What are you saying, Rodya? cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. She, too, was surprised.
Is he answering us as a duty? Dounia wondered. Is he being reconciled and asking forgiveness as though he were performing a rite or repeating a lesson?
Ive only just waked up, and wanted to go to you, but was delayed owing to my clothes; I forgot yesterday to ask her Nastasya to wash out the blood Ive only just dressed.
Blood! What blood? Pulcheria Alexandrovna asked in alarm.
Oh, nothingdont be uneasy. It was when I was wandering about yesterday, rather delirious, I chanced upon a man who had been run over a clerk
Delirious? But you remember everything! Razumihin interrupted.
Thats true, Raskolnikov answered with special carefulness. I remember everything even to the slightest detail, and yetwhy I did that and went there and said that, I cant clearly explain now.
A familiar phenomenon, interposed Zossimov, actions are sometimes performed in a masterly and most cunning way, while the direction of the actions is deranged and dependent on various morbid impressions its like a dream.
Perhaps its a good thing really that he should think me almost a madman, thought Raskolnikov.
Why, people in perfect health act in the same way too, observed Dounia, looking uneasily at Zossimov.
There is some truth in your observation, the latter replied. In that sense we are certainly all not infrequently like madmen, but with the slight difference that the deranged are somewhat madder, for we must draw a line. A normal man, it is true, hardly exists. Among dozensperhaps hundreds of thousandshardly one is to be met with.
At the word madman, carelessly dropped by Zossimov in his chatter on his favourite subject, everyone frowned.
Raskolnikov sat seeming not to pay attention, plunged in thought with a strange smile on his pale lips. He was still meditating on something.
Well, what about the man who was run over? I interrupted you! Razumihin cried hastily.
What? Raskolnikov seemed to wake up. Oh I got spattered with blood helping to carry him to his lodging. By the way, mamma, I did an unpardonable thing yesterday. I was literally out of my mind. I gave away all the money you sent me to his wife for the funeral. Shes a widow now, in consumption, a poor creature three little children, starving nothing in the house theres a daughter, too perhaps youd have given it yourself if youd seen them. But I had no right to do it I admit, especially as I knew how you needed the money yourself. To help others one must have the right to do it, or else Crevez, chiens, si vous netes pas contents. He laughed, Thats right, isnt it, Dounia?
No, its not, answered Dounia firmly.
Bah! you, too, have ideals, he muttered, looking at her almost with hatred, and smiling sarcastically. I ought to have considered that. Well, thats praiseworthy, and its better for you and if you reach a line you wont overstep, you will be unhappy and if you overstep it, maybe you will be still unhappier. But all thats nonsense, he added irritably, vexed at being carried away. I only meant to say that I beg your forgiveness, mother, he concluded, shortly and abruptly.
Thats enough, Rodya, I am sure that everything you do is very good, said his mother, delighted.
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