The Most Interesting Stories of All Nations

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"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."

Porphyrius Petrovitch stopped a moment to take breath. He kept on
talking, now uttering pure nonsense, now again introducing, in
spite of this trash, an occasional enigmatical remark, after which
he went on with his insipidities. His tramp about the room was
more like a race--he moved his stout legs more and more quickly,
without looking up; his right hand was thrust deep in the pocket of
his coat, whilst with the left he unceasingly gesticulated in a way
unconnected with his observations. Raskolnikoff noticed, or
fancied he noticed, that, whilst running round and round the room,
he had twice stopped near the door, seeming to listen. "Does he
expect something?" he asked himself.

"You're perfectly right," resumed Porphyrius cheerily, whilst
looking at the young man with a kindliness which immediately awoke
the latter's distrust. "Our judicial customs deserve your satire.
Our proceedings, which are supposed to be inspired by a profound
knowledge of psychology, are very ridiculous ones, and very often
useless. Now, to return to our method or form: Suppose for a
moment that I am deputed to investigate something or other, and
that I know the guilty person to be a certain gentleman. Are you
not yourself reading for the law, Rodion Romanovitch?"

"I was some time ago."

"Well, here is a kind of example which may be of use to you later
on. Don't run away with the idea that I am setting up as your
instructor--God forbid that I should presume to teach anything to a
man who treats criminal questions in the public press! Oh, no!--
all I am doing is to quote to you, by way of example, a trifling
fact. Suppose that I fancy I am convinced of the guilt of a
certain man, why, I ask you, should I frighten him prematurely,
assuming me to have every evidence against him? Of course, in the
case of another man of a different disposition, him I would have
arrested forthwith; but, as to the former, why should I not permit
him to hang about a little longer? I see you do not quite take me.
I will, therefore, endeavor to explain myself more clearly! If,
for instance, I should be too quick in issuing a writ, I provide
him in doing so with a species of moral support or mainstay--I see
you are laughing?" (Raskolnikoff, on the contrary, had no such
desire; his lips were set, and his glaring look was not removed
from Porphyrius's eyes.) "I assure you that in actual practice
such is really the case; men vary much, although, unfortunately,
our methods are the same for all. But you will ask me: Supposing
you are certain of your proofs? Goodness me, batuchka! you know,
perhaps as well as I do, what proofs are--half one's time, proofs
may be taken either way; and I, a magistrate, am, after all, only a
man liable to error.

"Now, what I want is to give to my investigation the precision of a
mathematical demonstration--I want my conclusions to be as plain,
as indisputable, as that twice two are four. Now, supposing I have
this gentleman arrested prematurely, though I may be positively
certain that he is THE MAN, yet I deprive myself of all future
means of proving his guilt. How is that? Because, so to say, I
give him, to a certain extent, a definite status; for, by putting
him in prison, I pacify him. I give him the chance of
investigating his actual state of mind--he will escape me, for he
will reflect. In a word, he knows that he is a prisoner, and
nothing more. If, on the contrary, I take no kind of notice of the
man I fancy guilty, if I do not have him arrested, if I in no way
set him on his guard--but if the unfortunate creature is hourly,
momentarily, possessed by the suspicion that I know all, that I do
not lose sight of him either by night or by day, that he is the
object of my indefatigable vigilance--what do you ask will take
place under these circumstances? He will lose his self-possession,
he will come of his own accord to me, he will provide me with ample
evidence against himself, and will enable me to give to the
conclusion of my inquiry the accuracy of mathematical proofs, which
is not without its charm.

