Raskolnikov walked after him.
"What's this?" cried Svidrigailov turning round, "I thought I said . . ."
"It means that I am not going to lose sight of you now."
"What?"
Both stood still and gazed at one another, as though measuring their strength.
"From all your half tipsy stories," Raskolnikov observed harshly, "I am /positive/ that you have not given up your designs on my sister, but are pursuing them more actively than ever. I have learnt that my sister received a letter this morning. You have hardly been able to sit still all this time. . . . You may have unearthed a wife on the way, but that means nothing. I should like to make certain myself."
Raskolnikov could hardly have said himself what he wanted and of what he wished to make certain.
"Upon my word! I'll call the police!"
"Call away!"
Again they stood for a minute facing each other. At last Svidrigailov's face changed. Having satisfied himself that Raskolnikov was not frightened at his threat, he assumed a mirthful and friendly air.
"What a fellow! I purposely refrained from referring to your affair, though I am devoured by curiosity. It's a fantastic affair. I've put it off till another time, but you're enough to rouse the dead. . . . Well, let us go, only I warn you beforehand I am only going home for a moment, to get some money; then I shall lock up the flat, take a cab and go to spend the evening at the Islands. Now, now are you going to follow me?"
"I'm coming to your lodgings, not to see you but Sofya Semyonovna, to say I'm sorry not to have been at the funeral."
"That's as you like, but Sofya Semyonovna is not at home. She has taken the three children to an old lady of high rank, the patroness of some orphan asylums, whom I used to know years ago. I charmed the old lady by depositing a sum of money with her to provide for the three children of Katerina Ivanovna and subscribing to the institution as well. I told her too the story of Sofya Semyonovna in full detail, suppressing nothing. It produced an indescribable effect on her. That's why Sofya Semyonovna has been invited to call to-day at the X. Hotel where the lady is staying for the time."
"No matter, I'll come all the same."
"As you like, it's nothing to me, but I won't come with you; here we are at home. By the way, I am convinced that you regard me with suspicion just because I have shown such delicacy and have not so far troubled you with questions . . . you understand? It struck you as extraordinary; I don't mind betting it's that. Well, it teaches one to show delicacy!"
"And to listen at doors!"
"Ah, that's it, is it?" laughed Svidrigailov. "Yes, I should have been surprised if you had let that pass after all that has happened. Ha-ha! Though I did understand something of the pranks you had been up to and were telling Sofya Semyonovna about, what was the meaning of it? Perhaps I am quite behind the times and can't understand. For goodness' sake, explain it, my dear boy. Expound the latest theories!"
"You couldn't have heard anything. You're making it all up!"
"But I'm not talking about that (though I did hear something). No, I'm talking of the way you keep sighing and groaning now. The Schiller in you is in revolt every moment, and now you tell me not to listen at doors. If that's how you feel, go and inform the police that you had this mischance: you made a little mistake in your theory. But if you are convinced that one mustn't listen at doors, but one may murder old women at one's pleasure, you'd better be off to America and make haste. Run, young man! There may still be time. I'm speaking sincerely. Haven't you the money? I'll give you the fare."
"I'm not thinking of that at all," Raskolnikov interrupted with disgust.
"I understand (but don't put yourself out, don't discuss it if you don't want to). I understand the questions you are worrying over-- moral ones, aren't they? Duties of citizen and man? Lay them all aside. They are nothing to you now, ha-ha! You'll say you are still a man and a citizen. If so you ought not to have got into this coil. It's no use taking up a job you are not fit for. Well, you'd better shoot yourself, or don't you want to?"
"You seem trying to enrage me, to make me leave you."
"What a queer fellow! But here we are. Welcome to the staircase. You see, that's the way to Sofya Semyonovna. Look, there is no one at home. Don't you believe me? Ask Kapernaumov. She leaves the key with him. Here is Madame de Kapernaumov herself. Hey, what? She is rather deaf. Has she gone out? Where? Did you hear? She is not in and won't be till late in the evening probably. Well, come to my room; you wanted to come and see me, didn't you? Here we are. Madame Resslich's not at home. She is a woman who is always busy, an excellent woman I assure you. . . . She might have been of use to you if you had been a little more sensible. Now, see! I take this five-per-cent bond out of the bureau--see what a lot I've got of them still--this one will be turned into cash to-day. I mustn't waste any more time. The bureau is locked, the flat is locked, and here we are again on the stairs. Shall we take a cab? I'm going to the Islands. Would you like a lift? I'll take this carriage. Ah, you refuse? You are tired of it! Come for a drive! I believe it will come on to rain. Never mind, we'll put down the hood. . . ."
Svidrigailov was already in the carriage. Raskolnikov decided that his suspicions were at least for that moment unjust. Without answering a word he turned and walked back towards the Hay Market. If he had only turned round on his way he might have seen Svidrigailov get out not a hundred paces off, dismiss the cab and walk along the pavement. But he had turned the corner and could see nothing. Intense disgust drew him away from Svidrigailov.
"To think that I could for one instant have looked for help from that coarse brute, that depraved sensualist and blackguard!" he cried.
Raskolnikov's judgment was uttered too lightly and hastily: there was something about Svidrigailov which gave him a certain original, even a mysterious character. As concerned his sister, Raskolnikov was convinced that Svidrigailov would not leave her in peace. But it was too tiresome and unbearable to go on thinking and thinking about this.
When he was alone, he had not gone twenty paces before he sank, as usual, into deep thought. On the bridge he stood by the railing and began gazing at the water. And his sister was standing close by him.
He met her at the entrance to the bridge, but passed by without seeing her. Dounia had never met him like this in the street before and was struck with dismay. She stood still and did not know whether to call to him or not. Suddenly she saw Svidrigailov coming quickly from the direction of the Hay Market.
He seemed to be approaching cautiously. He did not go on to the bridge, but stood aside on the pavement, doing all he could to avoid Raskolnikov's seeing him. He had observed Dounia for some time and had been making signs to her. She fancied he was signalling to beg her not to speak to her brother, but to come to him.
That was what Dounia did. She stole by her brother and went up to Svidrigailov.
"Let us make haste away," Svidrigailov whispered to her, "I don't want Rodion Romanovitch to know of our meeting. I must tell you I've been sitting with him in the restaurant close by, where he looked me up and I had great difficulty in getting rid of him. He has somehow heard of my letter to you and suspects something. It wasn't you who told him, of course, but if not you, who then?"
"Well, we've turned the corner now," Dounia interrupted, "and my brother won't see us. I have to tell you that I am going no further with you. Speak to me here. You can tell it all in the street."
"In the first place, I can't say it in the street; secondly, you must hear Sofya Semyonovna too; and, thirdly, I will show you some papers. . . . Oh well, if you won't agree to come with me, I shall refuse to give any explanation and go away at once. But I beg you not to forget that a very curious secret of your beloved brother's is entirely in my keeping."
Dounia stood still, hesitating, and looked at Svidrigailov with searching eyes.
