The fact was that up to the last moment he had never expected such an ending; he had been overbearing to the last degree, never dreaming that two destitute and defenceless women could escape from his control. This conviction was strengthened by his vanity and conceit, a conceit to the point of fatuity. Pyotr Petrovitch, who had made his way up from insignificance, was morbidly given to self-admiration, had the highest opinion of his intelligence and capacities, and sometimes even gloated in solitude over his image in the glass. But what he loved and valued above all was the money he had amassed by his labour, and by all sorts of devices: that money made him the equal of all who had been his superiors.
When he had bitterly reminded Dounia that he had decided to take her in spite of evil report, Pyotr Petrovitch had spoken with perfect sincerity and had, indeed, felt genuinely indignant at such "black ingratitude." And yet, when he made Dounia his offer, he was fully aware of the groundlessness of all the gossip. The story had been everywhere contradicted by Marfa Petrovna, and was by then disbelieved by all the townspeople, who were warm in Dounia'a defence. And he would not have denied that he knew all that at the time. Yet he still thought highly of his own resolution in lifting Dounia to his level and regarded it as something heroic. In speaking of it to Dounia, he had let out the secret feeling he cherished and admired, and he could not understand that others should fail to admire it too. He had called on Raskolnikov with the feelings of a benefactor who is about to reap the fruits of his good deeds and to hear agreeable flattery. And as he went downstairs now, he considered himself most undeservedly injured and unrecognised.
Dounia was simply essential to him; to do without her was unthinkable. For many years he had had voluptuous dreams of marriage, but he had gone on waiting and amassing money. He brooded with relish, in profound secret, over the image of a girl--virtuous, poor (she must be poor), very young, very pretty, of good birth and education, very timid, one who had suffered much, and was completely humbled before him, one who would all her life look on him as her saviour, worship him, admire him and only him. How many scenes, how many amorous episodes he had imagined on this seductive and playful theme, when his work was over! And, behold, the dream of so many years was all but realised; the beauty and education of Avdotya Romanovna had impressed him; her helpless position had been a great allurement; in her he had found even more than he dreamed of. Here was a girl of pride, character, virtue, of education and breeding superior to his own (he felt that), and this creature would be slavishly grateful all her life for his heroic condescension, and would humble herself in the dust before him, and he would have absolute, unbounded power over her! . . . Not long before, he had, too, after long reflection and hesitation, made an important change in his career and was now entering on a wider circle of business. With this change his cherished dreams of rising into a higher class of society seemed likely to be realised. . . . He was, in fact, determined to try his fortune in Petersburg. He knew that women could do a very great deal. The fascination of a charming, virtuous, highly educated woman might make his way easier, might do wonders in attracting people to him, throwing an aureole round him, and now everything was in ruins! This sudden horrible rupture affected him like a clap of thunder; it was like a hideous joke, an absurdity. He had only been a tiny bit masterful, had not even time to speak out, had simply made a joke, been carried away --and it had ended so seriously. And, of course, too, he did love Dounia in his own way; he already possessed her in his dreams--and all at once! No! The next day, the very next day, it must all be set right, smoothed over, settled. Above all he must crush that conceited milksop who was the cause of it all. With a sick feeling he could not help recalling Razumihin too, but, he soon reassured himself on that score; as though a fellow like that could be put on a level with him! The man he really dreaded in earnest was Svidrigailov. . . . He had, in short, a great deal to attend to. . . .
*****
"No, I, I am more to blame than anyone!" said Dounia, kissing and embracing her mother. "I was tempted by his money, but on my honour, brother, I had no idea he was such a base man. If I had seen through him before, nothing would have tempted me! Don't blame me, brother!"
"God has delivered us! God has delivered us!" Pulcheria Alexandrovna muttered, but half consciously, as though scarcely able to realise what had happened.
