Chapter 11

Porphyrius Petrovitch went out to order tea. All kinds of thoughts were at work in Raskolnikoff's brain. He was excited. "They don't even take pains to dissemble; they certainly don't mince matters as far as I am concerned: that is something, at all events! Since Porphyrius knew next to nothing about me, why on earth should he have spoken with Nicodemus Thomich Zametoff at all? They even scorn to deny that they are on my track, almost like a pack of hounds! They certainly speak out plainly enough!" he said, trembling with rage. "Well, do so, as bluntly as you like, but don't play with me as the cat would with the mouse! That's not quite civil, Porphyrius Petrovitch; I won't quite allow that yet! I'll make a stand and tell you some plain truths to your faces, and then you shall find out my real opinion about you!" He had some difficulty in breathing. "But supposing that all this is pure fancy?--a kind of mirage? Suppose I had misunderstood? Let me try and keep up my nasty part, and not commit myself, like the fool, by blind anger! Ought I to give them credit for intentions they have not? Their words are, in themselves, not very extraordinary ones-- so much must be allowed; but a double meaning may lurk beneath them. Why did Porphyrius, in speaking of the old woman, simply say 'At her place?' Why did Zametoff observe that I had spoken very sensibly? Why their peculiar manner?--yes, it is this manner of theirs. How is it possible that all this cannot have struck Razoumikhin? The booby never notices anything! But I seem to be feverish again! Did Porphyrius give me a kind of wink just now, or was I deceived in some way? The idea is absurd! Why should he wink at me? Perhaps they intend to upset my nervous organization, and, by so doing, drive me to extremes! Either the whole thing is a phantasmagoria, or--they know!"

These thoughts flashed through his mind with the rapidity of lightning. Porphyrius Petrovitch came back a moment afterwards. He seemed in a very good temper. "When I left your place yesterday, old fellow, I was really not well," he commenced, addressing Razoumikhin with a cheeriness which was only just becoming apparent, "but that is all gone now."

"Did you find the evening a pleasant one? I left you in the thick of the fun; who came off best?"

"Nobody, of course. They caviled to their heart's content over their old arguments."

"Fancy, Rodia, the discussion last evening turned on the question: 'Does crime exist? Yes, or No.' And the nonsense they talked on the subject!"

"What is there extraordinary in the query? It is the social question without the charm of novelty," answered Raskolnikoff abruptly.

"Talking of crime," said Porphyrius Petrovitch, speaking to Raskolnikoff, "I remember a production of yours which greatly interested me. I am speaking about your article ON CRIME. I don't very well remember the title. I was delighted in reading it two months ago in the Periodical Word."

"But how do you know the article was mine? I only signed it with an initial."

"I discovered it lately, quite by chance. The chief editor is a friend of mine; it was he who let out the secret of your authorship. The article has greatly interested me."

"I was analyzing, if I remember rightly, the psychological condition of a criminal at the moment of his deed."

"Yes, and you strove to prove that a criminal, at such a moment, is always, mentally, more or less unhinged. That point of view is a very original one, but it was not this part of your article which most interested me. I was particularly struck by an idea at the end of the article, and which, unfortunately, you have touched upon too cursorily. In a word, if you remember, you maintained that there are men in existence who can, or more accurately, who have an absolute right to commit all kinds of wicked, and criminal acts-- men for whom, to a certain extent, laws do not exist."

"Is it not very likely that some coming Napoleon did for Alena Ivanovna last week?" suddenly blustered Zametoff from his corner.

Without saying a word, Raskolnikoff fixed on Porphyrius a firm and penetrating glance. Raskolnikoff was beginning to look sullen. He seemed to have been suspecting something for some time past. He looked round him with an irritable air. For a moment there was an ominous silence. Raskolnikoff was getting ready to go.