"What are you afraid of?" he observed quietly. "The town is not the country. And even in the country you did me more harm than I did you."
"Have you prepared Sofya Semyonovna?"
"No, I have not said a word to her and am not quite certain whether she is at home now. But most likely she is. She has buried her stepmother to-day: she is not likely to go visiting on such a day. For the time I don't want to speak to anyone about it and I half regret having spoken to you. The slightest indiscretion is as bad as betrayal in a thing like this. I live there in that house, we are coming to it. That's the porter of our house--he knows me very well; you see, he's bowing; he sees I'm coming with a lady and no doubt he has noticed your face already and you will be glad of that if you are afraid of me and suspicious. Excuse my putting things so coarsely. I haven't a flat to myself; Sofya Semyonovna's room is next to mine--she lodges in the next flat. The whole floor is let out in lodgings. Why are you frightened like a child? Am I really so terrible?"
Svidrigailov's lips were twisted in a condescending smile; but he was in no smiling mood. His heart was throbbing and he could scarcely breathe. He spoke rather loud to cover his growing excitement. But Dounia did not notice this peculiar excitement, she was so irritated by his remark that she was frightened of him like a child and that he was so terrible to her.
"Though I know that you are not a man . . . of honour, I am not in the least afraid of you. Lead the way," she said with apparent composure, but her face was very pale.
Svidrigailov stopped at Sonia's room.
"Allow me to inquire whether she is at home. . . . She is not. How unfortunate! But I know she may come quite soon. If she's gone out, it can only be to see a lady about the orphans. Their mother is dead. . . . I've been meddling and making arrangements for them. If Sofya Semyonovna does not come back in ten minutes, I will send her to you, to-day if you like. This is my flat. These are my two rooms. Madame Resslich, my landlady, has the next room. Now, look this way. I will show you my chief piece of evidence: this door from my bedroom leads into two perfectly empty rooms, which are to let. Here they are . . . You must look into them with some attention."
Svidrigailov occupied two fairly large furnished rooms. Dounia was looking about her mistrustfully, but saw nothing special in the furniture or position of the rooms. Yet there was something to observe, for instance, that Svidrigailov's flat was exactly between two sets of almost uninhabited apartments. His rooms were not entered directly from the passage, but through the landlady's two almost empty rooms. Unlocking a door leading out of his bedroom, Svidrigailov showed Dounia the two empty rooms that were to let. Dounia stopped in the doorway, not knowing what she was called to look upon, but Svidrigailov hastened to explain.
"Look here, at this second large room. Notice that door, it's locked. By the door stands a chair, the only one in the two rooms. I brought it from my rooms so as to listen more conveniently. Just the other side of the door is Sofya Semyonovna's table; she sat there talking to Rodion Romanovitch. And I sat here listening on two successive evenings, for two hours each time--and of course I was able to learn something, what do you think?"
"You listened?"
"Yes, I did. Now come back to my room; we can't sit down here."
He brought Avdotya Romanovna back into his sitting-room and offered her a chair. He sat down at the opposite side of the table, at least seven feet from her, but probably there was the same glow in his eyes which had once frightened Dounia so much. She shuddered and once more looked about her distrustfully. It was an involuntary gesture; she evidently did not wish to betray her uneasiness. But the secluded position of Svidrigailov's lodging had suddenly struck her. She wanted to ask whether his landlady at least were at home, but pride kept her from asking. Moreover, she had another trouble in her heart incomparably greater than fear for herself. She was in great distress.
"Here is your letter," she said, laying it on the table. "Can it be true what you write? You hint at a crime committed, you say, by my brother. You hint at it too clearly; you daren't deny it now. I must tell you that I'd heard of this stupid story before you wrote and don't believe a word of it. It's a disgusting and ridiculous suspicion. I know the story and why and how it was invented. You can have no proofs. You promised to prove it. Speak! But let me warn you that I don't believe you! I don't believe you!"
Dounia said this, speaking hurriedly, and for an instant the colour rushed to her face.
"If you didn't believe it, how could you risk coming alone to my rooms? Why have you come? Simply from curiosity?"
"Don't torment me. Speak, speak!"
"There's no denying that you are a brave girl. Upon my word, I thought you would have asked Mr. Razumihin to escort you here. But he was not with you nor anywhere near. I was on the look-out. It's spirited of you, it proves you wanted to spare Rodion Romanovitch. But everything is divine in you. . . . About your brother, what am I to say to you? You've just seen him yourself. What did you think of him?"
"Surely that's not the only thing you are building on?"
"No, not on that, but on his own words. He came here on two successive evenings to see Sofya Semyonovna. I've shown you where they sat. He made a full confession to her. He is a murderer. He killed an old woman, a pawnbroker, with whom he had pawned things himself. He killed her sister too, a pedlar woman called Lizaveta, who happened to come in while he was murdering her sister. He killed them with an axe he brought with him. He murdered them to rob them and he did rob them. He took money and various things. . . . He told all this, word for word, to Sofya Semyonovna, the only person who knows his secret. But she has had no share by word or deed in the murder; she was as horrified at it as you are now. Don't be anxious, she won't betray him."
"It cannot be," muttered Dounia, with white lips. She gasped for breath. "It cannot be. There was not the slightest cause, no sort of ground. . . . It's a lie, a lie!"
"He robbed her, that was the cause, he took money and things. It's true that by his own admission he made no use of the money or things, but hid them under a stone, where they are now. But that was because he dared not make use of them."
"But how could he steal, rob? How could he dream of it?" cried Dounia, and she jumped up from the chair. "Why, you know him, and you've seen him, can he be a thief?"
She seemed to be imploring Svidrigailov; she had entirely forgotten her fear.
"There are thousands and millions of combinations and possibilities, Avdotya Romanovna. A thief steals and knows he is a scoundrel, but I've heard of a gentleman who broke open the mail. Who knows, very likely he thought he was doing a gentlemanly thing! Of course I should not have believed it myself if I'd been told of it as you have, but I believe my own ears. He explained all the causes of it to Sofya Semyonovna too, but she did not believe her ears at first, yet she believed her own eyes at last."
"What . . . were the causes?"
"It's a long story, Avdotya Romanovna. Here's . . . how shall I tell you?--A theory of a sort, the same one by which I for instance consider that a single misdeed is permissible if the principal aim is right, a solitary wrongdoing and hundreds of good deeds! It's galling too, of course, for a young man of gifts and overweening pride to know that if he had, for instance, a paltry three thousand, his whole career, his whole future would be differently shaped and yet not to have that three thousand. Add to that, nervous irritability from hunger, from lodging in a hole, from rags, from a vivid sense of the charm of his social position and his sister's and mother's position too. Above all, vanity, pride and vanity, though goodness knows he may have good qualities too. . . . I am not blaming him, please don't think it; besides, it's not my business. A special little theory came in too--a theory of a sort--dividing mankind, you see, into material and superior persons, that is persons to whom the law does not apply owing to their superiority, who make laws for the rest of mankind, the material, that is. It's all right as a theory, /une theorie comme une autre/. Napoleon attracted him tremendously, that is, what affected him was that a great many men of genius have not hesitated at wrongdoing, but have overstepped the law without thinking about it. He seems to have fancied that he was a genius too--that is, he was convinced of it for a time. He has suffered a great deal and is still suffering from the idea that he could make a theory, but was incapable of boldly overstepping the law, and so he is not a man of genius. And that's humiliating for a young man of any pride, in our day especially. . . ."
