forgotten to wind the dining- room clock,' she said. All those seven years I've wound that clock every week, and if I forgot it she would always remind me. The next day I set off on my way here. I got out at the station at daybreak; I'd been asleep, tired out, with my eyes half open, I was drinking some coffee. I looked up and there was suddenly Marfa Petrovna sitting beside me with a pack of cards in her hands. 'Shall I tell your fortune for the journey, Arkady Ivanovitch?' She was a great hand at telling fortunes. I shall never forgive myself for not asking her to. I ran away in a fright, and, besides, the bell rang. I was sitting to-day, feeling very heavy after a miserable dinner from a cookshop; I was sitting smoking, all of a sudden Marfa Petrovna again. She came in very smart in a new green silk dress with a long train. 'Good day, Arkady Ivanovitch! How do you like my dress? Aniska can't make like this.' (Aniska was a dressmaker in the country, one of our former serf girls who had been trained in Moscow, a pretty wench.) She stood turning round before me. I looked at the dress, and then I looked carefully, very carefully, at her face. 'I wonder you trouble to come to me about such trifles, Marfa Petrovna.' 'Good gracious, you won't let one disturb you about anything!' To tease her I said, 'I want to get married, Marfa Petrovna.' 'That's just like you, Arkady Ivanovitch; it does you very little credit to come looking for a bride when you've hardly buried your wife. And if you could make a good choice, at least, but I know it won't be for your happiness or hers, you will only be a laughing-stock to all good people.' Then she went out and her train seemed to rustle. Isn't it nonsense, eh?"

"But perhaps you are telling lies?" Raskolnikov put in.

"I rarely lie," answered Svidrigailov thoughtfully, apparently not noticing the rudeness of the question.

"And in the past, have you ever seen ghosts before?"

"Y-yes, I have seen them, but only once in my life, six years ago. I had a serf, Filka; just after his burial I called out forgetting 'Filka, my pipe!' He came in and went to the cupboard where my pipes were. I sat still and thought 'he is doing it out of revenge,' because we had a violent quarrel just before his death. 'How dare you come in with a hole in your elbow?' I said. 'Go away, you scamp!' He turned and went out, and never came again. I didn't tell Marfa Petrovna at the time. I wanted to have a service sung for him, but I was ashamed."

"You should go to a doctor."

"I know I am not well, without your telling me, though I don't know what's wrong; I believe I am five times as strong as you are. I didn't ask you whether you believe that ghosts are seen, but whether you believe that they exist."

"No, I won't believe it!" Raskolnikov cried, with positive anger.

"What do people generally say?" muttered Svidrigailov, as though speaking to himself, looking aside and bowing his head. "They say, 'You are ill, so what appears to you is only unreal fantasy.' But that's not strictly logical. I agree that ghosts only appear to the sick, but that only proves that they are unable to appear except to the sick, not that they don't exist."

"Nothing of the sort," Raskolnikov insisted irritably.

"No? You don't think so?" Svidrigailov went on, looking at him deliberately. "But what do you say to this argument (help me with it): ghosts are, as it were, shreds and fragments of other worlds, the beginning of them. A man in health has, of course, no reason to see them, because he is above all a man of this earth and is bound for the sake of completeness and order to live only in this life. But as soon as one is ill, as soon as the normal earthly order of the organism is broken, one begins to realise the possibility of another world; and the more seriously ill one is, the closer becomes one's contact with that other world, so that as soon as the man dies he steps straight into that world. I thought of that long ago. If you believe in a future life, you could believe in that, too."

"I don't believe in a future life," said Raskolnikov.

Svidrigailov sat lost in thought.

"And what if there are only spiders there, or something of that sort," he said suddenly.

"He is a madman," thought Raskolnikov.

"We always imagine eternity as something beyond our conception, something vast, vast! But why must it be vast? Instead of all that, what if it's one little room, like a bath house in the country, black and grimy and spiders in every corner, and that's all eternity is? I sometimes fancy it like that."

"Can it be you can imagine nothing juster and more comforting than that?" Raskolnikov cried, with a feeling of anguish.

"Juster? And how can we tell, perhaps that is just, and do you know it's what I would certainly have made it," answered Svidrigailov, with a vague smile.

This horrible answer sent a cold chill through Raskolnikov. Svidrigailov raised his head, looked at him, and suddenly began laughing.

"Only think," he cried, "half an hour ago we had never seen each other, we regarded each other as enemies; there is a matter unsettled between us; we've thrown it aside, and away we've gone into the abstract! Wasn't I right in saying that we were birds of a feather?"

"Kindly allow me," Raskolnikov went on irritably, "to ask you to explain why you have honoured me with your visit . . . and . . . and I am in a hurry, I have no time to waste. I want to go out."

"By all means, by all means. Your sister, Avdotya Romanovna, is going to be married to Mr. Luzhin, Pyotr Petrovitch?"

"Can you refrain from any question about my sister and from mentioning her name? I can't understand how you dare utter her name in my presence, if you really are Svidrigailov."

"Why, but I've come here to speak about her; how can I avoid mentioning her?"

"Very good, speak, but make haste."