"What, are you off already?" asked Porphyrius, kindly offering the young man his hand with extreme affability. "I am delighted to have made your acquaintance. And as for your application, don't be uneasy about it. Write in the way I suggested. Or, perhaps, you had better do this. Come and see me before long--to-morrow, if you like. I shall be here without fail at eleven o'clock. We can make everything right--we'll have a chat--and as you were one of the last that went THERE, you might be able to give some further particulars?" he added, with his friendly smile.

"Do you wish to examine me formally?" Raskolnikoff inquired, in an uncomfortable tone.

"Why should I? Such a thing is out of the question. You have misunderstood me. I ought to tell you that I manage to make the most of every opportunity. I have already had a chat with every single person that has been in the habit of pledging things with the old woman--several have given me very useful information--and as you happen to be the last one-- By the by," he exclaimed with sudden pleasure, "how lucky I am thinking about it, I was really going to forget it!" (Saying which he turned to Razoumikhin.) "You were almost stunning my ears, the other day, talking about Mikolka. Well, I am certain, quite certain, as to his innocence," he went on, once more addressing himself to Raskolnikoff. "But what was to be done? It has been necessary to disturb Dmitri. Now, what I wanted to ask was: On going upstairs--was it not between seven and eight you entered the house?"

"Yes," replied Raskolnikoff and he immediately regretted an answer he ought to have avoided.

"Well, in going upstairs, between seven and eight, did you not see on the second floor, in one of the rooms, when the door was wide open--you remember, I dare say?--did you not see two painters or, at all events, one of the two? They were whitewashing the room, I believe; you must have seen them! The matter is of the utmost importance to them!"

"Painters, you say? I saw none," replied Raskolnikoff slowly, trying to sound his memory: for a moment he violently strained it to discover, as quickly as he could, the trap concealed by the magistrate's question. "No, I did not see a single one; I did not even see any room standing open," he went on, delighted at having discovered the trap, "but on the fourth floor I remember noticing that the man lodging on the same landing as Alena Ivanovna was in the act of moving. I remember that very well, as I met a few soldiers carrying a sofa, and I was obliged to back against the wall; but, as for painters, I don't remember seeing a single one--I don't even remember a room that had its door open. No, I saw nothing."

"But what are you talking about?" all at once exclaimed Razoumikhin, who, till that moment, had attentively listened; "it was on the very day of the murder that painters were busy in that room, while he came there two days previously! Why are you asking that question?"

"Right! I have confused the dates!" cried Porphyrius, tapping his forehead. "Deuce take me! That job makes me lose my head!" he added by way of excuse, and speaking to Raskolnikoff. "It is very important that we should know if anybody saw them in that room between seven and eight. I thought I might have got that information from you without thinking any more about it. I had positively confused the days!"

"You ought to be more attentive!" grumbled Razoumikhin.

These last words were uttered in the anteroom, as Porhyrius very civilly led his visitors to the door. They were gloomy and morose on leaving the house, and had gone some distance before speaking. Raskolnikoff breathed like a man who had just been subjected to a severe trial.

When, on the following day, precisely at eleven o'clock, Raskolnikoff called on the examining magistrate, he was astonished to have to dance attendance for a considerable time. According to his idea, he ought to have been admitted immediately; ten minutes, however, elapsed before he could see Porphyrius Petrovitch. In the outer room where he had been waiting, people came and went without heeding him in the least. In the next room, which was a kind of office, a few clerks were at work, and it was evident that not one of them had even an idea who Raskolnikoff might be. The young man cast a mistrustful look about him. "Was there not," thought he, "some spy, some mysterious myrmidon of the law, ordered to watch him, and, if necessary, to prevent his escape?" But he noticed nothing of the kind; the clerks were all hard at work, and the other people paid him no kind of attention. The visitor began to become reassured. "If," thought he, "this mysterious personage of yesterday, this specter which had risen from the bowels of the earth, knew all, and had seen all, would they, I should like to know, let me stand about like this? Would they not rather have arrested me, instead of waiting till I should come of my own accord? Hence this man has either made no kind of revelation as yet about me, or, more probably, he knows nothing, and has seen nothing (besides how could he have seen anything?): consequently I have misjudged, and all that happened yesterday was nothing but an illusion of my diseased imagination." This explanation, which had offered itself the day before to his mind, at the time he felt most fearful, he considered a more likely one.

