Part Four 7 страница

He drew a deep breath—yet, strangely, it was as if the dream were still going on: his door was wide open, and a man completely unknown to him was standing on the threshold, studying him intently.

Raskolnikov had not yet managed to open his eyes fully, and he instantly closed them again. He lay on his back without stirring. “Is the dream still going on, or not? ” he thought, and again imperceptibly parted his eyelashes a little: the stranger was standing in the same place and was still peering at him. All at once he cautiously stepped across the threshold, closed the door carefully behind him, went over to the table, waited for about a minute—not taking his eyes off him all the while—and softly, noiselessly, sat down on the chair by the sofa; he placed his hat beside him on the floor, leaned with both hands on his cane, and rested his chin on his hands. One could see that he was prepared to wait a long time. As far as could be made out through blinking eyelashes, this was a man no longer young, thickset, and with a bushy, fair, almost white beard. . .

About ten minutes went by. It was still light, but evening was approaching. There was total silence in the room. No sound came even from the stairs. Only a big fly buzzed and struggled, striking with a swoop against the window. Finally it became unbearable: Raskolnikov raised himself all at once and sat up on the sofa.

“Speak, then. What do you want? ”

“Ah, I just knew you were not asleep, but only pretending, ” the unknown man answered strangely, with a quiet laugh. “Allow me to introduce myself: Arkady Ivanovich Svidrigailov. . . ”

Part Four

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