Thedoorwasasbeforeopenedatinycrack，andagaintwosharpandsuspiciouseyesstaredathimoutofthedarkness。ThenRaskolnikovlosthisheadandnearlymadeagreatmistake。
Fearingtheoldwomanwouldbefrightenedbytheirbeingalone，andnothopingthatthesightofhimwoulddisarmhersuspicions，hetookholdofthedooranddrewittowardshimtopreventtheoldwomanfromattemptingtoshutitagain。Seeingthisshedidnotpullthedoorback，butshedidnotletgothehandlesothathealmostdraggedheroutwithitontothestairs。Seeingthatshewasstandinginthedoorwaynotallowinghimtopass，headvancedstraightuponher。Shesteppedbackinalarm，triedtosaysomething，butseemedunabletospeakandstaredwithopeneyesathim。
“Goodevening，AlyonaIvanovna，”hebegan，tryingtospeakeasily，buthisvoicewouldnotobeyhim，itbrokeandshook。“Ihavecome…Ihavebroughtsomething…butwe’dbettercomein…tothelight。…”
Andleavingher，hepassedstraightintotheroomuninvited。Theoldwomanranafterhim；hertonguewasunloosed。
“Goodheavens！Whatitis？Whoisit？Whatdoyouwant？”
“Why，AlyonaIvanovna，youknowme…Raskolnikov…here，IbroughtyouthepledgeIpromisedtheotherday…”Andheheldoutthepledge。
Theoldwomanglancedforamomentatthepledge，butatoncestaredintheeyesofheruninvitedvisitor。Shelookedintently，maliciouslyandmistrustfully。Aminutepassed；heevenfanciedsomethinglikeasneerinhereyes，asthoughshehadalreadyguessedeverything。Hefeltthathewaslosinghishead，thathewasalmostfrightened，sofrightenedthatifsheweretolooklikethatandnotsayawordforanotherhalfminute，hethoughthewouldhaverunawayfromher。
“Whydoyoulookatmeasthoughyoudidnotknowme？”hesaidsuddenly，alsowithmalice。“Takeitifyoulike，ifnotI’llgoelsewhere，Iaminahurry。”
Hehadnoteventhoughtofsayingthis，butitwassuddenlysaidofitself。Theoldwomanrecoveredherself，andhervisitor’sresolutetoneevidentlyrestoredherconfidence。
“Butwhy，mygoodsir，allofaminute。…Whatisit？”sheasked，lookingatthepledge。
“Thesilvercigarettecase；Ispokeofitlasttime，youknow。”
Sheheldoutherhand。
“Buthowpaleyouare，tobesure…andyourhandsaretremblingtoo？Haveyoubeenbathing，orwhat？”
“Fever，”heansweredabruptly。“Youcan’thelpgettingpale…ifyou’venothingtoeat，”headded，withdifficultyarticulatingthewords。
Hisstrengthwasfailinghimagain。Buthisanswersoundedlikethetruth；theoldwomantookthepledge。
“Whatisit？”sheaskedoncemore，scanningRaskolnikovintently，andweighingthepledgeinherhand。
“Athing…cigarettecase。…Silver。…Lookatit。”
“Itdoesnotseemsomehowlikesilver。…Howhehaswrappeditup！”
Tryingtountiethestringandturningtothewindow，tothelightallherwindowswereshut，inspiteofthestiflingheat，shelefthimaltogetherforsomesecondsandstoodwithherbacktohim。Heunbuttonedhiscoatandfreedtheaxefromthenoose，butdidnotyettakeitoutaltogether，simplyholdingitinhisrighthandunderthecoat。Hishandswerefearfullyweak，hefeltthemeverymomentgrowingmorenumbandmorewooden。Hewasafraidhewouldlettheaxeslipandfall。…Asuddengiddinesscameoverhim。
“Butwhathashetiedituplikethisfor？”theoldwomancriedwithvexationandmovedtowardshim。
Hehadnotaminutemoretolose。Hepulledtheaxequiteout，swungitwithbotharms，scarcelyconsciousofhimself，andalmostwithouteffort，almostmechanically，broughtthebluntsidedownonherhead。Heseemednottousehisownstrengthinthis。Butassoonashehadoncebroughttheaxedown，hisstrengthreturnedtohim。
Theoldwomanwasasalwaysbareheaded。Herthin，lighthair，streakedwithgrey，thicklysmearedwithgrease，wasplaitedinarat’stailandfastenedbyabrokenhorncombwhichstoodoutonthenapeofherneck。Asshewassoshort，theblowfellontheverytopofherskull。Shecriedout，butveryfaintly，andsuddenlysankallofaheaponthefloor，raisingherhandstoherhead。Inonehandshestillheld“thepledge。”Thenhedealtheranotherandanotherblowwiththebluntsideandonthesamespot。Thebloodgushedasfromanoverturnedglass，thebodyfellback。Hesteppedback，letitfall，andatoncebentoverherface；shewasdead。Hereyesseemedtobestartingoutoftheirsockets，thebrowandthewholefaceweredrawnandcontortedconvulsively。
Helaidtheaxeonthegroundnearthedeadbodyandfeltatonceinherpockettryingtoavoidthestreamingbody—thesameright-handpocketfromwhichshehadtakenthekeyonhislastvisit。Hewasinfullpossessionofhisfaculties，freefromconfusionorgiddiness，buthishandswerestilltrembling。Herememberedafterwardsthathehadbeenparticularlycollectedandcareful，tryingallthetimenottogetsmearedwithblood。…Hepulledoutthekeysatonce，theywereall，asbefore，inonebunchonasteelring。Heranatonceintothebedroomwiththem。Itwasaverysmallroomwithawholeshrineofholyimages。Againsttheotherwallstoodabigbed，verycleanandcoveredwithasilkpatchworkwaddedquilt。Againstathirdwallwasachestofdrawers。Strangetosay，sosoonashebegantofitthekeysintothechest，sosoonasheheardtheirjingling，aconvulsiveshudderpassedoverhim。Hesuddenlyfelttemptedagaintogiveitallupandgoaway。Butthatwasonlyforaninstant；itwastoolatetogoback。Hepositivelysmiledathimself，whensuddenlyanotherterrifyingideaoccurredtohismind。Hesuddenlyfanciedthattheoldwomanmightbestillaliveandmightrecoverhersenses。Leavingthekeysinthechest，heranbacktothebody，snatcheduptheaxeandlifteditoncemoreovertheoldwoman，butdidnotbringitdown。Therewasnodoubtthatshewasdead。Bendingdownandexaminingheragainmoreclosely，hesawclearlythattheskullwasbrokenandevenbatteredinononeside。Hewasabouttofeelitwithhisfinger，butdrewbackhishandandindeeditwasevidentwithoutthat。Meanwhiletherewasaperfectpoolofblood。Allatoncehenoticedastringonherneck；hetuggedatit，butthestringwasstronganddidnotsnapandbesides，itwassoakedwithblood。Hetriedtopullitoutfromthefrontofthedress，butsomethinghelditandpreventeditscoming。Inhisimpatienceheraisedtheaxeagaintocutthestringfromaboveonthebody，butdidnotdare，andwithdifficulty，smearinghishandandtheaxeintheblood，aftertwominutes’hurriedeffort，hecutthestringandtookitoffwithouttouchingthebodywiththeaxe；hewasnotmistaken—itwasapurse。Onthestringweretwocrosses，oneofCypruswoodandoneofcopper，andanimageinsilverfiligree，andwiththemasmallgreasychamoisleatherpursewithasteelrimandring。Thepursewasstuffedveryfull；Raskolnikovthrustitinhispocketwithoutlookingatit，flungthecrossesontheoldwoman’sbodyandrushedbackintothebedroom，thistimetakingtheaxewithhim。
