sudden. "After all, what can be the harm of it? Why should I
distress myself about that!" he added, mentally, a moment
afterwards. The very fact of his proximity to Porphyrius, with
whom he had scarcely as yet interchanged a word, had immeasurably
increased his mistrust; he marked this in a moment, and concluded
that such a mood was an exceedingly dangerous one, inasmuch as his
agitation, his nervous irritation, would only increase. "That is
bad! very bad! I shall be saying something thoughtless!"
"Quite right. But do not put yourself out of the way, there is
time, plenty of time," murmured Petrovitch, who, without apparent
design, kept going to and fro, now approaching the window, now his
bureau, to return a moment afterwards to the table. At times he
would avoid Raskolnikoff's suspicious look, at times again he drew
up sharp whilst looking his visitor straight in the face. The
sight of this short chubby man, whose movements recalled those of a
ball rebounding from wall to wall, was an extremely odd one. "No
hurry, no hurry, I assure you! But you smoke, do you not! Have
you any tobacco? Here is a cigarette!" he went on, offering his
visitor a paquitos. "You notice that I am receiving you here, but
my quarters are there behind the wainscoting. The State provides
me with that. I am here as it were on the wing, because certain
alterations are being made in my rooms. Everything is almost
straight now. Do you know that quarters provided by the State are
by no means to be despised?"
"I believe you," answered Raskolnikoff, looking at him almost
derisively.
"Not to be despised, by any means," repeated Porphyrius Petrovitch,
whose mind seemed to be preoccupied with something else--"not to be
despised!" he continued in a very loud tone of voice, and drawing
himself up close to Raskolnikoff, whom he stared out of
countenance. The incessant repetition of the statement that
quarters provided by the State were by no means to be despised
contrasted singularly, by its platitude, with the serious,
profound, enigmatical look he now cast on his visitor.
Raskolnikoff's anger grew in consequence; he could hardly help
returning the magistrate's look with an imprudently scornful
glance. "Is it true?" the latter commenced, with a complacently
insolent air, "is it true that it is a judicial maxim, a maxim
resorted to by all magistrates, to begin an interview about
trifling things, or even, occasionally, about more serious matter,
foreign to the main question however, with a view to embolden, to
distract, or even to lull the suspicion of a person under
examination, and then all of a sudden to crush him with the main
question, just as you strike a man a blow straight between the
eyes?"
"Such a custom, I believe, is religiously observed in your
profession, is it not?
"Then you are of opinion that when I spoke to you about quarters
provided by the State, I did so--" Saying which, Porphyrius
Petrovitch blinked, his face assumed for a moment an expression of
roguish gayety, the wrinkles on his brow became smoothed, his small
eyes grew smaller still, his features expanded, and, looking
Raskolnikoff straight in the face, he burst out into a prolonged
fit of nervous laughter, which shook him from head to foot. The
young man, on his part, laughed likewise, with more or less of an
effort, however, at sight of which Porphyrius's hilarity increased
to such an extent that his face grew nearly crimson. At this
Raskolnikoff experienced more or less aversion, which led him to
forget all caution; he ceased laughing, knitting his brows, and,
whilst Porphyrius gave way to his hilarity, which seemed a somewhat
feigned one, he fixed on him a look of hatred. In truth, they were
both off their guard. Porphyrius had, in fact, laughed at his
visitor, who had taken this in bad part; whereas the former seemed
to care but little about Raskolnikoff's displeasure. This
circumstance gave the young man much matter for thought. He
fancied that his visit had in no kind of way discomposed the
magistrate; on the contrary, it was Raskolnikoff who had been
caught in a trap, a snare, an ambush of some kind or other. The
mine was, perhaps, already charged, and might burst at any moment.
Anxious to get straight to the point, Raskolnikoff rose and took up
his cap. "Porphyrius Petrovitch," he cried, in a resolute tone of
voice, betraying more or less irritation, "yesterday you expressed
the desire to subject me to a judicial examination." (He laid
special stress on this last word.) "I have called at your bidding;
if you have questions to put, do so: if not, allow me to withdraw.
