登陆注册
4771600000013

第13章

Raskolnikov recognised Katerina Ivanovna at once. She was a rather tall, slim and graceful woman, terribly emaciated, with magnificent dark brown hair and with a hectic flush in her cheeks. She was pacing up and down in her little room, pressing her hands against her chest; her lips were parched and her breathing came in nervous broken gasps. Her eyes glittered as in fever and looked about with a harsh immovable stare. And that consumptive and excited face with the last flickering light of the candle-end playing upon it made a sickening impression. She seemed to Raskolnikov about thirty years old and was certainly a strange wife for Marmeladov. … She had not heard them and did not notice them coming in. She seemed to be lost in thought, hearing and seeing nothing. The room was close, but she had not opened the window; a stench rose from the staircase, but the door on to the stairs was not closed. From the inner rooms clouds of tobacco smoke floated in, she kept coughing, but did not close the door. The youngest child, a girl of six, was asleep, sitting curled up on the floor with her head on the sofa. A boy a year older stood crying and shaking in the corner, probably he had just had a beating. Beside him stood a girl of nine years old, tall and thin, wearing a thin and ragged chemise with an ancient cashmere pelisse flung over her bare shoulders, long outgrown and barely reaching her knees. Her arm, as thin as a stick, was round her brother’s neck. She was trying to comfort him, whispering something to him, and doing all she could to keep him from whimpering again. At the same time her large dark eyes, which looked larger still from the thinness of her frightened face, were watching her mother with alarm. Marmeladov did not enter the door, but dropped on his knees in the very doorway, pushing Raskolnikov in front of him. The woman seeing a stranger stopped indifferently facing him, coming to herself for a moment and apparently wondering what he had come for. But evidently she decided that he was going into the next room, as he had to pass through hers to get there. Taking no further notice of him, she walked towards the outer door to close it and uttered a sudden scream on seeing her husband on his knees in the doorway.

“Ah!” she cried out in a frenzy, “he has come back! The criminal! the monster! … And where is the money? What’s in your pocket, show me! And your clothes are all different! Where are your clothes? Where is the money! Speak!”

And she fell to searching him. Marmeladov submissively and obediently held up both arms to facilitate the search. Not a farthing was there.

“Where is the money?” she cried—“Mercy on us, can he have drunk it all? There were twelve silver roubles left in the chest!” and in a fury she seized him by the hair and dragged him into the room. Marmeladov seconded her efforts by meekly crawling along on his knees.

“And this is a consolation to me! This does not hurt me, but is a positive con-so-la-tion, ho-nou-red sir,” he called out, shaken to and fro by his hair and even once striking the ground with his forehead. The child asleep on the floor woke up, and began to cry. The boy in the corner losing all control began trembling and screaming and rushed to his sister in violent terror, almost in a fit. The eldest girl was shaking like a leaf.

“He’s drunk it! he’s drunk it all,” the poor woman screamed in despair —“and his clothes are gone! And they are hungry, hungry!”—and wringing her hands she pointed to the children. “Oh, accursed life! And you, are you not ashamed?”—she pounced all at once upon Raskolnikov—“from the tavern! Have you been drinking with him? You have been drinking with him, too! Go away!”

The young man was hastening away without uttering a word. The inner door was thrown wide open and inquisitive faces were peering in at it. Coarse laughing faces with pipes and cigarettes and heads wearing caps thrust themselves in at the doorway. Further in could be seen figures in dressing gowns flung open, in costumes of unseemly scantiness, some of them with cards in their hands. They were particularly diverted, when Marmeladov, dragged about by his hair, shouted that it was a consolation to him. They even began to come into the room; at last a sinister shrill outcry was heard: this came from Amalia Lippevechsel herself pushing her way amongst them and trying to restore order after her own fashion and for the hundredth time to frighten the poor woman by ordering her with coarse abuse to clear out of the room next day. As he went out, Raskolnikov had time to put his hand into his pocket, to snatch up the coppers he had received in exchange for his rouble in the tavern and to lay them unnoticed on the window. Afterwards on the stairs, he changed his mind and would have gone back.

“What a stupid thing I’ve done,” he thought to himself, “they have Sonia and I want it myself.” But reflecting that it would be impossible to take it back now and that in any case he would not have taken it, he dismissed it with a wave of his hand and went back to his lodging. “Sonia wants pomatum too,” he said as he walked along the street, and he laughed malignantly—“such smartness costs money. … Hm! And maybe Sonia herself will be bankrupt to-day, for there is always a risk, hunting big game … digging for gold … then they would all be without a crust to-morrow except for my money. Hurrah for Sonia! What a mine they’ve dug there! And they’re making the most of it! Yes, they are making the most of it! They’ve wept over it and grown used to it. Man grows used to everything, the scoundrel!”