"I am sure that you must have formed your own opinion of this Mr. Luzhin, who is a connection of mine through my wife, if you have only seen him for half an hour, or heard any facts about him. He is no match for Avdotya Romanovna. I believe Avdotya Romanovna is sacrificing herself generously and imprudently for the sake of . . . for the sake of her family. I fancied from all I had heard of you that you would be very glad if the match could be broken off without the sacrifice of worldly advantages. Now I know you personally, I am convinced of it."

"All this is very naive . . . excuse me, I should have said impudent on your part," said Raskolnikov.

"You mean to say that I am seeking my own ends. Don't be uneasy, Rodion Romanovitch, if I were working for my own advantage, I would not have spoken out so directly. I am not quite a fool. I will confess something psychologically curious about that: just now, defending my love for Avdotya Romanovna, I said I was myself the victim. Well, let me tell you that I've no feeling of love now, not the slightest, so that I wonder myself indeed, for I really did feel something . . ."

"Through idleness and depravity," Raskolnikov put in.

"I certainly am idle and depraved, but your sister has such qualities that even I could not help being impressed by them. But that's all nonsense, as I see myself now."

"Have you seen that long?"

"I began to be aware of it before, but was only perfectly sure of it the day before yesterday, almost at the moment I arrived in Petersburg. I still fancied in Moscow, though, that I was coming to try to get Avdotya Romanovna's hand and to cut out Mr. Luzhin."

"Excuse me for interrupting you; kindly be brief, and come to the object of your visit. I am in a hurry, I want to go out . . ."

"With the greatest pleasure. On arriving here and determining on a certain . . . journey, I should like to make some necessary preliminary arrangements. I left my children with an aunt; they are well provided for; and they have no need of me personally. And a nice father I should make, too! I have taken nothing but what Marfa Petrovna gave me a year ago. That's enough for me. Excuse me, I am just coming to the point. Before the journey which may come off, I want to settle Mr. Luzhin, too. It's not that I detest him so much, but it was through him I quarrelled with Marfa Petrovna when I learned that she had dished up this marriage. I want now to see Avdotya Romanovna through your mediation, and if you like in your presence, to explain to her that in the first place she will never gain anything but harm from Mr. Luzhin. Then, begging her pardon for all past unpleasantness, to make her a present of ten thousand roubles and so assist the rupture with Mr. Luzhin, a rupture to which I believe she is herself not disinclined, if she could see the way to it."

"You are certainly mad," cried Raskolnikov not so much angered as astonished. "How dare you talk like that!"

"I knew you would scream at me; but in the first place, though I am not rich, this ten thousand roubles is perfectly free; I have absolutely no need for it. If Avdotya Romanovna does not accept it, I shall waste it in some more foolish way. That's the first thing. Secondly, my conscience is perfectly easy; I make the offer with no ulterior motive. You may not believe it, but in the end Avdotya Romanovna and you will know. The point is, that I did actually cause your sister, whom I greatly respect, some trouble and unpleasantness, and so, sincerely regretting it, I want--not to compensate, not to repay her for the unpleasantness, but simply to do something to her advantage, to show that I am not, after all, privileged to do nothing but harm. If there were a millionth fraction of self-interest in my offer, I should not have made it so openly; and I should not have offered her ten thousand only, when five weeks ago I offered her more, Besides, I may, perhaps, very soon marry a young lady, and that alone ought to prevent suspicion of any design on Avdotya Romanovna. In conclusion, let me say that in marrying Mr. Luzhin, she is taking money just the same, only from another man. Don't be angry, Rodion Romanovitch, think it over coolly and quietly."

Svidrigailov himself was exceedingly cool and quiet as he was saying this.

"I beg you to say no more," said Raskolnikov. "In any case this is unpardonable impertinence."

"Not in the least. Then a man may do nothing but harm to his neighbour in this world, and is prevented from doing the tiniest bit of good by trivial conventional formalities. That's absurd. If I died, for instance, and left that sum to your sister in my will, surely she wouldn't refuse it?"

"Very likely she would."

"Oh, no, indeed. However, if you refuse it, so be it, though ten thousand roubles is a capital thing to have on occasion. In any case I beg you to repeat what I have said to Avdotya Romanovna."

"No, I won't."

"In that case, Rodion Romanovitch, I shall be obliged to try and see her myself and worry her by doing so."

"And if I do tell her, will you not try to see her?"

"I don't know really what to say. I should like very much to see her once more."

"Don't hope for it."

"I'm sorry. But you don't know me. Perhaps we may become better friends."

"You think we may become friends?"

"And why not?" Svidrigailov said, smiling. He stood up and took his hat. "I didn't quite intend to disturb you and I came here without reckoning on it . . . though I was very much struck by your face this morning."

"Where did you see me this morning?" Raskolnikov asked uneasily.

"I saw you by chance. . . . I kept fancying there is something about you like me. . . . But don't be uneasy. I am not intrusive; I used to get on all right with card-sharpers, and I never bored Prince Svirbey, a great personage who is a distant relation of mine, and I could write about Raphael's /Madonna/ in Madam Prilukov's album, and I never left Marfa Petrovna's side for seven years, and I used to stay the night at Viazemsky's house in the Hay Market in the old days, and I may go up in a balloon with Berg, perhaps."

"Oh, all right. Are you starting soon on your travels, may I ask?"

"What travels?"

"Why, on that 'journey'; you spoke of it yourself."

