第66章

第66章“they?theyarechildren,simpletons,notcriminals!why,halfahundredpeoplemeetingforsuchanobject—whatanidea!threewouldbetoomany,andthentheywanttohavemorefaithinoneanotherthaninthemselves!onehasonlytoblabinhiscupsanditallcollapses.simpletons!theyengageduntrustworthypeopletochangethenotes—whatathingtotrusttoacasualstranger!well,letussupposethatthesesimpletonseedandeachmakesamillion,andwhatfollowsfortherestoftheirlives?eachisdependentontheothersfortherestofhislife!betterhangoneselfatonce!andtheydidnotknowhowtochangethenoteseither;themanwhochangedthenotestookfivethousandroubles,andhishandstrembled.hecountedthefirstfourthousand,butdidnotcountthefifththousand—hewasinsuchahurrytogetthemoneyintohispocketandrunaway.ofcourseherousedsuspicion.andthewholethingcametoacrashthroughonefool!isitpossible?”

“thathishandstrembled?”observedzametov,“yes,that’squitepossible.that,ifeelquitesure,ispossible.sometimesonecan’tstandthings.”

“can’tstandthat?”

“why,couldyoustanditthen?no,icouldn’t.forthesakeofahundredroublestofacesuchaterribleexperience?togowithfalsenotesintoabankwhereit’stheirbusinesstospotthatsortofthing!no,ishouldnothavethefacetodoit.wouldyou?”

raskolnikovhadanintensedesireagain“toputhistongueout.”shiverskeptrunningdownhisspine.

“ishoulddoitquitedifferently,”raskolnikovbegan.“thisishowiwouldchangethenotes:i’dcountthefirstthousandthreeorfourtimesbackwardsandforwards,lookingateverynoteandtheni’dsettothesecondthousand;i’dcountthathalf-waythroughandthenholdsomefifty-roublenotetothelight,thenturnit,thenholdittothelightagain—toseewhetheritwasagoodone.‘iamafraid,’iwouldsay,‘arelationofminelosttwenty-fiveroublestheotherdaythroughafalsenote,’andtheni’dtellthemthewholestory.andafteribegancountingthethird,‘no,excuseme,’iwouldsay,‘ifancyimadeamistakeintheseventhhundredinthatsecondthousand,iamnotsure.’andsoiwouldgiveupthethirdthousandandgobacktothesecondandsoontotheend.andwhenihadfinished,i’dpickoutonefromthefifthandonefromthesecondthousandandtakethemagaintothelightandaskagain,‘changethem,please,’andputtheclerkintosuchastewthathewouldnotknowhowtogetridofme.wheni’dfinishedandhadgoneout,i’dcomeback,‘no,excuseme,’andaskforsomeexplanation.that’showi’ddoit.”

“foo!whatterriblethingsyousay!”saidzametov,laughing.“butallthatisonlytalk.idaresaywhenitcametodeedsyou’dmakeaslip.ibelievethatevenapractised,desperatemancannotalwaysreckononhimself,muchlessyouandi.totakeanexamplenearhome—thatoldwomanmurderedinourdistrict.themurdererseemstohavebeenadesperatefellow,heriskedeverythinginopendaylight,wassavedbyamiracle—buthishandsshook,too.hedidnoteedinrobbingtheplace,hecouldn’tstandit.thatwasclearfromthe…”

raskolnikovseemedoffended.

“clear?whydon’tyoucatchhimthen?”hecried,maliciouslygibingatzametov.

“well,theywillcatchhim.”

“who?you?doyousupposeyoucouldcatchhim?you’veatoughjob!agreatpointforyouiswhetheramanisspendingmoneyornot.ifhehadnomoneyandsuddenlybeginsspending,hemustbetheman.sothatanychildcanmisleadyou.”

“thefactistheyalwaysdothat,though,”answeredzametov.“amanwillcommitaclevermurderattheriskofhislifeandthenatoncehegoesdrinkinginatavern.theyarecaughtspendingmoney,theyarenotallascunningasyouare.youwouldn’tgotoatavern,ofcourse?”

raskolnikovfrownedandlookedsteadilyatzametov.

“youseemtoenjoythesubjectandwouldliketoknowhowishouldbehaveinthatcase,too?”heaskedwithdispleasure.

“ishouldliketo,”zametovansweredfirmlyandseriously.somewhattoomuchearnestnessbegantoappearinhiswordsandlooks.

“verymuch?”

“verymuch!”

“allrightthen.thisishowishouldbehave,”raskolnikovbegan,againbringinghisfaceclosetozametov’s,againstaringathimandspeakinginawhisper,sothatthelatterpositivelyshuddered.“thisiswhatishouldhavedone.ishouldhavetakenthemoneyandjewels,ishouldhavewalkedoutofthereandhavegonestraighttosomedesertedplacewithfencesrounditandscarcelyanyonetobeseen,somekitchengardenorplaceofthatsort.ishouldhavelookedoutbeforehandsomestoneweighingahundredweightormorewhichhadbeenlyinginthecornerfromthetimethehousewasbuilt.iwouldliftthatstone—therewouldsuretobeahollowunderit,andiwouldputthejewelsandmoneyinthathole.theni’drollthestonebacksothatitwouldlookasbefore,wouldpressitdownwithmyfootandwalkaway.andforayearortwo,threemaybe,iwouldnottouchit.and,well,theycouldsearch!there’dbenotrace.”

“youareamadman,”saidzametov,andforsomereasonhetoospokeinawhisper,andmovedawayfromraskolnikov,whoseeyeswereglittering.hehadturnedfearfullypaleandhisupperlipwastwitchingandquivering.hebentdownascloseaspossibletozametov,andhislipsbegantomovewithoututteringaword.thislastedforhalfaminute;heknewwhathewasdoing,butcouldnotrestrainhimself.theterriblewordtrembledonhislips,likethelatchonthatdoor;inanothermomentitwillbreakout,inanothermomenthewillletitgo,hewillspeakout.

“andwhatifitwasiwhomurderedtheoldwomanandlizaveta?”hesaidsuddenlyand—realisedwhathehaddone.

zametovlookedwildlyathimandturnedwhiteasthetablecloth.hisfaceworeacontortedsmile.

“butisitpossible?”hebroughtoutfaintly.raskolnikovlookedwrathfullyathim.

“ownupthatyoubelievedit,yes,youdid?”

“notabitofit,ibelieveitlessthanevernow,”zametovcriedhastily.