I can't afford to waste my time here, as I have other things to
attend to. In a word, I must go to the funeral of the official who
has been run over, and of whom you have heard speak," he added,
regretting, however, the last part of his sentence. Then, with
increasing anger, he went on: "Let me tell you that all this
worries me! The thing is hanging over much too long. It is that
mainly that has made me ill. In one word,"--he continued, his
voice seeming more and more irritable, for he felt that the remark
about his illness was yet more out of place than the previous one--
"in one word, either be good enough to cross-examine me, or let me
go this very moment. If you do question me, do so in the usual
formal way; otherwise, I shall object. In the meanwhile, adieu,
since we have nothing more to do with one another."
"Good gracious! What can you be talking about? Question you about
what?" replied the magistrate, immediately ceasing his laugh.
"Don't, I beg, disturb yourself." He requested Raskolnikoff to sit
down once more, continuing, nevertheless, his tramp about the room.
"There is time, plenty of time. The matter is not of such
importance after all. On the contrary, I am delighted at your
visit--for as such do I take your call. As for my horrid way of
laughing, batuchka, Rodion Romanovitch, I must apologize. I am a
nervous man, and the shrewdness of your observations has tickled
me. There are times when I go up and down like an elastic ball,
and that for half an hour at a time. I am fond of laughter. My
temperament leads me to dread apoplexy. But, pray, do sit down--
why remain standing? Do, I must request you, batuchka; otherwise I
shall fancy that you are cross."
His brows still knit, Raskolnikoff held his tongue, listened, and
watched. In the meanwhile he sat down.
"As far as I am concerned, batuchka, Rodion Romanovitch, I will
tell you something which shall reveal to you my disposition,"
answered Porphyrius Petrovitch, continuing to fidget about the
room, and, as before, avoiding his visitor's gaze. "I live alone,
you must know, never go into society, and am, therefore, unknown;
add to which, that I am a man on the shady side of forty, somewhat
played out. You may have noticed, Rodion Romanovitch, that here--I
mean in Russia, of course, and especially in St. Petersburg
circles--that when two intelligent men happen to meet who, as yet,
are not familiar, but who, however, have mutual esteem--as, for
instance, you and I have at this moment--don't know what to talk
about for half an hour at a time. They seem, both of them, as if
petrified. Everyone else has a subject for conversation--ladies,
for instance, people in society, the upper ten--all these sets have
some topic or other. It is the thing, but somehow people of the
middle-class, like you and I, seem constrained and taciturn. How
does that come about, batuchka? Have we no social interests? Or
is it, rather, owing to our being too straightforward to mislead
one another? I don't know. What is your opinion, pray? But do, I
beg, remove your cap; one would really fancy that you wanted to be
off, and that pains me. I, you must know, am so contented."
Raskolnikoff laid his cap down. He did not, however, become more
loquacious; and, with knit brows, listened to Porphyrius's idle
chatter. "I suppose," thought he, "he only doles out his small
talk to distract my attention."
"I don't offer you any coffee," went on the inexhaustible
Porphyrius, "because this is not the place for it, but can you not
spend a few minutes with a friend, by way of causing him some
little distraction? You must know that all these professional
obligations--don't be vexed, batuchka, if you see me walking about
like this, I am sure you will excuse me, if I tell you how anxious
I am not to do so, but movement is so indispensable to me! I am
always seated--and, to me, it is quite a luxury to be able to move
about for a minute or two. I purpose, in fact, to go through a
course of calisthenics. The trapeze is said to stand in high favor
amongst State counselors--counselors in office, even amongst privy
counselors. Nowadays, in fact, gymnastics have become a positive
science. As for these duties of our office, these examinations,
all this formality--you yourself, you will remember, touched upon
the topic just now, batuchka--these examinations, and so forth,
sometimes perplex the magistrate much more than the man under
suspicion. You said as much just now with as much sense as
accuracy." (Raskolnikoff had made no statement of the kind.) "One
gets confused, one loses the thread of the investigation. Yet, as
far as our judicial customs go, I agree with you fully. Where, for
instance, is there a man under suspicion of some kind or other,
were it even the most thick-headed moujik, who does not know that
the magistrate will commence by putting all sorts of out-of-the-way
questions to take him off the scent (if I may be allowed to use
your happy simile), and that then he suddenly gives him one between
the eyes? A blow of the ax on his sinciput (if again I may be
permitted to use your ingenious metaphor)? Hah, hah! And do you
mean to say that when I spoke to you about quarters provided by the
State, that--hah, hah! You are very caustic. But I won't revert
to that again. By-and-by!--one remark produces another, one
thought attracts another--but you were talking just now of the
practice or form in vogue with the examining magistrate. But what
is this form? You know as I do that in many cases the form means
nothing at all. Occasionally a simple conversation, a friendly
interview, brings about a more certain result. The practice or
form will never die out--I can vouch for that; but what, after all,
is the form, I ask once more? You can't compel an examining
magistrate to be hampered or bound by it everlastingly. His duty
or method is in its way, one of the liberal professions or
something very much like it."