"A journey? Oh, yes. I did speak of a journey. Well, that's a wide subject. . . . if only you knew what you are asking," he added, and gave a sudden, loud, short laugh. "Perhaps I'll get married instead of the journey. They're making a match for me."

"Here?"

"Yes."

"How have you had time for that?"

"But I am very anxious to see Avdotya Romanovna once. I earnestly beg it. Well, good-bye for the present. Oh, yes. I have forgotten something. Tell your sister, Rodion Romanovitch, that Marfa Petrovna remembered her in her will and left her three thousand roubles. That's absolutely certain. Marfa Petrovna arranged it a week before her death, and it was done in my presence. Avdotya Romanovna will be able to receive the money in two or three weeks."

"Are you telling the truth?"

"Yes, tell her. Well, your servant. I am staying very near you."

As he went out, Svidrigailov ran up against Razumihin in the doorway.

 

“莫非这还是在作梦吗？”拉斯科利尼科夫又不由得想。

他小心谨慎而又怀疑地细细端详这位不速之客。

“斯维德里盖洛夫？多么荒唐！这不可能！”最后，他困惑不解地说出声来。

对这一惊呼，客人似乎一点儿也不感到奇怪。

“我来找您有两个原因，第一，想和您认识一下，因为我已久仰大名，我听到的都是关于您的好话，而且很有意思；第二，我希望，也许您不会拒绝帮助我做一件事，而这件事直接关系到令妹阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜的利益。由于她对我抱有成见，没人引见，我独自去找她，现在她可能根本不让我进门，而有您帮助，情况就完全不同了，我估计……”

“您估计错了，”拉斯科利尼科夫打断了他的话。

“请问，她们不是昨天刚到吗？”

拉斯科利尼科夫没有回答。

“是昨天，我知道。因为我也不过是前天才到。嗯，至于这件事嘛，罗季昂·罗曼诺维奇，请您听我说：为自己辩解，我认为那是多余的，不过请您告诉我：在这件事情上我真的犯了那么严重的大罪吗，也就是说，如果不带偏见，客观公正地评判的话？”

拉斯科利尼科夫继续默默地仔细打量他。

“我在自己家里追求一个无力自卫的少女，‘卑鄙地向她求婚，从而侮辱了她’，——是这样吗？（我自己先说了吧！）不过您只要想想看，我也是人，etnihilhumanum……①总之，我也能堕入情网，我也会一爱一上人（这当然是由不得我们的意志决定的），于是就用最自然的方式表达出来了。这儿的全部问题就是：我是个恶棍呢，还是牺牲者？嗯，怎么会是牺牲者呢？要知道，我向我的意中人提议，要她和我一道私奔，逃往美国或瑞士的时候，我可能是怀着最大的敬意，而且想让我们两个人都能获得幸福！……因为理智总是供一爱一情驱使；我大概是更害了自己！……”

--------

①拉丁文，引自古罗马剧作家杰连齐亚（约纪元前一九五——一五九）的喜剧《自我折磨》。引文不正确，原文是：“我是人，凡是人所具有的东西，没有一样是我所没有的。”这句话已经成为箴言。

“问题完全不在这里，”拉斯科利尼科夫厌恶地打断了他，“您只不过是让人感到讨厌，不管您对，还是不对，哼，她们不愿跟您来往，会把您赶走，您请走吧！……”

斯维德里盖洛夫突然哈哈大笑起来。

“不过您……您倒不会上当受骗啊！”他非常坦率地笑着说：“我本想耍点儿手腕，可是，不成，您恰好一下击中了要害！”

“就是现在，您也还是在耍手腕。”

“那又怎样？那又怎样呢？”斯维德里盖洛夫坦率地笑着说：“要知道，这是所谓bonneguerre①，兵不厌诈，耍这样的花招是可以的嘛！……不过您还是打断了我；不管怎么着，我要再说一遍：要不是发生了花园里的那档子事，什么不愉快的事都不会有。玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜……”

--------

①法文，“真正的战争”之意。

“就连玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜，据说也是让您给害死的？”拉斯科利尼科夫粗一暴地打断了他的话。

“这您也听说了？不过怎么会听不到呢……嗯，对于您提出的这个问题，说真的，我不知道该怎么对您说才好，虽说在这件事情上，我绝对问心无愧。也就是说，请不要以为我怕什么：一切都完全正常，无可怀疑：医生检查，发现是死于中风，这是因为她午饭吃得过饱，把一瓶酒几乎全喝光了，饭后立刻就去进行浴疗，此外没能查出任何别的原因……不，后来我考虑了一段时间，特别是在路上，坐在火车车厢里的时候：这件不幸的事……是不是我促成的，是不是我使她一精一神上受了刺激，或者是由于什么别的诸如此类的情况？可是我得出结论，这也绝不可能。”

拉斯科利尼科夫笑了。

“那您何必这样不安呢！”

“您笑什么？您想想看：我总共才不过一抽一了她两鞭子，连伤痕都看不出来……请您别把我看作犬儒主义者；因为我完全知道，我这么做是多么卑鄙，而且我还做过其他卑鄙的事；不过我也确实知道，玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜好像也喜欢我的这种，也可以说是风一流韵事吧。关于令妹的那件事已经完全结束了。玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜不得不待在家里，已经是第三天了；已经没有必要再进城去，她拿去的那封信，大家都已经听厌了（念信的事您听说了吗？）。突然这两鞭子好似天赐的良机！她的头一件事就是吩咐套一上马车！……女人有时候非常、非常乐于受侮辱，尽管表面上看上去十分气愤，——这我就不去说它了。所有的人都有这种情况；一般说，人甚至非常、非常喜欢受侮辱，这您发觉没有？不过女人尤其是这样。甚至可以说，这是她们唯一的消遣。”

