Crime and Punishment & Other Great Novels of Dostoevsky. Fyodor Dostoevsky

knew for certain that, although it filled her with dread and suffering, yet she had a tormenting desire to read and to read to him that he might hear it, and to read now whatever might come of it! . . . He read this in her eyes, he could see it in her intense emotion. She mastered herself, controlled the spasm in her throat and went on reading the eleventh chapter of St. John. She went on to the nineteenth verse:

      “And many of the Jews came to Martha and Mary to comfort them concerning their brother.

      “Then Martha as soon as she heard that Jesus was coming went and met Him: but Mary sat still in the house.

      “Then said Martha unto Jesus, Lord, if Thou hadst been here, my brother had not died.

      “But I know that even now whatsoever Thou wilt ask of God, God will give it Thee . . . .”

      Then she stopped again with a shamefaced feeling that her voice would quiver and break again.

      “Jesus said unto her, thy brother shall rise again.

      “Martha saith unto Him, I know that he shall rise again in the resurrection, at the last day.

      “Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection and the life: he that believeth in Me though he were dead, yet shall he live.

      “And whosoever liveth and believeth in Me shall never die. Believest thou this?

      “She saith unto Him,”

      (And drawing a painful breath, Sonia read distinctly and forcibly as though she were making a public confession of faith.)

      “Yea, Lord: I believe that Thou art the Christ, the Son of God Which should come into the world.”

      She stopped and looked up quickly at him, but controlling herself went on reading. Raskolnikov sat without moving, his elbows on the table and his eyes turned away. She read to the thirty-second verse.

      “Then when Mary was come where Jesus was and saw Him, she fell down at His feet, saying unto Him, Lord if Thou hadst been here, my brother had not died.

      “When Jesus therefore saw her weeping, and the Jews also weeping which came with her, He groaned in the spirit and was troubled,

      “And said, Where have ye laid him? They said unto Him, Lord, come and see.

      “Jesus wept.

      “Then said the Jews, behold how He loved him!

      “And some of them said, could not this Man which opened the eyes of the blind, have caused that even this man should not have died?”

      Raskolnikov turned and looked at her with emotion. Yes, he had known it! She was trembling in a real physical fever. He had expected it. She was getting near the story of the greatest miracle and a feeling of immense triumph came over her. Her voice rang out like a bell; triumph and joy gave it power. The lines danced before her eyes, but she knew what she was reading by heart. At the last verse “Could not this Man which opened the eyes of the blind . . .” dropping her voice she passionately reproduced the doubt, the reproach and censure of the blind disbelieving Jews, who in another moment would fall at His feet as though struck by thunder, sobbing and believing. . . . “And he, he — too, is blinded and unbelieving, he, too, will hear, he, too, will believe, yes, yes! At once, now,” was what she was dreaming, and she was quivering with happy anticipation.

      “Jesus therefore again groaning in Himself cometh to the grave. It was a cave, and a stone lay upon it.

      “Jesus said, Take ye away the stone. Martha, the sister of him that was dead, saith unto Him, Lord by this time he stinketh: for he hath been dead four days.”

      She laid emphasis on the word four.

      “Jesus saith unto her, Said I not unto thee that if thou wouldest believe, thou shouldest see the glory of God?

      “Then they took away the stone from the place where the dead was laid. And Jesus lifted up His eyes and said, Father, I thank Thee that Thou hast heard Me.

      “And I knew that Thou hearest Me always; but because of the people which stand by I said it, that they may believe that Thou hast sent Me.

      “And when He thus had spoken, He cried with a loud voice, Lazarus, come forth.

      “And he that was dead came forth.”

      (She read loudly, cold and trembling with ecstasy, as though she were seeing it before her eyes.)

      “Bound hand and foot with graveclothes; and his face was bound about with a napkin. Jesus saith unto them, Loose him and let him go.

      “Then many of the Jews which came to Mary and had seen the things which Jesus did believed on Him.”

      She could read no more, closed the book and got up from her chair quickly.

      “That is all about the raising of Lazarus,” she whispered severely and abruptly, and turning away she stood motionless, not daring to raise her eyes to him. She still trembled feverishly. The candle-end was flickering out in the battered candlestick, dimly lighting up in the poverty-stricken room the murderer and the harlot who had so strangely been reading together the eternal book. Five minutes or more passed.

      “I came to speak of something,” Raskolnikov said aloud, frowning. He got up and went to Sonia. She lifted her eyes to him in silence. His face was particularly stern and there was a sort of savage determination in it.

      “I have abandoned my family to-day,” he said, “my mother and sister. I am not going to see them. I’ve broken with them completely.”

      “What for?” asked Sonia amazed. Her recent meeting with his mother and sister had left a great impression which she could not analyse. She heard his news almost with horror.

      “I have only you now,” he added. “Let us go together. . . . I’ve come to you, we are both accursed, let us go our way together!”

      His eyes glittered “as though he were mad,” Sonia thought, in her turn.

      “Go where?” she asked in alarm and she involuntarily stepped back.

      “How do I know? I only know it’s the same road, I know that and nothing more. It’s the same goal!”

      She looked at him and understood nothing. She knew only that he was terribly, infinitely unhappy.

      “No one of them will understand, if you tell them, but I have understood. I need you, that is why I have come to you.”

      “I don’t understand,” whispered Sonia.

      “You’ll understand later. Haven’t you done the same? You, too, have transgressed . . . have had the strength to transgress. You have laid hands on yourself, you have destroyed a life . . . your own (it’s all the same!). You might have lived in spirit and understanding, but you’ll end in the Hay Market. . . . But you won’t be able to stand it, and if you remain alone you’ll go out of your mind like me. You are like a mad creature already. So we must go together on the same road! Let us go!”

      “What for? What’s all this for?” said Sonia, strangely and violently agitated by his words.

      “What for? Because you can’t remain like this, that’s why! You must look things straight in the face at last, and not weep like a child and cry that God won’t allow it. What will happen, if you should really be taken to the hospital to-morrow? She is mad and in consumption, she’ll soon die and the children? Do you mean to tell me Polenka won’t come to grief? Haven’t you seen children here at the street corners sent out by their mothers to beg? I’ve found out where those mothers live and in what surroundings. Children can’t remain children there! At seven the child is vicious and a thief. Yet children, you know, are the image of Christ: ‘theirs is the kingdom of Heaven.’ He bade us honour and love them, they are the humanity of the future . . . .”

      “What’s to be done, what’s to be done?” repeated Sonia, weeping hysterically and wringing her hands.

      “What’s