Porphyrius Petrovitch stopped a moment to take breath. He kept on
talking, now uttering pure nonsense, now again introducing, in
spite of this trash, an occasional enigmatical remark, after which
he went on with his insipidities. His tramp about the room was
more like a race--he moved his stout legs more and more quickly,
without looking up; his right hand was thrust deep in the pocket of
his coat, whilst with the left he unceasingly gesticulated in a way
unconnected with his observations. Raskolnikoff noticed, or
fancied he noticed, that, whilst running round and round the room,
he had twice stopped near the door, seeming to listen. "Does he
expect something?" he asked himself.
"You're perfectly right," resumed Porphyrius cheerily, whilst
looking at the young man with a kindliness which immediately awoke
the latter's distrust. "Our judicial customs deserve your satire.
Our proceedings, which are supposed to be inspired by a profound
knowledge of psychology, are very ridiculous ones, and very often
useless. Now, to return to our method or form: Suppose for a
moment that I am deputed to investigate something or other, and
that I know the guilty person to be a certain gentleman. Are you
not yourself reading for the law, Rodion Romanovitch?"
"I was some time ago."
"Well, here is a kind of example which may be of use to you later
on. Don't run away with the idea that I am setting up as your
instructor--God forbid that I should presume to teach anything to a
man who treats criminal questions in the public press! Oh, no!--
all I am doing is to quote to you, by way of example, a trifling
fact. Suppose that I fancy I am convinced of the guilt of a
certain man, why, I ask you, should I frighten him prematurely,
assuming me to have every evidence against him? Of course, in the
case of another man of a different disposition, him I would have
arrested forthwith; but, as to the former, why should I not permit
him to hang about a little longer? I see you do not quite take me.
I will, therefore, endeavor to explain myself more clearly! If,
for instance, I should be too quick in issuing a writ, I provide
him in doing so with a species of moral support or mainstay--I see
you are laughing?" (Raskolnikoff, on the contrary, had no such
desire; his lips were set, and his glaring look was not removed
from Porphyrius's eyes.) "I assure you that in actual practice
such is really the case; men vary much, although, unfortunately,
our methods are the same for all. But you will ask me: Supposing
you are certain of your proofs? Goodness me, batuchka! you know,
perhaps as well as I do, what proofs are--half one's time, proofs
may be taken either way; and I, a magistrate, am, after all, only a
man liable to error.
"Now, what I want is to give to my investigation the precision of a
mathematical demonstration--I want my conclusions to be as plain,
as indisputable, as that twice two are four. Now, supposing I have
this gentleman arrested prematurely, though I may be positively
certain that he is THE MAN, yet I deprive myself of all future
means of proving his guilt. How is that? Because, so to say, I
give him, to a certain extent, a definite status; for, by putting
him in prison, I pacify him. I give him the chance of
investigating his actual state of mind--he will escape me, for he
will reflect. In a word, he knows that he is a prisoner, and
nothing more. If, on the contrary, I take no kind of notice of the
man I fancy guilty, if I do not have him arrested, if I in no way
set him on his guard--but if the unfortunate creature is hourly,
momentarily, possessed by the suspicion that I know all, that I do
not lose sight of him either by night or by day, that he is the
object of my indefatigable vigilance--what do you ask will take
place under these circumstances? He will lose his self-possession,
he will come of his own accord to me, he will provide me with ample
evidence against himself, and will enable me to give to the
conclusion of my inquiry the accuracy of mathematical proofs, which
is not without its charm.
