第39章

第39章“inthestove?buttheywouldransackthestovefirstofall.burnthem?butwhatcaniburnthemwith?therearenomatcheseven.no,bettergooutandthrowitallawaysomewhere.yes,betterthrowitaway,”herepeated,sittingdownonthesofaagain,“andatonce,thisminute,withoutlingering…”

buthisheadsankonthepillowinstead.againtheunbearableicyshiveringcameoverhim;againhedrewhiscoatoverhim.

andforalongwhile,forsomehours,hewashauntedbytheimpulseto“gooffsomewhereatonce,thismoment,andflingitallaway,sothatitmaybeoutofsightanddonewith,atonce,atonce!”severaltimeshetriedtorisefromthesofa,butcouldnot.

hewasthoroughlywakedupatlastbyaviolentknockingathisdoor.

“open,do,areyoudeadoralive?hekeepssleepinghere!”shoutednastasya,bangingwithherfistonthedoor.“forwholedaystogetherhe’ssnoringherelikeadog!adogheistoo.openitellyou.it’spastten.”

“maybehe’snotathome,”saidaman’svoice.

“ha!that’stheporter’svoice.…whatdoeshewant?”

hejumpedupandsatonthesofa.thebeatingofhisheartwasapositivepain.

“thenwhocanhavelatchedthedoor?”retortednastasya.“he’stakentoboltinghimselfin!asifhewereworthstealing!open,youstupid,wakeup!”

“whatdotheywant?whytheporter?all’sdiscovered.resistoropen?comewhatmay!…”

hehalfrose,stoopedforwardandunlatchedthedoor.

hisroomwassosmallthathecouldundothelatchwithoutleavingthebed.yes;theporterandnastasyawerestandingthere.

nastasyastaredathiminastrangeway.heglancedwithadefiantanddesperateairattheporter,whowithoutawordheldoutagreyfoldedpapersealedwithbottle-wax.

“anoticefromtheoffice,”heannounced,ashegavehimthepaper.

“fromwhatoffice?”

“asummonstothepoliceoffice,ofcourse.youknowwhichoffice.”

“tothepolice?…whatfor?…”

“howcanitell?you’resentfor,soyougo.”

themanlookedathimattentively,lookedroundtheroomandturnedtogoaway.

“he’sdownrightill!”observednastasya,nottakinghereyesoffhim.theporterturnedhisheadforamoment.“he’sbeeninafeversinceyesterday,”sheadded.

raskolnikovmadenoresponseandheldthepaperinhishands,withoutopeningit.“don’tyougetupthen,”nastasyawentoncompassionately,seeingthathewaslettinghisfeetdownfromthesofa.“you’reill,andsodon’tgo;there’snosuchhurry.whathaveyougotthere?”

helooked;inhisrighthandheheldtheshredshehadcutfromhistrousers,thesock,andtheragsofthepocket.sohehadbeenasleepwiththeminhishand.afterwardsreflectinguponit,herememberedthathalfwakingupinhisfever,hehadgraspedallthistightlyinhishandandsofallenasleepagain.

“lookattheragshe’scollectedandsleepswiththem,asthoughhehasgotholdofatreasure…”

andnastasyawentoffintoherhystericalle.

instantlyhethrustthemallunderhisgreatcoatandfixedhiseyesintentlyuponher.farashewasfrombeingcapableofrationalreflectionatthatmoment,hefeltthatnoonewouldbehavelikethatwithapersonwhowasgoingtobearrested.“but…thepolice?”

“you’dbetterhavesometea!yes?i’llbringit,there’ssomeleft.”

“no…i’mgoing;i’llgoatonce,”hemuttered,gettingontohisfeet.

“why,you’llnevergetdownstairs!”

“yes,i’llgo.”

“asyouplease.”

shefollowedtheporterout.

atonceherushedtothelighttoexaminethesockandtherags.

“therearestains,butnotverynoticeable;allcoveredwithdirt,andrubbedandalreadydiscoloured.noonewhohadnosuspicioncoulddistinguishanything.nastasyafromadistancecouldnothavenoticed,thankgod!”thenwithatremorhebrokethesealofthenoticeandbeganreading;hewasalongwhilereading,beforeheunderstood.itwasanordinarysummonsfromthedistrictpolice-stationtoappearthatdayathalf-pastnineattheofficeofthedistrictsuperintendent.

“butwhenhassuchathinghappened?ineverhaveanythingtodowiththepolice!andwhyjustto-day?”hethoughtinagonisingbewilderment.“goodgod,onlygetitoversoon!”

hewasflinginghimselfonhiskneestopray,butbrokeintolaughter—notattheideaofprayer,butathimself.

hebegan,hurriedlydressing.“ifi’mlost,iamlost,idon’tcare!shalliputthesockon?”hesuddenlywondered,“itwillgetdustierstillandthetraceswillbegone.”

butnosoonerhadheputitonthanhepulleditoffagaininloathingandhorror.hepulleditoff,butreflectingthathehadnoothersocks,hepickeditupandputitonagain—andagainhelaughed.

“that’sallconventional,that’sallrelative,merelyawayoflookingatit,”hethoughtinaflash,butonlyonthetopsurfaceofhismind,whilehewasshudderingallover,“there,i’vegotiton!ihavefinishedbygettingiton!”

buthislaughterwasquicklyfollowedbydespair.

“no,it’stoomuchforme…”hethought.hislegsshook.“fromfear,”hemuttered.hisheadswamandachedwithfever.“it’satrick!theywanttodecoymethereandconfoundmeovereverything,”hemused,ashewentoutontothestairs—“theworstofitisi’malmostlight-headed…imayblurtoutsomethingstupid…”

onthestairsherememberedthathewasleavingallthethingsjustastheywereintheholeinthewall,“andverylikely,it’sonpurposetosearchwheni’mout,”hethought,andstoppedshort.buthewaspossessedbysuchdespair,suchcynicismofmisery,ifonemaysocallit,thatwithawaveofhishandhewenton.“onlytogetitover!”

inthestreettheheatwasinsufferableagain;notadropofrainhadfallenallthosedays.againdust,bricksandmortar,againthestenchfromtheshopsandpot-houses,againthedrunkenmen,thefinnishpedlarsandhalf-broken-downcabs.thesunshonestraightinhiseyes,sothatithurthimtolookoutofthem,andhefelthisheadgoinground—asamaninafeverisapttofeelwhenhecomesoutintothestreetonabrightsunnyday.