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Tiffany Glover Drama Club to all mah haterz Publication Date: August 14th 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-tiffaneglover

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Fyodor Dostoevsky Crime and Punishment Crime and Punishment Crime and Punishment Fyodor Dostoevsky   Translated By Constance Garnett       Crime and Punishment TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE A few words about Dostoevsky himself may help the English reader to understand his work. Dostoevsky was the son of a doctor. His parents were very hard- working and deeply religious people, but so poor that they lived with their five children in only two rooms. The father and mother spent their evenings in reading aloud to their children, generally from books of a serious character. Though always sickly and delicate Dostoevsky came out third in the final examination of the Petersburg school of Engineering. There he had already begun his first work, ‘Poor Folk.’ This story was published by the poet Nekrassov in his review and was received with acclamations. The shy, unknown youth found himself instantly something of a celebrity. A brilliant and successful career seemed to open before him, but those hopes were soon dashed. In 1849 he was arrested. Though neither by temperament nor conviction a revolutionist, Dostoevsky was one of a little group of young men who met together to read Fourier and 2 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. Proudhon. He was accused of ‘taking part in conversations against the censorship, of reading a letter from Byelinsky to Gogol, and of knowing of the intention to set up a printing press.’ Under Nicholas I. (that ‘stern and just man,’ as Maurice Baring calls him) this was enough, and he was condemned to death. After eight months’ imprisonment he was with twenty-one others taken out to the Semyonovsky Square to be shot. Writing to his brother Mihail, Dostoevsky says: ‘They snapped words over our heads, and they made us put on the white shirts worn by persons condemned to death. Thereupon we were bound in threes to stakes, to suffer execution. Being the third in the row, I concluded I had only a few minutes of life before me. I thought of you and your dear ones and I contrived to kiss Plestcheiev and Dourov, who were next to me, and to bid them farewell. Suddenly the troops beat a tattoo, we were unbound, brought back upon the scaffold, and informed that his Majesty had spared us our lives.’ The sentence was commuted to hard labour. One of the prisoners, Grigoryev, went mad as soon as he was untied, and never regained his sanity. The intense suffering of this experience left a lasting stamp on Dostoevsky’s mind. Though his religious temper led him in the end to accept every suffering with 3 of 967 Crime and Punishment resignation and to regard it as a blessing in his own case, he constantly recurs to the subject in his writings. He describes the awful agony of the condemned man and insists on the cruelty of inflicting such torture. Then followed four years of penal servitude, spent in the company of common criminals in Siberia, where he began the ‘Dead House,’ and some years of service in a disciplinary battalion. He had shown signs of some obscure nervous disease before his arrest and this now developed into violent attacks of epilepsy, from which he suffered for the rest of his life. The fits occurred three or four times a year and were more frequent in periods of great strain. In 1859 he was allowed to return to Russia. He started a journal— ‘Vremya,’ which was forbidden by the Censorship through a misunderstanding. In 1864 he lost his first wife and his brother Mihail. He was in terrible poverty, yet he took upon himself the payment of his brother’s debts. He started another journal—‘The Epoch,’ which within a few months was also prohibited. He was weighed down by debt, his brother’s family was dependent on him, he was forced to write at heart-breaking speed, and is said never to have corrected his work. The later years of his life were 4 of 967 Crime and Punishment much softened by the tenderness and devotion of his second wife. In June 1880 he made his famous speech at the unveiling of the monument to Pushkin in Moscow and he was received with extraordinary demonstrations of love and honour. A few months later Dostoevsky died. He was followed to the grave by a vast multitude of mourners, who ‘gave the hapless man the funeral of a king.’ He is still probably the most widely read writer in Russia. In the words of a Russian critic, who seeks to explain the feeling inspired by Dostoevsky: ‘He was one of ourselves, a man of our blood and our bone, but one who has suffered and has seen so much more deeply than we have his insight impresses us as wisdom … that wisdom of the heart which we seek that we may learn from it how to live. All his other gifts came to him from nature, this he won for himself and through it he became great.’ 5 of 967 Crime and Punishment PART I 6 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter I On an exceptionally hot evening early in July a young man came out of the garret in which he lodged in S. Place and walked slowly, as though in hesitation, towards K. bridge. He had successfully avoided meeting his landlady on the staircase. His garret was under the roof of a high, five-storied house and was more like a cupboard than a room. The landlady who provided him with garret, dinners, and attendance, lived on the floor below, and every time he went out he was obliged to pass her kitchen, the door of which invariably stood open. And each time he passed, the young man had a sick, frightened feeling, which made him scowl and feel ashamed. He was hopelessly in debt to his landlady, and was afraid of meeting her. This was not because he was cowardly and abject, quite the contrary; but for some time past he had been in an overstrained irritable condition, verging on hypochondria. He had become so completely absorbed in himself, and isolated from his fellows that he dreaded