He sank into thought.

“And what if I am wrong,” he cried suddenly after a moment’s thought. “What if man is not really a scoundrel, man in general, I mean, the whole race of mankind—then all the rest is prejudice, simply artificial terrors and there are no barriers and it’s all as it should be.”

同类推荐
  • Barlaam and Ioasaph

    Barlaam and Ioasaph

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。汇聚授权电子版权。
  • On Sophistical Refutations

    On Sophistical Refutations

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。汇聚授权电子版权。
  • 祭张公洞二首

    祭张公洞二首

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。汇聚授权电子版权。
  • 金箓斋忏方仪

    金箓斋忏方仪

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。汇聚授权电子版权。
  • Ancient Poems

    Ancient Poems

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。汇聚授权电子版权。
热门推荐
  • 京都百侠图

    京都百侠图

    张宝瑞,笔名磐石、秋凉、雨亭等。著名文学家,书画家,社会活动家,中国作家协会会员,悬疑推理小说代表作家之一。1982年毕业于中国人民大学新闻系,历任新华社北京分社总编辑,高级记者,新华出版社副总编辑。中国纪实文学研究会理事,中国武侠文学学会副会长,金蔷薇文化沙龙主席。1971年开始从事长篇小说和影视剧本创作。
  • 十二门论品

    十二门论品

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。汇聚授权电子版权。
  • The Lazy Environmentalist
  • 雪球专刊第011期:小白投资20讲(基础篇)

    雪球专刊第011期:小白投资20讲(基础篇)

    投资,准入门槛最低,却渗透到生活的方方面面,也渗透出人性的方方面面。人生何处不投资?成功者,不仅仅是财富,身心也得到极大的舒畅,生活轻松惬意,人生水准稳步提升;失败者,毁损财富是小事,身心健康基本上被完全击溃,生活如入地狱,永不会有翻身之日。投资就是一种选择,选择你自己的人生之路。重视投资,也就是重视你自己。
  • 废柴要逆天:医品毒妃

    废柴要逆天:医品毒妃

    魔道妖女白珞初竟重生在斗兽场?!某妖孽王爷浅浅一笑,珠玉蒙尘蒙不了他的眼!他下毒、戏弄,千方百计只为留她在身边!她暗杀、算计、恭维,绞尽脑汁只为逃离他魔掌!致死纠缠,孰强孰弱?“王爷,这局你输了!”
  • 千古绝唱

    千古绝唱

    一部一段历史,一本一个故事。《千古绝唱》展示了中华五千年历史文化的灿烂辉煌。讴歌了中华儿女的杰出伟大。杨力历史小说《千古绝唱》文笔优美、情节震撼、历史内涵厚重,既给人以历史的感悟,又得到文学美的享受,展示了她非凡的文学天赋。
  • 八卦鸳鸯魂

    八卦鸳鸯魂

    张宝瑞,笔名磐石、秋凉、雨亭等。著名文学家,书画家,社会活动家,中国作家协会会员,悬疑推理小说代表作家之一。1982年毕业于中国人民大学新闻系,历任新华社北京分社总编辑,高级记者,新华出版社副总编辑。中国纪实文学研究会理事,中国武侠文学学会副会长,金蔷薇文化沙龙主席。1971年开始从事长篇小说和影视剧本创作。
  • 长不归

    长不归

    生为久别离,死为长不归以死换生一生执念不悔
  • 品茶拒绝表面功夫

    品茶拒绝表面功夫

    品茶,其实更是一种生活艺术!中国几千年的茶文化可以说是博大精深,从《神农本草经》中记载了茶的起源,到如今,茶已经遍及全世界,成为了风靡世界的饮品之一,甚至还形成了不同风情的茶文化。让我们我们从茶的起源,著名的十大名茶,沏茶,品茶,各国特色饮法,各式茶具等方面让大家品茶拒绝表面功夫……
  • 逆流辉煌岁月

    逆流辉煌岁月

    经历了家中剧变、女友劈腿的林然,人生处在绝望的边缘。当他重生在16岁,是否会书写一段新的人生?2010年、风云际会,一切才开始。***这是一段关于青春重来的故事......错过的人错过了,相遇的人会再相遇。