Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoevsky (mini ebook reader .TXT) 📗

You know, Terebyeva (who is in the community now) was blamed because when she left her family and …

devoted … herself, she wrote to her father and mother that she wouldn’t go on living conventionally and was entering on a free marriage and it was said that that was too harsh, that she might have spared them and have written more kindly. I think that’s all nonsense and there’s no need of softness; on the contrary, what’s wanted is protest. Varents had been married seven years, she abandoned her two children, she told her husband straight 651 of 967

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out in a letter: ‘I have realised that I cannot be happy with you. I can never forgive you that you have deceived me by concealing from me that there is another organisation of society by means of the communities. I have only lately learned it from a great-hearted man to whom I have given myself and with whom I am establishing a community. I speak plainly because I consider it dishonest to deceive you. Do as you think best. Do not hope to get me back, you are too late. I hope you will be happy.’ That’s how letters like that ought to be written!’

‘Is that Terebyeva the one you said had made a third free marriage?’

‘No, it’s only the second, really! But what if it were the fourth, what if it were the fifteenth, that’s all nonsense!

And if ever I regretted the death of my father and mother, it is now, and I sometimes think if my parents were living what a protest I would have aimed at them! I would have done something on purpose … I would have shown them!

I would have astonished them! I am really sorry there is no one!’

‘To surprise! He-he! Well, be that as you will,’ Pyotr Petrovitch interrupted, ‘but tell me this; do you know the dead man’s daughter, the delicate-looking little thing? It’s true what they say about her, isn’t it?’

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‘What of it? I think, that is, it is my own personal conviction that this is the normal condition of women.

Why not? I mean, distinguons. In our present society it is not altogether normal, because it is compulsory, but in the future society it will be perfectly normal, because it will be voluntary. Even as it is, she was quite right: she was suffering and that was her asset, so to speak, her capital which she had a perfect right to dispose of. Of course, in the future society there will be no need of assets, but her part will have another significance, rational and in harmony with her environment. As to Sofya Semyonovna personally, I regard her action as a vigorous protest against the organisation of society, and I respect her deeply for it; I rejoice indeed when I look at her!’

‘I was told that you got her turned out of these lodgings.’

Lebeziatnikov was enraged.

‘That’s another slander,’ he yelled. ‘It was not so at all!

That was all Katerina Ivanovna’s invention, for she did not understand! And I never made love to Sofya Semyonovna!

I was simply developing her, entirely disinterestedly, trying to rouse her to protest…. All I wanted was her protest and Sofya Semyonovna could not have remained here

anyway!’

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‘Have you asked her to join your community?’

‘You keep on laughing and very inappropriately, allow me to tell you. You don’t understand! There is no such rôle in a community. The community is established that there should be no such rôles. In a community, such a rôle is essentially transformed and what is stupid here is sensible there, what, under present conditions, is unnatural becomes perfectly natural in the community. It all depends on the environment. It’s all the environment and man himself is nothing. And I am on good terms with Sofya Semyonovna to this day, which is a proof that she never regarded me as having wronged her. I am trying now to attract her to the community, but on quite, quite a different footing. What are you laughing at? We are trying to establish a community of our own, a special one, on a broader basis. We have gone further in our convictions.

We reject more! And meanwhile I’m still developing Sofya Semyonovna. She has a beautiful, beautiful character!’

‘And you take advantage of her fine character, eh? He-he!’

‘No, no! Oh, no! On the contrary.’

‘Oh, on the contrary! He-he-he! A queer thing to say!’

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‘Believe me! Why should I disguise it? In fact, I feel it strange myself how timid, chaste and modern she is with me!’

‘And you, of course, are developing her … he-he!

trying to prove to her that all that modesty is nonsense?’

‘Not at all, not at all! How coarsely, how stupidly—

excuse me saying so—you misunderstand the word development! Good heavens, how … crude you still are!

We are striving for the freedom of women and you have only one idea in your head…. Setting aside the general question of chastity and feminine modesty as useless in themselves and indeed prejudices, I fully accept her chastity with me, because that’s for her to decide. Of course if she were to tell me herself that she wanted me, I should think myself very lucky, because I like the girl very much; but as it is, no one has ever treated her more courteously than I, with more respect for her dignity … I wait in hopes, that’s all!’

‘You had much better make her a present of

something. I bet you never thought of that.’

‘You don’t understand, as I’ve told you already! Of course, she is in such a position, but it’s another question.

Quite another question! You simply despise her. Seeing a fact which you mistakenly consider deserving of contempt, 655 of 967

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you refuse to take a humane view of a fellow creature.

You don’t know what a character she is! I am only sorry that of late she has quite given up reading and borrowing books. I used to lend them to her. I am sorry, too, that with all the energy and resolution in protesting—which she has already shown once—she has little self-reliance, little, so to say, independence, so as to break free from certain prejudices and certain foolish ideas. Yet she thoroughly understands some questions, for instance about kissing of hands, that is, that it’s an insult to a woman for a man to kiss her hand, because it’s a sign of inequality. We had a debate about it and I described it to her. She listened attentively to an account of the workmen’s associations in France, too. Now I am explaining the question of coming into the room in the future society.’