meeting, not only his landlady, but anyone at all. He was crushed by poverty, but the anxieties of his position had of late ceased to weigh upon him. He had given up attending to matters of 7 of 967 Crime and Punishment practical importance; he had lost all desire to do so. Nothing that any landlady could do had a real terror for him. But to be stopped on the stairs, to be forced to listen to her trivial, irrelevant gossip, to pestering demands for payment, threats and complaints, and to rack his brains for excuses, to prevaricate, to lie—no, rather than that, he would creep down the stairs like a cat and slip out unseen. This evening, however, on coming out into the street, he became acutely aware of his fears. ‘I want to attempt a thing like that and am frightened by these trifles,’ he thought, with an odd smile. ‘Hm … yes, all is in a man’s hands and he lets it all slip from cowardice, that’s an axiom. It would be interesting to know what it is men are most afraid of. Taking a new step, uttering a new word is what they fear most…. But I am talking too much. It’s because I chatter that I do nothing. Or perhaps it is that I chatter because I do nothing. I’ve learned to chatter this last month, lying for days together in my den thinking … of Jack the Giant-killer. Why am I going there now? Am I capable of that ? Is that serious? It is not serious at all. It’s simply a fantasy to amuse myself; a plaything! Yes, maybe it is a plaything.’ The heat in the street was terrible: and the airlessness, the bustle and the plaster, scaffolding, bricks, and dust all 8 of 967 Crime and Punishment about him, and that special Petersburg stench, so familiar to all who are unable to get out of town in summer—all worked painfully upon the young man’s already overwrought nerves. The insufferable stench from the pothouses, which are particularly numerous in that part of the town, and the drunken men whom he met continually, although it was a working day, completed the revolting misery of the picture. An expression of the profoundest disgust gleamed for a moment in the young man’s refined face. He was, by the way, exceptionally handsome, above the average in height, slim, well-built, with beautiful dark eyes and dark brown hair. Soon he sank into deep thought, or more accurately speaking into a complete blankness of mind; he walked along not observing what was about him and not caring to observe it. From time to time, he would mutter something, from the habit of talking to himself, to which he had just confessed. At these moments he would become conscious that his ideas were sometimes in a tangle and that he was very weak; for two days he had scarcely tasted food. He was so badly dressed that even a man accustomed to shabbiness would have been ashamed to be seen in the street in such rags. In that quarter of the town, however, scarcely any shortcoming in dress would have created 9 of 967 Crime and Punishment surprise. Owing to the proximity of the Hay Market, the number of establishments of bad character, the preponderance of the trading and working class population crowded in these streets and alleys in the heart of Petersburg, types so various were to be seen in the streets that no figure, however queer, would have caused surprise. But there was such accumulated bitterness and contempt in the young man’s heart, that, in spite of all the fastidiousness of youth, he minded his rags least of all in the street. It was a different matter when he met with acquaintances or with former fellow students, whom, indeed, he disliked meeting at any time. And yet when a drunken man who, for some unknown reason, was being taken somewhere in a huge waggon dragged by a heavy dray horse, suddenly shouted at him as he drove past: ‘Hey there, German hatter’ bawling at the top of his voice and pointing at him—the young man stopped suddenly and clutched tremulously at his hat. It was a tall round hat from Zimmerman’s, but completely worn out, rusty with age, all torn and bespattered, brimless and bent on one side in a most unseemly fashion. Not shame, however, but quite another feeling akin to terror had overtaken him. ‘I knew it,’ he muttered in confusion, ‘I thought so! That’s the worst of all! Why, a stupid thing like this, the 10 of 967 Crime and Punishment most trivial detail might spoil the whole plan. Yes, my hat is too noticeable…. It looks absurd and that makes it noticeable…. With my rags I ought to wear a cap, any sort of old pancake, but not this grotesque thing. Nobody wears such a hat, it would be noticed a mile off, it would be remembered…. What matters is that people would remember it, and that would give them a clue. For this business one should be as little conspicuous as possible…. Trifles, trifles are what matter! Why, it’s just such trifles that always ruin everything….’ He had not far to go; he knew indeed how many steps it was from the gate of his lodging house: exactly seven hundred and thirty. He had counted them once when he had been lost in dreams. At the time he had put no faith in those dreams and was only tantalising himself by their hideous but daring recklessness. Now, a month later, he had begun to look upon them differently, and, in spite of the monologues in which he jeered at his own impotence and indecision, he had involuntarily come to regard this ‘hideous’ dream as an exploit to be attempted, although he still did not realise this himself. He was positively going now for a ‘rehearsal’ of his project, and at every step his excitement grew more and more violent. 