Hewasinterriblehaste，hesnatchedthekeys，andbegantryingthemagain。Buthewasunsuccessful。Theywouldnotfitinthelocks。Itwasnotsomuchthathishandswereshaking，butthathekeptmakingmistakes；thoughhesawforinstancethatakeywasnottherightoneandwouldnotfit，stillhetriedtoputitin。Suddenlyherememberedandrealisedthatthebigkeywiththedeepnotches，whichwashangingtherewiththesmallkeyscouldnotpossiblybelongtothechestofdrawersonhislastvisitthishadstruckhim，buttosomestrongbox，andthateverythingperhapswashiddeninthatbox。Heleftthechestofdrawers，andatoncefeltunderthebedstead，knowingthatoldwomenusuallykeepboxesundertheirbeds。Andsoitwas；therewasagood-sizedboxunderthebed，atleastayardinlength，withanarchedlidcoveredwithredleatherandstuddedwithsteelnails。Thenotchedkeyfittedatonceandunlockedit。Atthetop，underawhitesheet，wasacoatofredbrocadelinedwithhareskin；underitwasasilkdress，thenashawlanditseemedasthoughtherewasnothingbelowbutclothes。Thefirstthinghedidwastowipehisblood-stainedhandsontheredbrocade。“It’sred，andonredbloodwillbelessnoticeable，”thethoughtpassedthroughhismind；thenhesuddenlycametohimself。“GoodGod，amIgoingoutofmysenses？”hethoughtwithterror。
Butnosoonerdidhetouchtheclothesthanagoldwatchslippedfromunderthefurcoat。Hemadehastetoturnthemallover。Thereturnedouttobevariousarticlesmadeofgoldamongtheclothes—probablyallpledges，unredeemedorwaitingtoberedeemed—bracelets，chains，ear-rings，pinsandsuchthings。Somewereincases，otherssimplywrappedinnewspaper，carefullyandexactlyfolded，andtiedroundwithtape。Withoutanydelay，hebeganfillingupthepocketsofhistrousersandovercoatwithoutexaminingorundoingtheparcelsandcases；buthehadnottimetotakemany。…
Hesuddenlyheardstepsintheroomwheretheoldwomanlay。Hestoppedshortandwasstillasdeath。Butallwasquiet，soitmusthavebeenhisfancy。Allatoncehehearddistinctlyafaintcry，asthoughsomeonehadutteredalowbrokenmoan。Thenagaindeadsilenceforaminuteortwo。Hesatsquattingonhisheelsbytheboxandwaitedholdinghisbreath。Suddenlyhejumpedup，seizedtheaxeandranoutofthebedroom。
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。
Atlastwhentheunknownwasmountingtothefourthfloor，hesuddenlystarted，andsucceededinslippingneatlyandquicklybackintotheflatandclosingthedoorbehindhim。Thenhetookthehookandsoftly，noiselessly，fixeditinthecatch。Instincthelpedhim。Whenhehaddonethis，hecrouchedholdinghisbreath，bythedoor。Theunknownvisitorwasbynowalsoatthedoor。Theywerenowstandingoppositeoneanother，ashehadjustbeforebeenstandingwiththeoldwoman，whenthedoordividedthemandhewaslistening。
Thevisitorpantedseveraltimes。“Hemustbeabig，fatman，”thoughtRaskolnikov，squeezingtheaxeinhishand。Itseemedlikeadreamindeed。Thevisitortookholdofthebellandrangitloudly。
Assoonasthetinbelltinkled，Raskolnikovseemedtobeawareofsomethingmovingintheroom。Forsomesecondshelistenedquiteseriously。Theunknownrangagain，waitedandsuddenlytuggedviolentlyandimpatientlyatthehandleofthedoor。Raskolnikovgazedinhorroratthehookshakinginitsfastening，andinblankterrorexpectedeveryminutethatthefasteningwouldbepulledout。Itcertainlydidseempossible，soviolentlywasheshakingit。Hewastemptedtoholdthefastening，buthemightbeawareofit。Agiddinesscameoverhimagain。“Ishallfalldown！”flashedthroughhismind，buttheunknownbegantospeakandherecoveredhimselfatonce。
“What’sup？Aretheyasleepormurdered？D-damnthem！”hebawledinathickvoice，“Hey，AlyonaIvanovna，oldwitch！LizavetaIvanovna，hey，mybeauty！openthedoor！Oh，damnthem！Aretheyasleeporwhat？”
Andagain，enraged，hetuggedwithallhismightadozentimesatthebell。Hemustcertainlybeamanofauthorityandanintimateacquaintance。
Atthismomentlighthurriedstepswereheardnotfaroff，onthestairs。someoneelsewasapproaching。Raskolnikovhadnotheardthematfirst。
“Youdon’tsaythere’snooneathome，”thenew-comercriedinacheerful，ringingvoice，addressingthefirstvisitor，whostillwentonpullingthebell。“Goodevening，Koch。”
“Fromhisvoicehemustbequiteyoung，”thoughtRaskolnikov。
“Whothedevilcantell？I’vealmostbrokenthelock，”answeredKoch。“Buthowdoyoucometoknowme？
“Why！ThedaybeforeyesterdayIbeatyouthreetimesrunningatbilliardsatGambrinus’。”
“Oh！”
“Sotheyarenotathome？That’squeer。It’sawfullystupidthough。Wherecouldtheoldwomanhavegone？I’vecomeonbusiness。”
“Yes；andIhavebusinesswithher，too。”
“Well，whatcanwedo？Goback，Isuppose，Aie—aie！AndIwashopingtogetsomemoney！”criedtheyoungman。
“Wemustgiveitup，ofcourse，butwhatdidshefixthistimefor？Theoldwitchfixedthetimeformetocomeherself。It’soutofmyway。Andwherethedevilshecanhavegotto，Ican’tmakeout。Shesitsherefromyear’sendtoyear’send，theoldhag；herlegsarebadandyethereallofasuddensheisoutforawalk！”
“Hadn’twebetterasktheporter？”
“What？”
“Whereshe’sgoneandwhenshe’llbeback。”
“Hm。…Damnitall！…Wemightask。…Butyouknowsheneverdoesgoanywhere。”
Andheoncemoretuggedatthedoor-handle。
“Damnitall。There’snothingtobedone，wemustgo！”