‘And what’s that, pray?’

‘We had a debate lately on the question: Has a member of the community the right to enter another member’s room, whether man or woman, at any time … and we decided that he has!’

‘It might be at an inconvenient moment, he-he!’

Lebeziatnikov was really angry.

‘You are always thinking of something unpleasant,’ he cried with aversion. ‘Tfoo! How vexed I am that when I 656 of 967

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was expounding our system, I referred prematurely to the question of personal privacy! It’s always a stumbling-block to people like you, they turn it into ridicule before they understand it. And how proud they are of it, too! Tfoo!

I’ve often maintained that that question should not be approached by a novice till he has a firm faith in the system. And tell me, please, what do you find so shameful even in cesspools? I should be the first to be ready to clean out any cesspool you like. And it’s not a question of self-sacrifice, it’s simply work, honourable, useful work which is as good as any other and much better than the work of a Raphael and a Pushkin, because it is more useful.’

‘And more honourable, more honourable, he-he-he!’

‘What do you mean by ‘more honourable’? I don’t understand such expressions to describe human activity.

‘More honourable,’ ‘nobler’— all those are old-fashioned prejudices which I reject. Everything which is of use to mankind is honourable. I only understand one word: useful! You can snigger as much as you like, but that’s so!’

Pyotr Petrovitch laughed heartily. He had finished counting the money and was putting it away. But some of the notes he left on the table. The ‘cesspool question’ had already been a subject of dispute between them. What was absurd was that it made Lebeziatnikov really angry, while 657 of 967

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it amused Luzhin and at that moment he particularly wanted to anger his young friend.

‘It’s your ill-luck yesterday that makes you so ill-humoured and annoying,’ blurted out Lebeziatnikov, who in spite of his ‘independence’ and his ‘protests’ did not venture to oppose Pyotr Petrovitch and still behaved to him with some of the respect habitual in earlier years.

‘You’d better tell me this,’ Pyotr Petrovitch interrupted with haughty displeasure, ‘can you … or rather are you really friendly enough with that young person to ask her to step in here for a minute? I think they’ve all come back from the cemetery … I heard the sound of steps … I want to see her, that young person.’

‘What for?’ Lebeziatnikov asked with surprise.

‘Oh, I want to. I am leaving here to-day or to-morrow and therefore I wanted to speak to her about … However, you may be present during the interview. It’s better you should be, indeed. For there’s no knowing what you might imagine.’

‘I shan’t imagine anything. I only asked and, if you’ve anything to say to her, nothing is easier than to call her in.

I’ll go directly and you may be sure I won’t be in your way.’

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Five minutes later Lebeziatnikov came in with Sonia.

She came in very much surprised and overcome with shyness as usual. She was always shy in such circumstances and was always afraid of new people, she had been as a child and was even more so now…. Pyotr Petrovitch met her ‘politely and affably,’ but with a certain shade of bantering familiarity which in his opinion was suitable for a man of his respectability and weight in dealing with a creature so young and so interesting as she. He hastened to

‘reassure’ her and made her sit down facing him at the table. Sonia sat down, looked about her—at

Lebeziatnikov, at the notes lying on the table and then again at Pyotr Petrovitch and her eyes remained riveted on him. Lebeziatnikov was moving to the door. Pyotr Petrovitch signed to Sonia to remain seated and stopped Lebeziatnikov.

‘Is Raskolnikov in there? Has he come?’ he asked him in a whisper.

‘Raskolnikov? Yes. Why? Yes, he is there. I saw him just come in…. Why?’

‘Well, I particularly beg you to remain here with us and not to leave me alone with this … young woman. I only want a few words with her, but God knows what 659 of 967

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they may make of it. I shouldn’t like Raskolnikov to repeat anything…. You understand what I mean?’

‘I understand!’ Lebeziatnikov saw the point. ‘Yes, you are right…. Of course, I am convinced personally that you have no reason to be uneasy, but … still, you are right.

Certainly I’ll stay. I’ll stand here at the window and not be in your way … I think you are right …’

Pyotr Petrovitch returned to the sofa, sat down opposite Sonia, looked attentively at her and assumed an extremely dignified, even severe expression, as much as to say, ‘don’t you make any mistake, madam.’ Sonia was overwhelmed with embarrassment.

‘In the first place, Sofya Semyonovna, will you make my excuses to your respected mamma…. That’s right, isn’t it? Katerina Ivanovna stands in the place of a mother to you?’ Pyotr Petrovitch began with great dignity, though affably.

It was evident that his intentions were friendly.

‘Quite so, yes; the place of a mother,’ Sonia answered, timidly and hurriedly.

‘Then will you make my apologies