"I have mentioned already that Pyotr Petrovitch is just setting off for Petersburg,
where he has a great deal of business, and he wants to open a legal bureau. He has
been occupied for many years in conducting civil and commercial litigation, and
only the other day he won an important case. He has to be in Petersburg because
he has an important case before the Senate. So, Rodya dear, he may be of the greatest
use to you, in every way indeed, and Dounia and I have agreed that from this very
day you could definitely enter upon your career and might consider that your future
is marked out and assured for you. Oh, if only this comes to pass! This would be
such a benefit that we could only look upon it as a providential blessing. Dounia
is dreaming of nothing else. We have even ventured already to drop a few words on
the subject to Pyotr Petrovitch. He was cautious in his answer, and said that, of
course, as he could not get on without a secretary, it would be better to be paying
a salary to a relation than to a stranger, if only the former were fitted for the
duties (as though there could be doubt of your being fitted!) but then he expressed
doubts whether your studies at the university would leave you time for work at his
office. The matter dropped for the time, but Dounia is thinking of nothing else
now. She has been in a sort of fever for the last few days, and has already made
a regular plan for your becoming in the end an associate and even a partner in Pyotr
Petrovitch's business, which might well be, seeing that you are a student of law.
I am in complete agreement with her, Rodya, and share all her plans and hopes, and
think there is every probability of realising them. And in spite of Pyotr Petrovitch's
evasiveness, very natural at present, (since he does not know you) Dounia is firmly
persuaded that she will gain everything by her good influence over her future husband;
this she is reckoning upon. Of course we are careful not to talk of any of these
more remote plans to Pyotr Petrovitch, especially of your becoming his partner.
He is a practical man and might take this very coldly, it might all seem to him
simply a day-dream. Nor has either Dounia or I breathed a word to him of the great
hopes we have of his helping us to pay for your university studies; we have not
spoken of it in the first place, because it will come to pass of itself, later on,
and he will no doubt without wasting words offer to do it of himself, (as though
he could refuse Dounia that) the more readily since you may by your own efforts
become his right hand in the office, and receive this assistance not as a charity,
but as a salary earned by your own work. Dounia wants to arrange it all like this
and I quite agree with her. And we have not spoken of our plans for another reason,
that is, because I particularly wanted you to feel on an equal footing when you
first meet him. When Dounia spoke to him with enthusiasm about you, he answered
that one could never judge of a man without seeing him close, for oneself, and that
he looked forward to forming his own opinion when he makes your acquaintance. Do
you know, my precious Rodya, I think that perhaps for some reasons (nothing to do
with Pyotr Petrovitch though, simply for my own personal, perhaps old-womanish,
fancies) I should do better to go on living by myself, apart, than with them, after
the wedding. I am convinced that he will be generous and delicate enough to invite
me and to urge me to remain with my daughter for the future, and if he has said
nothing about it hitherto, it is simply because it has been taken for granted; but
I shall refuse. I have noticed more than once in my life that husbands don't quite
get on with their mothers-in-law, and I don't want to be the least bit in any one's
way, and for my own sake, too, would rather be quite independent, so long as I have
a crust of bread of my own, and such children as you and Dounia. If possible, I
would settle somewhere near you, for the most joyful piece of news, dear Rodya,
I have kept for the end of my letter: know then, my dear boy, that we may, perhaps,
be all together in a very short time and may embrace one another again after a separation
of almost three years! It is settled for certain that Dounia and I are to set off
for Petersburg, exactly when I don't know, but very, very soon, possibly in a week.