They were all relieved, and in five minutes they were laughing. Only now and then Dounia turned white and frowned, remembering what had passed. Pulcheria Alexandrovna was surprised to find that she, too, was glad: she had only that morning thought rupture with Luzhin a terrible misfortune. Razumihin was delighted. He did not yet dare to express his joy fully, but he was in a fever of excitement as though a ton-weight had fallen off his heart. Now he had the right to devote his life to them, to serve them. . . . Anything might happen now! But he felt afraid to think of further possibilities and dared not let his imagination range. But Raskolnikov sat still in the same place, almost sullen and indifferent. Though he had been the most insistent on getting rid of Luzhin, he seemed now the least concerned at what had happened. Dounia could not help thinking that he was still angry with her, and Pulcheria Alexandrovna watched him timidly.
"What did Svidrigailov say to you?" said Dounia, approaching him.
"Yes, yes!" cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna.
Raskolnikov raised his head.
"He wants to make you a present of ten thousand roubles and he desires to see you once in my presence."
"See her! On no account!" cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. "And how dare he offer her money!"
Then Raskolnikov repeated (rather dryly) his conversation with Svidrigailov, omitting his account of the ghostly visitations of Marfa Petrovna, wishing to avoid all unnecessary talk.
"What answer did you give him?" asked Dounia.
"At first I said I would not take any message to you. Then he said that he would do his utmost to obtain an interview with you without my help. He assured me that his passion for you was a passing infatuation, now he has no feeling for you. He doesn't want you to marry Luzhin. . . . His talk was altogether rather muddled."
"How do you explain him to yourself, Rodya? How did he strike you?"
"I must confess I don't quite understand him. He offers you ten thousand, and yet says he is not well off. He says he is going away, and in ten minutes he forgets he has said it. Then he says is he going to be married and has already fixed on the girl. . . . No doubt he has a motive, and probably a bad one. But it's odd that he should be so clumsy about it if he had any designs against you. . . . Of course, I refused this money on your account, once for all. Altogether, I thought him very strange. . . . One might almost think he was mad. But I may be mistaken; that may only be the part he assumes. The death of Marfa Petrovna seems to have made a great impression on him."
"God rest her soul," exclaimed Pulcheria Alexandrovna. "I shall always, always pray for her! Where should we be now, Dounia, without this three thousand! It's as though it had fallen from heaven! Why, Rodya, this morning we had only three roubles in our pocket and Dounia and I were just planning to pawn her watch, so as to avoid borrowing from that man until he offered help."
Dounia seemed strangely impressed by Svidrigailov's offer. She still stood meditating.
"He has got some terrible plan," she said in a half whisper to herself, almost shuddering.
Raskolnikov noticed this disproportionate terror.
"I fancy I shall have to see him more than once again," he said to Dounia.
"We will watch him! I will track him out!" cried Razumihin, vigorously. "I won't lose sight of him. Rodya has given me leave. He said to me himself just now. 'Take care of my sister.' Will you give me leave, too, Avdotya Romanovna?"
Dounia smiled and held out her hand, but the look of anxiety did not leave her face. Pulcheria Alexandrovna gazed at her timidly, but the three thousand roubles had obviously a soothing effect on her.
A quarter of an hour later, they were all engaged in a lively conversation. Even Raskolnikov listened attentively for some time, though he did not talk. Razumihin was the speaker.
"And why, why should you go away?" he flowed on ecstatically. "And what are you to do in a little town? The great thing is, you are all here together and you need one another--you do need one another, believe me. For a time, anyway. . . . Take me into partnership, and I assure you we'll plan a capital enterprise. Listen! I'll explain it all in detail to you, the whole project! It all flashed into my head this morning, before anything had happened . . . I tell you what; I have an uncle, I must introduce him to you (a most accommodating and respectable old man). This uncle has got a capital of a thousand roubles, and he lives on his pension and has no need of that money. For the last two years he has been bothering me to borrow it from him and pay him six per cent. interest. I know what that means; he simply wants to help me. Last year I had no need of it, but this year I resolved to borrow it as soon as he arrived. Then you lend me another thousand of your three and we have enough for a start, so we'll go into partnership, and what are we going to do?"