“Stay！”criedtheyoungmansuddenly。“Doyouseehowthedoorshakesifyoupullit？”
“Well？”
“Thatshowsit’snotlocked，butfastenedwiththehook！Doyouhearhowthehookclanks？”
“Well？”
“Why，don’tyousee？Thatprovesthatoneofthemisathome。Iftheywereallout，theywouldhavelockedthedoorfromtheoutsidewiththekeyandnotwiththehookfrominside。There，doyouhearhowthehookisclanking？Tofastenthehookontheinsidetheymustbeathome，don’tyousee。Sotheretheyaresittinginsideanddon’topenthedoor！”
“Well！Andsotheymustbe！”criedKoch，astonished。“Whataretheyaboutinthere？”Andhebeganfuriouslyshakingthedoor。
“Stay！”criedtheyoungmanagain。“Don’tpullatit！Theremustbesomethingwrong。…Here，you’vebeenringingandpullingatthedoorandstilltheydon’topen！Soeitherthey’vebothfaintedor…”
“What？”
“Itellyouwhat。Let’sgofetchtheporter，lethimwakethemup。”
“Allright。”
Bothweregoingdown。
“Stay。YoustopherewhileIrundownfortheporter。”
“Whatfor？”
“Well，you’dbetter。”
“Allright。”
“I’mstudyingthelawyousee！It’sevident，e-vi-dentthere’ssomethingwronghere！”theyoungmancriedhotly，andherandownstairs。
Kochremained。Oncemorehesoftlytouchedthebellwhichgaveonetinkle，thengently，asthoughreflectingandlookingabouthim，begantouchingthedoor-handlepullingitandlettingitgotomakesureoncemorethatitwasonlyfastenedbythehook。Thenpuffingandpantinghebentdownandbeganlookingatthekeyhole:butthekeywasinthelockontheinsideandsonothingcouldbeseen。
Raskolnikovstoodkeepingtightholdoftheaxe。Hewasinasortofdelirium。Hewasevenmakingreadytofightwhentheyshouldcomein。Whiletheywereknockingandtalkingtogether，theideaseveraltimesoccurredtohimtoenditallatonceandshouttothemthroughthedoor。Nowandthenhewastemptedtoswearatthem，tojeeratthem，whiletheycouldnotopenthedoor！“Onlymakehaste！”wasthethoughtthatflashedthroughhismind。
“Butwhatthedevilisheabout？…”Timewaspassing，oneminute，andanother—noonecame。Kochbegantoberestless。
“Whatthedevil？”hecriedsuddenlyandinimpatiencedesertinghissentryduty，he，too，wentdown，hurryingandthumpingwithhisheavybootsonthestairs。Thestepsdiedaway。
“Goodheavens！WhatamItodo？”
Raskolnikovunfastenedthehook，openedthedoor—therewasnosound。Abruptly，withoutanythoughtatall，hewentout，closingthedoorasthoroughlyashecould，andwentdownstairs。
Hehadgonedownthreeflightswhenhesuddenlyheardaloudvoicebelow—wherecouldhego！Therewasnowheretohide。Hewasjustgoingbacktotheflat。
“Heythere！Catchthebrute！”
Somebodydashedoutofaflatbelow，shouting，andratherfellthanrandownthestairs，bawlingatthetopofhisvoice。
“Mitka！Mitka！Mitka！Mitka！Mitka！Blasthim！”
Theshoutendedinashriek；thelastsoundscamefromtheyard；allwasstill。Butatthesameinstantseveralmentalkingloudandfastbegannoisilymountingthestairs。Therewerethreeorfourofthem。Hedistinguishedtheringingvoiceoftheyoungman。“They！”
Filledwithdespairhewentstraighttomeetthem，feeling“comewhatmust！”Iftheystoppedhim—allwaslost；iftheylethimpass—allwaslosttoo；theywouldrememberhim。Theywereapproaching；theywereonlyaflightfromhim—andsuddenlydeliverance！Afewstepsfromhimontheright，therewasanemptyflatwiththedoorwideopen，theflatonthesecondfloorwherethepaintershadbeenatwork，andwhich，asthoughforhisbenefit，theyhadjustleft。Itwasthey，nodoubt，whohadjustrundown，shouting。Thefloorhadonlyjustbeenpainted，inthemiddleoftheroomstoodapailandabrokenpotwithpaintandbrushes。Inoneinstanthehadwhiskedinattheopendoorandhiddenbehindthewallandonlyinthenickoftime；theyhadalreadyreachedthelanding。Thentheyturnedandwentonuptothefourthfloor，talkingloudly。Hewaited，wentoutontiptoeandrandownthestairs。
Noonewasonthestairs，norinthegateway。Hepassedquicklythroughthegatewayandturnedtotheleftinthestreet。
Heknew，heknewperfectlywellthatatthatmomenttheywereattheflat，thattheyweregreatlyastonishedatfindingitunlocked，asthedoorhadjustbeenfastened，thatbynowtheywerelookingatthebodies，thatbeforeanotherminutehadpassedtheywouldguessandcompletelyrealisethatthemurdererhadjustbeenthere，andhadsucceededinhidingsomewhere，slippingbythemandescaping。Theywouldguessmostlikelythathehadbeenintheemptyflat，whiletheyweregoingupstairs。Andmeanwhilehedarednotquickenhispacemuch，thoughthenextturningwasstillnearlyahundredyardsaway。“Shouldheslipthroughsomegatewayandwaitsomewhereinanunknownstreet？No，hopeless！Shouldheflingawaytheaxe？Shouldhetakeacab？Hopeless，hopeless！”
Atlasthereachedtheturning。Heturneddownitmoredeadthanalive。Herehewashalfwaytosafety，andheunderstoodit；itwaslessriskybecausetherewasagreatcrowdofpeople，andhewaslostinitlikeagrainofsand。Butallhehadsufferedhadsoweakenedhimthathecouldscarcelymove。Perspirationrandownhimindrops，hisneckwasallwet。“Myword，hehasbeengoingit！”someoneshoutedathimwhenhecameoutonthecanalbank。
Hewasonlydimlyconsciousofhimselfnow，andthefartherhewenttheworseitwas。Herememberedhowever，thatoncomingoutontothecanalbank，hewasalarmedatfindingfewpeoplethereandsobeingmoreconspicuous，andhehadthoughtofturningback。Thoughhewasalmostfallingfromfatigue，hewentalongwayroundsoastogethomefromquiteadifferentdirection。