Whilst thinking about all this and getting ready for a new struggle, Raskolnikoff suddenly perceived that he was trembling; he became indignant at the very thought that it was fear of an interview with the hateful Porphyrius Petrovitch which led him to do so. The most terrible thing to him was to find himself once again in presence of this man. He hated him beyond all expression, and what he dreaded was lest he might show this hatred. His indignation was so great that it suddenly stopped this trembling; he therefore prepared himself to enter with a calm and self- possessed air, promised himself to speak as little as possible, to be very carefully on the watch in order to check, above all things, his irascible disposition. In the midst of these reflections, he was introduced to Porphyrius Petrovitch. The latter was alone in his office, a room of medium dimensions, containing a large table, facing a sofa covered with shiny leather, a bureau, a cupboard standing in a corner, and a few chairs: all this furniture, provided by the State, was of yellow wood. In the wall, or rather in the wainscoting of the other end, there was a closed door, which led one to think that there were other rooms behind it. As soon as Porphyrius Petrovitch had seen Raskolnikoff enter his office, he went to close the door which had given him admission, and both stood facing one another. The magistrate received his visitor to all appearances in a pleasant and affable manner, and it was only at the expiration of a few moments that the latter observed the magistrate's somewhat embarrassed manner--he seemed to have been disturbed in a more or less clandestine occupation.

"Good! my respectable friend! Here you are then--in our latitudes!" commenced Porphyrius, holding out both hands. "Pray, be seated, batuchka! But, perhaps, you don't like being called respectable? Therefore, batuchka, for short! Pray, don't think me familiar. Sit down here on the sofa."

Raskolnikoff did so without taking his eyes off the judge. "These words 'in our latitudes,' these excuses for his familiarity, this expression 'for short,' what could be the meaning of all this? He held out his hands to me without shaking mine, withdrawing them before I could do so, thought Raskolnikoff mistrustfully. Both watched each other, but no sooner did their eyes meet than they both turned them aside with the rapidity of a flash of lightning.

"I have called with this paper--about the-- If you please. Is it correct, or must another form be drawn up?"

"What, what paper? Oh, yes! Do not put yourself out. It is perfectly correct," answered Porphyrius somewhat hurriedly, before he had even examined it; then, after having cast a glance on it, he said, speaking very rapidly: "Quite right, that is all that is required," and placed the sheet on the table. A moment later he locked it up in his bureau, chattering about other things.

"Yesterday," observed Raskolnikoff, "you had, I fancy, a wish to examine me formally--with reference to my dealings with--the victim? At least so it seemed to me!"

"Why did I say, 'So it seemed?'" reflected the young man all of a sudden. "After all, what can be the harm of it? Why should I distress myself about that!" he added, mentally, a moment afterwards. The very fact of his proximity to Porphyrius, with whom he had scarcely as yet interchanged a word, had immeasurably increased his mistrust; he marked this in a moment, and concluded that such a mood was an exceedingly dangerous one, inasmuch as his agitation, his nervous irritation, would only increase. "That is bad! very bad! I shall be saying something thoughtless!"

"Quite right. But do not put yourself out of the way, there is time, plenty of time," murmured Petrovitch, who, without apparent design, kept going to and fro, now approaching the window, now his bureau, to return a moment afterwards to the table. At times he would avoid Raskolnikoff's suspicious look, at times again he drew up sharp whilst looking his visitor straight in the face. The sight of this short chubby man, whose movements recalled those of a ball rebounding from wall to wall, was an extremely odd one. "No hurry, no hurry, I assure you! But you smoke, do you not! Have you any tobacco? Here is a cigarette!" he went on, offering his visitor a paquitos. "You notice that I am receiving you here, but my quarters are there behind the wainscoting. The State provides me with that. I am here as it were on the wing, because certain alterations are being made in my rooms. Everything is almost straight now. Do you know that quarters provided by the State are by no means to be despised?"