Then Razumihin began to unfold his project, and he explained at length that almost all our publishers and booksellers know nothing at all of what they are selling, and for that reason they are usually bad publishers, and that any decent publications pay as a rule and give a profit, sometimes a considerable one. Razumihin had, indeed, been dreaming of setting up as a publisher. For the last two years he had been working in publishers' offices, and knew three European languages well, though he had told Raskolnikov six days before that he was "schwach" in German with an object of persuading him to take half his translation and half the payment for it. He had told a lie then, and Raskolnikov knew he was lying.
"Why, why should we let our chance slip when we have one of the chief means of success--money of our own!" cried Razumihin warmly. "Of course there will be a lot of work, but we will work, you, Avdotya Romanovna, I, Rodion. . . . You get a splendid profit on some books nowadays! And the great point of the business is that we shall know just what wants translating, and we shall be translating, publishing, learning all at once. I can be of use because I have experience. For nearly two years I've been scuttling about among the publishers, and now I know every detail of their business. You need not be a saint to make pots, believe me! And why, why should we let our chance slip! Why, I know--and I kept the secret--two or three books which one might get a hundred roubles simply for thinking of translating and publishing. Indeed, and I would not take five hundred for the very idea of one of them. And what do you think? If I were to tell a publisher, I dare say he'd hesitate--they are such blockheads! And as for the business side, printing, paper, selling, you trust to me, I know my way about. We'll begin in a small way and go on to a large. In any case it will get us our living and we shall get back our capital."
Dounia's eyes shone.
"I like what you are saying, Dmitri Prokofitch!" she said.
"I know nothing about it, of course," put in Pulcheria Alexandrovna, "it may be a good idea, but again God knows. It's new and untried. Of course, we must remain here at least for a time." She looked at Rodya.
"What do you think, brother?" said Dounia.
"I think he's got a very good idea," he answered. "Of course, it's too soon to dream of a publishing firm, but we certainly might bring out five or six books and be sure of success. I know of one book myself which would be sure to go well. And as for his being able to manage it, there's no doubt about that either. He knows the business. . . . But we can talk it over later. . . ."
"Hurrah!" cried Razumihin. "Now, stay, there's a flat here in this house, belonging to the same owner. It's a special flat apart, not communicating with these lodgings. It's furnished, rent moderate, three rooms. Suppose you take them to begin with. I'll pawn your watch to-morrow and bring you the money, and everything can be arranged then. You can all three live together, and Rodya will be with you. But where are you off to, Rodya?"
"What, Rodya, you are going already?" Pulcheria Alexandrovna asked in dismay.
"At such a minute?" cried Razumihin.
Dounia looked at her brother with incredulous wonder. He held his cap in his hand, he was preparing to leave them.
"One would think you were burying me or saying good-bye for ever," he said somewhat oddly. He attempted to smile, but it did not turn out a smile. "But who knows, perhaps it is the last time we shall see each other . . ." he let slip accidentally. It was what he was thinking, and it somehow was uttered aloud.
"What is the matter with you?" cried his mother.
"Where are you going, Rodya?" asked Dounia rather strangely.
"Oh, I'm quite obliged to . . ." he answered vaguely, as though hesitating what he would say. But there was a look of sharp determination in his white face.
"I meant to say . . . as I was coming here . . . I meant to tell you, mother, and you, Dounia, that it would be better for us to part for a time. I feel ill, I am not at peace. . . . I will come afterwards, I will come of myself . . . when it's possible. I remember you and love you. . . . Leave me, leave me alone. I decided this even before . . . I'm absolutely resolved on it. Whatever may come to me, whether I come to ruin or not, I want to be alone. Forget me altogether, it's better. Don't inquire about me. When I can, I'll come of myself or . . . I'll send for you. Perhaps it will all come back, but now if you love me, give me up . . . else I shall begin to hate you, I feel it. . . . Good-bye!"
"Good God!" cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. Both his mother and his sister were terribly alarmed. Razumihin was also.
"Rodya, Rodya, be reconciled with us! Let us be as before!" cried his poor mother.