11 of 967 Crime and Punishment With a sinking heart and a nervous tremor, he went up to a huge house which on one side looked on to the canal, and on the other into the street. This house was let out in tiny tenements and was inhabited by working people of all kinds—tailors, locksmiths, cooks, Germans of sorts, girls picking up a living as best they could, petty clerks, etc. There was a continual coming and going through the two gates and in the two courtyards of the house. Three or four door-keepers were employed on the building. The young man was very glad to meet none of them, and at once slipped unnoticed through the door on the right, and up the staircase. It was a back staircase, dark and narrow, but he was familiar with it already, and knew his way, and he liked all these surroundings: in such darkness even the most inquisitive eyes were not to be dreaded. ‘If I am so scared now, what would it be if it somehow came to pass that I were really going to do it?’ he could not help asking himself as he reached the fourth storey. There his progress was barred by some porters who were engaged in moving furniture out of a flat. He knew that the flat had been occupied by a German clerk in the civil service, and his family. This German was moving out then, and so the fourth floor on this staircase would be untenanted except by the old woman. ‘That’s a good 12 of 967 Crime and Punishment thing anyway,’ he thought to himself, as he rang the bell of the old woman’s flat. The bell gave a faint tinkle as though it were made of tin and not of copper. The little flats in such houses always have bells that ring like that. He had forgotten the note of that bell, and now its peculiar tinkle seemed to remind him of something and to bring it clearly before him…. He started, his nerves were terribly overstrained by now. In a little while, the door was opened a tiny crack: the old woman eyed her visitor with evident distrust through the crack, and nothing could be seen but her little eyes, glittering in the darkness. But, seeing a number of people on the landing, she grew bolder, and opened the door wide. The young man stepped into the dark entry, which was partitioned off from the tiny kitchen. The old woman stood facing him in silence and looking inquiringly at him. She was a diminutive, withered up old woman of sixty, with sharp malignant eyes and a sharp little nose. Her colourless, somewhat grizzled hair was thickly smeared with oil, and she wore no kerchief over it. Round her thin long neck, which looked like a hen’s leg, was knotted some sort of flannel rag, and, in spite of the heat, there hung flapping on her shoulders, a mangy fur cape, yellow with age. The old woman coughed and groaned at every instant. The 13 of 967 Crime and Punishment young man must have looked at her with a rather peculiar expression, for a gleam of mistrust came into her eyes again. ‘Raskolnikov, a student, I came here a month ago,’ the young man made haste to mutter, with a half bow, remembering that he ought to be more polite. ‘I remember, my good sir, I remember quite well your coming here,’ the old woman said distinctly, still keeping her inquiring eyes on his face. ‘And here … I am again on the same errand,’ Raskolnikov continued, a little disconcerted and surprised at the old woman’s mistrust. ‘Perhaps she is always like that though, only I did not notice it the other time,’ he thought with an uneasy feeling. The old woman paused, as though hesitating; then stepped on one side, and pointing to the door of the room, she said, letting her visitor pass in front of her: ‘Step in, my good sir.’ The little room into which the young man walked, with yellow paper on the walls, geraniums and muslin curtains in the windows, was brightly lighted up at that moment by the setting sun. ‘So the sun will shine like this then too!’ flashed as it were by chance through Raskolnikov’s mind, and with a 14 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. rapid glance he scanned everything in the room, trying as far as possible to notice and remember its arrangement. But there was nothing special in the room. The furniture, all very old and of yellow wood, consisted of a sofa with a huge bent wooden back, an oval table in front of the sofa, a dressing-table with a looking-glass fixed on it between the windows, chairs along the walls and two or three halfpenny prints in yellow frames, representing German damsels with birds in their hands—that was all. In the corner a light was burning before a small ikon. Everything was very clean; the floor and the furniture were brightly polished; everything shone. ‘Lizaveta’s work,’ thought the young man. There was not a speck of dust to be seen in the whole flat. ‘It’s in the houses of spiteful old widows that one finds such cleanliness,’ Raskolnikov thought again, and he stole a curious glance at the cotton curtain over the door leading into another tiny room, in which stood the old woman’s bed and chest of drawers and into which he had never looked before. These two rooms made up the whole flat. ‘What do you want?’ the old woman said severely, coming into the room and, as before, standing in front of him so as to look him straight in the face. 15 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘I’ve brought something to pawn here,’ and he drew out of his pocket an old-fashioned flat silver watch, on the back of which was engraved a globe; the chain was of steel. ‘But the time is up for your last pledge. The month was up the day before yesterday.’ ‘I will bring you the interest for another month; wait a little.’ ‘But that’s for me to do as I please, my good sir, to wait or to sell your pledge at once.’ ‘How much will you give me for the watch, Alyona Ivanovna?’ ‘You come with such trifles, my good sir, it’s scarcely worth anything. I gave you two roubles last time for your ring and one could buy it quite new at a jeweler’s for a rouble and a half.’ ‘Give me four roubles for it, I shall redeem it, it was my father’s. I shall be getting some money soon.’ ‘A rouble and a half, and interest in advance, if you like!’ ‘A rouble and a half!’ cried the young man. ‘Please yourself’—and the old woman handed him back the watch. The young man took it, and was so angry that he was on the point of going away; but checked himself at 16 of 967 Crime and Punishment once, remembering that there was nowhere else he could go, and that he had had another object also in coming. ‘Hand it over,’ he said roughly. The old woman fumbled in her pocket for her keys, and disappeared behind the curtain into the other room. The young man, left standing alone in the middle of the room, listened inquisitively, thinking. He could hear her unlocking the chest of drawers. ‘It must be the top drawer,’ he reflected. ‘So she carries the keys in a pocket on the right. All in one bunch on a steel ring…. And there’s one key there, three times as big as all the others, with deep notches; that can’t be the key of the chest of drawers … then there must be some other chest or strong-box … that’s worth knowing. Strong-boxes always have keys like that … but how degrading it all is.’ The old woman came back. ‘Here, sir: as we say ten copecks the rouble a month, so I must take fifteen copecks from a rouble and a half for the month in advance. But for the two roubles I lent you before, you owe me now twenty copecks on the same reckoning in advance. That makes thirty-five copecks altogether. So I must give you a rouble and fifteen copecks for the watch. Here it is.’ 17 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘What! only a rouble and fifteen copecks now!’ ‘Just so.’ The young man did not dispute it and took the money. He looked at the old woman, and was in no hurry to get away, as though there was still something he wanted to say or to do, but he did not himself quite know what. ‘I may be bringing you something else in a day or two, Alyona Ivanovna —a valuable thing—silver—a cigarette-box, as soon as I get it back from a friend …’ he broke off in confusion. ‘Well, we will talk about it then, sir.’ ‘Good-bye—are you always at home alone, your sister is not here with you?’ He asked her as casually as possible as he went out into the passage. ‘What business is she of yours, my good sir?’ ‘Oh, nothing particular, I simply asked. You are too quick…. Good-day, Alyona Ivanovna.’ Raskolnikov went out in complete confusion. This confusion became more and more intense. As he went down the stairs, he even stopped short, two or three times, as though suddenly struck by some thought. When he was in the street he cried out, ‘Oh, God, how loathsome it all is! and can I, can I possibly…. No, it’s nonsense, it’s rubbish!’ he added resolutely. ‘And how could such an 18 of 967 Crime and Punishment atrocious thing come into my head? What filthy things my heart is capable of. Yes, filthy above all, disgusting, loathsome, loathsome!—and for a whole month I’ve been….’ But no words, no exclamations, could express his agitation. The feeling of intense repulsion, which had begun to oppress and torture his heart while he was on his way to the old woman, had by now reached such a pitch and had taken such a definite form that he did not know what to do with himself to escape from his wretchedness. He walked along the pavement like a drunken man, regardless of the passers-by, and jostling against them, and only came to his senses when he was in the next street. Looking round, he noticed that he was standing close to a tavern which was entered by steps leading from the pavement to the basement. At that instant two drunken men came out at the door, and abusing and supporting one another, they mounted the steps. Without stopping to think, Raskolnikov went down the steps at once. Till that moment he had never been into a tavern, but now he felt giddy and was tormented by a burning thirst. He longed for a drink of cold beer, and attributed his sudden weakness to the want of food. He sat down at a sticky little table in a dark and dirty corner; ordered some beer, 19 of 967 Crime and Punishment and eagerly drank off the first glassful. At once he felt easier; and his thoughts became clear. ‘All that’s nonsense,’ he said hopefully, ‘and there is nothing in it all to worry about! It’s simply physical derangement. Just a glass of beer, a piece of dry bread— and in one moment the brain is stronger, the mind is clearer and the will is firm! Phew, how utterly petty it all is!’ But in spite of this scornful reflection, he was by now looking cheerful as though he were suddenly set free from a terrible burden: and he gazed round in a friendly way at the people in the room. But even at that moment he had a dim foreboding that this happier frame of mind was also not normal. There were few people at the time in the tavern. Besides the two drunken men he had met on the steps, a group consisting of about five men and a girl with a concertina had gone out at the same time. Their departure left the room quiet and rather empty. The persons still in the tavern were a man who appeared to be an artisan, drunk, but not extremely so, sitting before a pot of beer, and his companion, a huge, stout man with a grey beard, in a short full-skirted coat. He was very drunk: and had dropped asleep on the bench; every now and then, he 20 of 967 Crime and Punishment began as though in his sleep, cracking his fingers, with his arms wide apart and the upper part of his body bounding about on the bench, while he hummed some meaningless refrain, trying to recall some such lines as these: His wife a year he fondly loved His wife a—a year he—fondly loved. Or suddenly waking up again: Walking along the crowded row He met the one he used to know. But no one shared his enjoyment: his silent companion looked with positive hostility and mistrust at all these manifestations. There was another man in the room who looked somewhat like a retired government clerk. He was sitting apart, now and then sipping from his pot and looking round at the company. He, too, appeared to be in some agitation. 