"But remorse? You deny him any moral feeling then? Is he like that?"
"Ah, Avdotya Romanovna, everything is in a muddle now; not that it was ever in very good order. Russians in general are broad in their ideas, Avdotya Romanovna, broad like their land and exceedingly disposed to the fantastic, the chaotic. But it's a misfortune to be broad without a special genius. Do you remember what a lot of talk we had together on this subject, sitting in the evenings on the terrace after supper? Why, you used to reproach me with breadth! Who knows, perhaps we were talking at the very time when he was lying here thinking over his plan. There are no sacred traditions amongst us, especially in the educated class, Avdotya Romanovna. At the best someone will make them up somehow for himself out of books or from some old chronicle. But those are for the most part the learned and all old fogeys, so that it would be almost ill-bred in a man of society. You know my opinions in general, though. I never blame anyone. I do nothing at all, I persevere in that. But we've talked of this more than once before. I was so happy indeed as to interest you in my opinions. . . . You are very pale, Avdotya Romanovna."
"I know his theory. I read that article of his about men to whom all is permitted. Razumihin brought it to me."
"Mr. Razumihin? Your brother's article? In a magazine? Is there such an article? I didn't know. It must be interesting. But where are you going, Avdotya Romanovna?"
"I want to see Sofya Semyonovna," Dounia articulated faintly. "How do I go to her? She has come in, perhaps. I must see her at once. Perhaps she . . ."
Avdotya Romanovna could not finish. Her breath literally failed her.
"Sofya Semyonovna will not be back till night, at least I believe not. She was to have been back at once, but if not, then she will not be in till quite late."
"Ah, then you are lying! I see . . . you were lying . . . lying all the time. . . . I don't believe you! I don't believe you!" cried Dounia, completely losing her head.
Almost fainting, she sank on to a chair which Svidrigailov made haste to give her.
"Avdotya Romanovna, what is it? Control yourself! Here is some water. Drink a little. . . ."
He sprinkled some water over her. Dounia shuddered and came to herself.
"It has acted violently," Svidrigailov muttered to himself, frowning. "Avdotya Romanovna, calm yourself! Believe me, he has friends. We will save him. Would you like me to take him abroad? I have money, I can get a ticket in three days. And as for the murder, he will do all sorts of good deeds yet, to atone for it. Calm yourself. He may become a great man yet. Well, how are you? How do you feel?"
"Cruel man! To be able to jeer at it! Let me go . . ."
"Where are you going?"
"To him. Where is he? Do you know? Why is this door locked? We came in at that door and now it is locked. When did you manage to lock it?"
"We couldn't be shouting all over the flat on such a subject. I am far from jeering; it's simply that I'm sick of talking like this. But how can you go in such a state? Do you want to betray him? You will drive him to fury, and he will give himself up. Let me tell you, he is already being watched; they are already on his track. You will simply be giving him away. Wait a little: I saw him and was talking to him just now. He can still be saved. Wait a bit, sit down; let us think it over together. I asked you to come in order to discuss it alone with you and to consider it thoroughly. But do sit down!"
"How can you save him? Can he really be saved?"
Dounia sat down. Svidrigailov sat down beside her.
"It all depends on you, on you, on you alone," he begin with glowing eyes, almost in a whisper and hardly able to utter the words for emotion.
Dounia drew back from him in alarm. He too was trembling all over.
"You . . . one word from you, and he is saved. I . . . I'll save him. I have money and friends. I'll send him away at once. I'll get a passport, two passports, one for him and one for me. I have friends . . . capable people. . . . If you like, I'll take a passport for you . . . for your mother. . . . What do you want with Razumihin? I love you too. . . . I love you beyond everything. . . . Let me kiss the hem of your dress, let me, let me. . . . The very rustle of it is too much for me. Tell me, 'do that,' and I'll do it. I'll do everything. I will do the impossible. What you believe, I will believe. I'll do anything --anything! Don't, don't look at me like that. Do you know that you are killing me? . . ."
He was almost beginning to rave. . . . Something seemed suddenly to go to his head. Dounia jumped up and rushed to the door.
"Open it! Open it!" she called, shaking the door. "Open it! Is there no one there?"
Svidrigailov got up and came to himself. His still trembling lips slowly broke into an angry mocking smile.
"There is no one at home," he said quietly and emphatically. "The landlady has gone out, and it's waste of time to shout like that. You are only exciting yourself uselessly."
"Where is the key? Open the door at once, at once, base man!"
"I have lost the key and cannot find it."
"This is an outrage," cried Dounia, turning pale as death. She rushed to the furthest corner, where she made haste to barricade herself with a little table.
She did not scream, but she fixed her eyes on her tormentor and watched every movement he made.
Svidrigailov remained standing at the other end of the room facing her. He was positively composed, at least in appearance, but his face was pale as before. The mocking smile did not leave his face.
"You spoke of outrage just now, Avdotya Romanovna. In that case you may be sure I've taken measures. Sofya Semyonovna is not at home. The Kapernaumovs are far away--there are five locked rooms between. I am at least twice as strong as you are and I have nothing to fear, besides. For you could not complain afterwards. You surely would not be willing actually to betray your brother? Besides, no one would believe you. How should a girl have come alone to visit a solitary man in his lodgings? So that even if you do sacrifice your brother, you could prove nothing. It is very difficult to prove an assault, Avdotya Romanovna."
"Scoundrel!" whispered Dounia indignantly.
"As you like, but observe I was only speaking by way of a general proposition. It's my personal conviction that you are perfectly right --violence is hateful. I only spoke to show you that you need have no remorse even if . . . you were willing to save your brother of your own accord, as I suggest to you. You would be simply submitting to circumstances, to violence, in fact, if we must use that word. Think about it. Your brother's and your mother's fate are in your hands. I will be your slave . . . all my life . . . I will wait here."
Svidrigailov sat down on the sofa about eight steps from Dounia. She had not the slightest doubt now of his unbending determination. Besides, she knew him. Suddenly she pulled out of her pocket a revolver, cocked it and laid it in her hand on the table. Svidrigailov jumped up.
"Aha! So that's it, is it?" he cried, surprised but smiling maliciously. "Well, that completely alters the aspect of affairs. You've made things wonderfully easier for me, Avdotya Romanovna. But where did you get the revolver? Was it Mr. Razumihin? Why, it's my revolver, an old friend! And how I've hunted for it! The shooting lessons I've given you in the country have not been thrown away."
