第202章

第202章whenhewentintosonia’sroom,itwasalreadygettingdark.alldaysoniahadbeenwaitingforhiminterribleanxiety.douniahadbeenwaitingwithher.shehadcometoherthatmorning,rememberingsvidrigailov’swordsthatsoniaknew.wewillnotdescribetheconversationandtearsofthetwogirls,andhowfriendlytheybecame.douniagainedonecomfortatleastfromthatinterview,thatherbrotherwouldnotbealone.hehadgonetoher,sonia,firstwithhisconfession;hehadgonetoherforhumanfellowshipwhenheneededit;shewouldgowithhimwhereverfatemightsendhim.douniadidnotask,butsheknewitwasso.shelookedatsoniaalmostwithreverenceandatfirstalmostembarrassedherbyit.soniawasalmostonthepointoftears.shefeltherself,onthecontrary,hardlyworthytolookatdounia.dounia’sgraciousimagewhenshehadbowedtohersoattentivelyandrespectfullyattheirfirstmeetinginraskolnikov’sroomhadremainedinhermindasoneofthefairestvisionsofherlife.

douniaatlastbecameimpatientand,leavingsonia,wenttoherbrother’sroomtoawaithimthere;shekeptthinkingthathewouldcometherefirst.whenshehadgone,soniabegantobetorturedbythedreadofhiscommittingsuicide,anddouniatoofearedit.buttheyhadspentthedaytryingtopersuadeeachotherthatthatcouldnotbe,andbothwerelessanxiouswhiletheyweretogether.assoonastheyparted,eachthoughtofnothingelse.soniarememberedhowsvidrigailovhadsaidtoherthedaybeforethatraskolnikovhadtwoalternatives—siberiaor…besidessheknewhisvanity,hisprideandhislackoffaith.

“isitpossiblethathehasnothingbutcowardiceandfearofdeathtomakehimlive?”shethoughtatlastindespair.

meanwhilethesunwassetting.soniawasstandingindejection,lookingintentlyoutofthewindow,butfromitshecouldseenothingbuttheunwhitewashedblankwallofthenexthouse.atlastwhenshebegantofeelsureofhisdeath—hewalkedintotheroom.

shegaveacryofjoy,butlookingcarefullyintohisfacesheturnedpale.

“yes,”saidraskolnikov,smiling.“ihavecomeforyourcross,sonia.itwasyoutoldmetogotothecross-roads;whyisityouarefrightenednowit’scometothat?”

soniagazedathimastonished.histoneseemedstrangetoher;acoldshiverranoverher,butinamomentsheguessedthatthetoneandthewordswereamask.hespoketoherlookingaway,asthoughtoavoidmeetinghereyes.

“yousee,sonia,i’vedecidedthatitwillbebetterso.thereisonefact.…butit’salongstoryandthere’snoneedtodiscussit.butdoyouknowwhatangersme?itannoysmethatallthosestupidbrutishfaceswillbegapingatmedirectly,pesteringmewiththeirstupidquestions,whichishallhavetoanswer—they’llpointtheirfingersatme.…tfoo!youknowiamnotgoingtoporfiry,iamsickofhim.i’drathergotomyfriend,theexplosivelieutenant;howishallsurprisehim,whatasensationishallmake!butimustbecooler;i’vebecometooirritableoflate.youknowiwasnearlyshakingmyfistatmysisterjustnow,becausesheturnedtotakealastlookatme.it’sabrutalstatetobein!ah!whatamicomingto!well,wherearethecrosses?”

heseemedhardlytoknowwhathewasdoing.hecouldnotstaystillorconcentratehisattentiononanything;hisideasseemedtogallopafteroneanother,hetalkedincoherently,hishandstrembledslightly.

withoutawordsoniatookoutofthedrawertwocrosses,oneofcypresswoodandoneofcopper.shemadethesignofthecrossoverherselfandoverhim,andputthewoodencrossonhisneck.

“it’sthesymbolofmytakingupthecross,”helaughed.“asthoughihadnotsufferedmuchtillnow!thewoodencross,thatisthepeasantone;thecopperone,thatislizaveta’s—youwillwearyourself,showme!soshehaditon…atthatmoment?iremembertwothingslikethesetoo,asilveroneandalittleikon.ithrewthembackontheoldwoman’sneck.thosewouldbeappropriatenow,really,thosearewhatioughttoputonnow.…butiamtalkingnonsenseandforgettingwhatmatters;i’msomehowforgetful.…youseeihavecometowarnyou,sonia,sothatyoumightknow…that’sall—that’sallicamefor.butithoughtihadmoretosay.youwantedmetogoyourself.well,nowiamgoingtoprisonandyou’llhaveyourwish.well,whatareyoucryingfor?youtoo?don’t.leaveoff!oh,howihateitall!”

buthisfeelingwasstirred;hisheartached,ashelookedather.“whyisshegrievingtoo?”hethoughttohimself.“whatamitoher?whydoessheweep?whyisshelookingafterme,likemymotherordounia?she’llbemynurse.”

“crossyourself,sayatleastoneprayer,”soniaedinatimidbrokenvoice.

“ohcertainly,asmuchasyoulike!andsincerely,sonia,sincerely.…”

buthewantedtosaysomethingquitedifferent.

hecrossedhimselfseveraltimes.soniatookuphershawlandputitoverherhead.itwasthegreendrapdedamesshawlofwhichmarmeladovhadspoken,“thefamilyshawl.”raskolnikovthoughtofthatlookingatit,buthedidnotask.hebegantofeelhimselfthathewascertainlyforgettingthingsandwasdisgustinglyagitated.hewasfrightenedatthis.hewassuddenlystrucktoobythethoughtthatsoniameanttogowithhim.

“whatareyoudoing?whereareyougoing?stayhere,stay!i’llgoalone,”hecriedincowardlyvexation,andalmostresentful,hemovedtowardsthedoor.“what’stheuseofgoinginprocession?”hemutteredgoingout.

soniaremainedstandinginthemiddleoftheroom.hehadnotevensaidgood-byetoher;hehadforgottenher.apoignantandrebelliousdoubtsurgedinhisheart.

“wasitright,wasitright,allthis?”hethoughtagainashewentdownthestairs.“couldn’thestopandretractitall…andnotgo?”