有那么一会儿，拉斯科利尼科夫想要站起来，出去，这样来结束这次会见。但是某种好奇心，甚至似乎是有某种打算。暂时留住了他。

“您喜欢打架吗？”他心不在焉地问。

“不，不很喜欢，”斯维德里盖洛夫平静地回答。“我和玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜几乎从来不打架。我们在一起过得很和睦，她对我总是十分满意。在我们七年共同生活中，我用鞭子的情况总共只有两次（如果不算另一次，也就是第三次的话，不过那一次有另外的含意）：第一次是我们结婚两个月以后，刚一来到乡下的时候，还有现在这一次，也就是最后一次。您却以为，我是个恶棍，是个顽固落后的家伙，农一奴一制的拥护者吗？嘿——嘿……顺便说一声，罗季昂·罗曼诺维奇，您记得吗，几年前，还是在带来良好效果的广开言路的时期①，有个贵族——我忘了他姓什么了！——还在火车上鞭打过一个德国女人呢，可是激起了公愤，遭到我们全民谴责，所有报刊也纷纷予以抨击，弄得他名誉扫地②，这件事您还记得吗？当时，好像就在那一年，还发生了《〈世纪〉杂志岂有此理的行为》③（喏，当众朗诵《埃及之夜》，您记得吗？一双乌黑的眼睛！噢，你在哪里，我们青春的黄金时期！）。嗯，那么，这就是我的意见：对那个鞭打德国女人的先生，我并不深表同情，因为，说实在的……有什么好同情的呢！不过同时我也不能不声明，有时就是有这样一些非揍不可的‘德国女人’，我觉得，没有一个进步人士能够完全担保，自己绝对不会动怒。当时谁也没从这个观点来看这个问题，然而这个观点才是真正人道主义的观点，的确如此！”

--------

①指为废除农一奴一制作准备的那段时间（一八五六——一八六一）。在这段时间里，俄国报刊可以公开揭露警察当局滥用职权等社会弊端。

②一八六○年初，报纸上在议论一个地主在火车上鞭打一个里加女人的事。陀思妥耶夫斯基的《时代》杂志上也为此发表过文章，抨击地主的专横。

③这是诗人米哈依洛夫（一八二九——一八六五）一篇文章的题目。他这篇文章是对《世纪》杂志一八六一年第八期一篇叫作《俄罗斯的怪现象》的小品文的回答。那篇小品文攻击积极参加女权运动的托尔马乔夫在彼尔姆市的一次文学——音乐晚会上朗诵普希金的《埃及之夜》。为支持米哈依洛夫，并为托尔马乔夫辩护，陀思妥耶夫斯基曾写过一篇题为《光明磊落的范例》的文章，发表在《时代》杂志一八六一年第三期上。

说完了这些以后，斯维德里盖洛夫突然又大笑起来。拉斯科利尼科夫看得很清楚，知道这是个主意坚决、十分狡猾、决不会暴露自己意图的人。

“您大概是，一连几天没跟人说话了吧？”他问。

“差不多是这样。怎么：我是个这么随和的人，您大概觉得奇怪了吧？”

“不，我觉得奇怪的是，您这个人太随和了。”

“是因为您提的问题粗一暴无礼，可我并不见怪吗？是这样吗？是的……有什么好见怪的呢？您怎么问，我就怎么回答，”他带着令人惊讶的天真神情补充说。“因为我几乎对什么也不特别感兴趣，真的，”他不知为什么沉思地接着说下去。“尤其是现在，我很空，什么事也没有……不过您可以认为，我奉承您，是因为我有什么企图，何况我自己也说过，我有事要找令妹。不过我坦白地跟您说吧：我很寂寞！尤其是这三天，所以很高兴找您谈谈……请别生气，罗季昂·罗曼诺维奇，不过，不知为什么，我觉得您很奇怪。不管您认为怎样，反正您心里有什么心事；就是现在，也就是说，并不是指此时此刻，而是一般说的现在……好，我不说了，不说了，请您别皱眉！要知道，我可不是像您所想象的那样的一头熊。”

拉斯科利尼科夫神情一陰一郁地看了看他。

“您也许甚至根本就不是熊，”他说，“我甚至觉得，您很有教养，或者至少在必要的时候也能做一个正派人。”

“要知道，无论是谁的意见，我都不怎么特别感兴趣，”斯维德里盖洛夫冷冷地回答，语气甚至好像有点儿傲慢，“这就是我为什么没成为一个庸俗的人的缘故，尽管在我们这个社会上，戴上顶庸俗的帽子倒是挺舒服的……尤其是如果你天生就喜欢戴这顶帽子的话，”他补充说，又哈哈大笑起来。

“不过我听说您在这儿有很多熟人。您可是个所谓‘并不是没有朋友’的人。在这种情况下，要不是有什么目的，您来找我干吗？”