"If such a course succeeds with an uncultured moujik, it is equally
efficacious when it concerns an enlightened, intelligent, or even
distinguished man. For the main thing, my dear friend, is to
determine in what sense a man is developed. The man, I mean, is
intelligent, but he has nerves which are OVER-strung. And as for
bile--the bile you are forgetting, that plays no small part with
similar folk! Believe me, here we have a very mine of information!
And what is it to me whether such a man walk about the place in
perfect liberty? Let him be at ease--I know him to be my prey, and
that he won't escape me! Where, I ask you, could he go to? You
may say abroad. A Pole may do so--but my man, never! especially as
I watch him, and have taken steps in consquence. Is he likely to
escape into the very heart of our country? Not he! for there dwell
coarse moujiks, and primitive Russians, without any kind of
civilization. My educated friend would prefer going to prison,
rather than be in the midst of such surroundings. Besides, what I
have been saying up to the present is not the main point--it is the
exterior and accessory aspect of the question. He won't escape--
not only because he won't know where to go to, but especially, and
above all, because he is mine from the PSYCHOLOGICAL point of view.
What do you think of this explanation? In virtue of a natural law,
he will not escape, even if he could do so! Have you ever seen a
butterfly close to the candle? My man will hover incessantly round
me in the same way as the butterfly gyrates round the candle-light.
Liberty will have no longer charms for him; he will grow more and
more restless, more and more amazed--let me but give him plenty of
time, and he will demean himself in a way to prove his guilt as
plainly as that twice two our four! Yes, he will keep hovering
about me, describing circles, smaller and smaller, till at last--
bang! He has flown into my clutches, and I have got him. That is
very nice. You don't think so, perhaps?"
Raskolnikoff kept silent. Pale and immovable, he continued to
watch Porphyrius's face with a labored effort of attention. "The
lesson is a good one!" he reflected. "But it is not, as yesterday,
a case of the cat playing with the mouse. Of course, he does not
talk to me in this way for the mere pleasure of showing me his
hand; he is much too intelligent for that. He must have something
else in view--what can it be? Come, friend, what you do say is
only to frighten me. You have no kind of evidence, and the man of
yesterday does not exist! All you wish is to perplex me--to enrage
me, so as to enable you to make your last move, should you catch me
in such a mood, but you will not; all your pains will be in vain!
But why should he speak in such covert terms? I presume he must be
speculating on the excitability of my nervous system. But, dear
friend, that won't go down, in spite of your machinations. We will
try and find out what you really have been driving at."
And he prepared to brave boldly the terrible catastrophe he
anticipated. Occasionally the desire came upon him to rush on
Porphyrius, and to strangle him there and then. From the first
moment of having entered the magistrate's office what he had
dreaded most was, lest he might lose his temper. He felt his heart
beating violently, his lips become parched, his spittle congealed.
He resolved, however, to hold his tongue, knowing that, under the
circumstances, such would be the best tactics. By similar means,
he felt sure that he would not only not become compromised, but
that he might succeed in exasperating his enemy, in order to let
him drop some imprudent observation. This, at all events, was
Raskolnikoff's hope.
"I see you don't believe, you think I am jesting," continued
Porphyrius, more and more at his ease, without ceasing to indulge
in his little laugh, whilst continuing his perambulation about the
room. "You may be right. God has given me a face which only
arouses comical thoughts in others. I'm a buffoon. But excuse an
old man's cackle. You, Rodion Romanovitch, you are in your prime,
and, like all young people, you appreciate, above all things, human
intelligence. Intellectual smartness and abstract rational
deductions entice you. But, to return to the SPECIAL CASE we were
talking about just now. I must tell you that we have to deal with
reality, with nature. This is a very important thing, and how
admirably does she often foil the highest skill! Listen to an old
man; I am speaking quite seriously. Rodion"--(on saying which
Porphyrius Petrovitch, who was hardly thirty-five years of age,
seemed all of a sudden to have aged, a sudden metamorphosis had
taken place in the whole of his person, nay, in his very voice)--
"to an old man who, however, is not wanting in candor. Am I or am
I not candid? What do you think? It seems to me that a man could
hardly be more so--for do I not reveal confidence, and that without
the prospect of reward? But, to continue, acuteness of mind is, in
my opinion, a very fine thing; it is to all intents and purposes an
ornament of nature, one of the consolations of life by means of
which it would appear a poor magistrate can be easily gulled, who,
after all, is often misled by his own imagination, for he is only
human. But nature comes to the aid of this human magistrate!