He turned slowly to the door and slowly went out of the room. Dounia overtook him.
"Brother, what are you doing to mother?" she whispered, her eyes flashing with indignation.
He looked dully at her.
"No matter, I shall come. . . . I'm coming," he muttered in an undertone, as though not fully conscious of what he was saying, and he went out of the room.
"Wicked, heartless egoist!" cried Dounia.
"He is insane, but not heartless. He is mad! Don't you see it? You're heartless after that!" Razumihin whispered in her ear, squeezing her hand tightly. "I shall be back directly," he shouted to the horror- stricken mother, and he ran out of the room.
Raskolnikov was waiting for him at the end of the passage.
"I knew you would run after me," he said. "Go back to them--be with them . . . be with them to-morrow and always. . . . I . . . perhaps I shall come . . . if I can. Good-bye."
And without holding out his hand he walked away.
"But where are you going? What are you doing? What's the matter with you? How can you go on like this?" Razumihin muttered, at his wits' end.
Raskolnikov stopped once more.
"Once for all, never ask me about anything. I have nothing to tell you. Don't come to see me. Maybe I'll come here. . . . Leave me, but /don't leave/ them. Do you understand me?"
It was dark in the corridor, they were standing near the lamp. For a minute they were looking at one another in silence. Razumihin remembered that minute all his life. Raskolnikov's burning and intent eyes grew more penetrating every moment, piercing into his soul, into his consciousness. Suddenly Razumihin started. Something strange, as it were, passed between them. . . . Some idea, some hint, as it were, slipped, something awful, hideous, and suddenly understood on both sides. . . . Razumihin turned pale.
"Do you understand now?" said Raskolnikov, his face twitching nervously. "Go back, go to them," he said suddenly, and turning quickly, he went out of the house.