"It's not your revolver, it belonged to Marfa Petrovna, whom you killed, wretch! There was nothing of yours in her house. I took it when I began to suspect what you were capable of. If you dare to advance one step, I swear I'll kill you." She was frantic.
"But your brother? I ask from curiosity," said Svidrigailov, still standing where he was.
"Inform, if you want to! Don't stir! Don't come nearer! I'll shoot! You poisoned your wife, I know; you are a murderer yourself!" She held the revolver ready.
"Are you so positive I poisoned Marfa Petrovna?"
"You did! You hinted it yourself; you talked to me of poison. . . . I know you went to get it . . . you had it in readiness. . . . It was your doing. . . . It must have been your doing. . . . Scoundrel!"
"Even if that were true, it would have been for your sake . . . you would have been the cause."
"You are lying! I hated you always, always. . . ."
"Oho, Avdotya Romanovna! You seem to have forgotten how you softened to me in the heat of propaganda. I saw it in your eyes. Do you remember that moonlight night, when the nightingale was singing?"
"That's a lie," there was a flash of fury in Dounia's eyes, "that's a lie and a libel!"
"A lie? Well, if you like, it's a lie. I made it up. Women ought not to be reminded of such things," he smiled. "I know you will shoot, you pretty wild creature. Well, shoot away!"
Dounia raised the revolver, and deadly pale, gazed at him, measuring the distance and awaiting the first movement on his part. Her lower lip was white and quivering and her big black eyes flashed like fire. He had never seen her so handsome. The fire glowing in her eyes at the moment she raised the revolver seemed to kindle him and there was a pang of anguish in his heart. He took a step forward and a shot rang out. The bullet grazed his hair and flew into the wall behind. He stood still and laughed softly.
"The wasp has stung me. She aimed straight at my head. What's this? Blood?" he pulled out his handkerchief to wipe the blood, which flowed in a thin stream down his right temple. The bullet seemed to have just grazed the skin.
Dounia lowered the revolver and looked at Svidrigailov not so much in terror as in a sort of wild amazement. She seemed not to understand what she was doing and what was going on.
"Well, you missed! Fire again, I'll wait," said Svidrigailov softly, still smiling, but gloomily. "If you go on like that, I shall have time to seize you before you cock again."
Dounia started, quickly cocked the pistol and again raised it.
"Let me be," she cried in despair. "I swear I'll shoot again. I . . . I'll kill you."
"Well . . . at three paces you can hardly help it. But if you don't . . . then." His eyes flashed and he took two steps forward. Dounia shot again: it missed fire.
"You haven't loaded it properly. Never mind, you have another charge there. Get it ready, I'll wait."
He stood facing her, two paces away, waiting and gazing at her with wild determination, with feverishly passionate, stubborn, set eyes. Dounia saw that he would sooner die than let her go. "And . . . now, of course she would kill him, at two paces!" Suddenly she flung away the revolver.
"She's dropped it!" said Svidrigailov with surprise, and he drew a deep breath. A weight seemed to have rolled from his heart--perhaps not only the fear of death; indeed he may scarcely have felt it at that moment. It was the deliverance from another feeling, darker and more bitter, which he could not himself have defined.
He went to Dounia and gently put his arm round her waist. She did not resist, but, trembling like a leaf, looked at him with suppliant eyes. He tried to say something, but his lips moved without being able to utter a sound.
"Let me go," Dounia implored. Svidrigailov shuddered. Her voice now was quite different.
"Then you don't love me?" he asked softly. Dounia shook her head.
"And . . . and you can't? Never?" he whispered in despair.
"Never!"
There followed a moment of terrible, dumb struggle in the heart of Svidrigailov. He looked at her with an indescribable gaze. Suddenly he withdrew his arm, turned quickly to the window and stood facing it. Another moment passed.
"Here's the key."
He took it out of the left pocket of his coat and laid it on the table behind him, without turning or looking at Dounia.
"Take it! Make haste!"
He looked stubbornly out of the window. Dounia went up to the table to take the key.
"Make haste! Make haste!" repeated Svidrigailov, still without turning or moving. But there seemed a terrible significance in the tone of that "make haste."
Dounia understood it, snatched up the key, flew to the door, unlocked it quickly and rushed out of the room. A minute later, beside herself, she ran out on to the canal bank in the direction of X. Bridge.
Svidrigailov remained three minutes standing at the window. At last he slowly turned, looked about him and passed his hand over his forehead. A strange smile contorted his face, a pitiful, sad, weak smile, a smile of despair. The blood, which was already getting dry, smeared his hand. He looked angrily at it, then wetted a towel and washed his temple. The revolver which Dounia had flung away lay near the door and suddenly caught his eye. He picked it up and examined it. It was a little pocket three-barrel revolver of old-fashioned construction. There were still two charges and one capsule left in it. It could be fired again. He thought a little, put the revolver in his pocket, took his hat and went out.