“您说我有熟人，这倒是真的，”斯维德里盖洛夫接住话茬说，却没回答主要问题，“我已经碰到过了；因为我已经闲荡了两天多；我会去打听他们，看来，他们也会来打听我。这还用说吗，我穿得体面，不能算是穷人；就连农民改革①也没影响我：我的财产大都是汛期淹水的森林和草地，收入没受损失；不过……我不会上他们那儿去；早就腻烦了：我已经来了两天多，可是熟人当中谁也没碰到过……还有这座城市！您瞧，我们这座城市是怎么建立的！一座公务员和各种教会学校学生的城市！不错，早先，八年前我住在这儿的时候，这儿有好多东西我都没注意……现在我只把希望寄托在构造上，真的！”

--------

①一八六一年的农民改革废除了农一奴一制，但未触及地主的利益，根据有关规定，可耕地、森林和草地都留给了地主。

“什么构造？”

“至于这些俱乐部啊，杜索①啊，你们这些普安特②啊，或者，大概还有什么进步啊——这些，没有我们也行，”他继续说，又没注意向他提出的问题。“可是倒乐意作赌棍吗？”

“您还是个赌棍？”

“怎么能不是呢？我们有这么一伙人，都是最体面的人，这是八年前的事了；大家在一起消磨时间；您要知道，都是些最有风度的人，有诗人，也有资本家。一般说，在我们俄国社会里，只在那些常受打击的人最有风度，——这点您注意到了吗？现在我不修边幅了，因为我是住在乡下。而当时，因为我欠了涅任市③一个希腊人的债，终于进了监狱。这时碰到了玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜，经过讨价还价，用三万银币把我赎了出来。（我总共欠了七万卢布的债。）我和她结了婚，她立刻把我当宝贝似的带回乡下她家里去了。因为她比我大五岁。她非常一爱一我。七年来我没从乡下出来过。您要注意，她一生都握有一张对付我的借据，也就是以别人名义出借的那三万卢布，所以我只要稍一违背她的意旨，——立刻就会落入她的圈套！她准会这么做的！要知道，女人就是这样，一爱一你也是她，害你也是她，两者并行不悖。”

--------

①杜索——当时彼得堡一家著名饭店的老板。

②普安特：法语Pointe，意思是“海岬”；这里指涅瓦河各小岛上的时髦娱乐场所。

③乌克兰的一个城市。

“要不是有那张借据，您就会逃走？”

“我不知道该怎么对您说。这张借据几乎没有使我感到拘束。我哪里也不想去，玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜看到我觉得无聊，曾两次邀请我出国！这有什么意思呢！以前我曾不止一次出国，可总是感到厌恶。倒不是厌恶，可不知怎的，旭日东升，朝霞满天，还有什么那不勒斯海湾和大海啊，看着都让人感到忧郁！最让人讨厌的是，当真是在想念什么，所以感到忧愁！不，还是在祖国好：在这儿至少可以把什么都归咎于别人，认为自己什么都对。现在我也许想去北极探险，因为 j’ailevinmauvais①。我讨厌喝酒，可是除了酒，就什么也没有了。我试过。据说星期天别尔格②要在尤苏波夫花园乘一个大汽球飞上天去，出一笔巨款征求和他一道飞行的旅伴，这是真的吗？”

--------

①法文。“我没有酒德”之意。

②别尔格是彼得堡一些娱乐设施的所有者。

“怎么，您想去飞行？”

“我？不……我不过这么问问……”斯维德里盖洛夫含糊不清地说，当真好像在沉思。

“他怎么，是当真吗？”拉斯科利尼科夫想。

“不，借据并不让我感到拘束，”斯维德里盖洛夫沉思默想地继续说，“是我自己不从乡下出来。而且，玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜已经在我的命名日把这张借据还给了我，还送给我一大笔钱，数目相当可观，这大概都快有一年了吧。因为她很有钱。‘您要明白，阿尔卡季·伊万诺维奇，我是多么相信您啊’，真的，她就是这么说的。您不相信她这么说过？可您要知道，在乡下，我已经变成了一个很正派的主人；附近的人都知道我。我还订购了一些图书。玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜起初是赞成的，后来却担心我用功过度，会伤害身一体。”

“您好像很想念玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜？”

“我吗？也许是。真的，也许是。顺便说说，您相信鬼魂吗？”

“什么鬼魂？”

“普通的鬼魂呗，还有什么别的呢？”

“可您相信吗？”

“是的，大概，也不相信，pourvousplaire①……也就是说，并不是根本不信……”

--------

①法文，“为了让您满意’之意。

“经常出现吗，还是怎么呢？”

斯维德里盖洛夫不知为什么很奇怪地看了看他。

“玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜来看过我，”他说，把嘴一撇，露出奇怪的微笑。

“来看您，这是什么意思？”

“她已经来过三次了。我第一次看到她，就是在安葬的那一天，从墓地回来一个钟头以后。这是在我动身上这儿来的头一天。第二次是前天，在路上，天刚亮的时候，在小维舍拉车站上；第三次就在两个钟头以前，在我下榻的寓所，就在屋里；只有我一个人。”

“醒着的时候吗？”

“完全醒着。三次都是醒着的时候。她来了，说了大约一分钟的话，就往门口走去；总是从房门出去。甚至好像能听到开门关门的声音。”