There's the rub! And youth, so confident in its own intelligence,
youth which tramples under foot every obstacle, forgets this!
"Now, in the SPECIAL CASE under consideration, the guilty man, I
will assume, lies hard and fast, but, when he fancies that all that
is left him will be to reap the reward of his mendacity, behold, he
will succumb in the very place where such an accident is likely to
be most closely analyzed. Assuming even that he may be in a
position to account for his syncope by illness or the stifling
atmosphere of the locality, he has none the less given rise to
suspicion! He has lied incomparably, but he has counted without
nature. Here is the pitfall! Again, a man off his guard, from an
unwary disposition, may delight in mystifying another who suspects
him, and may wantonly pretend to be the very criminal wanted by the
authorities; in such a case, he will represent the person in
question a little too closely, he will place his foot a little too
naturally. Here we have another token. For the nonce his
interlocutor may be duped; but, being no fool, he will on the
morrow have seen through the subterfuge. Then will our friend
become compromised more and more! He will come of his own accord
when he is not even called, he will use all kinds of impudent
words, remarks, allegories, the meaning of which will be clear to
everybody; he will even go so far as to come and ask why he has not
been arrested as yet--hah! hah! And such a line of conduct may
occur to a person of keen intellect, yes, even to a man of
psychologic mind! Nature, my friend, is the most transparent of
mirrors. To contemplate her is sufficient. But why do you grow
pale, Rodion Romanovitch? Perhaps you are too hot; shall I open
the window?"
"By no means, I beg!" cried Raskolnikoff, bursting out laughing.
"Don't heed me, pray!" Porphyrius stopped short, waited a moment,
and burst out laughing himself. Raskolnikoff, whose hilarity had
suddenly died out, rose. "Porphyrius Petrovitch," he shouted in a
clear and loud voice, although he could scarcely stand on his
trembling legs, "I can no longer doubt that you suspect me of
having assassinated this old woman as well as her sister,
Elizabeth. Let me tell you that for some time I have had enough of
this. If you think you have the right to hunt me down, to have me
arrested, hunt me down, have me arrested. But you shall not trifle
with me, you shall not torture me." Suddenly his lips quivered,
his eyes gleamed, and his voice, which up to that moment had been
self-possessed, reached its highest diapason. "I will not permit
it," he yelled hoarsely, whilst striking a violent blow on the
table. "Do you hear me, Porphyrius Petrovitch, I shall not permit
this!"
"But, goodness gracious! what on earth is wrong with you?" asked
the magistrate, disturbed to all appearances. "Batuchka! Rodion
Romanovitch! My good friend! What on earth is the matter with
you?"
"I will not permit it!" repeated Raskolnikoff once again.
"Batuchka! not so loud, I must request! Someone will hear you,
someone may come; and then, what shall we say? Just reflect one
moment!" murmured Porphyrius Petrovitch, whose face had approached
that of his visitor.
"I will not permit it, I will not permit it!" mechanically pursued
Raskolnikoff, but in a minor key, so as to be heard by Porphyrius
only.
The latter moved away to open the window. "Let us air the room!
Supposing you were to drink some water, dear friend? You have had
a slight fit!" He was on the point of going to the door to give
his orders to a servant, when he saw a water bottle in a corner.
"Drink, batuchka!" he murmured, whilst approaching the young man
with the bottle, "that may do you some good."
Porphyrius's fright seemed so natural that Raskolnikoff remained
silent whilst examining him with curiosity. He refused, however,
the proffered water.