I will not attempt to describe how Razumihin went back to the ladies, how he soothed them, how he protested that Rodya needed rest in his illness, protested that Rodya was sure to come, that he would come every day, that he was very, very much upset, that he must not be irritated, that he, Razumihin, would watch over him, would get him a doctor, the best doctor, a consultation. . . . In fact from that evening Razumihin took his place with them as a son and a brother.
主要的是，直到最后一分钟，他无论如何也没料到会有这样的结局。他态度傲慢达到了极点，决没想到，这两个贫穷和无依无靠的女人有可能摆脱他的控制。虚荣心和不如称为自鸣得意的过分自信在很大程度上助长了他的这种信念。彼得·彼特罗维奇出身贫困，一旦出人头地，几乎是病态地习惯于自我欣赏，把自己的智慧和才能估计得过高，甚至有时会对镜顾影自怜。但是他在世界上最爱惜和最看重的，却是他靠劳动和使用一切手段获得的金钱，因为金钱使他得以跻身于社会地位更高的人们的行列。
彼得·彼特罗维奇刚才怀着痛苦的心情提醒杜尼娅，说尽管她名声不好，他还是决心娶她，他这么说是完全真诚的，甚至对这样的“忘恩负义”深感愤慨。其实他向杜尼娅求婚的时候，就已经完全深信，所有这些流言蜚语都十分荒谬，因为玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜本人已经公开辟谣，全城的人早已不再谈论这些谣言，而且还在热烈地为杜尼娅辩护。而且他本人现在也不否认，这一切当时他就已经知道了。然而，是他决定把杜尼娅提高到与自己同等的地位，对这一决定，他还是给予很高的评价，认为这是一件了不起的英勇行为。刚才他对杜尼娅谈起这一点，也就是说出了暗藏在自己心中、极其珍爱的这个想法，对这个想法他自己已经欣赏过不止一次了，他无法理解，别人怎么会不赏识他的这一英勇行为。他去探望拉斯科利尼科夫的时候，完全是以恩人自居，准备去收获成熟的果实，听听甜言蜜语的恭维。当然啦，现在下楼的时候，他认为自己受了极大的侮辱，他的功绩没能得到别人承认。
对他来说，杜尼娅简直是必不可少的；对他来说，要放弃她，是不可思议的。很久以来，已经有好几年了，他一直心里甜滋滋地梦想着结婚，可是一直在攒钱，一直在等待着。他内心深处一直陶醉地暗暗想着，会有这样一个少女，她品德优良，家境贫寒（一定要家境贫寒），十分年轻，非常漂亮，气度高贵，很有教养，胆子很小，经受过很多磨难，百依百顺，终生都认为他是自己的恩人，崇拜他，服从他，赞美他，而且心目中只有他一个人。工余之暇，静静休息的时候，他曾在想象中用这令人神往、而又变幻莫测的主题创造过多少动人的景象，多少甜蜜的插曲！这不是，这么多年来的梦想几乎已经变成现实：阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜的美貌和所受的教育使他惊叹不已；她那无依无靠的境遇使他极为满意。甚至比他所幻想的还多了一些东西：这是一个有自尊心、性格刚强、道德高尚的姑娘，她所受的教育和文化程度都比他高（他认识到了这一点），而这样一个女人，为了他的英勇行为，将终生像奴隶一般对他感恩戴德，诚惶诚恐地在他面前卑躬屈膝，而他对她却拥有无限和完全的权力！……似乎事有凑巧，不久以前，经过长期考虑和等待，他终于下决心彻底改换门庭，进入更广阔的活动范围，借此慢慢钻进更高的上层社会，而这正是他很久以来心驰神往，梦寐以求的……总之，他想到彼得堡来碰碰运气。他知道，女人会赢得“很多很多”东西。一个美艳绝伦、道德高尚、又有教养的女人的魅力会有惊人的作用，能为他创造锦绣前程，让别人注意他，给他带来荣誉……可是，现在一切都落空了！现在这意想不到的、岂有此理的决裂，对他好似晴天一声霹雳。这真是岂有此理，荒谬之极！他只不过稍稍傲慢了一点儿；他甚至还没有坦率地说出自己的意见，他只不过开开玩笑，感情冲动，结果却这么严重！而且他甚至已经按照自己的方式在爱着杜尼娅了，他已经在自己的幻想中行使支配她的权力了——可是突然！…… 不！明天，明天就得重归于好，消除分歧，改正错误，而主要的是，要除掉这个高傲自大的乳臭小儿，他就是这一切的祸根。他也不由自主、十分痛苦地想起了拉祖米欣……不过对他很快就放下心来：“这个家伙怎么能和他相提并论呢！”但是他当真十分害怕的，还是这个斯维德里盖洛夫……总之，会有许多麻烦事……