拉斯科利尼科夫跟在他的后面。
“这是怎么回事！”斯维德里盖洛夫回过头来，高声叫喊，“我好像说过了……”
“这就是说，现在我决不离开您。”
“什么——么？”
两人都站住了，两人彼此对看了约摸一分钟光景，仿佛在互相估量对方。
“从所有您那些半醉的醉话里，”拉斯科利尼科夫毫不客气、毫无顾忌地说，“我完全得出结论，您不仅没有放弃对我妹妹那些最卑鄙的打算，而且甚至比任何时候都更积极地策划着什么一陰一谋。我知道，今天早晨我妹妹收到了一封信。您一直坐立不安……即使您半路上找到一个妻子；但是这并不能说明您改了主意。我要亲自证实……”
拉斯科利尼科夫自己也未必能够确定，现在他到底要干什么，他想亲自证实的到底是什么事情。
“原来如此！您想叫我立刻喊警察吗？”
“喊吧！”
他们又面对面地站了约摸一分钟。最后斯维德里盖洛夫脸上的神情改变了。待他确信拉斯科利尼科夫不怕威胁以后，突然又装出一副最快活、最友好的样子。
“您真是！我故意不跟您谈您的事情，尽管我自然是好奇得要死。这件事是很离奇的。本想留到下次再说，可是，真的，就连死人，您也能把他给惹恼了……好，咱们一道走吧，不过我要事先声明：现在我只不过要回家去一下，拿点儿钱；然后锁上房门，叫辆出租马车，到群岛上去兜一晚上。您跟着我去干什么呢？”
“我暂时到你们那幢房子里去，不过不是去您那儿，而是去索菲娅·谢苗诺芙娜那里，为我没去参加葬礼向她道声歉。”
“这随您的便，不过索菲娅·谢苗诺芙娜不在家。她领着孩子们到一位太太那儿去了，是一位显贵的老太太，我很久以前的熟人，也是几座孤儿院的主管人。我把抚养卡捷琳娜·伊万诺芙娜三个孩子的那笔钱都一交一给了她，此外还给孤儿院捐了些钱，这样一来，就使那位太太仿佛中了我的魔法，对我的请求她还能不答应吗；我还对她讲了索菲娅·谢苗诺芙娜的故事，把所有详情细节都毫不隐瞒地告诉了她。给她留下了无法形容的深刻印象。所以索菲娅·谢苗诺芙娜接到邀请，请她今天直接去×旅馆，我的这位太太从别墅回来，暂时就住在那里。”
“没关系，我还是要去。”
“悉听尊便，不过我可不跟您一道去；这和我毫不相干！您瞧，我们已经到家了。我相信，您所以用怀疑的目光来看我，是因为我竟这么有礼貌，直到现在没向您打听过什么……您说，是不是呢？您明白我的意思吗？您觉得这有些异常；我敢打赌，准是这样！嗯，所以请您对我也要懂点儿礼貌。”
“可是您躲在门后偷一听！”
“啊，您指的是这个！”斯维德里盖洛夫笑了起来，“是啊，谈了半天，如果您不提这件事，那我倒要觉得奇怪了。哈！哈！
我虽然多少知道一点儿那时候您……在那里……干的那件事，还有您亲自对索菲娅·谢苗诺芙娜说了些什么，不过这到底是怎么回事？我也许是个完全落后于时代的人了，什么也弄不懂。看在上帝份上，请您给解释一下，亲一爱一的！请您用最新的原理开导开导我吧。”
“您什么也听不到的，您一直是在说谎！”
“我指的不是那个，不是那个（不过，我至少也听到了一点儿），不，我指的是，现在您总是在唉声叹气！席勒在您心中一刻不停地一騷一动着。瞧，现在又不许人躲在门后偷一听了。既然如此，那就请您去报告长官吧，就说，如此这般，我发生了这么一件意外的事：在理论上出了个小小的差错。如果您确信不能躲在门后偷一听，却可以随一心一所一欲，用随手抓到的什么东西去杀死一个老太婆，那么您就赶快逃到美国去吧！逃跑吧，年轻人！也许还有时间。我说这话是十分真诚的。没有钱，是吗？我给您路费。”
“我根本就没这么想，”拉斯科利尼科夫厌恶地打断了他的话。
“我明白（不过，您不要让自己为难：如果您愿意，那就用不着多说）；我明白，您心里在考虑什么问题：道德问题，是吗？是作为一个公民的道德问题，作人的道德问题？您把这些都丢到一边去；现在您还考虑这些干什么？嘿！嘿！因为您毕竟还是一个公民和人吗？既然如此，那就不该乱闯；别去干不该由您来干的事。嗯，那您就拿支槍来，开槍自一杀吧，怎么，还是不想自一杀呢？”
“您好像是故意想惹我发火，只不过是为了让我马上离开您……”
“瞧，真是个怪人，不过我们已经到了，请上楼吧。您看到了吧，这就是索菲娅·谢苗诺芙娜的房门，您看，一个人也没有！不相信吗？您去问问卡佩尔纳乌莫夫；她常把钥匙一交一给他们。喏，这就是她本人，madamede①卡佩尔纳乌莫夫，啊？什么？（她有点儿耳聋）出去了？去哪儿了？瞧，现在您听到了吧？她不在家，也许到晚上天很晚的时候还回不来。好吧，现在去我家吧。您不是也想去我家吗？好，已经到我家了。Madame列斯莉赫不在家。这个女人总是到处奔忙，不过是个好人，请您相信……说不定您也会用得到她，如果您稍微通情达理一点儿的话。瞧，我从写字台里拿了这张五厘债券（瞧，我还有多少这种债券啊！），这一张今天要拿到银钱兑换商人那里去兑现。嗯，看到了吧？现在我用不着再一浪一费时间了。写字台上了锁，房门也锁上了，我们又来到了楼梯上。您要乐意的话，咱们就叫一辆出租马车！要知道，我要上群岛去。您要不要坐马车兜兜风？我要雇辆马车去叶拉金，怎么样？您不去吗？您不坚持到底吗？去兜一兜嘛，没关系。好像要下雨，没关系，咱们把车篷放下来就是……”
--------
①法文，“……的太太”之意。
斯维德里盖洛夫已经坐到了马车上。拉斯科利尼科夫考虑，他的怀疑至少在目前是不正确的。他一句话也没回答，转身又往干草广场那个方向走去。如果他在路上哪怕只回头看一次，那么他就会看到，斯维德里盖洛夫坐着马车还没走出一百步，就付了车钱，下车走到了人行道上。但是他已经什么也看不到了，他已经在拐角上转弯了。深深的厌恶心情使他离开了斯维德里盖洛夫。
“这个粗野的恶棍，这个一婬一荡的色鬼和下流东西能做什么呢，至少是目前，我料想他也做不出什么来！”他不由自主地高声说。真的，拉斯科利尼科夫的判断作得太匆忙，也太轻率了。环绕着斯维德里盖洛夫的一切之中都好像有某种东西，使他显得即使不是神秘，至少也有些奇怪。至于说这一切和他妹妹有什么关系，拉斯科利尼科夫仍然坚信，斯维德里盖洛夫是决不会让她安宁的。但是反复考虑所有这些事情，他实在是感到太苦恼和无法忍受了！
只剩了他一个人以后，和往常一样，走了二十来步，他又陷入沉思。上了桥，他在栏杆旁站住了，开始眺望河水。这时阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜正站着注视着他。
他在桥头就遇到了她，可是他没看清，从她身边走过去了。杜涅奇卡还从来没在街上看到他像这个样子，不由得吃了一惊。她站住了，不知道该不该叫他。突然她看到了从干草广场那边匆匆走近的斯维德里盖洛夫。
不过斯维德里盖洛夫好像是神秘而且小心翼翼地走近前来。他没上桥，在旁边人行道上站住了，并且竭力不让拉斯科利尼科夫看到他。他已经早就看到了杜尼娅，开始向她作手势。她好像觉得，他作手势，是叫她不要喊哥哥，不要惊动他，叫她到他那里去。