Hewasnotfullyconsciouswhenhepassedthroughthegatewayofhishouse！hewasalreadyonthestaircasebeforeherecollectedtheaxe。Andyethehadaverygraveproblembeforehim，toputitbackandtoescapeobservationasfaraspossibleindoingso。Hewasofcourseincapableofreflectingthatitmightperhapsbefarbetternottorestoretheaxeatall，buttodropitlateroninsomebody’syard。Butitallhappenedfortunately，thedooroftheporter’sroomwasclosedbutnotlocked，sothatitseemedmostlikelythattheporterwasathome。Buthehadsocompletelylostallpowerofreflectionthathewalkedstraighttothedoorandopenedit。Iftheporterhadaskedhim，“Whatdoyouwant？”hewouldperhapshavesimplyhandedhimtheaxe。Butagaintheporterwasnotathome，andhesucceededinputtingtheaxebackunderthebench，andevencoveringitwiththechunkofwoodasbefore。Hemetnoone，notasoul，afterwardsonthewaytohisroom；thelandlady’sdoorwasshut。Whenhewasinhisroom，heflunghimselfonthesofajustashewas—hedidnotsleep，butsankintoblankforgetfulness。Ifanyonehadcomeintohisroomthen，hewouldhavejumpedupatonceandscreamed。Scrapsandshredsofthoughtsweresimplyswarminginhisbrain，buthecouldnotcatchatone，hecouldnotrestonone，inspiteofallhisefforts。…
Sohelayaverylongwhile。Nowandthenheseemedtowakeup，andatsuchmomentshenoticedthatitwasfarintothenight，butitdidnotoccurtohimtogetup。Atlasthenoticedthatitwasbeginningtogetlight。Hewaslyingonhisback，stilldazedfromhisrecentoblivion。Fearful，despairingcriesroseshrillyfromthestreet，soundswhichheheardeverynight，indeed，underhiswindowaftertwoo’clock。Theywokehimupnow。
“Ah！thedrunkenmenarecomingoutofthetaverns，”hethought，“it’spasttwoo’clock，”andatonceheleapedup，asthoughsomeonehadpulledhimfromthesofa。
“What！Pasttwoo’clock！”
Hesatdownonthesofa—andinstantlyrecollectedeverything！Allatonce，inoneflash，herecollectedeverything。
Forthefirstmomenthethoughthewasgoingmad。Adreadfulchillcameoverhim；butthechillwasfromthefeverthathadbegunlongbeforeinhissleep。Nowhewassuddenlytakenwithviolentshivering，sothathisteethchatteredandallhislimbswereshaking。Heopenedthedoorandbeganlistening—everythinginthehousewasasleep。Withamazementhegazedathimselfandeverythingintheroomaroundhim，wonderinghowhecouldhavecomeinthenightbeforewithoutfasteningthedoor，andhaveflunghimselfonthesofawithoutundressing，withouteventakinghishatoff。Ithadfallenoffandwaslyingonthefloornearhispillow。
“Ifanyonehadcomein，whatwouldhehavethought？ThatI’mdrunkbut…”
Herushedtothewindow。Therewaslightenough，andhebeganhurriedlylookinghimselfalloverfromheadtofoot，allhisclothes；weretherenotraces？Buttherewasnodoingitlikethat；shiveringwithcold，hebegantakingoffeverythingandlookingoveragain。Heturnedeverythingovertothelastthreadsandrags，andmistrustinghimself，wentthroughhissearchthreetimes。
Butthereseemedtobenothing，notrace，exceptinoneplace，wheresomethickdropsofcongealedbloodwereclingingtothefrayededgeofhistrousers。Hepickedupabigclaspknifeandcutoffthefrayedthreads。Thereseemedtobenothingmore。
Suddenlyherememberedthatthepurseandthethingshehadtakenoutoftheoldwoman’sboxwerestillinhispockets！Hehadnotthoughttillthenoftakingthemoutandhidingthem！Hehadnoteventhoughtofthemwhilehewasexamininghisclothes！Whatnext？Instantlyherushedtotakethemoutandflingthemonthetable。Whenhehadpulledouteverything，andturnedthepocketinsideouttobesuretherewasnothingleft，hecarriedthewholeheaptothecorner。Thepaperhadcomeoffthebottomofthewallandhungthereintatters。Hebeganstuffingallthethingsintotheholeunderthepaper:“They’rein！Alloutofsight，andthepursetoo！”hethoughtgleefully，gettingupandgazingblanklyattheholewhichbulgedoutmorethanever。Suddenlyheshudderedalloverwithhorror；“MyGod！”hewhisperedindespair:“what’sthematterwithme？Isthathidden？Isthatthewaytohidethings？”
Hehadnotreckonedonhavingtrinketstohide。Hehadonlythoughtofmoney，andsohadnotpreparedahiding-place。
“Butnow，now，whatamIgladof？”hethought，“Isthathidingthings？Myreason’sdesertingme—simply！”
Hesatdownonthesofainexhaustionandwasatonceshakenbyanotherunbearablefitofshivering。Mechanicallyhedrewfromachairbesidehimhisoldstudent’swintercoat，whichwasstillwarmthoughalmostinrags，coveredhimselfupwithitandoncemoresankintodrowsinessanddelirium。Helostconsciousness。
Notmorethanfiveminuteshadpassedwhenhejumpedupasecondtime，andatoncepouncedinafrenzyonhisclothesagain。
“HowcouldIgotosleepagainwithnothingdone？Yes，yes；Ihavenottakentheloopoffthearmhole！Iforgotit，forgotathinglikethat！Suchapieceofevidence！”
Hepulledoffthenoose，hurriedlycutittopiecesandthrewthebitsamonghislinenunderthepillow。
“Piecesoftornlinencouldn’trousesuspicion，whateverhappened；Ithinknot，Ithinknot，anyway！”herepeated，standinginthemiddleoftheroom，andwithpainfulconcentrationhefelltogazingabouthimagain，atthefloorandeverywhere，tryingtomakesurehehadnotforgottenanything。Theconvictionthatallhisfaculties，evenmemory，andthesimplestpowerofreflectionwerefailinghim，begantobeaninsufferabletorture。
“Surelyitisn’tbeginningalready！Surelyitisn’tmypunishmentcominguponme？Itis！”
Thefrayedragshehadcutoffhistrouserswereactuallylyingonthefloorinthemiddleoftheroom，whereanyonecominginwouldseethem！
“Whatisthematterwithme！”hecriedagain，likeonedistraught。
Thenastrangeideaenteredhishead；that，perhaps，allhisclotheswerecoveredwithblood，that，perhaps，therewereagreatmanystains，butthathedidnotseethem，didnotnoticethembecausehisperceptionswerefailing，weregoingtopieces…hisreasonwasclouded。…Suddenlyherememberedthattherehadbeenbloodonthepursetoo。“Ah！Thentheremustbebloodonthepockettoo，forIputthewetpurseinmypocket！”
Inaflashhehadturnedthepocketinsideoutand，yes！—thereweretraces，stainsontheliningofthepocket！
“Somyreasonhasnotquitedesertedme，soIstillhavesomesenseandmemory，sinceIguesseditofmyself，”hethoughttriumphantly，withadeepsighofrelief；“it’ssimplytheweaknessoffever，amoment’sdelirium，”andhetorethewholeliningoutoftheleftpocketofhistrousers。Atthatinstantthesunlightfellonhisleftboot；onthesockwhichpokedoutfromtheboot，hefanciedthereweretraces！Heflungoffhisboots；“tracesindeed！Thetipofthesockwassoakedwithblood；”hemusthaveunwarilysteppedintothatpool。…“ButwhatamItodowiththisnow？WhereamItoputthesockandragsandpocket？”