"If such a course succeeds with an uncultured moujik, it is equally
efficacious when it concerns an enlightened, intelligent, or even
distinguished man. For the main thing, my dear friend, is to
determine in what sense a man is developed. The man, I mean, is
intelligent, but he has nerves which are OVER-strung. And as for
bile--the bile you are forgetting, that plays no small part with
similar folk! Believe me, here we have a very mine of information!
And what is it to me whether such a man walk about the place in
perfect liberty? Let him be at ease--I know him to be my prey, and
that he won't escape me! Where, I ask you, could he go to? You
may say abroad. A Pole may do so--but my man, never! especially as
I watch him, and have taken steps in consquence. Is he likely to
escape into the very heart of our country? Not he! for there dwell
coarse moujiks, and primitive Russians, without any kind of
civilization. My educated friend would prefer going to prison,
rather than be in the midst of such surroundings. Besides, what I
have been saying up to the present is not the main point--it is the
exterior and accessory aspect of the question. He won't escape--
not only because he won't know where to go to, but especially, and
above all, because he is mine from the PSYCHOLOGICAL point of view.
What do you think of this explanation? In virtue of a natural law,
he will not escape, even if he could do so! Have you ever seen a
butterfly close to the candle? My man will hover incessantly round
me in the same way as the butterfly gyrates round the candle-light.
Liberty will have no longer charms for him; he will grow more and
more restless, more and more amazed--let me but give him plenty of
time, and he will demean himself in a way to prove his guilt as
plainly as that twice two our four! Yes, he will keep hovering
about me, describing circles, smaller and smaller, till at last--
bang! He has flown into my clutches, and I have got him. That is
very nice. You don't think so, perhaps?"

Raskolnikoff kept silent. Pale and immovable, he continued to
watch Porphyrius's face with a labored effort of attention. "The
lesson is a good one!" he reflected. "But it is not, as yesterday,
a case of the cat playing with the mouse. Of course, he does not
talk to me in this way for the mere pleasure of showing me his
hand; he is much too intelligent for that. He must have something
else in view--what can it be? Come, friend, what you do say is
only to frighten me. You have no kind of evidence, and the man of
yesterday does not exist! All you wish is to perplex me--to enrage
me, so as to enable you to make your last move, should you catch me
in such a mood, but you will not; all your pains will be in vain!
But why should he speak in such covert terms? I presume he must be
speculating on the excitability of my nervous system. But, dear
friend, that won't go down, in spite of your machinations. We will
try and find out what you really have been driving at."

And he prepared to brave boldly the terrible catastrophe he
anticipated. Occasionally the desire came upon him to rush on
Porphyrius, and to strangle him there and then. From the first
moment of having entered the magistrate's office what he had
dreaded most was, lest he might lose his temper. He felt his heart
beating violently, his lips become parched, his spittle congealed.
He resolved, however, to hold his tongue, knowing that, under the
circumstances, such would be the best tactics. By similar means,
he felt sure that he would not only not become compromised, but
that he might succeed in exasperating his enemy, in order to let
him drop some imprudent observation. This, at all events, was
Raskolnikoff's hope.

"I see you don't believe, you think I am jesting," continued
Porphyrius, more and more at his ease, without ceasing to indulge
in his little laugh, whilst continuing his perambulation about the
room. "You may be right. God has given me a face which only
arouses comical thoughts in others. I'm a buffoon. But excuse an
old man's cackle. You, Rodion Romanovitch, you are in your prime,
and, like all young people, you appreciate, above all things, human
intelligence. Intellectual smartness and abstract rational
deductions entice you. But, to return to the SPECIAL CASE we were
talking about just now. I must tell you that we have to deal with
reality, with nature. This is a very important thing, and how
admirably does she often foil the highest skill! Listen to an old
man; I am speaking quite seriously. Rodion"--(on saying which
Porphyrius Petrovitch, who was hardly thirty-five years of age,
seemed all of a sudden to have aged, a sudden metamorphosis had
taken place in the whole of his person, nay, in his very voice)--
"to an old man who, however, is not wanting in candor. Am I or am
I not candid? What do you think? It seems to me that a man could
hardly be more so--for do I not reveal confidence, and that without
the prospect of reward? But, to continue, acuteness of mind is, in
my opinion, a very fine thing; it is to all intents and purposes an
ornament of nature, one of the consolations of life by means of
which it would appear a poor magistrate can be easily gulled, who,
after all, is often misled by his own imagination, for he is only
human. But nature comes to the aid of this human magistrate!
There's the rub! And youth, so confident in its own intelligence,
youth which tramples under foot every obstacle, forgets this!