“不知为什么，我就想过，您一定会常常发生这一类的事！”拉斯科利尼科夫突然说，但立刻又为自己说了这句话而感到惊讶。他非常激动。

“是——吗？您这么想过？”斯维德里盖洛夫诧异地问，“难道真的想过？嗯，我是不是说过我们之间有什么共同点呢，啊？”

“您从来没说过这样的话！”拉斯科利尼科夫很不客气而且十分激动地回答。

“我没说过？”

“没有！”

“我却觉得，我说过了。我刚才一进来，看到您闭着眼躺着，可是假装睡着了的样子，——我立刻就对自己说：‘这就是那个人！’”

“就是那个人，这是什么意思？您这话是指的什么？”拉斯科利尼科夫突然高声大喊。

“指的什么？真的，我不知道是指什么……”斯维德里盖洛夫诚恳地、低声含糊地说，有点儿前言不搭后语。

大约有一分钟，两人都不说话。两人都睁大眼睛，你看着我，我看着你。

“这全都是一胡一说八道！”拉斯科利尼科夫懊恼地高声叫喊。

“她来的时候，跟您说些什么？”

“她吗？请您想想看，她谈的都是些最无关重要的小事，这个人真让您觉得奇怪：也正是这一点让我生气。第一次她进来（您要知道，我累了：举行葬礼，为死者祈祷，然后是安灵，办酬客宴，——终于书房里只剩了我一个人，我点起一支雪茄，沉思起来），她走进门来，说：‘阿尔卡季·伊万诺维奇，饭厅里的钟您忘记上了。’真的，七年来，每星期我都亲自上这个钟，要是忘了，她总是提醒我。第二天，我已经上路，到这里来。黎明的时候，我进站去了，这一一夜我只打了个盹儿，一精一疲力竭，睡眼惺忪，——我要了杯咖啡；我一看——玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜突然坐到我身边，手里拿着一副牌：‘阿尔卡季·伊万诺维奇，要不要给您算算，一路上是不是平安无事？’她是个用纸牌算命的行家。唉，我没算一卦，为了这件事，我不会原谅自己的！我吓坏了，赶紧逃跑，不错，这时候开车的铃也响了。今天在一家小饭馆里吆了一顿糟透了的午饭，肚子里装满了不好消化的东西，我正坐着一抽一烟，突然，玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜又进来了，她打扮得很漂亮，穿一件绿绸子的新连衫裙，裙裾长得要命，拖在后面：‘您好！阿尔卡季·伊万诺维奇！您喜欢我这件连衫裙吗？做工这么好，阿尼西卡可做不出来。’（阿尼西卡是我们村里的一个女裁缝，农一奴一出身，在莫斯科学过缝纫，是个好姑一娘一。）她站在我面前，转动着身一子。我仔细看了看连衫裙，随后留心看了看她的脸，我说‘玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜，您倒有兴致为了这样一些小事来找我。‘哎哟，天哪，我的爷，都不能来打搅您了！’为了逗她，我说：‘玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜，我想结婚。‘您完全可能干得出这种事来，阿尔卡季·伊万诺维奇；刚刚埋葬了妻子，马上又去结婚，这可不会给您带来什么好名声。要挑个好姑一娘一才好，不然的话，无论对她，还是对您，都没有好处，只会让好心的人笑话。’说罢，她就走了，拖在地上的裙裾好像发出窸窸窣窣的响声。真是一胡一说八道，是吗？”

“不过，说不定您一直是在说谎吧？”拉斯科利尼科夫回答。

“我很少说谎，”斯维德里盖洛夫若有所思地回答，似乎根本没注意到问题提得那么无礼。

“从前，在这以前，您从来没见过鬼魂吗？”

“嗯……不，见过，一生中只见过一次，是在六年以前。菲利卡是农一奴一制时期我们家的一个仆人；刚刚埋葬了他，我忘了，又喊了一声：‘菲利卡，拿烟斗来！’他进来，一直朝放烟斗的架子走去。我坐在那里，心想：‘他是来向我报仇了，’因为就在他死以前，我们刚刚大吵了一场。我说：‘你的衣服胳膊肘上破了，你怎么胆敢这样进来见我，滚出去，坏蛋！’他转身走了出去，以后再没来过。当时我没跟玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜说，本想为他作安魂弥撒，又觉得不好意思。”

“去看看医生吧。”

“您不说，我也明白，我身一体不好，虽说，真的，我不知道害的是什么病；照我看，我的身一体大概比你好四倍。我问您的不是这个，——您信不信鬼魂出现？我问您的是：您信不信有鬼？”

“不，无论如何也不相信！”拉斯科利尼科夫甚至是恶狠狠地高声叫嚷。

“通常人们都是怎么说来的？”斯维德里盖洛夫仿佛自言自语似地说，稍稍低下头，望着一边。“他们说：‘你有病，这就是说，你的错觉只不过是根本不存在的幻象。’不过这话并没有严密的逻辑一性一。我同意，只有病人才会看见鬼魂；但这只不过证明，鬼魂只能让病人看见，而不能证明，鬼魂并不存在。”

