“Perhaps I’ve been unfair to myself,” he observed gloomily, pondering, “perhaps after all I am a man and not a louse and I’ve been in too great a hurry to condemn myself. I’ll make another fight for it.”
A haughty smile appeared on his lips.
“What a burden to bear! And your whole life, your whole life!”
“I shall get used to it,” he said grimly and thoughtfully. “Listen,” he began a minute later, “stop crying, it’s time to talk of the facts: I’ve come to tell you that the police are after me, on my track. …”
“Ach!” Sonia cried in terror.
“Well, why do you cry out? You want me to go to Siberia and now you are frightened? But let me tell you: I shall not give myself up. I shall make a struggle for it and they won’t do anything to me. They’ve no real evidence. Yesterday I was in great danger and believed I was lost; but to-day things are going better. All the facts they know can be explained two ways, that’s to say I can turn their accusations to my credit, do you understand? And I shall, for I’ve learnt my lesson. But they will certainly arrest me. If it had not been for something that happened, they would have done so to-day for certain; perhaps even now they will arrest me to-day. … But that’s no matter, Sonia; they’ll let me out again … for there isn’t any real proof against me, and there won’t be, I give you my word for it. And they can’t convict a man on what they have against me. Enough. … I only tell you that you may know. … I will try to manage somehow to put it to my mother and sister so that they won’t be frightened. … My sister’s future is secure, however, now, I believe … and my mother’s must be too. … Well, that’s all. Be careful, though. Will you come and see me in prison when I am there?”
“Oh, I will, I will.”
They sat side by side, both mournful and dejected, as though they had been cast up by the tempest alone on some deserted shore. He looked at Sonia and felt how great was her love for him, and strange to say he felt it suddenly burdensome and painful to be so loved. Yes, it was a strange and awful sensation! On his way to see Sonia he had felt that all his hopes rested on her; he expected to be rid of at least part of his suffering, and now, when all her heart turned towards him, he suddenly felt that he was immeasurably unhappier than before.
“Sonia,” he said, “you’d better not come and see me when I am in prison.”
Sonia did not answer, she was crying. Several minutes passed.
“Have you a cross on you?” she asked, as though suddenly thinking of it.
He did not at first understand the question.
“No, of course not. Here, take this one, of cypress wood. I have another, a copper one that belonged to Lizaveta. I changed with Lizaveta: she gave me her cross and I gave her my little ikon. I will wear Lizaveta’s now and give you this. Take it … it’s mine! It’s mine, you know,” she begged him. “We will go to suffer together, and together we will bear our cross!”
“Give it me,” said Raskolnikov.
He did not want to hurt her feelings. But immediately he drew back the hand he held out for the cross.
“Not now, Sonia. Better later,” he added to comfort her.
“Yes, yes, better,” she repeated with conviction, “when you go to meet your suffering, then put it on. You will come to me, I’ll put it on you, we will pray and go together.”
At that moment someone knocked three times at the door.
“Sofya Semyonovna, may I come in?” they heard in a very familiar and polite voice.
Sonia rushed to the door in a fright. The flaxen head of Mr. Lebeziatnikov appeared at the door.
