“From idleness and depravity,” Raskolnikov interrupted.

“I am indeed a depraved and idle person. Nevertheless, your dear sister possesses so many advantages that I could not help succumbing somewhat to the impression. But that is all nonsense, as I now see myself.”

“How long ago did you see it?”

“I began to notice it even earlier, and finally became convinced two days ago, almost at the very moment of my arrival in Petersburg. In Moscow, however, I still imagined I was coming to seek Avdotya Romanovna's hand and to be Mr. Luzhin's rival.”

“Excuse me for interrupting you, but kindly make it short, and go straight to the purpose of your visit. I'm in a hurry, I must go out . . .”

“With the greatest pleasure. Having arrived here, and having now decided to undertake a certain...voyage, I wished to make the necessary preliminary arrangements. My children have stayed behind with their aunt; they're rich, and do not need me personally. After all, what sort of father am I! For myself I took only what Marfa Petrovna gave me a year ago. It's enough for me. Sorry, I'm now coming to the business itself. Before this voyage, which may in fact take place, I also want to finish with Mr. Luzhin. Not that I find him so unbearable, but all the same it was through him that my quarrel with Marfa Petrovna came about, when I discovered she had cooked up this wedding. I now wish to see Avdotya Romanovna, with your mediation, and explain to her, perhaps even in your presence, first, that she will get not the slightest profit from Mr. Luzhin, but instead, and quite certainly, there will be a clear loss. Then, having asked her forgiveness for all those recent troubles, I would like to ask permission to offer her ten thousand roubles and thus facilitate her break with Mr. Luzhin, a break which I am sure she would not be averse to, if only the possibility should arise.”

“But you are really and truly crazy!” Raskolnikov exclaimed, not even so much angry as surprised. “How dare you say that!”

“I knew you were going to make an outcry; but, first, though I'm not rich, I do have these ten thousand roubles at my disposal—that is, I absolutely, absolutely do not need them. If Avdotya Romanovna does not accept them, I may put them to some even more foolish use. That's one thing. Second, my conscience is entirely at rest; there is no calculation in my offer. You may not believe it, but later both you and Avdotya Romanovna will find it to be so. The whole thing is that I did indeed cause your dear, much esteemed sister some trouble and unpleasantness; therefore, feeling sincerely repentant, it is my heartfelt wish—not to buy myself off, not to pay for the unpleasantness, but purely and simply to do something profitable for her, on the grounds that I have not, after all, taken the privilege of doing only evil. If there were even a millionth part of calculation in my offer, I would not have made it so directly; and I would not be offering her only ten thousand, when I offered her much more just five weeks ago. Besides, it's possible that in a very, very short time I shall marry a certain girl, and consequently all suspicion of any attempts against Avdotya Romanovna should thereby be wiped out. In conclusion, I will say that in marrying Mr. Luzhin, Avdotya Romanovna will only be taking the same money from another hand . .. Don't be angry, Rodion Romanovich; consider it calmly and coolly.”

Svidrigailov himself was extremely cool and calm as he said this.

“I beg you to finish,” said Raskolnikov. “In any case, it's unforgivably impudent.”

“Not in the least. Or else man can only do evil to men in this world, and, on the contrary, has no right to do even a drop of good, because of empty, conventional formalities. That is absurd. If I died, for example, and left this sum to your dear sister in my will, is it possible that even then she would refuse it?”

“Quite possible.”

“Now, that can't be, sir. However, if so, so—let it be as you say. Only ten thousand is a wonderful thing on occasion. In any case, I ask that you tell Avdotya Romanovna what I've said.”

“No, I won't.”

“In that case, Rodion Romanovich, I shall be forced to try to obtain a personal meeting myself, and therefore to trouble her.”

“And if I do tell her, you won't try to obtain a personal meeting?”

“I really don't know what to say. I would very much like to see her, just once.”

“Hopeless.”

“Too bad. However, you don't know me. Perhaps we'll become closer.”

“You think we'll become closer?”

“And why not?” Svidrigailov said, smiling, and he stood up and took his hat. “It's not that I wished so much to trouble you, and I didn't even count on much in coming here, though, by the way, already this morning I was struck by your physiognomy...”

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

“By chance, sir...I keep fancying there's something in you that suits my...But don't worry, I'm not a bore; I got along with sharpers, and I never bored Prince Svirbey, a distant relation of mine and a grand gentleman, and I was able to write about Raphael's Madonna in Madame Prilukov's album, and lived uninterruptedly for seven years with Marfa Petrovna, and spent a night or two in Vyazemsky's house on the Haymarket in days of old,^[93] and will perhaps fly with Berg in his balloon.”

“Well, very well, sir. May I ask if you will be going on your trip soon?”

“What trip?”

“That 'voyage'...You were just talking about it.”

“Voyage? Ah, yes! ... I did tell you about a voyage...Well, that is a vast question...You have no idea what you're asking, however!” he added, and suddenly burst into loud but short laughter. “Perhaps, instead of the voyage, I'll get married. They're matchmaking me with a fiancée.”

“Here?”

“Yes.”

“How have you had time?”

“But I rather wished to see Avdotya Romanovna once. A serious request. Well, good-bye...Ah, yes! See what I forgot! Tell your dear sister, Rodion Romanovich, that she is mentioned in Marfa Petrovna's will for three thousand roubles. That is positively so. Marfa Petrovna made the arrangements a week before her death, and it was done in my presence. In two or three weeks Avdotya Romanovna will be able to have the money.”

“You're telling the truth?”

“The truth. Tell her. Well, sir, I am at your service. I'm staying quite nearby, you see.”

As he was leaving, Svidrigailov ran into Razumikhin in the doorway.

II

It was nearly eight o'clock by then; they hurried off to Bakaleev's, in order to arrive before Luzhin.

“Well, who was that?” Razumikhin asked, as soon as they were in the street.

“That was Svidrigailov, the landowner in whose house my sister was offended when she was serving there as a governess. She left them on account of his amorous pursuits, having been turned out by his wife, Marfa Petrovna. Afterwards, this Marfa Petrovna begged Dunya's forgiveness, and now she has suddenly died. We were talking about her this morning. I don't know why, but I'm very afraid of the man. He came here right after his wife's funeral. He's very strange, and is set on something...He seems to know something...Dunya must be protected from him...that's what I wanted to tell you, do you hear?”

“Protected? But what can he do against Avdotya Romanovna? Well, thank you for telling me like this, Rodya...We'll protect her, that we will! ... Where does he live?”

“I don't know.”

“Why didn't you ask? Eh, too bad! But I'll find out!”

“Did you see him?” Raskolnikov asked, after some silence.

“Oh, yes, I noted him; I noted him well.”

“You're sure you saw him? Saw him clearly?” Raskolnikov insisted.

“Oh, yes, I remember him clearly; I'd know him in a thousand; I have a good memory for faces.”