"Now, in the SPECIAL CASE under consideration, the guilty man, I
will assume, lies hard and fast, but, when he fancies that all that
is left him will be to reap the reward of his mendacity, behold, he
will succumb in the very place where such an accident is likely to
be most closely analyzed. Assuming even that he may be in a
position to account for his syncope by illness or the stifling
atmosphere of the locality, he has none the less given rise to
suspicion! He has lied incomparably, but he has counted without
nature. Here is the pitfall! Again, a man off his guard, from an
unwary disposition, may delight in mystifying another who suspects
him, and may wantonly pretend to be the very criminal wanted by the
authorities; in such a case, he will represent the person in
question a little too closely, he will place his foot a little too
naturally. Here we have another token. For the nonce his
interlocutor may be duped; but, being no fool, he will on the
morrow have seen through the subterfuge. Then will our friend
become compromised more and more! He will come of his own accord
when he is not even called, he will use all kinds of impudent
words, remarks, allegories, the meaning of which will be clear to
everybody; he will even go so far as to come and ask why he has not
been arrested as yet--hah! hah! And such a line of conduct may
occur to a person of keen intellect, yes, even to a man of
psychologic mind! Nature, my friend, is the most transparent of
mirrors. To contemplate her is sufficient. But why do you grow
pale, Rodion Romanovitch? Perhaps you are too hot; shall I open
the window?"

"By no means, I beg!" cried Raskolnikoff, bursting out laughing.
"Don't heed me, pray!" Porphyrius stopped short, waited a moment,
and burst out laughing himself. Raskolnikoff, whose hilarity had
suddenly died out, rose. "Porphyrius Petrovitch," he shouted in a
clear and loud voice, although he could scarcely stand on his
trembling legs, "I can no longer doubt that you suspect me of
having assassinated this old woman as well as her sister,
Elizabeth. Let me tell you that for some time I have had enough of
this. If you think you have the right to hunt me down, to have me
arrested, hunt me down, have me arrested. But you shall not trifle
with me, you shall not torture me." Suddenly his lips quivered,
his eyes gleamed, and his voice, which up to that moment had been
self-possessed, reached its highest diapason. "I will not permit
it," he yelled hoarsely, whilst striking a violent blow on the
table. "Do you hear me, Porphyrius Petrovitch, I shall not permit
this!"

"But, goodness gracious! what on earth is wrong with you?" asked
the magistrate, disturbed to all appearances. "Batuchka! Rodion
Romanovitch! My good friend! What on earth is the matter with
you?"

"I will not permit it!" repeated Raskolnikoff once again.

"Batuchka! not so loud, I must request! Someone will hear you,
someone may come; and then, what shall we say? Just reflect one
moment!" murmured Porphyrius Petrovitch, whose face had approached
that of his visitor.

"I will not permit it, I will not permit it!" mechanically pursued
Raskolnikoff, but in a minor key, so as to be heard by Porphyrius
only.

The latter moved away to open the window. "Let us air the room!
Supposing you were to drink some water, dear friend? You have had
a slight fit!" He was on the point of going to the door to give
his orders to a servant, when he saw a water bottle in a corner.
"Drink, batuchka!" he murmured, whilst approaching the young man
with the bottle, "that may do you some good."

Porphyrius's fright seemed so natural that Raskolnikoff remained
silent whilst examining him with curiosity. He refused, however,
the proffered water.

"Rodion Romanovitch! My dear friend! If you go on in this way,
you will go mad, I am positive! Drink, pray, if only a few drops!"
He almost forced the glass of water into his hand. Raskolnikoff
raised it mechanically to his lips, when suddenly he thought better
of it, and replaced it on the table with disgust. "Yes, yes, you
have had a slight fit. One or two more, my friend, and you will
have another attack of your malady," observed the magistrate in the
kindest tone of voice, appearing greatly agitated. "Is it possible
that people can take so little care of themselves? It was the same
with Dmitri Prokofitch, who called here yesterday. I admit mine to
be a caustic temperament, that mine is a horrid disposition, but
that such a meaning could possibly be attributed to harmless
remarks. He called here yesterday, when you had gone, and in the
course of dinner he talked, talked. You had sent him, had you not?
But do sit down, batuchka! do sit down, for heaven's sake!"