"I believe you," answered Raskolnikoff, looking at him almost derisively.

"Not to be despised, by any means," repeated Porphyrius Petrovitch, whose mind seemed to be preoccupied with something else--"not to be despised!" he continued in a very loud tone of voice, and drawing himself up close to Raskolnikoff, whom he stared out of countenance. The incessant repetition of the statement that quarters provided by the State were by no means to be despised contrasted singularly, by its platitude, with the serious, profound, enigmatical look he now cast on his visitor.

Raskolnikoff's anger grew in consequence; he could hardly help returning the magistrate's look with an imprudently scornful glance. "Is it true?" the latter commenced, with a complacently insolent air, "is it true that it is a judicial maxim, a maxim resorted to by all magistrates, to begin an interview about trifling things, or even, occasionally, about more serious matter, foreign to the main question however, with a view to embolden, to distract, or even to lull the suspicion of a person under examination, and then all of a sudden to crush him with the main question, just as you strike a man a blow straight between the eyes?"

"Such a custom, I believe, is religiously observed in your profession, is it not?

"Then you are of opinion that when I spoke to you about quarters provided by the State, I did so--" Saying which, Porphyrius Petrovitch blinked, his face assumed for a moment an expression of roguish gayety, the wrinkles on his brow became smoothed, his small eyes grew smaller still, his features expanded, and, looking Raskolnikoff straight in the face, he burst out into a prolonged fit of nervous laughter, which shook him from head to foot. The young man, on his part, laughed likewise, with more or less of an effort, however, at sight of which Porphyrius's hilarity increased to such an extent that his face grew nearly crimson. At this Raskolnikoff experienced more or less aversion, which led him to forget all caution; he ceased laughing, knitting his brows, and, whilst Porphyrius gave way to his hilarity, which seemed a somewhat feigned one, he fixed on him a look of hatred. In truth, they were both off their guard. Porphyrius had, in fact, laughed at his visitor, who had taken this in bad part; whereas the former seemed to care but little about Raskolnikoff's displeasure. This circumstance gave the young man much matter for thought. He fancied that his visit had in no kind of way discomposed the magistrate; on the contrary, it was Raskolnikoff who had been caught in a trap, a snare, an ambush of some kind or other. The mine was, perhaps, already charged, and might burst at any moment.

Anxious to get straight to the point, Raskolnikoff rose and took up his cap. "Porphyrius Petrovitch," he cried, in a resolute tone of voice, betraying more or less irritation, "yesterday you expressed the desire to subject me to a judicial examination." (He laid special stress on this last word.) "I have called at your bidding; if you have questions to put, do so: if not, allow me to withdraw. I can't afford to waste my time here, as I have other things to attend to. In a word, I must go to the funeral of the official who has been run over, and of whom you have heard speak," he added, regretting, however, the last part of his sentence. Then, with increasing anger, he went on: "Let me tell you that all this worries me! The thing is hanging over much too long. It is that mainly that has made me ill. In one word,"--he continued, his voice seeming more and more irritable, for he felt that the remark about his illness was yet more out of place than the previous one-- "in one word, either be good enough to cross-examine me, or let me go this very moment. If you do question me, do so in the usual formal way; otherwise, I shall object. In the meanwhile, adieu, since we have nothing more to do with one another."