Hegatheredthemallupinhishandsandstoodinthemiddleoftheroom。
“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…”
AndNastasyawentoffintoherhystericalgiggle。
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。
Whenhereachedtheturningintothestreet，inanagonyoftrepidationhelookeddownit…atthehouse…andatonceavertedhiseyes。
“Iftheyquestionme，perhapsI’llsimplytell，”hethought，ashedrewnearthepolice-station。
Thepolice-stationwasaboutaquarterofamileoff。Ithadlatelybeenmovedtonewroomsonthefourthfloorofanewhouse。Hehadbeenonceforamomentintheoldofficebutlongago。Turninginatthegateway，hesawontherightaflightofstairswhichapeasantwasmountingwithabookinhishand。“Ahouse-porter，nodoubt；sothen，theofficeishere，”andhebeganascendingthestairsonthechance。Hedidnotwanttoaskquestionsofanyone。
“I’llgoin，fallonmyknees，andconfesseverything…”hethought，ashereachedthefourthfloor。
Thestaircasewassteep，narrowandallsloppywithdirtywater。Thekitchensoftheflatsopenedontothestairsandstoodopenalmostthewholeday。Sotherewasafearfulsmellandheat。Thestaircasewascrowdedwithportersgoingupanddownwiththeirbooksundertheirarms，policemen，andpersonsofallsortsandbothsexes。Thedooroftheoffice，too，stoodwideopen。Peasantsstoodwaitingwithin。There，too，theheatwasstiflingandtherewasasickeningsmelloffreshpaintandstaleoilfromthenewlydecoratedrooms。
Afterwaitingalittle，hedecidedtomoveforwardintothenextroom。Alltheroomsweresmallandlow-pitched。Afearfulimpatiencedrewhimonandon。Noonepaidattentiontohim。Inthesecondroomsomeclerkssatwriting，dressedhardlybetterthanhewas，andratheraqueer-lookingset。Hewentuptooneofthem。
“Whatisit？”
Heshowedthenoticehehadreceived。
“Youareastudent？”themanasked，glancingatthenotice。
“Yes，formerlyastudent。”
Theclerklookedathim，butwithouttheslightestinterest。Hewasaparticularlyunkemptpersonwiththelookofafixedideainhiseye。
“Therewouldbenogettinganythingoutofhim，becausehehasnointerestinanything，”thoughtRaskolnikov。
“Gointheretotheheadclerk，”saidtheclerk，pointingtowardsthefurthestroom。
Hewentintothatroom—thefourthinorder；itwasasmallroomandpackedfullofpeople，ratherbetterdressedthanintheouterrooms。Amongthemweretwoladies。One，poorlydressedinmourning，satatthetableoppositethechiefclerk，writingsomethingathisdictation。Theother，averystout，buxomwomanwithapurplish-red，blotchyface，excessivelysmartlydressedwithabroochonherbosomasbigasasaucer，wasstandingononeside，apparentlywaitingforsomething。Raskolnikovthrusthisnoticeupontheheadclerk。Thelatterglancedatit，said:“Waitaminute，”andwentonattendingtotheladyinmourning。
Hebreathedmorefreely。“Itcan’tbethat！”
Bydegreeshebegantoregainconfidence，hekepturginghimselftohavecourageandbecalm。
“Somefoolishness，sometriflingcarelessness，andImaybetraymyself！Hm…it’sapitythere’snoairhere，”headded，“it’sstifling。…Itmakesone’sheaddizzierthanever…andone’smindtoo…”
Hewasconsciousofaterribleinnerturmoil。Hewasafraidoflosinghisself-control；hetriedtocatchatsomethingandfixhismindonit，somethingquiteirrelevant，buthecouldnotsucceedinthisatall。Yettheheadclerkgreatlyinterestedhim，hekepthopingtoseethroughhimandguesssomethingfromhisface。
Hewasaveryyoungman，abouttwoandtwenty，withadarkmobilefacethatlookedolderthanhisyears。Hewasfashionablydressedandfoppish，withhishairpartedinthemiddle，wellcombedandpomaded，andworeanumberofringsonhiswell-scrubbedfingersandagoldchainonhiswaistcoat。HesaidacoupleofwordsinFrenchtoaforeignerwhowasintheroom，andsaidthemfairlycorrectly。
“LuiseIvanovna，youcansitdown，”hesaidcasuallytothegaily-dressed，purple-facedlady，whowasstillstandingasthoughnotventuringtositdown，thoughtherewasachairbesideher。
“Ichdanke，”saidthelatter，andsoftly，witharustleofsilkshesankintothechair。Herlightbluedresstrimmedwithwhitelacefloatedaboutthetablelikeanair-balloonandfilledalmosthalftheroom。Shesmeltofscent。Butshewasobviouslyembarrassedatfillinghalftheroomandsmellingsostronglyofscent；andthoughhersmilewasimpudentaswellascringing，itbetrayedevidentuneasiness。
Theladyinmourninghaddoneatlast，andgotup。Allatonce，withsomenoise，anofficerwalkedinveryjauntily，withapeculiarswingofhisshouldersateachstep。Hetossedhiscockadedcaponthetableandsatdowninaneasy-chair。Thesmallladypositivelyskippedfromherseatonseeinghim，andfelltocurtsyinginasortofecstasy；buttheofficertooknotthesmallestnoticeofher，andshedidnotventuretositdownagaininhispresence。Hewastheassistantsuperintendent。Hehadareddishmoustachethatstoodouthorizontallyoneachsideofhisface，andextremelysmallfeatures，expressiveofnothingmuchexceptacertaininsolence。HelookedaskanceandratherindignantlyatRaskolnikov；hewassoverybadlydressed，andinspiteofhishumiliatingposition，hisbearingwasbynomeansinkeepingwithhisclothes。Raskolnikovhadunwarilyfixedaverylonganddirectlookonhim，sothathefeltpositivelyaffronted。
“Whatdoyouwant？”heshouted，apparentlyastonishedthatsucharaggedfellowwasnotannihilatedbythemajestyofhisglance。
“Iwassummoned…byanotice…”Raskolnikovfaltered。
“Fortherecoveryofmoneydue，fromthestudent，”theheadclerkinterferedhurriedly，tearinghimselffromhispapers。“Here！”andheflungRaskolnikovadocumentandpointedouttheplace。“Readthat！”
“Money？Whatmoney？”thoughtRaskolnikov，“but…then…it’scertainlynotthat。”