杜尼娅这样做了。她悄悄地从哥哥身边绕过去，来到斯维德里盖洛夫跟前。
“咱们快走，”斯维德里盖洛夫悄悄地对她说。“我不想让罗季昂·罗曼内奇知道我们会面。我预先告诉您，刚才我和他坐在离这儿不远的一家小饭馆里，他在那儿找到了我，我好容易才摆脱了他。不知为什么他知道了我给您的那封信，起了疑心。当然，不是您告诉他的吧？不过，如果不是您，那会是谁呢？”
“我们已经转了弯，”杜尼娅打断了他的话，“现在哥哥看不到我们了。我要对您说，我不再跟您往前走了。请您在这儿把一切都告诉我；什么话都可以在街上说。”
“第一，这些话无论如何也不能在街上说；第二，您应该听听索菲娅·谢苗诺芙娜会说些什么；第三，我要让您看一些证据……嗯，最后，如果您不同意去我那里，我就拒绝作任何解释，立刻就走。同时请您不要忘记，您那位亲一爱一的哥哥有一个绝非寻常的秘密完全掌握在我的手里。”
杜尼娅犹豫不决地站住了，用锐利的目光盯着斯维德里盖洛夫。
“您怕什么！”他平静地说，“城市不比农村。就是在农村里，也是您对我造成的伤害比我对您造成的伤害更大，而这里……”
“事先告诉过索菲娅·谢苗诺芙娜吗？”
“不，我一个字也没向她透露过，而且现在她是不是在家，我也并不完全有把握。不过，大概在家。她今天才安葬了她的继母：在这样的日子，是不会出去作客的。暂时我不想把这件事告诉任何人，就连告诉了您，都还有点儿后悔呢。这件事，只要稍有不慎，就等于告密。我就住在这儿，就住在这幢房子里，我们这就到了。这是我们这儿管院子的；他跟我很熟；瞧，他在跟我打招呼了；他看到我跟一位女士在一道走，当然已经看到您的脸了，这对您是有利的，既然您很害怕，而且怀疑我。我说得这么粗一鲁，请您原谅。我住的房子是向二房东租来的。索菲娅·谢苗诺芙娜就住在我隔壁，也是跟二房东租的房子。这一层楼都住满了房客。您干吗像个小孩子似的那么害怕？还是我当真那么可怕呢？”
斯维德里盖洛夫宽容地微笑着，脸上的表情显得很不自然；可是他已经没有笑的心情了。他的心在怦怦地狂跳，喘不过气来。他故意说得声音响一些，以掩饰他那越来越激动的心情；然而杜尼娅没能发觉他这种特殊的激动；他说，她像小孩子那样怕他，对她来说，他是那么可怕，——这些话激怒了她，简直把她气坏了。
“虽然我知道您是个……没有人格的人，可是我一点儿也不怕您。您在前面走吧，”她说，看上去神情镇静，可是脸色白得厉害。
斯维德里盖洛夫在索尼娅房门前站住了。
“让我问一下，她在不在家。不在。不巧！不过我知道，她很快就会回来。如果她出去，准是为了那些孤儿到一位太太那里去了。他们的母亲死了。我也帮着料理过丧事。如果再过十分钟索菲娅·谢苗诺芙娜还不回来，那么我叫她去找您，如果您乐意，今天就去；瞧，这就是我的房子。这是我住的两间房间。我的房东，列斯莉赫太太住在隔壁。现在请看这里，我让您看看我的主要证据：我卧室的这扇门通往正在招租的两间空房子。就是这两间……这您可要仔细看看……”
斯维德里盖洛夫住着两间带家具的、相当宽敞的房间。杜涅奇卡怀疑地朝四下里仔细看了看，可是，无论是屋里的陈设，还是房屋的布局，都没发现有什么特殊的地方，虽然也可以看出，譬如说，斯维德里盖洛夫的房子不知怎么正好夹在两套没住人的房子中间。不是从走廊直接进入他的房间，而是要穿过房东那两间几乎空荡荡的房子。斯维德里盖洛夫打开卧室里一扇锁着的门，让杜涅奇卡看一套也是空着的、正在招租的房子。杜涅奇卡在门口站住了，弄不懂为什么请她看这套房子，斯维德里盖洛夫赶紧解释说：
“请您往这里看，看看这第二间大房子。请看看这扇门，门是锁着的。门边有一把椅子，两间屋里只有这么一把椅子。这是我从自己屋里搬来的，为的是坐着听比较舒服些。索菲娅·谢苗诺芙娜的桌子就摆在门后，紧挨着这扇门；她就是坐在那儿和罗季昂·罗曼内奇说话儿的。而我，就坐在椅子上，在这儿偷一听，一连听了两个晚上，每次都听了两个钟头，——当然啦，我是能够听到点儿什么的，您认为呢？”
“您偷一听过？”
“是的，我偷一听过；现在到我屋里去吧；这儿连个坐的地方都没有。”
他领着阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜回到他作客厅的第一间房间里，请她坐到椅子上。他自己坐在桌子的另一头，离她至少有一沙绳①远，但是他的眼里已经闪射一出当时曾使杜涅奇卡感到那么害怕的欲一火了。她颤栗了一下，又怀疑地朝四下里看了看。她表面上镇定的样子是装出来的；看来她不想让他看出，她怀疑他。然而斯维德里盖洛夫的房子夹在两套空房之间，显得十分僻静，这终于使她感到害怕了。她想问问，至少他的房东是不是在家，可是由于自尊，她没有问……何况她心里还有另一种痛苦，比为自己担心而感到的恐惧还要严重得多。她痛苦极了，简直无法忍受。
--------
①一沙绳等于二·一三四米。
“这就是您的信，”她把那封信放到桌子上，说：“您信上写的事情难道是可能的吗？您暗示，似乎我哥哥犯了罪。您的暗示太明显了，现在您总不敢否认吧。您要知道，在您给我写信以前，我就听到过这种愚蠢的谎言，可我连一个字都不相信。这是卑鄙而又可笑的怀疑。我知道这件事，而且知道它是怎样和为什么捏造出来的。您不可能有任何证据。您答应要让我看：那么您说吧！不过您事先就要明白，我不相信您的话！我不相信！……”
杜涅奇卡说得很快，很急，她的脸霎时间变得绯红。
“如果您不相信，那您怎么会冒险只身到我这里来呢？您为什么来？只是由于好奇吗？”
“请别折磨我了，您说呀，您说吧！”
“您是一位勇敢的姑一娘一，这没说的。真的，我还以为您会请拉祖米欣先生陪您来呢。可是他既没跟您一道来，也不在您周围，我的确看过：这是勇敢的，这么说，您是想保护罗季昂·罗曼内奇了。不过，您的一切都是神圣的……至于说到令兄，我能对您说什么呢？您刚刚亲眼看到他了。他怎么样？”
“您不会只是根据这一点吧？”
“不，不是根据这一点，而是以他自己的话来作根据的。他曾一连两个晚上来索菲娅·谢苗诺芙娜这里。我已经让您看过，他们是坐在哪里的。他向她完全坦白了。他是凶手。他杀了那个放高利贷的老太婆，杀了那个官太太，他自己也曾经在她那儿抵押过东西；他还杀了她的妹妹，一个叫莉扎薇塔的女小贩，她在姐姐被杀害的时候，意外地闯了进去。他是用随身带去的斧头把她们两人杀死的。他杀死她们，是为了抢劫，而且也抢了些钱财；他拿走了一些钱和一些东西……他把这一切全都原原本本地告诉了索菲娅·谢苗诺芙娜，只有她一个人知道这个秘密，不过她没参与谋杀，也没给他出过主意，恰恰相反，她也像您现在一样十分害怕。请您放心，她不会出卖他。”
“这不可能！”杜涅奇卡喃喃地说，嘴唇白得毫无血色，感到喘不过气来，“不可能，没有任何原因，没有丝毫原因，没有任何理由……这是谎言！谎言！”
