第194章

第194章helightedthecandleandlookedattheroommorecarefully.itwasaroomsolow-pitchedthatsvidrigailovcouldonlyjuststandupinit;ithadonewindow;thebed,whichwasverydirty,andtheplain-stainedchairandtablealmostfilleditup.thewallslookedasthoughtheyweremadeofplanks,coveredwithshabbypaper,sotornanddustythatthepatternwasindistinguishable,thoughthegeneralcolour—yellow—couldstillbemadeout.oneofthewallswascutshortbytheslopingceiling,thoughtheroomwasnotanatticbutjustunderthestairs.

svidrigailovsetdownthecandle,satdownonthebedandsankintothought.butastrangepersistentmurmurwhichsometimesrosetoashoutinthenextroomattractedhisattention.themurmurhadnotceasedfromthemomentheenteredtheroom.helistened:someonewasupbraidingandalmosttearfullyscolding,butheheardonlyonevoice.

svidrigailovgotup,shadedthelightwithhishandandatoncehesawlightthroughacrackinthewall;hewentupandpeepedthrough.theroom,whichwassomewhatlargerthanhis,hadtwooccupants.oneofthem,averycurly-headedmanwitharedinflamedface,wasstandingintheposeofanorator,withouthiscoat,withhislegswideaparttopreservehisbalance,andsmitinghimselfonthebreast.hereproachedtheotherwithbeingaar,withhavingnostandingwhatever.hedeclaredthathehadtakentheotheroutofthegutterandhecouldturnhimoutwhenheliked,andthatonlythefingerofprovidenceseesitall.theobjectofhisreproacheswassittinginachair,andhadtheairofamanwhowantsdreadfullytosneeze,butcan’t.hesometimesturnedsheepishandedeyesonthespeaker,butobviouslyhadnottheslightestideawhathewastalkingaboutandscarcelyheardit.acandlewasburningdownonthetable;therewerewine-glasses,anearlyemptybottleofvodka,breadandcucumber,andglasseswiththedregsofstaletea.aftergazingattentivelyatthis,svidrigailovturnedawayindifferentlyandsatdownonthebed.

theedattendant,returningwiththetea,couldnotresistaskinghimagainwhetherhedidn’twantanythingmore,andagainreceivinganegativereply,finallywithdrew.svidrigailovmadehastetodrinkaglassofteatowarmhimself,butcouldnoteatanything.hebegantofeelfeverish.hetookoffhiscoatand,wrappinghimselfintheblanket,laydownonthebed.hewasannoyed.“itwouldhavebeenbettertobewellfortheoccasion,”hethoughtwithasmile.theroomwasclose,thecandleburntdimly,thewindwasroaringoutside,heheardamousescratchinginthecornerandtheroomsmeltofmiceandofleather.helayinasortofreverie:onethoughtfollowedanother.hefeltalongingtofixhisimaginationonsomething.“itmustbeagardenunderthewindow,”hethought.“there’sasoundoftrees.howidislikethesoundoftreesonastormynight,inthedark!theygiveoneahorridfeeling.”herememberedhowhehaddislikeditwhenhepassedpetrovskyparkjustnow.thisremindedhimofthebridgeoverthelittlenevaandhefeltcoldagainashehadwhenstandingthere.“ineverhavelikedwater,”hethought,“eveninalandscape,”andhesuddenlysmiledagainatastrangeidea:“surelynowallthesequestionsoftasteandcomfortoughtnottomatter,buti’vebecomemoreparticular,likeananimalthatpicksoutaspecialplace…forsuchanoccasion.ioughttohavegoneintothepetrovskypark!isupposeitseemeddark,cold,ha-ha!asthoughiwereseekingpleasantsensations!…bytheway,whyhaven’tiputoutthecandle?”heblewitout.“they’vegonetobednextdoor,”hethought,notseeingthelightatthecrack.“well,now,marfapetrovna,nowisthetimeforyoutoturnup;it’sdark,andtheverytimeandplaceforyou.butnowyouwon’tcome!”

hesuddenlyrecalledhow,anhourbeforecarryingouthisdesignondounia,hehadrecommendedraskolnikovtotrusthertorazumihin’skeeping.“isupposeireallydidsayit,asraskolnikovguessed,toteasemyself.butwhataroguethatraskolnikovis!he’sgonethroughagooddeal.hemaybeaessfulrogueintimewhenhe’sgotoverhisnonsense.butnowhe’stooeagerforlife.theseyoungmenarecontemptibleonthatpoint.but,hangthefellow!lethimpleasehimself,it’snothingtodowithme.”

hecouldnotgettosleep.bydegreesdounia’simagerosebeforehim,andashudderranoverhim.“no,imustgiveupallthatnow,”hethought,rousinghimself.“imustthinkofsomethingelse.it’squeerandfunny.ineverhadagreathatredforanyone,ineverparticularlydesiredtoavengemyselfeven,andthat’sabadsign,abadsign,abadsign.ineverlikedquarrellingeither,andneverlostmytemper—that’sabadsigntoo.andthepromisesimadeherjustnow,too—damnation!but—whoknows?—perhapsshewouldhavemadeanewmanofmesomehow.…”

hegroundhisteethandsankintosilenceagain.againdounia’simagerosebeforehim,justasshewaswhen,aftershootingthefirsttime,shehadloweredtherevolverinterrorandgazedblanklyathim,sothathemighthaveseizedhertwiceoverandshewouldnothaveliftedahandtodefendherselfifhehadnotremindedher.herecalledhowatthatinstanthefeltalmostsorryforher,howhehadfeltapangathisheart…

“aie!damnation,thesethoughtsagain!imustputitaway!”