It all depends on Pyotr Petrovitch who will let us know when he has had time to
look round him in Petersburg. To suit his own arrangements he is anxious to have
the ceremony as soon as possible, even before the fast of Our Lady, if it could
be managed, or if that is too soon to be ready, immediately after. Oh, with what
happiness I shall press you to my heart! Dounia is all excitement at the joyful
thought of seeing you, she said one day in joke that she would be ready to marry
Pyotr Petrovitch for that alone. She is an angel! She is not writing anything to
you now, and has only told me to write that she has so much, so much to tell you
that she is not going to take up her pen now, for a few lines would tell you nothing,
and it would only mean upsetting herself; she bids me send you her love and innumerable
kisses. But although we shall be meeting so soon, perhaps I shall send you as much
money as I can in a day or two. Now that every one has heard that Dounia is to marry
Pyotr Petrovitch, my credit has suddenly improved and I know that Afanasy Ivanovitch
will trust me now even to seventy-five roubles on the security of my pension, so
that perhaps I shall be able to send you twenty-five or even thirty roubles. I would
send you more, but I am uneasy about our travelling expenses; for though Pyotr Petrovitch
has been so kind as to undertake part of the expenses of the journey, that is to
say, he has taken upon himself the conveyance of our bags and big trunk (which will
be conveyed through some acquaintances of his), we must reckon upon some expenses
on our arrival in Petersburg, where we can't be left without a halfpenny, at least
for the first few days. But we have calculated it all, Dounia and I, to the last
penny, and we see that the journey will not cost very much. It is only ninety versts
from us to the railway and we have come to an agreement with a driver we know, so
as to be in readiness; and from there Dounia and I can travel quite comfortably
third class. So that I may very likely be able to send to you not twenty-five, but
thirty roubles. But enough; I have covered two sheets already and there is no space
left for more; our whole history, but so many events have happened! And now, my
precious Rodya, I embrace you and send you a mother's blessing till we meet. Love
Dounia your sister, Rodya; love her as she loves you and understand that she loves
you beyond everything, more than herself. She is an angel and you, Rodya, you are
everything to us– our one hope, our one consolation. If only you are happy, we shall
be happy. Do you still say your prayers, Rodya, and believe in the mercy of our
Creator and our Redeemer? I am afraid in my heart that you may have been visited
by the new spirit of infidelity that is abroad to-day! If it is so, I pray for you.
Remember, dear boy, how in your childhood, when your father was living, you used
to lisp your prayers at my knee, and how happy we all were in those days. Good-bye,
till we meet then– I embrace you warmly, warmly, with many kisses.
"Yours till death
"PULCHERIA RASKOLNIKOV." –
Almost from the first, while he read the letter, Raskolnikov's face was wet with
tears; but when he finished it, his face was pale and distorted and a bitter, wrathful
and malignant smile was on his lips. He laid his head down on his threadbare dirty
pillow and pondered, pondered a long time. His heart was beating violently, and
his brain was in a turmoil. At last he felt cramped and stifled in the little yellow
room that was like a cupboard or a box. His eyes and his mind craved for space.
He took up his hat and went out, this time without dread of meeting any one; he
had forgotten his dread. He turned in the direction of the Vassilyevsky Ostrov,
walking along Vassilyevsky Prospect, as though hastening on some business, but he
walked, as his habit was, without noticing his way, muttering and even speaking
aloud to himself, to the astonishment of the passers-by. Many of them took him to
be drunk. CHAPTERFOUR Chapter Four
-
HIS MOTHER'S letter had been a torture to him, but as regards the chief fact
in it, he had felt not one moment's hesitation, even whilst he was reading the letter.
The essential question was settled, and irrevocably settled, in his mind: "Never
such a marriage while I am alive and Mr. Luzhin be damned;" "The thing is perfectly
clear," he muttered to himself, with a malignant smile anticipating the triumph
of his decision. "No, mother, no, Dounia, you won't deceive me! and then they apologise
for not asking my advice and for taking the decision without me! I dare say! They
imagine it is arranged now and can't be broken off; but we will see whether it can
or not! A magnificent excuse: 'Pyotr Petrovitch is such a busy man that even his
wedding has to be in post-haste, almost by express.' No, Dounia, I see it all and
I know what you want to say to me; and I know too what you were thinking about,
when you walked up and down all night, and what your prayers were like before the
Holy Mother of Kazan who stands in mother's bedroom. Bitter is the ascent to Golgotha….