“当然不存在！”拉斯科利尼科夫气愤地坚持说。

“不存在吗？您这么认为？”斯维德里盖洛夫慢慢地看了看他，接着说下去。“嗯，如果这样来考虑呢（请您指教）：‘鬼魂——这就是，可以这样说吧，是另外一些世界的碎片和片断，是这些世界的一种因素。健康的人当然用不着看到它们，因为健康的人完全是属于这个世界的，所以为了这个世界的完满，也为了维护这个世界上的秩序，他们理应只过这个世界上的生活。可是一旦稍微有了点儿病，身一体上尘世的正常秩序稍一遭到破坏，那么立刻就会出现接触另一个世界的可能，病得越厉害，与另一个世界的接触也就越多，所以，当一个人完全死了的时候，他就直接转入另一个世界去了。’我早就作过这样的论断。如果您相信来世，那也就会相信这个论断了。”

“我不相信来世，”拉斯科利尼科夫说。

斯维德里盖洛夫坐着，陷入沉思。

“如果那里只有蜘蛛或者这一类的东西，那又怎样呢，”他突然说。

“这是个疯子，”拉斯科利尼科夫想。

“我们一直想象，永恒就好像一个无法理解的概念，是一个硕一大无朋、其大无比的东西！可为什么一定是其大无比呢？万一它并不是这样呢，您要知道，它也许是一间小房子，就像农村里的澡堂，熏得漆黑，各个角落都是蜘蛛，而这就是永恒。您要知道，有时我觉得它大致就是这样的。”

“难道，难道您想象不出什么比这让人快慰、也更加真实一些的东西吗！”拉斯科利尼科夫感到十分痛苦地大声喊道。

“更真实些？那怎么知道呢，说不定这就是真实的，您要知道，我倒想一定故意让它成为这个样子！”斯维德里盖洛夫似笑非笑地回答。

听到这岂有此理的回答，拉斯科利尼科夫突然感到一阵发冷。斯维德里盖洛夫抬起头来，凝神看了看他，突然哈哈大笑起来。

“不，这您想得到吗”，他高声叫喊起来，“半个钟头以前我们还没见面，彼此把对方看作仇敌，我们之间有一件还没解决的事情；我们撇开这件事情，瞧，我们谈了些什么啊！喏，我说我们是一样的人，说得对吧？”

“劳您驾，”拉斯科利尼科夫气愤地接下去说，“您屈尊就教，到底有何贵干，就请快点儿告诉我吧……而且……而且……我忙得很，我没空，我要出去……”

“请吧，请吧。令妹，阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜，是要嫁给卢任，彼得·彼特罗维奇先生吗？”

“您能不能设法不谈舍妹的问题，也别提她的名字呢。我甚至不明白，您怎么胆敢当着我的面说出她的名字，如果您真是斯维德里盖洛夫的话？”

“可我就是来谈她的问题的，怎么能不提她的名字呢？”

“好吧；您说吧，不过请快一点儿！”

“如果您已经见过这位卢任先生，也就是我内人的亲戚，哪怕只跟他在一起待过半个钟头，或者听到过有关他的确实可靠的事情，我相信，对这个人，您就已经形成自己的看法了。他可配不上阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜。照我看，在这件事情上，阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜是未经慎重考虑、过于慷慨地牺牲了自己，而她这样做是为了……为了自己的家庭。由于我听到的关于您的那些话，我觉得，如果这门亲事能够吹掉，而又不损害令妹的利益，您一定会非常满意。现在，认识了您本人以后，我甚至已对此深信不疑。”

“从您那方面来说，这些话是十分天真的；请您原谅，我是想说：无一耻，”拉斯科利尼科夫说。

“也就是说，您的意思是，我在谋求自己的利益。请您放心，罗季昂·罗曼诺谁奇，如果我是为自己谋求什么好处的话，那就不会这么直截了当地说出来了，我还不完全是个傻瓜。关于这一点，我要告诉您一个心理上的奇怪的情况。刚才我为我对阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜的一爱一情辩解的时候，说我自己是牺牲者。那么请您听我说，现在我已经感觉不到这种一爱一情了，一点儿也感觉不到了，这连我自己也觉得奇怪，因为以前我的确是感觉到的……”

“由于游手好闲和道德败坏，”拉斯科利尼科夫打断了他。

“是的，我是个道德败坏和游手好闲的人。不过令妹有那么多优点，所以我不可能不受她的某种影响。不过，现在我自己也明白，这全都是废话。”

“早就明白了吗？”

“还在以前就有所发觉了，到前天，几乎是到达彼得堡的时候，才对此完全深信不疑。不过，在莫斯科的时候，我还曾经想，要设法赢得阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜的芳心，和卢任先生竞争一下。”

“请原谅我又要打断您了，劳您驾：您能不能说得简短些，直截了当谈谈您来访的目的呢。我有急事，我得出去……”

“非常高兴。来到这儿以后，现在我决定作一次……旅行，我想事先做一些必要的安排。我的孩子都留在他们姨一妈一家里了，他们生活都很富裕，他们不需要我。再说我哪像个做父亲的呢！我自己只拿了玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜一年前送给我的那笔财产。这也就足够我用的了。对不起，我这就要谈正经的了。去旅行之前，也许这次旅行会实现的，我想把和卢任先生的事了结掉。倒不是我根本不能容忍他，然而当我知道这门婚事是玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜搞出来的，可真把我惹火了，所以正是因为他，我才跟她发生了争吵。现在我想通过您跟阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜见见面，就这样吧，您也在场，我想向她说明，第一，从卢任先生那儿她不仅得不到丝毫好处，而且甚至定会受到明显的损害。其次，请她原谅不久前发生的所有不愉快的事情，然后再请求她允许我送给她一万卢布，这样可以使她更容易下决心和卢任先生决裂，我相信，只要有可能，她自己是不会反对与他决裂的。”

