第35章

第35章inthemiddleoftheroomstoodlizavetawithabigbundleinherarms.shewasgazinginstupefactionathermurderedsister,whiteasasheetandseemingnottohavethestrengthtocryout.seeinghimrunoutofthebedroom,shebeganfaintlyquiveringallover,likealeaf,ashudderrandownherface;sheliftedherhand,openedhermouth,butstilldidnotscream.shebeganslowlybackingawayfromhimintothecorner,staringintently,persistentlyathim,butstillutterednosound,asthoughshecouldnotgetbreathtoscream.herushedatherwiththeaxe;hermouthtwitchedpiteously,asoneseesbabies’mouths,whentheybegintobefrightened,stareintentlyatwhatfrightensthemandareonthepointofscreaming.andthishaplesslizavetawassosimpleandhadbeensothoroughlycrushedandscaredthatshedidnotevenraiseahandtoguardherface,thoughthatwasthemostnecessaryandnaturalactionatthemoment,fortheaxewasraisedoverherface.sheonlyputupheremptylefthand,butnottoherface,slowlyholdingitoutbeforeherasthoughmotioninghimaway.theaxefellwiththesharpedgejustontheskullandsplitatoneblowallthetopofthehead.shefellheavilyatonce.raskolnikovcompletelylosthishead,snatchingupherbundle,droppeditagainandranintotheentry.

feargainedmoreandmoremasteryoverhim,especiallyafterthissecond,quiteunexpectedmurder.helongedtorunawayfromtheplaceasfastaspossible.andifatthatmomenthehadbeencapableofseeingandreasoningmorecorrectly,ifhehadbeenabletorealiseallthedifficultiesofhisposition,thehopelessness,thehideousnessandtheabsurdityofit,ifhecouldhaveunderstoodhowmanyobstaclesand,perhaps,crimeshehadstilltoovercomeortocommit,togetoutofthatplaceandtomakehiswayhome,itisverypossiblethathewouldhaveflungupeverything,andwouldhavegonetogivehimselfup,andnotfromfear,butfromsimplehorrorandloathingofwhathehaddone.thefeelingofloathingespeciallysurgedupwithinhimandgrewstrongereveryminute.hewouldnotnowhavegonetotheboxorevenintotheroomforanythingintheworld.

butasortofblankness,evendreaminess,hadbegunbydegreestotakepossessionofhim;atmomentsheforgothimself,orrather,forgotwhatwasofimportance,andcaughtattrifles.glancing,however,intothekitchenandseeingabuckethalffullofwateronabench,hebethoughthimofwashinghishandsandtheaxe.hishandswerestickywithblood.hedroppedtheaxewiththebladeinthewater,snatchedapieceofsoapthatlayinabrokensauceronthewindow,andbeganwashinghishandsinthebucket.whentheywereclean,hetookouttheaxe,washedthebladeandspentalongtime,aboutthreeminutes,washingthewoodwheretherewerespotsofbloodrubbingthemwithsoap.thenhewipeditallwithsomelinenthatwashangingtodryonalineinthekitchenandthenhewasalongwhileattentivelyexaminingtheaxeatthewindow.therewasnotraceleftonit,onlythewoodwasstilldamp.hecarefullyhungtheaxeinthenooseunderhiscoat.thenasfaraswaspossible,inthedimlightinthekitchen,helookedoverhisovercoat,histrousersandhisboots.atthefirstglancethereseemedtobenothingbutstainsontheboots.hewettedtheragandrubbedtheboots.butheknewhewasnotlookingthoroughly,thattheremightbesomethingquitenoticeablethathewasoverlooking.hestoodinthemiddleoftheroom,lostinthought.darkagonisingideasroseinhismind—theideathathewasmadandthatatthatmomenthewasincapableofreasoning,ofprotectinghimself,thatheoughtperhapstobedoingsomethingutterlydifferentfromwhathewasnowdoing.“goodgod!”hemuttered“imustfly,fly,”andherushedintotheentry.buthereashockofterrorawaitedhimsuchashehadneverknownbefore.

hestoodandgazedandcouldnotbelievehiseyes:thedoor,theouterdoorfromthestairs,atwhichhehadnotlongbeforewaitedandrung,wasstandingunfastenedandatleastsixinchesopen.nolock,nobolt,allthetime,allthattime!theoldwomanhadnotshutitafterhimperhapsasaprecaution.but,goodgod!why,hehadseenlizavetaafterwards!andhowcouldhe,howcouldhehavefailedtoreflectthatshemusthavecomeinsomehow!shecouldnothavecomethroughthewall!

hedashedtothedoorandfastenedthelatch.

“butno,thewrongthingagain!imustgetaway,getaway.…”

heunfastenedthelatch,openedthedoorandbeganlisteningonthestaircase.

helistenedalongtime.somewherefaraway,itmightbeinthegateway,twovoiceswereloudlyandshrillyshouting,quarrellingandscolding.“whataretheyabout?”hewaitedpatiently.atlastallwasstill,asthoughsuddenlycutoff;theyhadseparated.hewasmeaningtogoout,butsuddenly,onthefloorbelow,adoorwasnoisilyopenedandsomeonebegangoingdownstairshummingatune.“howisittheyallmakesuchanoise?”flashedthroughhismind.oncemoreheclosedthedoorandwaited.atlastallwasstill,notasoulstirring.hewasjusttakingasteptowardsthestairswhenheheardfreshfootsteps.

thestepssoundedveryfaroff,attheverybottomofthestairs,butherememberedquiteclearlyanddistinctlythatfromthefirstsoundhebeganforsomereasontosuspectthatthiswassomeonecomingthere,tothefourthfloor,totheoldwoman.why?werethesoundssomehowpeculiar,significant?thestepswereheavy,evenandunhurried.nowhehadpassedthefirstfloor,nowhewasmountinghigher,itwasgrowingmoreandmoredistinct!hecouldhearhisheavybreathing.andnowthethirdstoreyhadbeenreached.cominghere!anditseemedtohimallatoncethathewasturnedtostone,thatitwaslikeadreaminwhichoneisbeingpursued,nearlycaughtandwillbekilled,andisrootedtothespotandcannotevenmoveone’sarms.