"I did not indeed!--although I knew that he had called, and his
object in doing so!" replied Raskolnikoff dryly.

"Did you really know why?"

"I did. And what did you gather from it?"

"I gathered from it, batuchka! Rodion Romanovitch, the knowledge of
a good many of your doings--in fact, I know all! I know that you
went, towards nightfall, TO HIRE THE LODGINGS. I know that you
pulled the bell, and that a question of yours in connection with
bloodstains, as well as your manner, frightened both journeymen and
dvorniks. I know what was your mood at the time. Excitement of
such a kind will drive you out of your mind, be assured. A
praiseworthy indignation is at work within you, complaining now as
to destiny, now on the subject of police agents. You keep going
here and there to induce people as far as possible to formulate
their accusations. This stupid kind of tittle-tattle is hateful to
you, and you are anxious to put a stop to it as soon as possible.
Am I right? Have I laid finger on the sentiments which actuate
you? But you are not satisfied by turning your own brain, you want
to do, or rather do, the same thing to my good Razoumikhin.
Really, it is a pity to upset so good a fellow! His kindness
exposes him more than anyone else to suffer contagion from your own
malady. But you shall know all as soon as you shall be calmer.
Pray, therefore, once again sit down, batuchka! Try and recover
your spirits--you seem quite unhinged."

Raskolnikoff rose while looking at him with an air full of
contempt. "Tell me once for all," asked the latter, "tell me one
way or other, whether I am in your opinion an object for suspicion?
Speak up, Porphyrius Petrovitch, and explain yourself without any
more beating about the bush, and that forthwith!"

"Just one word, Rodion Romanovitch. This affair will end as God
knows best; but still, by way of form, I may have to ask you a few
more questions. Hence we are certain to meet again!" And with a
smile Porphyrius stopped before the young man. "Certain!" he
repeated. One might have fancied that he wished to say something
more. But he did not do so.

"Forgive my strange manner just now, Porphyrius Petrovitch, I was
hasty," began Raskolnikoff, who had regained all his self-
possession, and who even experienced an irresistible wish to chaff
the magistrate.

"Don't say any more, it was nothing," replied Porphyrius in almost
joyful tone. "Till we meet again!"

"Till we meet again!"

The young man forthwith went home. Having got there, he threw
himself on his couch, and for a quarter of an hour he tried to
arrange his ideas somewhat, inasmuch as they were very confused.

Within a few days Raskolnikoff convinced himself that Porphyrius
Petrovitch had no real proofs. Deciding to go out, in search of
fresh air, he took up his cap and made for the door, deep in
thought. For the first time he felt in the best of health, really
well. He opened the door, and encountered Porphyrius face to face.
The latter entered. Raskolnikoff staggered for a moment, but
quickly recovered. The visit did not dismay him. "Perhaps this is
the finale, but why does he come upon me like a cat, with muffled
tread? Can he have been listening?"

"I have been thinking for a long time of calling on you, and, as I
was passing, I thought I might drop in for a few minutes. Where
are you off to? I won't detain you long, only the time to smoke a
cigarette, if you will allow me?"

"Be seated, Porphyrius Petrovitch, be seated," said Raskolnikoff to
his guest, assuming such an air of friendship that he himself could
have been astonished at his own affability. Thus the victim, in
fear and trembling for his life, at last does not feel the knife at
his throat. He seated himself in front of Porphyrius, and gazed
upon him without flinching. Porphyrius blinked a little, and
commenced rolling his cigarette.

"Speak! speak!" Raskolnikoff mutely cried in his heart. "What are
you going to say?"