Andhetrembledwithjoy。Hefeltsuddenintenseindescribablerelief。Aloadwasliftedfromhisback。
“Andpray，whattimewereyoudirectedtoappear，sir？”shoutedtheassistantsuperintendent，seemingforsomeunknownreasonmoreandmoreaggrieved。“Youaretoldtocomeatnine，andnowit’stwelve！”
“Thenoticewasonlybroughtmeaquarterofanhourago，”Raskolnikovansweredloudlyoverhisshoulder。Tohisownsurprisehe，too，grewsuddenlyangryandfoundacertainpleasureinit。“Andit’senoughthatIhavecomehereillwithfever。”
“Kindlyrefrainfromshouting！”
“I’mnotshouting，I’mspeakingveryquietly，it’syouwhoareshoutingatme。I’mastudent，andallownoonetoshoutatme。”
Theassistantsuperintendentwassofuriousthatforthefirstminutehecouldonlysplutterinarticulately。Heleapedupfromhisseat。
“Besilent！Youareinagovernmentoffice。Don’tbeimpudent，sir！”
“You’reinagovernmentoffice，too，”criedRaskolnikov，“andyou’resmokingacigaretteaswellasshouting，soyouareshowingdisrespecttoallofus。”
Hefeltanindescribablesatisfactionathavingsaidthis。
Theheadclerklookedathimwithasmile。Theangryassistantsuperintendentwasobviouslydisconcerted。
“That’snotyourbusiness！”heshoutedatlastwithunnaturalloudness。“Kindlymakethedeclarationdemandedofyou。Showhim。AlexandrGrigorievitch。Thereisacomplaintagainstyou！Youdon’tpayyourdebts！You’reafinebird！”
ButRaskolnikovwasnotlisteningnow；hehadeagerlyclutchedatthepaper，inhastetofindanexplanation。Hereaditonce，andasecondtime，andstilldidnotunderstand。
“Whatisthis？”heaskedtheheadclerk。
“ItisfortherecoveryofmoneyonanIOU，awrit。Youmusteitherpayit，withallexpenses，costsandsoon，orgiveawrittendeclarationwhenyoucanpayit，andatthesametimeanundertakingnottoleavethecapitalwithoutpayment，andnortosellorconcealyourproperty。Thecreditorisatlibertytosellyourproperty，andproceedagainstyouaccordingtothelaw。”
“ButI…amnotindebttoanyone！”
“That’snotourbusiness。Here，anIOUforahundredandfifteenroubles，legallyattested，anddueforpayment，hasbeenbroughtusforrecovery，givenbyyoutothewidowoftheassessorZarnitsyn，ninemonthsago，andpaidoverbythewidowZarnitsyntooneMr。Tchebarov。Wethereforesummonyou，hereupon。”
“Butsheismylandlady！”
“Andwhatifsheisyourlandlady？”
Theheadclerklookedathimwithacondescendingsmileofcompassion，andatthesametimewithacertaintriumph，asatanoviceunderfireforthefirsttime—asthoughhewouldsay:“Well，howdoyoufeelnow？”ButwhatdidhecarenowforanIOU，forawritofrecovery！Wasthatworthworryingaboutnow，wasitworthattentioneven！Hestood，heread，helistened，heanswered，heevenaskedquestionshimself，butallmechanically。Thetriumphantsenseofsecurity，ofdeliverancefromoverwhelmingdanger，thatwaswhatfilledhiswholesoulthatmomentwithoutthoughtforthefuture，withoutanalysis，withoutsuppositionsorsurmises，withoutdoubtsandwithoutquestioning。Itwasaninstantoffull，direct，purelyinstinctivejoy。Butatthatverymomentsomethinglikeathunderstormtookplaceintheoffice。Theassistantsuperintendent，stillshakenbyRaskolnikov’sdisrespect，stillfumingandobviouslyanxioustokeepuphiswoundeddignity，pouncedontheunfortunatesmartlady，whohadbeengazingathimeversincehecameinwithanexceedinglysillysmile。
“Youshamefulhussy！”heshoutedsuddenlyatthetopofhisvoice。Theladyinmourninghadlefttheoffice。“Whatwasgoingonatyourhouselastnight？Eh！Adisgraceagain，you’reascandaltothewholestreet。Fightinganddrinkingagain。Doyouwantthehouseofcorrection？Why，IhavewarnedyoutentimesoverthatIwouldnotletyouofftheeleventh！Andhereyouareagain，again，you…you…！”
ThepaperfelloutofRaskolnikov’shands，andhelookedwildlyatthesmartladywhowassounceremoniouslytreated。Buthesoonsawwhatitmeant，andatoncebegantofindpositiveamusementinthescandal。Helistenedwithpleasure，sothathelongedtolaughandlaugh…allhisnerveswereonedge。
“IlyaPetrovitch！”theheadclerkwasbeginninganxiously，butstoppedshort，forheknewfromexperiencethattheenragedassistantcouldnotbestoppedexceptbyforce。
Asforthesmartlady，atfirstshepositivelytrembledbeforethestorm。But，strangetosay，themorenumerousandviolentthetermsofabusebecame，themoreamiableshelooked，andthemoreseductivethesmilesshelavishedontheterribleassistant。Shemoveduneasily，andcurtsiedincessantly，waitingimpatientlyforachanceofputtinginherword:andatlastshefoundit。
“Therewasnosortofnoiseorfightinginmyhouse，Mr。Captain，”shepatteredallatonce，likepeasdropping，speakingRussianconfidently，thoughwithastrongGermanaccent，“andnosortofscandal，andhishonourcamedrunk，andit’sthewholetruthIamtelling，Mr。Captain，andIamnottoblame。…Mineisanhonourablehouse，Mr。Captain，andhonourablebehaviour，Mr。Captain，andIalways，alwaysdislikeanyscandalmyself。Buthecamequitetipsy，andaskedforthreebottlesagain，andthenhelifteduponeleg，andbeganplayingthepianofortewithonefoot，andthatisnotatallrightinanhonourablehouse，andheganzbrokethepiano，anditwasverybadmannersindeedandIsaidso。Andhetookupabottleandbeganhittingeveryonewithit。AndthenIcalledtheporter，andKarlcame，andhetookKarlandhithimintheeye；andhehitHenrietteintheeye，too，andgavemefiveslapsonthecheek。Anditwassoungentlemanlyinanhonourablehouse，Mr。Captain，andIscreamed。Andheopenedthewindowoverthecanal，andstoodinthewindow，squealinglikealittlepig；itwasadisgrace。Theideaofsquealinglikealittlepigatthewindowintothestreet！Fieuponhim！AndKarlpulledhimawayfromthewindowbyhiscoat，anditistrue，Mr。Captain，hetoreseinrock。Andthenheshoutedthatmanmusspayhimfifteenroublesdamages。AndIdidpayhim，Mr。Captain，fiveroublesforseinrock。Andheisanungentlemanlyvisitorandcausedallthescandal。‘Iwillshowyouup，’hesaid，‘forIcanwritetoallthepapersaboutyou。’”