“不，是我，最有错的是我！”杜涅奇卡说，同时拥抱着母亲，吻她，“我图他的钱，不过，我发誓，哥哥，我没想到他是一个这么卑鄙的人。如果我早点儿看透了他，就什么也不图他的了！你别责备我，哥哥！”
“上帝救了我们！上帝救了我们！”普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜喃喃地说，不过是多少有点儿无意识地，仿佛对所发生的一切还没完全弄清楚。
大家都高兴起来，五分钟后甚至都笑了。只有杜尼娅有时想起刚刚发生的事情，不由得脸色发白，皱起眉头。普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜不能想象，她也会感到高兴；早上她还认为，与卢任决裂是一场可怕的灾难。拉祖米欣却欣喜若狂。他还不敢充分流露自己的喜悦心情，但是却像在发烧一样，浑身发抖，仿佛他心上坠着的一个五普特重的秤砣现在忽然掉下去了。现在他有权把自己的整个生命献给他们，为他们效力了……谁知道现在还会发生些什么事情！不过他更加不敢继续往下想了，他对自己的幻想感到害怕。只有拉斯科利尼科夫仍然坐在原来的座位上，神情几乎是忧郁的，而且心不在焉。本来他最坚持与卢任断绝关系，现在却仿佛对所发生的一切最不感兴趣。杜尼娅不由得想，他一直还在很生她的气，普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜却不时怯生生地望望他。
“斯维德里盖洛夫对你说了些什么？”杜尼娅走到他跟前问。
“啊，对，对！”普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜高声说。
拉斯科利尼科夫抬起头来：
“他一定要送给你一万卢布，同时宣称，希望在有我在场的情况下和你见一次面。”
“见面！无论如何也不行！”普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜高声叫道，“他怎么竟敢提出送给她钱！”
随后拉斯科利尼科夫叙述了（相当枯燥地）他和斯维德里盖洛夫谈话的内容，略去了玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜的幽灵出现的那些话，以免说得过于详尽，除了最必要的话，对什么谈话他都觉得讨厌。
“你是怎么回答他的呢？”杜尼娅问。
“最初我说，我什么话也不转告你。于是他宣称，他将自己用一切手段设法和你见面。他让我相信，从前他对你的爱慕之情是痴心妄想，现在他对你已经没有任何非分的想法了……他不希望你嫁给卢任……一般说来，他说得很乱。”
“罗佳，你自己认为他是什么意思？你觉得他这个人怎么样？”
“说实在的，我不大理解他的意思。他提议送给你一万卢布，可又说他并不富有。他说想要到什么地方去，十分钟以后却忘记说过这话了。突然又说，他想结婚，还说已经有人给他提亲……当然，他是有目的的，而且最大的可能是见不得人的目的。可是不知为什么又很奇怪地说，如果他对你不怀好意，那么他这样做就太愚蠢了……我当然代你拒绝了这笔赠款，一劳永逸地拒绝了。总之，我觉得他这个人很怪，而且……甚至……好像有点儿神经错乱的样子。不过我也可能弄错了；也许这只不过是一种骗局。玛尔法·彼特罗芙娜的死大概对他有些影响……”
“上帝啊，让她的灵魂安息吧！”普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜高声说，“我要永远、永远为她向上帝祈祷！唉，杜尼娅，要不是这三千卢布，现在我们可怎么办呢！上帝啊，这笔钱简直就是从天上掉下来的！唉，罗佳，早上我们已经只剩下三个卢布了，我和杜尼娅刚刚还在盘算着把表拿到什么地方去作抵押，借几个钱，免得在这个人自己想到之前，向他开口。”