"Good gracious! What can you be talking about? Question you about what?" replied the magistrate, immediately ceasing his laugh. "Don't, I beg, disturb yourself." He requested Raskolnikoff to sit down once more, continuing, nevertheless, his tramp about the room. "There is time, plenty of time. The matter is not of such importance after all. On the contrary, I am delighted at your visit--for as such do I take your call. As for my horrid way of laughing, batuchka, Rodion Romanovitch, I must apologize. I am a nervous man, and the shrewdness of your observations has tickled me. There are times when I go up and down like an elastic ball, and that for half an hour at a time. I am fond of laughter. My temperament leads me to dread apoplexy. But, pray, do sit down-- why remain standing? Do, I must request you, batuchka; otherwise I shall fancy that you are cross."

His brows still knit, Raskolnikoff held his tongue, listened, and watched. In the meanwhile he sat down.

"As far as I am concerned, batuchka, Rodion Romanovitch, I will tell you something which shall reveal to you my disposition," answered Porphyrius Petrovitch, continuing to fidget about the room, and, as before, avoiding his visitor's gaze. "I live alone, you must know, never go into society, and am, therefore, unknown; add to which, that I am a man on the shady side of forty, somewhat played out. You may have noticed, Rodion Romanovitch, that here--I mean in Russia, of course, and especially in St. Petersburg circles--that when two intelligent men happen to meet who, as yet, are not familiar, but who, however, have mutual esteem--as, for instance, you and I have at this moment--don't know what to talk about for half an hour at a time. They seem, both of them, as if petrified. Everyone else has a subject for conversation--ladies, for instance, people in society, the upper ten--all these sets have some topic or other. It is the thing, but somehow people of the middle-class, like you and I, seem constrained and taciturn. How does that come about, batuchka? Have we no social interests? Or is it, rather, owing to our being too straightforward to mislead one another? I don't know. What is your opinion, pray? But do, I beg, remove your cap; one would really fancy that you wanted to be off, and that pains me. I, you must know, am so contented."

Raskolnikoff laid his cap down. He did not, however, become more loquacious; and, with knit brows, listened to Porphyrius's idle chatter. "I suppose," thought he, "he only doles out his small talk to distract my attention."

"I don't offer you any coffee," went on the inexhaustible Porphyrius, "because this is not the place for it, but can you not spend a few minutes with a friend, by way of causing him some little distraction? You must know that all these professional obligations--don't be vexed, batuchka, if you see me walking about like this, I am sure you will excuse me, if I tell you how anxious I am not to do so, but movement is so indispensable to me! I am always seated--and, to me, it is quite a luxury to be able to move about for a minute or two. I purpose, in fact, to go through a course of calisthenics. The trapeze is said to stand in high favor amongst State counselors--counselors in office, even amongst privy counselors. Nowadays, in fact, gymnastics have become a positive science. As for these duties of our office, these examinations, all this formality--you yourself, you will remember, touched upon the topic just now, batuchka--these examinations, and so forth, sometimes perplex the magistrate much more than the man under suspicion. You said as much just now with as much sense as accuracy." (Raskolnikoff had made no statement of the kind.) "One gets confused, one loses the thread of the investigation. Yet, as far as our judicial customs go, I agree with you fully. Where, for instance, is there a man under suspicion of some kind or other, were it even the most thick-headed moujik, who does not know that the magistrate will commence by putting all sorts of out-of-the-way questions to take him off the scent (if I may be allowed to use your happy simile), and that then he suddenly gives him one between the eyes? A blow of the ax on his sinciput (if again I may be permitted to use your ingenious metaphor)? Hah, hah! And do you mean to say that when I spoke to you about quarters provided by the State, that--hah, hah! You are very caustic. But I won't revert to that again. By-and-by!--one remark produces another, one thought attracts another--but you were talking just now of the practice or form in vogue with the examining magistrate. But what is this form? You know as I do that in many cases the form means nothing at all. Occasionally a simple conversation, a friendly interview, brings about a more certain result. The practice or form will never die out--I can vouch for that; but what, after all, is the form, I ask once more? You can't compel an examining magistrate to be hampered or bound by it everlastingly. His duty or method is in its way, one of the liberal professions or something very much like it."