crime and punishment(罪与罚)-第52章
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him again。。。。 There'll be no inflammation though。〃
〃Thanks！ And I'll wait with Pashenka meantime and will keep watch on
him through Nastasya。。。。〃
Raskolnikov； left alone； looked with impatience and misery at
Nastasya； but she still lingered。
〃Won't you have some tea now？〃 she asked。
〃Later！ I am sleepy！ Leave me。〃
He turned abruptly to the wall； Nastasya went out。
Chapter Six
BUT AS SOON as she went out； he got up； latched the door； undid
the parcel which Razumihin had brought in that evening and had tied up
again and began dressing。 Strange to say； he seemed immediately to
have become perfectly calm； not a trace of his recent delirium nor
of the panic fear that had haunted him of late。 It was the first
moment of a strange sudden calm。 His movements were precise and
definite； a firm purpose was evident in them。 〃To…day； to…day；〃 he
muttered to himself。 He understood that he was still weak； but his
intense spiritual concentration gave him strength and self…confidence。
He hoped； moreover； that he would not fall down in the street。 When he
had dressed in entirely new clothes； he looked at the money lying on
the table； and after a moment's thought put it in his pocket。 It was
twenty…five roubles。 He took also all the copper change from the ten
roubles spent by Razumihin on the clothes。 Then he softly unlatched
the door； went out； slipped downstairs and glanced in at the open
kitchen door。 Nastasya was standing with her back to him； blowing up
the landlady's samovar。 She heard nothing。 Who would have dreamed of
his going out； indeed？ A minute later he was in the street。
It was nearly eight o'clock； the sun was setting。 It was as stifling
as before； but he eagerly drank in the stinking； dusty town air。 His
head felt rather dizzy； a sort of savage energy gleamed suddenly in
his feverish eyes and his wasted； pale and yellow face。 He did not
know and did not think where he was going； he had one thought only
〃that all this must be ended to…day； once for all； immediately； that
he would not return home without it； because he would not go on living
like that。〃 How； with what to make an end？ He had not an idea about
it； he did not even want to think of it。 He drove away thought；
thought tortured him。 All he knew； all he felt was that everything
must be changed 〃one way or another；〃 he repeated with desperate and
immovable self…confidence and determination。
From old habit he took his usual walk in the direction of the Hay
Market。 A dark…haired young man with a barrel organ was standing in
the road in front of a little general shop and was grinding out a very
sentimental song。 He was accompanying a girl of fifteen； who stood
on the pavement in front of him。 She was dressed up in a crinoline；
a mantle and a straw hat with a flame…coloured feather in it； all very
old and shabby。 In a strong and rather agreeable voice； cracked and
coarsened by street singing； she sang in hope of getting a copper from
the shop。 Raskolnikov joined two or three listeners； took out a five
copeck piece and put it in the girl's hand。 She broke off abruptly
on a sentimental high note； shouted sharply to the organ grinder 〃Come
on；〃 and both moved on to the next shop。
〃Do you like street music？〃 said Raskolnikov； addressing a
middle…aged man standing idly by him。 The man looked at him；
startled and wondering。
〃I love to hear singing to a street organ；〃 said Raskolnikov； and
his manner seemed strangely out of keeping with the subject… 〃I like
it on cold； dark； damp autumn evenings… they must be damp… when all
the passers…by have pale green； sickly faces； or better still when wet
snow is falling straight down； when there's no wind… you know what I
mean？ and the street lamps shine through it。。。〃
〃I don't know。。。。 Excuse me。。。〃 muttered the stranger； frightened by
the question and Raskolnikov's strange manner； and he crossed over
to the other side of the street。
Raskolnikov walked straight on and came out at the corner of the Hay
Market； where the huckster and his wife had talked with Lizaveta；
but they were not there now。 Recognising the place； he stopped； looked
round and addressed a young fellow in a red shirt who stood gaping
before a corn chandler's shop。
〃Isn't there a man who keeps a booth with his wife at this corner？〃
〃All sorts of people keep booths here；〃 answered the young man；
glancing superciliously at Raskolnikov。
〃What's his name？〃
〃What he was christened。〃
〃Aren't you a Zaraisky man； too？ Which province？〃
The young man looked at Raskolnikov again。
〃It's not a province； your excellency； but a district。 Graciously
forgive me； your excellency！〃
〃Is that a tavern at the top there？〃
〃Yes； it's an eating…house and there's a billiard…room and you'll
find princesses there too。。。。 La…la！〃
Raskolnikov crossed the square。 In that corner there was a dense
crowd of peasants。 He pushed his way into the thickest part of it；
looking at the faces。 He felt an unaccountable inclination to enter
into conversation with people。 But the peasants took no notice of him；
they were all shouting in groups together。 He stood and thought a
little and took a turning to the right in the direction of V。
He had often crossed that little street which turns at an angle；
leading from the market…place to Sadovy Street。 Of late he had often
felt drawn to wander about this district； when he felt depressed； that
he might feel more so。
Now he walked along； thinking of nothing。 At that point there is a
great block of buildings； entirely let out in dram shops and
eating…houses； women were continually running in and out；
bare…headed and in their indoor clothes。 Here and there they
gathered in groups； on the pavement； especially about the entrances to
various festive establishments in the lower storeys。 From one of these
a loud din； sounds of singing； the tinkling of a guitar and shouts
of merriment； floated into the street。 A crowd of women were thronging
round the door； some were sitting on the steps； others on the
pavement； others were standing talking。 A drunken soldier； smoking a
cigarette； was walking near them in the road； swearing； he seemed to
be trying to find his way somewhere； but had forgotten where。 One
beggar was quarrelling with another； and a man dead drunk was lying
right across the road。 Raskolnikov joined the throng of women； who
were talking in husky