Hm… so it is finally settled; you have determined to marry a sensible business man,
Avdotya Romanovna, one who has a fortune (has already made his fortune, that is
so much more solid and impressive) a man who holds two government posts and who
shares the ideas of our most rising generation, as mother writes, and who seems
to be kind, as Dounia herself observes. That seems beats everything! And that very
Dounia for that very 'seems' is marrying him! Splendid! splendid!
"…But I should like to know why mother has written to me about 'our most rising
generation'? Simply as a descriptive touch, or with the idea of prepossessing me
in favour of Mr. Luzhin? Oh, the cunning of them! I should like to know one thing
more: how far they were open with one another that day and night and all this time
since? Was it all put into words, or did both understand that they had the same
thing at heart and in their minds, so that there was no need to speak of it aloud,
and better not to speak of it. Most likely it was partly like that, from mother's
letter it's evident: he struck her as rude a little, and mother in her simplicity
took her observations to Dounia. And she was sure to be vexed and 'answered her
angrily.' I should think so! Who would not be angered when it was quite clear without
any naive questions and when it was understood that it was useless to discuss it.
And why does she write to me, 'love Dounia, Rodya, and she loves you more than herself'?
Has she a secret conscience-prick at sacrificing her daughter to her son? 'You are
our one comfort, you are everything to us.' Oh, mother!"
His bitterness grew more and more intense, and if he had happened to meet Mr.
Luzhin at the moment, he might have murdered him.
"Hm… yes, that's true," he continued, pursuing the whirling ideas that chased
each other in his brain, "it is true that 'it needs time and care to get to know
a man,' but there is no mistake about Mr. Luzhin. The chief thing is he is 'a man
of business and seems kind,' that was something, wasn't it, to send the bags and
big box for them! A kind man, no doubt after that! But his bride and her mother
are to drive in a peasant's cart covered with sacking (I know, I have been driven
in it). No matter! It is only ninety versts and then they can 'travel very comfortably,
third class,' for a thousand versts! Quite right, too. One must cut one's coat according
to one's cloth, but what about you, Mr. Luzhin? She is your bride…. And you must
be aware that her mother has to raise money on her pension for the journey. To be
sure it's a matter of business, a partnership for mutual benefit, with equal shares
and expenses;– food and drink provided, but pay for your tobacco. The business man
has got the better of them, too. The luggage will cost less than their fares and
very likely go for nothing. How is it that they don't both see all that, or is it
that they don't want to see? And they are pleased, pleased! And to think that this
is only the first blossoming, and that the real fruits are to come! But what really
matters is not the stinginess, is not the meanness, but the tone of the whole thing.
For that will be the tone after marriage, it's a foretaste of it. And mother too,
why should she be so lavish? What will she have by the time she gets to Petersburg?
Three silver roubles or two 'paper ones' as she says…. that old woman… hm. What
does she expect to live upon in Petersburg afterwards? She has her reasons already
for guessing that she could not live with Dounia after the marriage, even for the
first few months. The good man has no doubt let slip something on that subject also,
though mother would deny it: 'I shall refuse,' says she. On whom is she reckoning
then? Is she counting on what is left of her hundred and twenty roubles of pension
when Afanasy Ivanovitch's debt is paid? She knits woollen shawls and embroiders
cuffs, ruining her old eyes. And all her shawls don't add more than twenty roubles
a year to her hundred and twenty, I know that. So she is building all her hopes
all the time on Mr. Luzhin's generosity; 'he will offer it of himself, he will press
it on me.' You may wait a long time for that! That's how it always is with these
Schilleresque noble hearts; till the last moment every goose is a swan with them,
till the last moment, they hope for the best and will see nothing wrong, and although
they have an inkling of the other side of the picture, yet they won't face the truth
till they are forced to; the very thought of it makes them shiver; they thrust the
truth away with both hands, until the man they deck out in false colours puts a
fool's cap on them with his own hands. I should like to know whether Mr. Luzhin
has any orders of merit; I bet he has the Anna in his buttonhole and that he puts
it on when he goes to dine with contractors or merchants. He will be sure to have
it for his wedding, too! Enough of him, confound him!