不知为什么，斯维德里盖洛夫的提议让杜尼娅十分惊讶。
她一直站在那儿，陷入沉思。
“他准是打算做出什么很可怕的事来！”她浑身微微发抖，几乎是喃喃地自言自语。
拉斯科利尼科夫看出了这异常恐惧的神情。
“看来，我还不得不再见到他，而且不止一次，”他对杜尼娅说。
“我们来监视他！我去跟踪他！”拉祖米欣坚决地高声大喊。“我会紧紧地盯着他！罗佳允许我这么做了。不久前他对我说：‘你要保护我妹妹’。您允许我这样做吗，阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜？”
杜尼娅微微一笑，把一只手伸给他，不过忧虑的神情并未从脸上消失。普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜怯生生地看了看她；不过看得出来，那三千卢布让她感到放心了。
一刻钟后，大家都兴奋地交谈起来。就连拉斯科利尼科夫，虽然没参加谈话，不过有一会工夫也在留心听着。拉祖米欣在高谈阔论。
“你们为什么，为什么要走呢！” 他兴高采烈，热情洋溢，说得娓娓动听，“在那个小城市里你们能做什么？主要的是，你们在这里，大家在一起，互相需要，而且太需要了，——请你们理解我的意思！嗯，至少在一起待一段时间……请把我当作朋友，咱们大家合伙，我担保，我们准能办一件很好的事。请听我说，我给你们详细谈一谈，谈谈整个计划！早上，还什么也没发生的时候，我脑子里就闪过一个念头……是这么回事：我有个舅舅（我要介绍他和你们认识一下；是个很和气、很受人尊敬的老头儿！），他有一千卢布财产，他靠退休金生活，不需要这笔钱。一年多来他一直缠着要把这笔钱借给我，一年只付给他六厘利息。我看出了他是什么意思：他只不过是想帮助我；不过去年我不需要这些钱，可今年，只等他一来，我就决定把这笔钱借下来了。然后你们从你们的三千卢布里拿出一千来，作为第一步，这已经足够了，我们合伙来干。那么我们做什么呢？”
于是拉祖米欣对他的计划大加发挥，并且详细说明，我们所有的书商和出版商几乎都不懂行，所以通常都不善于经营，然而好的出版物一般说都能保本，而且可以赚钱，有时利润相当可观。拉祖米欣所梦想的就是经营出版业；拉祖米欣已经为别的出版商干过两年，而且通晓三种欧洲语言，尽管六天前他曾对拉斯科利尼科夫说，他的德语“不行”，但那是想劝说拉斯科利尼科夫承担一半翻译任务，接受预支的三个卢布稿酬，当时他撒了谎，拉斯科利尼科夫也知道他是撒谎。
“我们为什么，为什么要错过自己的机会呢，既然最主要的手段之一——自己的钱，已经有了？”拉祖米欣激昂慷慨地说。“当然需要付出很多劳动，可是我们都会努力工作的，您，阿芙多季娅·罗曼诺芙娜，我，罗季昂……现在有些出版物利润很高！而我们这个企业的主要基础就是，我们知道究竟该翻译什么。我们翻译，出版，学习，三者一起来。现在用得着我了，因为我有经验。我跟出版商打交道快两年了，了解他们的全部底细：并不是只有圣徒才会做瓦罐①，请你们相信我的话！为什么，为什么要坐失良机呢！我知道有这么两、三本书，单是翻译、出版这些书的主意，每本就值一百卢布，其中一本，就是出五百卢布，我也不把这个主意告诉人家，所以关于翻译这几本书的想法，我一直保守秘密。你们想想看，要是我去告诉什么人，他大概会犹豫不决，他们都是笨蛋！至于印刷厂、纸张，发行等这些具体事情，你们就交给我好了！什么秘密我都知道！一开始规模先小一点儿，慢慢扩大业务，至少可以糊口，无论如何本钱是可以捞得回来的。”
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①这是一句谚语，本来是：“并非只有上帝会烧瓦罐”，此处稍作改动。意思是：这种事谁都可以做。
杜尼娅的眼睛亮了。
“您说的这些，我很喜欢，德米特里·普罗科菲伊奇，”她说。
“这种事我当然什么也不懂，”普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜回答，“也许，这个主意不错，不过又是只有上帝知道。这主意有点儿新鲜，对这事我不了解。当然啦，我们必须留在这里，至少要待一段时间……”
她看了看罗佳。
“你认为呢，哥哥？”杜尼娅说。
“我认为，他这个想法很好，”他回答。“当然，用不着先去幻想成立什么公司，倒是当真可以出版五、六本书，而且无疑会获得成功。我也知道一本书，译出来一定畅销。至于他能经营出版业，这一点毫无疑问：他精通业务……不过，你们还需要有时间好好商量一下……”