"Oh, these cigarettes!" Porphyrius Petrovitch commenced at last,
"they'll be the death of me, and yet I can't give them up! I am
always coughing--a tickling in the throat is setting in, and I am
asthmatical. I have been to consult Botkine of late; he examines
every one of his patients at least half an hour at a time. After
having thumped and bumped me about for ever so long, he told me,
amongst other things: 'Tobacco is a bad thing for you--your lungs
are affected.' That's all very well, but how am I to go without my
tobacco? What am I to use as a substitute? Unfortunately, I can't
drink, hah! hah! Everything is relative, I suppose, Rodion
Romanovitch?"

"There, he is beginning with some more of his silly palaver!"
Raskolnikoff growled to himself. His late interview with the
magistrate suddenly occurred to him, at which anger affected his
mind.

"Did you know, by-the-by, that I called on you the night before
last?" continued Porphyrius, looking about. "I was in this very
room. I happened to be coming this way, just as I am going to-day,
and the idea struck me to drop in. Your door was open--I entered,
hoping to see you in a few minutes, but went away again without
leaving my name with your servant. Do you never shut your place?"

Raskolnikoff's face grew gloomier and gloomier. Porphyrius
Petrovitch evidently guessed what the latter was thinking about.

"You did not expect visitors, Rodion Romanovitch?" said Porphyrius,
smiling graciously.

"I have called just to clear things up a bit. I owe you an
explanation," he went on, smiling and gently slapping the young man
on the knee; but almost at the self-same moment his face assumed a
serious and even sad expression, to Raskolnikoff's great
astonishment, to whom the magistrate appeared in quite a different
light. "At our last interview, an unusual scene took place between
us, Rodion. I somehow feel that I did not behave very well to you.
You remember, I dare say, how we parted; we were both more or less
excited. I fear we were wanting in the most common courtesy, and
yet we are both of us gentlemen."

"What can he be driving at now?" Raskolnikoff asked himself,
looking inquiringly at Porphyrius.

"I have come to the conclusion that it would be much better for us
to be more candid to one another," continued the magistrate,
turning his head gently aside and looking on the ground, as if he
feared to annoy his former victim by his survey. "We must not have
scenes of that kind again. If Mikolka had not turned up on that
occasion, I really do not know how things would have ended. You
are naturally, my dear Rodion, very irritable, and I must own that
I had taken that into consideration, for, when driven in a corner,
many a man lets out his secrets. 'If,' I said to myself, 'I could
only squeeze some kind of evidence out of him, however trivial,
provided it were real, tangible, and palpable, different from all
my psychological inferences!' That was my idea. Sometimes we
succeed by some such proceeding, but unfortunately that does not
happen every day, as I conclusively discovered on the occasion in
question. I had relied too much on your character."

"But why tell me all this now?" stammered Raskolnikoff, without in
any way understanding the object of his interlocutor's question.
"Does he, perhaps, think me really innocent?"

"You wish to know why I tell you this? Because I look upon it as a
sacred duty to explain my line of action. Because I subjected you,
as I now fully acknowledge, to cruel torture. I do not wish, my
dear Rodion, that you should take me for an ogre. Hence, by way of
justification, I purpose explaining to you what led up to it. I
think it needless to account for the nature and origin of the
reports which circulated originally, as also why you were connected
with them. There was, however, one circumstance, a purely
fortuitous one, and which need not now be mentioned, which aroused
my suspicions. From these reports and accidental circumstances,
the same conclusion became evolved for me. I make this statement
in all sincerity, for it was I who first implicated you with the
matter. I do not in any way notice, the particulars notified on
the articles found at the old woman's. That, and several others of
a similar nature, are of no kind of importance. At the same time,
I was aware of the incident which had happened at the police
office. What occurred there has been told me with the utmost
accuracy by some one who had been closely connected with it, and
who, most unwittingly, had brought things to a head. Very well,
then, how, under such circumstances, could a man help becoming
biased? 'One swallow does not make a summer,' as the English
proverb says: a hundred suppositions do not constitute one single
proof. Reason speaks in that way, I admit, but let a man try to
subject prejudice to reason. An examining magistrate, after all,
is only a man--hence given to prejudice.

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