“他抢劫了，这就是全部原因。他拿了钱和东西。诚然，据他自己说，他既没用过那些钱，也没用过那些东西，而是把它们拿到一个什么地方，藏到石头底下了，现在还放在那儿。但这是因为他不敢用。”
“难道他会去偷，去抢，这可能吗？难道他会产生这样的念头？”杜尼娅惊呼，从椅子上霍地站了起来。“您不是知道，见过他吗？难道他会是个小偷？”
她仿佛是央求斯维德里盖洛夫；她把自己的恐惧完全忘了。
“阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜，这儿情况极其错综复杂，千差万别。小偷偷东西，可是他心里明白，他是个坏蛋；可是我听说有一个高尚的人抢劫了邮车；不过谁知道他呢，也许他当真以为，他干的是一件正当的事！如果是旁人告诉我的，当然，我也会像您一样，根本不信。可是我相信自己的耳朵。就连原因，他都向索菲娅·谢苗诺芙娜作了说明；可是起初她不相信自己的耳朵，但终于相信了眼睛，相信了自己的眼睛。因为是他亲自告诉她的。”
“那么是什么……原因呢？”
“说来话长，阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜。怎么跟您说呢，这也好像是一种理论，根据这种理论，我认为，譬如说，这就和这种说法是一样的：如果主要目的是好的，那么个别暴行也是可以允许的。干唯一一件坏事，完成一百件好事！一个有许多优点和过于自负的青年人知道，譬如说吧，只要他能有三千卢布，那么在他的生活目的中，整个前程和未来就都会完全不同，然而他却没有这三千卢布，对他来说，这当然也是会感到委屈的。再加上挨饿，住房窄小，衣衫褴褛，明确意识到自己的社会地位以及妹妹和母亲的处境太好①，因而愤愤不平。最严重的是虚荣心，自尊心和虚荣心，不过，谁知道他呢，也许他有崇高的志向……我并不是责备他，请您别那么想；而且这也不关我的事。这儿也有他自己的一个理论，——一种平平常常的理论，——根据这种理论，您要知道，人被分作普通材料和特殊人物，也就是说，对于他们，由于他们地位高，法律不是为他们制订的，恰恰相反，他们自己可以为其余的人，也就是那些普通材料、垃圾制订法律。还不错，一种平平常常的理论；unethéoriecommeuneautre②。拿破仑使他心驰神往，也就是说，使他心驰神往的其实是：许多天才的人对那唯一一件坏事根本不屑一顾，而是毫不犹豫地跨越过去。好像他也自以为是个天才的人，——也就是说，在某一段时间里相信是这样的。他曾经很痛苦，现在还在感到痛苦，因为他意识到，他能创造理论，却不能毫不犹豫地跨越过去，可见他不是个天才的人。对于一个有自尊心的年轻人来说，这可是有伤尊严的，特别是在我们这个时代……”
--------
①这是一句带有讽刺意味的反话。
②法文，“和任何别的理论一样”之意。
“可是良心的谴责呢？这么说，您否认他有任何道德观念？
难道他是一个这样的人？”
“唉，阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜，现在一切都混乱了，不过，也就是说，从来也没特别有条理过。一般说，俄罗斯人眼界都很开阔，阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜，他们的眼界就像他们的国土一样开阔，非常一爱一幻想，喜欢杂乱无章；然而只是眼界开阔，没有特殊才能，却是一种灾难。您记得吗，每天晚上晚饭以后，我和您两个人坐在花园里的露台上，曾多次一交一换过意见，谈论这一类问题和这个话题。正是为了这种开阔的眼界，您还责备过我呢。谁知道呢，也许就在我们谈论这一切的时候，他也正躺在这儿考虑自己的计划吧。阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜，要知道，在我们知识界，没有什么特别神圣的传统：除非有人设法根据书本编造出来……或者从编年史里引伸出来。不过干这种事的多半是那些学者们，您要知道，就某一点来说，他们也都是些头脑简单的人，所以上流社会的人做这种事情甚至是有伤大雅的。不过，一般说，我的意见您都知道了；我绝不责备任何人。我是个不劳动的人，而且抱定这个宗旨，决不改变。关于这一点，我们已经谈过不止一次了。我甚至有幸以自己的意见引起您的兴趣……您的脸色很苍白，阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜！”
“他这个理论我是知道的。我看过他在杂志上发表的一篇文章，谈到有一些人可以为所欲为……是拉祖米欣拿给我看的……”
“拉祖米欣先生吗？令兄的一篇文章？登在杂志上？有这样一篇文章吗？我可不知道。这想必很有意思！不过您要上哪儿去，阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜？”
“我想见见索菲娅·谢苗诺芙娜，”杜涅奇卡用有气无力的声音说。“到她家去该怎么走？她也许已经回来了；我一定要立刻见到她。让她……”
阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜没能说完；她真的是气都喘不过来了。
“索菲娅·谢苗诺芙娜要到夜里才会回来。我这样认为。
她应该很快就回来，如果回不来，那就要很迟才……”
“啊，那么你是说谎！我看得出来……你说过谎……你一直是说谎！……我不相信你的话！我不信！我不信！”杜涅奇卡当真是发狂地高声叫喊，完全惊慌失措了。
她几乎是晕倒在斯维德里盖洛夫急忙放到她身后的椅子上了。
“阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜，您怎么了，您醒醒啊！喏，这是水。请您喝口水……”
他往她脸上洒了些水。杜涅奇卡颤栗了一下，醒过来了。
“十分有效！”斯维德里盖洛夫皱起眉头，含糊不清地喃喃自语。“阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜，请您放心！您要知道，他有几个朋友。我们会救他，会把他救出来。您希望我把他送到国外去吗？我有钱；三天内我就能弄到船票。至于说他杀了人，可是他还会做许多好事呢，那么这就可以赎罪了；请您放心好了。他还可以成为一个伟大的人呢。嗯，您怎么了？
您觉得身一体怎么样？”
“恶毒的人！他还在嘲笑呢。让我走……”
“您去哪里？您往哪里去啊？”
“到他那里去。他在哪里？您知道吗？这道门为什么锁起来了？我们是从这道门进来的，现在却锁上了。您是什么时候把它锁上的？”
