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part of a room； but their room was practically a passage。 The door
leading to the other rooms； or rather cupboards； into which Amalia
Lippevechsel's flat was divided stood half open； and there was
shouting； uproar and laughter within。 People seemed to be playing
cards and drinking tea there。 Words of the most unceremonious kind
flew out from time to time。
Raskolnikov recognised Katerina Ivanovna at once。 She was a rather
tall； slim and graceful woman； terribly emaciated； with magnificent
dark brown hair and with a hectic flush in her cheeks。 She was
pacing up and down in her little room； pressing her hands against
her chest； her lips were parched and her breathing came in nervous
broken gasps。 Her eyes glittered as in fever and looked about with a
harsh immovable stare。 And that consumptive and excited face with
the last flickering light of the candle…end playing upon it made a
sickening impression。 She seemed to Raskolnikov about thirty years old
and was certainly a strange wife for Marmeladov。。。。 She had not
heard them and did not notice them coming in。 She seemed to be lost in
thought； hearing and seeing nothing。 The room was close； but she had
not opened the window； a stench rose from the staircase； but the
door on to the stairs was not closed。 From the inner rooms clouds of
tobacco smoke floated in； she kept coughing； but did not close the
door。 The youngest child； a girl of six； was asleep； sitting curled up
on the floor with her head on the sofa。 A boy a year older stood
crying and shaking in the corner； probably he had just had a
beating。 Beside him stood a girl of nine years old； tall and thin；
wearing a thin and ragged chemise with an ancient cashmere pelisse
flung over her bare shoulders； long outgrown and barely reaching her
knees。 Her arm； as thin as a stick； was round her brother's neck。
She was trying to comfort him； whispering something to him； and
doing all she could to keep him from whimpering again。 At the same
time her large dark eyes； which looked larger still from the
thinness of her frightened face； were watching her mother with
alarm。 Marmeladov did not enter the door； but dropped on his knees
in the very doorway； pushing Raskolnikov in front of him。 The woman
seeing a stranger stopped indifferently facing him； coming to
herself for a moment and apparently wondering what he had come for。
But evidently she decided that he was going into the next room； as
he had to pass through hers to get there。 Taking no further notice
of him； she walked towards the outer door to close it and uttered a
sudden scream on seeing her husband on his knees in the doorway。
〃Ah！〃 she cried out in a frenzy； 〃he has come back！ The criminal！
the monster！。。。 And where is the money？ What's in your pocket； show
me！ And your clothes are all different！ Where are your clothes？
Where is the money！ speak！〃
And she fell to searching him。 Marmeladov submissively and
obediently held up both arms to facilitate the search。 Not a
farthing was there。
〃Where's the money？〃 she cried… 〃Mercy on us； can he have drunk it
all？ There were twelve silver roubles left in the chest！〃 and in a
fury she seized him by the hair and dragged him into the room。
Marmeladov seconded her efforts by meekly crawling along on his knees。
〃And this is a consolation to me！ This does not hurt me； but is a
positive con…so…la…tion； ho…nou…red sir；〃 he called out； shaken to and
fro by his hair and even once striking the ground with his forehead。
The child asleep on the floor woke up； and began to cry。 The boy in
the corner losing all control began trembling and screaming and rushed
to his sister in violent terror； almost in a fit。 The eldest girl
was shaking like a leaf。
〃He's drunk it！ he's drunk it all；〃 the poor woman screamed in
despair… 〃and his clothes are gone！ And they are hungry； hungry！〃… and
wringing her hands she pointed to the children。 〃Oh； accursed life！
And you； are you not ashamed？〃… she pounced all at once upon
Raskolnikov… 〃from the tavern！ Have been drinking with him？ You have
been drinking with him； too！ Go away！〃
The young man was hastening away without uttering a word。 The
inner door was thrown wide open and inquisitive faces were peering
in at it。 Coarse laughing faces with pipes and cigarettes and heads
wearing caps thrust themselves in at the doorway。 Further in could
be seen figures in dressing gowns flung open； in costumes of
unseemly scantiness； some of them with cards in their hands。 They were
particularly diverted； when Marmeladov； dragged about by his hair；
shouted that it was a consolation to him。 They even began to come into
the room； at last a sinister shrill outcry was heard： this came from
Amalia Lippevechsel herself pushing her way amongst them and trying to
restore order after her own fashion and for the hundredth time to
frighten the poor woman by ordering her with coarse abuse to clear out
of the room next day。 As he went out； Raskolnikov had time to put
his hand into his pocket； to snatch up the coppers he had received
in exchange for his rouble in the tavern and to lay them unnoticed
on the window。 Afterwards on the stairs； he changed his mind and would
have gone back。
〃What a stupid thing I've done；〃 he thought to himself； 〃they have
Sonia and I want it myself。〃 But reflecting that it would be
impossible to take it back now and that in any case he would not
have taken it； he dismissed it with a wave of his hand and went back
to his lodging。 〃Sonia wants pomatum too；〃 he said as he walked
along the street； and he laughed malignantly… 〃such smartness costs
money。。。。 Hm！ And maybe Sonia herself will be bankrupt to…day； for
there is always a risk； hunting big game。。。 digging for gold。。。 then
they would all be without a crust to…morrow except for my money。
Hurrah for Sonia！ What a mine they've dug there！ And they're making
the most of it！ Yes； they are making the most of it！ They've wept over
it and grown used to it。 Man grows used to everything； the scoundrel！〃
He sank into thought。
〃And what if I am wrong；〃 he cried suddenly after a moment's
thought。 〃What if man is not really a scoundrel； man in general； I
mean； the whole race of mankind… then all the rest is prejudice；
simply artificial terrors and there are no barriers and it's all as it
should be。〃
Chapter Three
HE WAKED up late next day after a broken sleep。 But his sleep had
not refreshed him； he waked up bilious； irritable； ill…tempered； and
looked with hatred at his room。 It was a tiny cupboard of a room about
six paces in length。 It had a poverty…stricken appearance with its
dusty yellow paper peeling off the walls； and it was so low…pitched
that a man of more than average height was ill at ease in it and
felt every moment that he would knock his head against the ceiling。
The furniture was in keeping with the room： there were three old
chairs； rather rickety； a painted table in the corner on which lay a
few manuscripts and books； the dust that lay thick upon them showed
that they had been long untouched。 A big clumsy sofa occupied almost
the whole of one wall and half the floor space of the room； it was
once covered with chintz； but was now in rags and served Raskolnikov
as a bed。 Often he went to sleep on it； as he was； without undressing；
without sheets； wrapped in his old student's overcoat； with his head
on one little pillow； under which he heaped up all the linen he had；
clean and dirty； by way of a bolster。 A little table stood in front of
the sofa。