“Thenhewasanauthor？”
“Yes，Mr。Captain，andwhatanungentlemanlyvisitorinanhonourablehouse。…”
“Nowthen！Enough！Ihavetoldyoualready…”
“IlyaPetrovitch！”theheadclerkrepeatedsignificantly。
Theassistantglancedrapidlyathim；theheadclerkslightlyshookhishead。
“…SoItellyouthis，mostrespectableLuiseIvanovna，andItellityouforthelasttime，”theassistantwenton。“Ifthereisascandalinyourhonourablehouseonceagain，Iwillputyouyourselfinthelock-up，asitiscalledinpolitesociety。Doyouhear？Soaliteraryman，anauthortookfiveroublesforhiscoat-tailinan‘honourablehouse’？Aniceset，theseauthors！”
AndhecastacontemptuousglanceatRaskolnikov。“Therewasascandaltheotherdayinarestaurant，too。Anauthorhadeatenhisdinnerandwouldnotpay；‘I’llwriteasatireonyou，’sayshe。Andtherewasanotherofthemonasteamerlastweekusedthemostdisgracefullanguagetotherespectablefamilyofacivilcouncillor，hiswifeanddaughter。Andtherewasoneofthemturnedoutofaconfectioner’sshoptheotherday。Theyarelikethat，authors，literarymen，students，town-criers。…Pfoo！Yougetalong！Ishalllookinuponyoumyselfoneday。Thenyouhadbetterbecareful！Doyouhear？”
Withhurrieddeference，LuiseIvanovnafelltocurtsyinginalldirections，andsocurtsiedherselftothedoor。Butatthedoor，shestumbledbackwardsagainstagood-lookingofficerwithafresh，openfaceandsplendidthickfairwhiskers。Thiswasthesuperintendentofthedistricthimself，NikodimFomitch。LuiseIvanovnamadehastetocurtsyalmosttotheground，andwithmincinglittlesteps，sheflutteredoutoftheoffice。
“Againthunderandlightning—ahurricane！”saidNikodimFomitchtoIlyaPetrovitchinacivilandfriendlytone。“Youarearousedagain，youarefumingagain！Ihearditonthestairs！”
“Well，whatthen！”IlyaPetrovitchdrawledwithgentlemanlynonchalance；andhewalkedwithsomepaperstoanothertable，withajauntyswingofhisshouldersateachstep。“Here，ifyouwillkindlylook:anauthor，orastudent，hasbeenoneatleast，doesnotpayhisdebts，hasgivenanIOU，won’tclearoutofhisroom，andcomplaintsareconstantlybeinglodgedagainsthim，andherehehasbeenpleasedtomakeaprotestagainstmysmokinginhispresence！Hebehaveslikeacadhimself，andjustlookathim，please。Here’sthegentleman，andveryattractiveheis！”
“Povertyisnotavice，myfriend，butweknowyougoofflikepowder，youcan’tbearaslight，Idaresayyoutookoffenceatsomethingandwenttoofaryourself，”continuedNikodimFomitch，turningaffablytoRaskolnikov。“Butyouwerewrongthere；heisacapitalfellow，Iassureyou，butexplosive，explosive！Hegetshot，firesup，boilsover，andnostoppinghim！Andthenit’sallover！Andatthebottomhe’saheartofgold！HisnicknameintheregimentwastheExplosiveLieutenant。…”
“Andwhataregimentitwas，too，”criedIlyaPetrovitch，muchgratifiedatthisagreeablebanter，thoughstillsulky。
Raskolnikovhadasuddendesiretosaysomethingexceptionallypleasanttothemall。“Excuseme，Captain，”hebeganeasily，suddenlyaddressingNikodimFomitch，“willyouenterintomyposition？…Iamreadytoaskpardon，ifIhavebeenill-mannered。Iamapoorstudent，sickandshatteredshatteredwasthewordheusedbypoverty。Iamnotstudying，becauseIcannotkeepmyselfnow，butIshallgetmoney。…IhaveamotherandsisterintheprovinceofX。Theywillsendittome，andIwillpay。Mylandladyisagood-heartedwoman，butsheissoexasperatedatmyhavinglostmylessons，andnotpayingherforthelastfourmonths，thatshedoesnotevensendupmydinner…andIdon’tunderstandthisIOUatall。SheisaskingmetopayheronthisIOU。HowamItopayher？Judgeforyourselves！…”
“Butthatisnotourbusiness，youknow，”theheadclerkwasobserving。
“Yes，yes。Iperfectlyagreewithyou。Butallowmetoexplain…”Raskolnikovputinagain，stilladdressingNikodimFomitch，buttryinghisbesttoaddressIlyaPetrovitchalso，thoughthelatterpersistentlyappearedtoberummagingamonghispapersandtobecontemptuouslyobliviousofhim。“AllowmetoexplainthatIhavebeenlivingwithherfornearlythreeyearsandatfirst…atfirst…forwhyshouldInotconfessit，attheverybeginningIpromisedtomarryherdaughter，itwasaverbalpromise，freelygiven…shewasagirl…indeed，Ilikedher，thoughIwasnotinlovewithher…ayouthfulaffairinfact…thatis，Imeantosay，thatmylandladygavemecreditfreelyinthosedays，andIledalifeof…Iwasveryheedless…”
“Nobodyasksyouforthesepersonaldetails，sir，we’venotimetowaste，”IlyaPetrovitchinterposedroughlyandwithanoteoftriumph；butRaskolnikovstoppedhimhotly，thoughhesuddenlyfounditexceedinglydifficulttospeak。
“Butexcuseme，excuseme。Itisformetoexplain…howitallhappened…Inmyturn…thoughIagreewithyou…itisunnecessary。Butayearago，thegirldiedoftyphus。Iremainedlodgingthereasbefore，andwhenmylandladymovedintoherpresentquarters，shesaidtome…andinafriendlyway…thatshehadcompletetrustinme，butstill，wouldInotgiveheranIOUforonehundredandfifteenroubles，allthedebtIowedher。ShesaidifonlyIgaveherthat，shewouldtrustmeagain，asmuchasIliked，andthatshewouldnever，never—thosewereherownwords—makeuseofthatIOUtillIcouldpayofmyself…andnow，whenIhavelostmylessonsandhavenothingtoeat，shetakesactionagainstme。WhatamItosaytothat？”
“Alltheseaffectingdetailsarenobusinessofours。”IlyaPetrovitchinterruptedrudely。“Youmustgiveawrittenundertakingbutasforyourloveaffairsandallthesetragicevents，wehavenothingtodowiththat。”
“Comenow…youareharsh，”mutteredNikodimFomitch，sittingdownatthetableandalsobeginningtowrite。Helookedalittleashamed。
“Write！”saidtheheadclerktoRaskolnikov。
“Writewhat？”thelatterasked，gruffly。
“Iwilldictatetoyou。”