“可不能高声大喊，让所有房间里的人都听到我们在这里说的话。我根本没有嘲笑；只不过用这种语言说话，我已经感到厌烦了。您这副样子要上哪儿去！还是您想出卖他呢？您会一逼一得他发疯的，那么他就会去自首了。您要知道，已经在监视他了，已经发现了线索。您只会出卖了他。您先等一等：我刚才见到过他，跟他谈过；还可以救他。您等一等，再坐一会儿，我们一起想想办法。我请您来，就是为了和您单独谈谈这件事，好好考虑考虑。您请坐啊！”
“您能用什么办法救他？难道能救他吗？”
杜尼娅坐下了。斯维德里盖洛夫坐到她的身边。
“这一切都取决于您，取决于您，取决于您一个人，”他两眼闪闪发光，几乎是悄悄地低声说，前言不搭后语，由于激动，有些话甚至说不出来。
杜尼娅惊恐地躲开，离开他稍远一点儿。他也在浑身发一抖。
“您……只要您一句话，他就得救了！我……我来救他。我有钱，也有朋友。我立刻送他走，我去弄护照，两张护照。一张是他的，另一张是我的。我有朋友；我有一些很能干的人……您愿意吗？我还要给您也弄一张护照……还有令堂的……您要拉祖米欣干什么？我也一爱一您……我无限一爱一您。让我吻一吻您衣服的边吧，让我吻一下吧，让我吻一下吧！我不能听到您的衣服窸窸窣窣的响声。您只要对我说：去做那件事，我就会去做！我什么都会去做。就连不可能的事我也能办得到。您信仰什么，我也会信仰什么。我什么，什么事情都会去做！请别看，请别这样看着我！您要知道，您这是在杀死我……”
他甚至一胡一言乱语起来。突然间他不知是怎么了，似乎头脑突然发昏了。杜尼娅跳起来，往门口跑去。
“开门！开门！”她隔着门高声叫喊，双手摇着房门，叫人来给她开门。“把门开开呀！难道一个人也没有吗？”
斯维德里盖洛夫站起来，清醒过来了。他那还在抖动着的嘴唇上慢慢地勉强露出了凶狠和讥讽的微笑。
“那里一个人也不在家，”他轻轻地、一字一顿地说，“女房东出去了，这样叫喊是白费力气：只不过徒然使自己激动。”
“钥匙呢？立刻把门开开，立刻，下流的东西！”
“我把钥匙弄丢一了，找不到。”
“啊？那么这是强一奸一！”杜尼娅大喊一声，脸色白得像死人一样，冲到一个角落里，随手抓到一张小桌子，拖过去用它来掩护自己。她没有高声叫喊；不过用眼睛紧紧盯着那个折磨她的人，机警地注意他的每一个动作。斯维德里盖洛夫也没动地方，站在房屋另一头，她的对面。他甚至镇静下来了，至少从表面上看是这样。可他的脸色仍然白得吓人。嘲讽的微笑并没有从他脸上消失。
“您刚刚说‘强一奸一’，阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜。如果是强一奸一，那么您自己也可以考虑到，我已经采取了措施。索菲娅·谢苗诺芙娜不在家；离卡佩尔纳乌莫夫家很远，隔着五间上了锁的房子。还有，我的力气至少比您大一倍，此外，我也不用害怕，因为以后您不能去控告我：您不会真的想出卖令兄吧？而且谁也不会相信您的话：嗯，一个姑一娘一家干吗要到一个单身男人的住房里去呢？所以，即使牺牲哥哥，还是什么都证明不了：强一奸一是很难证明的，阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜。”
“卑鄙的家伙！”杜尼娅愤怒地低声说。
“不管您认为怎样，不过请您注意，我的话还只是作为一个建议。照我个人的看法，您是完全对的：强一奸一是卑鄙的事。我只不过想要说，您决不会受到良心的谴责，即使……即使您自愿照我建议的那样来搭救令兄。这就是说，您只不过是为环境所迫，嗯，还有，是屈服于暴力，如果非得用这个词儿不可的话。这一点请您考虑考虑吧；令兄和令堂的命运都掌握在您的手里。我愿作您的一奴一隶……作一辈子……我就在这儿等着……”
斯维德里盖洛夫坐到了沙发上，离杜尼娅大约八步远。他的决心是不可动摇的，对她来说，这一点已经是毫无疑问了。
何况她很了解他……
突然她从口袋里掏出一支手槍，扳起扳机，把拿着手槍的那只手放在小桌子上。斯维德里盖洛夫一下子跳了起来。
“啊哈！真没料到会是这样！”他惊讶地喊了一声，可是恶狠狠地冷笑着，“这样就使事情发生了根本变化！您自己使事情变得非常容易解决了，阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜！这手槍您是打哪儿弄来的？不是拉祖米欣先生给您的吧？哎呀！这手槍是我的嘛！老相识了！当时我找它找得好苦哇！……在乡下我曾荣幸地教过您射击，看来并没白教啊！”
“不是你的手槍，是玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜的，是你杀害了她，凶手！她家里什么东西也不是你的。我一猜想到你这个人会干出什么事来，就把它拿过来了。你只要敢迈出一步，我发誓，我就要打死你！”
杜尼娅发狂了。她拿着手槍，作好了准备。
“嗯，那么哥哥呢？我这样问是出于好奇，”斯维德里盖洛夫问，仍然站在原地。
“你去告密吧，如果你想告密的话！不许动！别过来！我要开槍了！你毒死了妻子，这我知道，你就是凶手！……”
“您坚决相信，是我毒死了玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜？”
“是你！你自己向我暗示过；你对我说起过毒药……我知道，你坐车去买来的……你早准备好了……这一定是你……
坏蛋！”
“即使这是真的，那也是为了你……归根到底你是祸根。”
“你一胡一说！我一向，一向……恨你。”
“哎呀，阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜！看来您忘了，在您狂一热地说教的时候，您已经对我有了好感，流露出了自己的感情，……我从您眼睛里看出来了；您记得吗，晚上，在月光下，还有一只夜莺在啼啭？”
“你说谎！（杜尼娅的眼睛里怒火闪烁），你说谎，造谣中伤的家伙！”
“我说谎？好吧，就算我说谎吧。我说了谎。对女人提起这些事情是不应该的。（他冷笑了一声。）我知道你会开槍，你这头美丽的小野兽。那你就开槍吧！”
杜尼娅举起了手槍，脸色白得像死人一样，下嘴唇颤一抖着，也白得毫无血色，两只乌黑的大眼睛射一出火一般的闪光，紧盯着他，下定了决心，估量着，只等他做出第一个动作。他还从来没看到过她像这样美丽。她举起手槍的时候，从她眼里射一出的怒火似乎使他燃一烧起来，他的心痛苦地揪紧了。他走出一步，槍声响了。子弹从他头发上擦过，打到了后面的墙上。他站住了，轻轻地笑了起来：
“让黄蜂给螫了一下！直接瞄准脑袋……这是什么？血！”他掏出手帕来擦血，从他右边的太一陽一穴一上流下很细的一缕鲜血；大概子弹稍稍擦伤了头皮。杜尼娅放下手槍，望着斯维德里盖洛夫，与其说是感到恐惧，不如说是感到惊讶，大惑不解。她似乎自己也不明白，她做了什么，发生了什么事情！
“有什么呢，打偏了！再开一槍嘛，我等着，”斯维德里盖洛夫轻轻地