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〃Is that a tavern at the top there？〃
〃Yes； it's an eating…house and there's a billiard…room and you'll
find princesses there too。。。。 La…la！〃
Raskolnikov crossed the square。 In that corner there was a dense
crowd of peasants。 He pushed his way into the thickest part of it；
looking at the faces。 He felt an unaccountable inclination to enter
into conversation with people。 But the peasants took no notice of him；
they were all shouting in groups together。 He stood and thought a
little and took a turning to the right in the direction of V。
He had often crossed that little street which turns at an angle；
leading from the market…place to Sadovy Street。 Of late he had often
felt drawn to wander about this district； when he felt depressed； that
he might feel more so。
Now he walked along； thinking of nothing。 At that point there is a
great block of buildings； entirely let out in dram shops and
eating…houses； women were continually running in and out；
bare…headed and in their indoor clothes。 Here and there they
gathered in groups； on the pavement； especially about the entrances to
various festive establishments in the lower storeys。 From one of these
a loud din； sounds of singing； the tinkling of a guitar and shouts
of merriment； floated into the street。 A crowd of women were thronging
round the door； some were sitting on the steps； others on the
pavement； others were standing talking。 A drunken soldier； smoking a
cigarette； was walking near them in the road； swearing； he seemed to
be trying to find his way somewhere； but had forgotten where。 One
beggar was quarrelling with another； and a man dead drunk was lying
right across the road。 Raskolnikov joined the throng of women； who
were talking in husky voices。 They were bare…headed and wore cotton
dresses and goatskin shoes。 There were women of forty and some not
more than seventeen； almost all had blackened eyes。
He felt strangely attracted by the singing and all the noise and
uproar in the saloon below。。。。 Some one could be heard within
dancing frantically； marking time with his heels to the sounds of
the guitar and of a thin falsetto voice singing a jaunty air。 He
listened intently； gloomily and dreamily； bending down at the entrance
and peeping inquisitively in from the pavement。
…
〃Oh； my handsome soldier
Don't beat me for nothing；〃
…
trilled the thin voice of the singer。 Raskolnikov felt a great
desire to make out what he was singing； as though everything
depended on that。
〃Shall I go in？〃 he thought。 〃They are laughing。 From drink。 Shall I
get drunk？〃
〃Won't you come in？〃 one of the women asked him。 Her voice was still
musical and less thick than the others； she was young and not
repulsive… the only one of the group。
〃Why； she's pretty；〃 he said； drawing himself up and looking at her。
She smiled； much pleased at the compliment。
〃You're very nice looking yourself；〃 she said。
〃Isn't he thin though！〃 observed another woman in a deep bass。 〃Have
you just come out of a hospital？〃
〃They're all generals' daughters； it seems； but they have all snub
noses；〃 interposed a tipsy peasant with a sly smile on his face；
wearing a loose coat。 〃See how jolly they are。〃
〃Go along with you！〃
〃I'll go； sweetie！〃
And he darted down into the saloon below。 Raskolnikov moved on。
〃I say； sir；〃 the girl shouted after him。
〃What is it？〃
She hesitated。
〃I'll always be pleased to spend an hour with you； kind gentleman；
but now I feel shy。 Give me six copecks for a drink； there's a nice
young man！〃
Raskolnikov gave her what came first… fifteen copecks。
〃Ah； what a good…natured gentleman！〃
〃What's your name？〃
〃Ask for Duclida。〃
〃Well； that's too much；〃 one of the women observed； shaking her head
at Duclida。 〃I don't know how you can ask like that。 I believe I
should drop with shame。。。。〃
Raskolnikov looked curiously at the speaker。 She was a pock…marked
wench of thirty； covered with bruises； with her upper lip swollen。 She
made her criticism quietly and earnestly。 〃Where is it；〃 thought
Raskolnikov。 〃Where is it I've read that some one condemned to death
says or thinks； an hour before his death； that if he had to live on
some high rock； on such a narrow ledge that he'd only room to stand；
and the ocean； everlasting darkness； everlasting solitude； everlasting
tempest around him； if he had to remain standing on a square yard of
space all his life； a thousand years； eternity； it were better to live
so than to die at once！ Only to live； to live and live！ Life； whatever
it may be！。。。 How true it is！ Good God； how true！ Man is a vile
creature！。。。 And vile is he who calls him vile for that；〃 he added a
moment later。
He went into another street。 〃Bah； the Palais de Crystal！
Razumihin was just talking of the Palais de Crystal。 But what on earth
was it I wanted？ Yes； the newspapers。。。。 Zossimov said he'd read it in
the papers。 Have you the papers？〃 he asked； going into a very spacious
and positively clean restaurant； consisting of several rooms； which
were however rather empty。 Two or three people were drinking tea；
and in a room further away were sitting four men drinking champagne。
Raskolnikov fancied that Zametov was one of them； but he could not
be sure at that distance。 〃What if it is！〃 he thought。
〃Will you have vodka？〃 asked the waiter。
〃Give me some tea and bring me the papers； the old ones for the last
five days and I'll give you something。〃
〃Yes； sir； here's to…day's。 No vodka？〃
The old newspapers and the tea were brought。 Raskolnikov sat down
and began to look through them。
〃Oh； damn。。。 these are the items of intelligence。 An accident on a
staircase； spontaneous combustion of a shopkeeper from alcohol； a fire
in Peski。。。 a fire in the Petersburg quarter。。。 another fire in the
Petersburg quarter。。。 and another fire in the Petersburg quarter。。。
Ah； here it is！〃 He found at last what he was seeking and began to
read it。 The lines danced before his eyes； but he read it all and
began eagerly seeking later additions in the following numbers。 His
hands shook with nervous impatience as he turned the sheets。
Suddenly some one sat down beside him at his table。 He looked up； it
was the head clerk Zametov； looking just the same； with the rings on
his fingers and the watch…chain； with the curly； black hair； parted
and pomaded； with the smart waistcoat； rather shabby coat and doubtful
linen。 He was in a good humour； at least he was smiling very gaily and
good…humouredly。 His dark face was rather flushed from the champagne
he had drunk。
〃What； you here？〃 he began in surprise； speaking as though he'd
known him all his life。 〃Why； Razumihin told me only yesterday you
were unconscious。 How strange！ And do you know I've been to see you？〃
Raskolnikov knew he would come up to him。 He laid aside the papers
and turned to Zametov。 There was a