Raskolnikovfanciedthattheheadclerktreatedhimmorecasuallyandcontemptuouslyafterhisspeech，butstrangetosayhesuddenlyfeltcompletelyindifferenttoanyone’sopinion，andthisrevulsiontookplaceinaflash，inoneinstant。Ifhehadcaredtothinkalittle，hewouldhavebeenamazedindeedthathecouldhavetalkedtothemlikethataminutebefore，forcinghisfeelingsuponthem。Andwherehadthosefeelingscomefrom？Nowifthewholeroomhadbeenfilled，notwithpoliceofficers，butwiththosenearestanddearesttohim，hewouldnothavefoundonehumanwordforthem，soemptywashisheart。Agloomysensationofagonising，everlastingsolitudeandremoteness，tookconsciousforminhissoul。ItwasnotthemeannessofhissentimentaleffusionsbeforeIlyaPetrovitch，northemeannessofthelatter’striumphoverhimthathadcausedthissuddenrevulsioninhisheart。Oh，whathadhetodonowwithhisownbaseness，withallthesepettyvanities，officers，Germanwomen，debts，police-offices？Ifhehadbeensentencedtobeburntatthatmoment，hewouldnothavestirred，wouldhardlyhaveheardthesentencetotheend。Somethingwashappeningtohimentirelynew，suddenandunknown。Itwasnotthatheunderstood，buthefeltclearlywithalltheintensityofsensationthathecouldnevermoreappealtothesepeopleinthepolice-officewithsentimentaleffusionslikehisrecentoutburst，orwithanythingwhatever；andthatiftheyhadbeenhisownbrothersandsistersandnotpolice-officers，itwouldhavebeenutterlyoutofthequestiontoappealtotheminanycircumstanceoflife。Hehadneverexperiencedsuchastrangeandawfulsensation。Andwhatwasmostagonising—itwasmoreasensationthanaconceptionoridea，adirectsensation，themostagonisingofallthesensationshehadknowninhislife。
Theheadclerkbegandictatingtohimtheusualformofdeclaration，thathecouldnotpay，thatheundertooktodosoatafuturedate，thathewouldnotleavethetown，norsellhisproperty，andsoon。
“Butyoucan’twrite，youcanhardlyholdthepen，”observedtheheadclerk，lookingwithcuriosityatRaskolnikov。“Areyouill？”
“Yes，Iamgiddy。Goon！”
“That’sall。Signit。”
Theheadclerktookthepaper，andturnedtoattendtoothers。
Raskolnikovgavebackthepen；butinsteadofgettingupandgoingaway，heputhiselbowsonthetableandpressedhisheadinhishands。Hefeltasifanailwerebeingdrivenintohisskull。Astrangeideasuddenlyoccurredtohim，togetupatonce，togouptoNikodimFomitch，andtellhimeverythingthathadhappenedyesterday，andthentogowithhimtohislodgingsandtoshowhimthethingsintheholeinthecorner。Theimpulsewassostrongthathegotupfromhisseattocarryitout。“Hadn’tIbetterthinkaminute？”flashedthroughhismind。“No，bettercastofftheburdenwithoutthinking。”Butallatoncehestoodstill，rootedtothespot。NikodimFomitchwastalkingeagerlywithIlyaPetrovitch，andthewordsreachedhim:
“It’simpossible，they’llbothbereleased。Tobeginwith，thewholestorycontradictsitself。Whyshouldtheyhavecalledtheporter，ifithadbeentheirdoing？Toinformagainstthemselves？Orasablind？No，thatwouldbetoocunning！Besides，Pestryakov，thestudent，wasseenatthegatebyboththeportersandawomanashewentin。Hewaswalkingwiththreefriends，wholefthimonlyatthegate，andheaskedtheporterstodirecthim，inthepresenceofthefriends。Now，wouldhehaveaskedhiswayifhehadbeengoingwithsuchanobject？AsforKoch，hespenthalfanhouratthesilversmith’sbelow，beforehewentuptotheoldwomanandhelefthimatexactlyaquartertoeight。Nowjustconsider…”
“Butexcuseme，howdoyouexplainthiscontradiction？Theystatethemselvesthattheyknockedandthedoorwaslocked；yetthreeminuteslaterwhentheywentupwiththeporter，itturnedoutthedoorwasunfastened。”
“That’sjustit；themurderermusthavebeenthereandboltedhimselfin；andthey’dhavecaughthimforacertaintyifKochhadnotbeenanassandgonetolookfortheportertoo。Hemusthaveseizedtheintervaltogetdownstairsandslipbythemsomehow。Kochkeepscrossinghimselfandsaying:‘IfIhadbeenthere，hewouldhavejumpedoutandkilledmewithhisaxe。’Heisgoingtohaveathanksgivingservice—ha，ha！”
“Andnoonesawthemurderer？”
“Theymightwellnotseehim；thehouseisaregularNoah’sArk，”saidtheheadclerk，whowaslistening。
“It’sclear，quiteclear，”NikodimFomitchrepeatedwarmly。
“No，itisanythingbutclear，”IlyaPetrovitchmaintained。
Raskolnikovpickeduphishatandwalkedtowardsthedoor，buthedidnotreachit。…
Whenherecoveredconsciousness，hefoundhimselfsittinginachair，supportedbysomeoneontherightside，whilesomeoneelsewasstandingontheleft，holdingayellowishglassfilledwithyellowwater，andNikodimFomitchstandingbeforehim，lookingintentlyathim。Hegotupfromthechair。
“What’sthis？Areyouill？”NikodimFomitchasked，rathersharply。
“Hecouldhardlyholdhispenwhenhewassigning，”saidtheheadclerk，settlingbackinhisplace，andtakinguphisworkagain。
“Haveyoubeenilllong？”criedIlyaPetrovitchfromhisplace，wherehe，too，waslookingthroughpapers。Hehad，ofcourse，cometolookatthesickmanwhenhefainted，butretiredatoncewhenherecovered。
“Sinceyesterday，”mutteredRaskolnikovinreply。
“Didyougooutyesterday？”
“Yes。”
“Thoughyouwereill？”
“Yes。”
“Atwhattime？”
“Aboutseven。”
“Andwheredidyougo，myIask？”
“Alongthestreet。”
“Shortandclear。”
Raskolnikov，whiteasahandkerchief，hadansweredsharply，jerkily，withoutdroppinghisblackfeverisheyesbeforeIlyaPetrovitch’sstare。
“Hecanscarcelystandupright。Andyou…”NikodimFomitchwasbeginning。
“Nomatter，”IlyaPetrovitchpronouncedratherpeculiarly。
NikodimFomitchwouldhavemadesomefurtherprotest，butglancingattheheadclerkwhowaslookingveryhardathim，hedidnotspeak。Therewasasuddensilence。Itwasstrange。
“Verywell，then，”concludedIlyaPetrovitch，“wewillnotdetainyou。”
Raskolnikovwentout。Hecaughtthesoundofeagerconversationonhisdeparture，andabovetherestrosethequestioningvoiceofNikodimFomitch。Inthestreet，hisfaintnesspassedoffcompletely。
“Asearch—therewillbeasearchatonce，”herepeatedtohimself，hurryinghome。“Thebrutes！theysuspect。”
Hisformerterrormasteredhimcompletelyagain。