21 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter II Raskolnikov was not used to crowds, and, as we said before, he avoided society of every sort, more especially of late. But now all at once he felt a desire to be with other people. Something new seemed to be taking place within him, and with it he felt a sort of thirst for company. He was so weary after a whole month of concentrated wretchedness and gloomy excitement that he longed to rest, if only for a moment, in some other world, whatever it might be; and, in spite of the filthiness of the surroundings, he was glad now to stay in the tavern. The master of the establishment was in another room, but he frequently came down some steps into the main room, his jaunty, tarred boots with red turn-over tops coming into view each time before the rest of his person. He wore a full coat and a horribly greasy black satin waistcoat, with no cravat, and his whole face seemed smeared with oil like an iron lock. At the counter stood a boy of about fourteen, and there was another boy somewhat younger who handed whatever was wanted. On the counter lay some sliced cucumber, some pieces of dried black bread, and some fish, chopped up small, all 22 of 967 Crime and Punishment smelling very bad. It was insufferably close, and so heavy with the fumes of spirits that five minutes in such an atmosphere might well make a man drunk. There are chance meetings with strangers that interest us from the first moment, before a word is spoken. Such was the impression made on Raskolnikov by the person sitting a little distance from him, who looked like a retired clerk. The young man often recalled this impression afterwards, and even ascribed it to presentiment. He looked repeatedly at the clerk, partly no doubt because the latter was staring persistently at him, obviously anxious to enter into conversation. At the other persons in the room, including the tavern- keeper, the clerk looked as though he were used to their company, and weary of it, showing a shade of condescending contempt for them as persons of station and culture inferior to his own, with whom it would be useless for him to converse. He was a man over fifty, bald and grizzled, of medium height, and stoutly built. His face, bloated from continual drinking, was of a yellow, even greenish, tinge, with swollen eyelids out of which keen reddish eyes gleamed like little chinks. But there was something very strange in him; there was a light in his eyes as though of intense feeling—perhaps there were even thought and intelligence, but at the same time 23 of 967 Crime and Punishment there was a gleam of something like madness. He was wearing an old and hopelessly ragged black dress coat, with all its buttons missing except one, and that one he had buttoned, evidently clinging to this last trace of respectability. A crumpled shirt front, covered with spots and stains, protruded from his canvas waistcoat. Like a clerk, he wore no beard, nor moustache, but had been so long unshaven that his chin looked like a stiff greyish brush. And there was something respectable and like an official about his manner too. But he was restless; he ruffled up his hair and from time to time let his head drop into his hands dejectedly resting his ragged elbows on the stained and sticky table. At last he looked straight at Raskolnikov, and said loudly and resolutely: ‘May I venture, honoured sir, to engage you in polite conversation? Forasmuch as, though your exterior would not command respect, my experience admonishes me that you are a man of education and not accustomed to drinking. I have always respected education when in conjunction with genuine sentiments, and I am besides a titular counsellor in rank. Marmeladov—such is my name; titular counsellor. I make bold to inquire—have you been in the service?’ 24 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘No, I am studying,’ answered the young man, somewhat surprised at the grandiloquent style of the speaker and also at being so directly addressed. In spite of the momentary desire he had just been feeling for company of any sort, on being actually spoken to he felt immediately his habitual irritable and uneasy aversion for any stranger who approached or attempted to approach him. ‘A student then, or formerly a student,’ cried the clerk. ‘Just what I thought! I’m a man of experience, immense experience, sir,’ and he tapped his forehead with his fingers in self-approval. ‘You’ve been a student or have attended some learned institution! … But allow me….’ He got up, staggered, took up his jug and glass, and sat down beside the young man, facing him a little sideways. He was drunk, but spoke fluently and boldly, only occasionally losing the thread of his sentences and drawling his words. He pounced upon Raskolnikov as greedily as though he too had not spoken to a soul for a month. ‘Honoured sir,’ he began almost with solemnity, ‘poverty is not a vice, that’s a true saying. Yet I know too that drunkenness is not a virtue, and that that’s even truer. But beggary, honoured sir, beggary is a vice. In poverty you may still retain your innate nobility of soul, but in 25 of 967 Crime and Punishment beggary—never—no one. For beggary a man is not chased out of human society with a stick, he is swept out with a broom, so as to make it as humiliating as possible; and quite right, too, forasmuch as in beggary I am ready to be the first to humiliate myself. Hence the pot-house! Honoured sir, a month ago Mr. Lebeziatnikov gave my wife a beating, and my wife is a very different matter from me! Do you understand? Allow me to ask you another question out of simple curiosity: have you ever spent a night on a hay barge, on the Neva?’ ‘No, I have not happened to,’ answered Raskolnikov. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Well, I’ve just come from one and it’s the fifth night I’ve slept so….’ He filled his glass, emptied it and paused. Bits of hay were in fact clinging to his clothes and sticking to his hair. It seemed quite probable that he had not undressed or washed for the last five days. His hands, particularly, were filthy. They were fat and red, with black nails. His conversation seemed to excite a general though languid interest. The boys at the counter fell to sniggering. The innkeeper came down from the upper room, apparently on purpose to listen to the ‘funny fellow’ and sat down at a little distance, yawning lazily, but with 26 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. dignity. Evidently Marmeladov was a familiar figure here, and he had most likely acquired his weakness for high-flown speeches from the habit of frequently entering into conversation with strangers of all sorts in the tavern. This habit develops into a necessity in some drunkards, and especially in those who are looked after sharply and kept in order at home. Hence in the company of other drinkers they try to justify themselves and even if possible obtain consideration. ‘Funny fellow!’ pronounced the innkeeper. ‘And why don’t you work, why aren’t you at your duty, if you are in the service?’ ‘Why am I not at my duty, honoured sir,’ Marmeladov went on, addressing himself exclusively to Raskolnikov, as though it had been he who put that question to him. ‘Why am I not at my duty? Does not my heart ache to think what a useless worm I am? A month ago when Mr. Lebeziatnikov beat my wife with his own hands, and I lay drunk, didn’t I suffer? Excuse me, young man, has it ever happened to you … hm … well, to petition hopelessly for a loan?’ ‘Yes, it has. But what do you mean by hopelessly?’ ‘Hopelessly in the fullest sense, when you know beforehand that you will get nothing by it. You know, for 27 of 967 Crime and Punishment instance, beforehand with positive certainty that this man, this most reputable and exemplary citizen, will on no consideration give you money; and indeed I ask you why should he? For he knows of course that I shan’t pay it back. From compassion? But Mr. Lebeziatnikov who keeps up with modern ideas explained the other day that compassion is forbidden nowadays by science itself, and that that’s what is done now in England, where there is political economy. Why, I ask you, should he give it to me? And yet though I know beforehand that he won’t, I set off to him and …’ ‘Why do you go?’ put in Raskolnikov. ‘Well, when one has no one, nowhere else one can go! For every man must have somewhere to go. Since there are times when one absolutely must go somewhere! When my own daughter first went out with a yellow ticket, then I had to go … (for my daughter has a yellow passport),’ he added in parenthesis, looking with a certain uneasiness at the young man. ‘No matter, sir, no matter!’ he went on hurriedly and with apparent composure when both the boys at the counter guffawed and even the innkeeper smiled—‘No matter, I am not confounded by the wagging of their heads; for everyone knows everything about it already, and all that is secret is made open. And I accept it 28 of 967 Crime and Punishment all, not with contempt, but with humility. So be it! So be it! ‘Behold the man!’ Excuse me, young man, can you…. No, to put it more strongly and more distinctly; not can you but dare you, looking upon me, assert that I am not a pig?’ The young man did not answer a word. ‘Well,’ the orator began again stolidly and with even increased dignity, after waiting for the laughter in the room to subside. ‘Well, so be it, I am a pig, but she is a lady! I have the semblance of a beast, but Katerina Ivanovna, my spouse, is a person of education and an officer’s daughter. Granted, granted, I am a scoundrel, but she is a woman of a noble heart, full of sentiments, refined by education. And yet … oh, if only she felt for me! Honoured sir, honoured sir, you know every man ought to have at least one place where people feel for him! But Katerina Ivanovna, though she is magnanimous, she is unjust…. And yet, although I realise that when she pulls my hair she only does it out of pity—for I repeat without being ashamed, she pulls my hair, young man,’ he declared with redoubled dignity, hearing the sniggering again— ‘but, my God, if she would but once…. But no, no! It’s all in vain and it’s no use talking! No use talking! For more than once, my wish did come true and more than once 29 of 967 Crime and Punishment she has felt for me but … such is my fate and I am a beast by nature!’ ‘Rather!’ assented the innkeeper yawning. Marmeladov struck his fist resolutely on the table. ‘Such is my fate! Do you know, sir, do you know, I have sold her very stockings for drink? Not her shoes— that would be more or less in the order of things, but her stockings, her stockings I have sold for drink! Her mohair shawl I sold for drink, a present to her long ago, her own property, not mine; and we live in a cold room and she caught cold this winter and has begun coughing and spitting blood too. We have three little children and Katerina Ivanovna is at work from morning till night; she is scrubbing and cleaning and washing the children, for she’s been used to cleanliness from a child. But her chest is weak and she has a tendency to consumption and I feel it! Do you suppose I don’t feel it? And the more I drink the more I feel it. That’s why I drink too. I try to find sympathy and feeling in drink…. I drink so that I may suffer twice as much!’ And as though in despair he laid his head down on the table. ‘Young man,’ he went on, raising his head again, ‘in your face I seem to read some trouble of mind. When you came in I read it, and that was why I addressed you at 30 of 967 Crime and Punishment once. For in unfolding to you the story of my life, I do not wish to make myself a laughing-stock before these idle listeners, who indeed know all about it already, but I am looking for a man of feeling and education. Know then that my wife was educated in a high-class school for the daughters of noblemen, and on leaving she danced the shawl dance before the governor and other personages for which she was presented with a gold medal and a certificate of merit. The medal … well, the medal of course was sold—long ago, hm … but the certificate of merit is in her trunk still and not long ago she showed it to our landlady. And although she is most continually on bad terms with the landlady, yet she wanted to tell someone or other of her past honours and of the happy days that are gone. I don’t condemn her for it, I don’t blame her, for the one thing left her is recollection of the past, and all the rest is dust and ashes. Yes, yes, she is a lady of spirit, proud and determined. She scrubs the floors herself and has nothing but black bread to eat, but won’t allow herself to be treated with disrespect. That’s why she would not overlook Mr. Lebeziatnikov’s rudeness to her, and so when