“不过您当真，当真是个疯子！”拉斯科利尼科夫高声叫喊起来，与其说他很生气，倒不如说他十分惊讶。“您怎么竟敢这样说呢！”

“我就知道您会大喊大叫的；不过，第一，虽说我并不富有，可是这一万卢布在我这儿却没有什么用处，也就是说，我完全，完全不需要这笔钱。如果阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜不接受，我大概会以更愚蠢的方式把它挥霍掉。这是一。第二，我完全问心无愧；我提出这个建议，没有任何个人打算。信不信由您，不过以后您和阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜都会知道的。问题在于，我的确给极为尊敬的令妹带来了一些麻烦和不愉快的事；所以，我真心诚意地感到懊悔，由衷地希望，——不是赎罪，也不是为那些不愉快的事赔偿损失，而只不过是想做点儿对她有益的事，而我这样做的理由就是：我实在没有只干坏事的特权。如果我的建议中哪怕有百万分之一的私心杂念，那我就不会提出只送给她一万卢布了，而只不过五个星期以前，我曾经提出过，要送给她更多的钱。此外，我也许很快、很快就要和一位少女结婚了，所以，关于我对阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜抱有什么企图的一切怀疑，也就应该不复存在了。最后我还要说一句：如果阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜嫁给卢任先生，同样也是拿钱，只不过拿的是另一个人的钱罢了……您别生气，罗季昂·罗曼诺维奇，请您心平气和地、冷静地考虑考虑。”

说这番话的时候，斯维德里盖洛夫本人非常冷静，而且心平气和。

“请您别说了”，拉斯科利尼科夫说。“无论如何，您这样说是十分无礼，不可原谅的。”

“根本不是。如果是这样的话，在这个世界上，人对人就只能做坏事，因为拘泥于某些一习一以为常的形式，反倒没有权利去做一了点儿好事了。这是荒谬的。譬如说，如果我死了，立下遗嘱，把这笔钱赠送给令妹，难道她也要拒绝吗？”

“很可能。”

“嗯，这不可能。不过，不，实在不要嘛，也就算了。不过在必要的时候，一万卢布到底是一笔可观的数目。无论如何请把我的话转告阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜。”

“不，我不转告。”

“这样的话，罗季昂·罗曼诺维奇，我就不得不设法自己去见她，那么也就不得不打搅她了。”

“如果我转告她，您就不设法亲自见她了吗？”

“我不知道，真的，我不知道该怎么跟您说。我倒很希望和她见一次面。”

“还是别存这样的希望吧。”

“很遗憾。不过您不了解我。也许我们会更接近些的。”

“您认为我们会更接近些吗？”

“为什么不会呢？”斯维德里盖洛夫微微一笑，说，站起身来，拿起帽子，“要知道，我倒不是那么很想来打搅您，到这儿来的时候，甚至也没抱多大希望，不过，不久前，早上的时候，您的脸色让我十分吃惊……”

“不久前，早上的时候，您在哪儿见过我？”拉斯科利尼科夫不安地问。

“偶然看到的……我总觉得，您有什么对我有用的地方……请别担心，我不会让人觉得腻烦的；我跟赌棍们在一起，也曾和睦相处，斯维尔别依公爵，我的一个远亲，是个大官，我也没让他觉得讨厌过，我还曾经在普里鲁科娃夫人的纪念册上题词，谈论拉斐尔的圣母像①，和玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜在一起过了七年，从来没离开过她，从前我常在干草广场上维亚泽姆斯基的房子②里过夜，说不定还会和别尔格一道乘汽球飞上天去呢。”

--------

①指拉斐尔的杰作《西斯庭圣母像》。拉斐尔（一四八三——一五二○），意大利著名画家，文艺复兴三杰之一。

②彼得堡一家著名的客店。内设饭店、酒馆、赌窟……。

“好了，很好。请问，您不久就要去旅游吗？”

“什么旅游？”

“就是这个‘旅行’啊……您自己说过的嘛。”

“去旅行？啊，对了！……真的，我是跟您说过关于旅行的事……嗯，这是个含义很广的问题……如果您能知道，您问的是什么就好了！”他补上一句，突然短促地高声大笑起来。

“说不定我不去旅行，而要结婚；有人正在给我说亲。”

“在这儿吗？”

“是的。”

“您是什么时候找到一位未婚妻的？”

“不过我很想和阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜见一次面。我郑重其事地请求您。好，再见……啊，对了！看我把什么给忘了！罗季昂·罗曼诺维奇，请您转告令妹，玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜的遗嘱上提到，送给她三千卢布。我完全肯定，千真万确。玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜是在死前一个星期这样安排的，当时我也在场。再过两三个星期，阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜就可以得到这笔钱了。”

“您说的是实话？”

“实话。请转告。好吧，您的仆人。要知道，我就住在离您这儿不太远的地方。”

斯维德里盖洛夫出去的时候，在门口正