“乌拉！”拉祖米欣叫喊起来，“现在先别忙，这儿有一套房间，就在这幢房子里，也是同一个房东的。这是另外一套单独的房间，跟这些旅馆的房间不连在一起，带家具出租，房租适中，有三间小房间。你们先把它租下来。明天我就去给你们抵押表，把钱拿来，那么一切就可以办妥了。主要的是你们三个人可以住在一起，罗佳和你们……喂，你去哪儿，罗佳？”
“怎么，罗佳，你要走了？”普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜甚至是惊恐地问。
“在这时候走！”拉祖米欣喊了一声。
杜尼娅露出怀疑的诧异神情，看着哥哥。他手里拿着制帽，打算走了。
“你们怎么好像在埋葬我，还是要和我永世诀别呢，”他不知为什么很古怪地说。
他好像微微一笑，可又好像这并不是微笑。
“谁知道呢，说不定这是我们最后一次见面了，”他无意中补了一句。
这句话本来是他心里想的，但不知怎么竟脱口而出，说出声来。
“你这是怎么了！”母亲惊呼。
“你去哪里，罗佳？”杜尼娅有点儿奇怪地问。
“没什么，我得走了，非常需要，”他含含糊糊地回答，仿佛有话要说，又拿不定主意。但是他那苍白的脸上的神情却说明他的决心十分坚决。
“我想要说，……到这儿来的时候……我想对您说，妈妈……还有你，杜尼娅，我想我们最好分开一段时间。我觉得不大舒服，心里也不平静……以后我会来的，我自己来，等到……可以来的时候。我不会忘记你们，我爱你们……请不要管我！让我独自一个人生活吧！还在以前，我就这样决定了……的确决定了……不管我会出什么事，不管我会不会死掉，我都要独自一个人。完全忘了我吧。这样要好些……不要打听我的消息。必要的时候，我自己会来的，或者……会叫你们去。也许一切都会恢复老样子！……可是现在，如果你们爱我，就和我断绝关系吧……不然我就会恨你们，我觉得……别了！”
“上帝啊！”普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜高声惊呼。
母亲和妹妹都吓坏了；拉祖米欣也十分惊恐。
“罗佳，罗佳！跟我们和好如初，还和从前一样吧！”可怜的母亲高声呼喊。
他慢慢地向房门转过身，从屋里慢慢地走出去。杜尼娅追上了他。
“哥哥！你这是干什么，对母亲怎么能这样呢！”她低声说，目光中燃烧着怒火。
他痛苦地看了看她。
“没什么，我会来的，我会来的！”他含糊不清地低声说，好像不完全明白想要说什么，说罢就从屋里出去了。
“无情和狠心的自私自利者！”杜尼娅高声叫喊。
“他是个疯—子，而不是无情无义！他发疯了！难道您看不出来吗？您这样对待他，倒是太无情了！……”拉祖米欣紧紧攥住她的手，激动地对着她的耳朵低声说。
“我这就回来！”他转过脸去，对着面无人色的普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜喊了一声，就从屋里跑了出去。
拉斯科利尼科夫在走廊尽头等着他。
“我就知道你会跑出来，”他说。“请你回到她们那儿去，和她们待在一起……明天也要待在她们那里……而且永远和她们在一起。我……也许会来……如果能来的话。别了！”
他没有和拉祖米欣握手，就离开他走了。
“你去哪儿？你怎么了？你出什么事了吗？可是难道能这样吗！……”完全不知所措的拉祖米欣喃喃地说。
拉斯科利尼科夫又站住了。
“我说最后一次：请你永远什么也别问我。我没有什么话回答你……你也别来找我。也许，我会到这儿来……别管我，可她们……请不要离开她们。你明白我的意思吗？”
走廊里很暗；他们站在灯旁。他们默默地对看了约摸一分钟光景。拉祖米欣终生都记得这一分钟。拉斯科利尼科夫闪闪发光、凝神注视着他的目光仿佛每一瞬间都竭力想穿透到他的心灵、穿诱到他的意识里去。拉祖米欣突然不寒而栗。仿佛有个什么奇怪的东西在他们之间一闪而过……有个什么念头，好像是暗示，转瞬即逝；双方突然都理解，有个什么可怕的、岂有此理的东西隔在他们中间……拉祖米欣脸色白得像死人一样。
“现在你明白了吗？”拉斯科利尼科夫突然说，十分痛苦地扭歪了脸。“你回去吧，回到她们那里去，”他突然补充说，然后很快转身从这幢房子里走了出去。
现在我不来描写那天晚上普莉赫里娅·亚历山德罗芙娜那里的情况：拉祖米欣怎样回到她们那里，怎样安慰她们，怎样发誓说，得让罗佳好好养病，怎样发誓说，罗佳一定会回来，每天都会来，说他非常、非常心烦意乱，不该刺激他；还说他，拉祖米欣，一定会好好照料罗佳，给他请一个好医生，请一个最好的医生，给他会诊……总之，从那天晚上起，拉祖米欣已经成了她们的儿子和哥哥。