he gave her a beating for it, she took to her bed more from the hurt to her feelings than from the blows. She was a widow when I married her, with three 31 of 967 Crime and Punishment children, one smaller than the other. She married her first husband, an infantry officer, for love, and ran away with him from her father’s house. She was exceedingly fond of her husband; but he gave way to cards, got into trouble and with that he died. He used to beat her at the end: and although she paid him back, of which I have authentic documentary evidence, to this day she speaks of him with tears and she throws him up to me; and I am glad, I am glad that, though only in imagination, she should think of herself as having once been happy…. And she was left at his death with three children in a wild and remote district where I happened to be at the time; and she was left in such hopeless poverty that, although I have seen many ups and downs of all sort, I don’t feel equal to describing it even. Her relations had all thrown her off. And she was proud, too, excessively proud…. And then, honoured sir, and then, I, being at the time a widower, with a daughter of fourteen left me by my first wife, offered her my hand, for I could not bear the sight of such suffering. You can judge the extremity of her calamities, that she, a woman of education and culture and distinguished family, should have consented to be my wife. But she did! Weeping and sobbing and wringing her hands, she married me! For she had nowhere to turn! Do you understand, sir, do you 32 of 967 Crime and Punishment understand what it means when you have absolutely nowhere to turn? No, that you don’t understand yet…. And for a whole year, I performed my duties conscientiously and faithfully, and did not touch this’ (he tapped the jug with his finger), ‘for I have feelings. But even so, I could not please her; and then I lost my place too, and that through no fault of mine but through changes in the office; and then I did touch it! … It will be a year and a half ago soon since we found ourselves at last after many wanderings and numerous calamities in this magnificent capital, adorned with innumerable monuments. Here I obtained a situation…. I obtained it and I lost it again. Do you understand? This time it was through my own fault I lost it: for my weakness had come out…. We have now part of a room at Amalia Fyodorovna Lippevechsel’s; and what we live upon and what we pay our rent with, I could not say. There are a lot of people living there besides ourselves. Dirt and disorder, a perfect Bedlam … hm … yes … And meanwhile my daughter by my first wife has grown up; and what my daughter has had to put up with from her step-mother whilst she was growing up, I won’t speak of. For, though Katerina Ivanovna is full of generous feelings, she is a spirited lady, irritable and short—tempered…. Yes. 33 of 967 Crime and Punishment But it’s no use going over that! Sonia, as you may well fancy, has had no education. I did make an effort four years ago to give her a course of geography and universal history, but as I was not very well up in those subjects myself and we had no suitable books, and what books we had … hm, anyway we have not even those now, so all our instruction came to an end. We stopped at Cyrus of Persia. Since she has attained years of maturity, she has read other books of romantic tendency and of late she had read with great interest a book she got through Mr. Lebeziatnikov, Lewes’ Physiology—do you know it?— and even recounted extracts from it to us: and that’s the whole of her education. And now may I venture to address you, honoured sir, on my own account with a private question. Do you suppose that a respectable poor girl can earn much by honest work? Not fifteen farthings a day can she earn, if she is respectable and has no special talent and that without putting her work down for an instant! And what’s more, Ivan Ivanitch Klopstock the civil counsellor—have you heard of him?—has not to this day paid her for the half-dozen linen shirts she made him and drove her roughly away, stamping and reviling her, on the pretext that the shirt collars were not made like the pattern and were put in askew. And there are the little 34 of 967 Crime and Punishment ones hungry…. And Katerina Ivanovna walking up and down and wringing her hands, her cheeks flushed red, as they always are in that disease: ‘Here you live with us,’ says she, ‘you eat and drink and are kept warm and you do nothing to help.’ And much she gets to eat and drink when there is not a crust for the little ones for three days! I was lying at the time … well, what of it! I was lying drunk and I heard my Sonia speaking (she is a gentle creature with a soft little voice … fair hair and such a pale, thin little face). She said: ‘Katerina Ivanovna, am I really to do a thing like that?’ And Darya Frantsovna, a woman of evil character and very well known to the police, had two or three times tried to get at her through the landlady. ‘And why not?’ said Katerina Ivanovna with a jeer, ‘you are something mighty precious to be so careful of!’ But don’t blame her, don’t blame her, honoured sir, don’t blame her! She was not herself when she spoke, but driven to distraction by her illness and the crying of the hungry children; and it was said more to wound her than anything else…. For that’s Katerina Ivanovna’s character, and when children cry, even from hunger, she falls to beating them at once. At six o’clock I saw Sonia get up, put on her kerchief and her cape, and go out of the room and about nine o’clock she came back. She walked straight up to 35 of 967 Crime and Punishment Katerina Ivanovna and she laid thirty roubles on the table before her in silence. She did not utter a word, she did not even look at her, she simply picked up our big green drap de dames shawl (we have a shawl, made of drap de dames ), put it over her head and face and lay down on the bed with her face to the wall; only her little shoulders and her body kept shuddering…. And I went on lying there, just as before…. And then I saw, young man, I saw Katerina Ivanovna, in the same silence go up to Sonia’s little bed; she was on her knees all the evening kissing Sonia’s feet, and would not get up, and then they both fell asleep in each other’s arms … together, together … yes … and I … lay drunk.’ Marmeladov stopped short, as though his voice had failed him. Then he hurriedly filled his glass, drank, and cleared his throat. ‘Since then, sir,’ he went on after a brief pause—‘Since then, owing to an unfortunate occurrence and through information given by evil- intentioned persons—in all which Darya Frantsovna took a leading part on the pretext that she had been treated with want of respect—since then my daughter Sofya Semyonovna has been forced to take a yellow ticket, and owing to that she is unable to go on living with us. For our landlady, Amalia Fyodorovna 36 of 967 Crime and Punishment would not hear of it (though she had backed up Darya Frantsovna before) and Mr. Lebeziatnikov too … hm…. All the trouble between him and Katerina Ivanovna was on Sonia’s account. At first he was for making up to Sonia himself and then all of a sudden he stood on his dignity: ‘how,’ said he, ‘can a highly educated man like me live in the same rooms with a girl like that?’ And Katerina Ivanovna would not let it pass, she stood up for her … and so that’s how it happened. And Sonia comes to us now, mostly after dark; she comforts Katerina Ivanovna and gives her all she can…. She has a room at the Kapernaumovs’ the tailors, she lodges with them; Kapernaumov is a lame man with a cleft palate and all of his numerous family have cleft palates too. And his wife, too, has a cleft palate. They all live in one room, but Sonia has her own, partitioned off…. Hm … yes … very poor people and all with cleft palates … yes. Then I got up in the morning, and put on my rags, lifted up my hands to heaven and set off to his excellency Ivan Afanasyvitch. His excellency Ivan Afanasyvitch, do you know him? No? Well, then, it’s a man of God you don’t know. He is wax … wax before the face of the Lord; even as wax melteth! … His eyes were dim when he heard my story. ‘Marmeladov, once already you have deceived my 37 of 967 Crime and Punishment expectations … I’ll take you once more on my own responsibility’—that’s what he said, ‘remember,’ he said, ‘and now you can go.’ I kissed the dust at his feet—in thought only, for in reality he would not have allowed me to do it, being a statesman and a man of modern political and enlightened ideas. I returned home, and when I announced that I’d been taken back into the service and should receive a salary, heavens, what a to-do there was …!’ Marmeladov stopped again in violent excitement. At that moment a whole party of revellers already drunk came in from the street, and the sounds of a hired concertina and the cracked piping voice of a child of seven singing ‘The Hamlet’ were heard in the entry. The room was filled with noise. The tavern-keeper and the boys were busy with the new-comers. Marmeladov paying no attention to the new arrivals continued his story. He appeared by now to be extremely weak, but as he became more and more drunk, he became more and more talkative. The recollection of his recent success in getting the situation seemed to revive him, and was positively reflected in a sort of radiance on his face. Raskolnikov listened attentively. 38 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. ‘That was five weeks ago, sir. Yes…. As soon as Katerina Ivanovna and Sonia heard of it, mercy on us, it was as though I stepped into the kingdom of Heaven. It used to be: you can lie like a beast, nothing but abuse. Now they were walking on tiptoe, hushing the children. ‘Semyon Zaharovitch is tired with his work at the office, he is resting, shh!’ They made me coffee before I went to work and boiled cream for me! They began to get real cream for me, do you hear that? And how they managed to get together the money for a decent outfit— eleven roubles, fifty copecks, I can’t guess. Boots, cotton shirt-fronts—most magnificent, a uniform, they got up all in splendid style, for eleven roubles and a half. The first morning I came back from the office I found Katerina Ivanovna had cooked two courses for dinner—soup and salt meat with horse radish—which we had never dreamed of till then. She had not any dresses … none at all, but she got herself up as though she were going on a visit; and not that she’d anything to do it with, she smartened herself up with nothing at all, she’d done her hair nicely, put on a clean collar of some sort, cuffs, and there she was, quite a different person, she was younger and better looking. Sonia, my little darling, had only helped with money ‘for the time,’ she said, ‘it won’t do for me to come and see 39 of 967 Crime and Punishment you too often. After dark maybe when no one can see.’ Do you hear, do you hear? I lay down for a nap after dinner and what do you think: though Katerina Ivanovna had quarrelled to the last degree with our landlady Amalia Fyodorovna only a week before, she could not resist then asking her in to coffee. For two hours they were sitting, whispering together. ‘Semyon Zaharovitch is in the service again, now, and receiving a salary,’ says she, ‘and he went himself to his excellency and his excellency himself came out to him, made all the others wait and led Semyon Zaharovitch by the hand before everybody into his study.’ Do you hear, do you hear? ‘To be sure,’ says he, ‘Semyon Zaharovitch, remembering your past services,’ says he, ‘and in spite of your propensity to that foolish weakness, since you promise now and since moreover we’ve got on badly without you,’ (do you hear, do you hear;) ‘and so,’ says he, ‘I rely now on your word as a gentleman.’ And all that, let me tell you, she has simply made up for herself, and not simply out of wantonness, for the sake of bragging; no, she believes it all herself, she amuses herself with her own fancies, upon my word she does! And I don’t blame her for it, no, I don’t blame her! … Six days ago when I brought her my first earnings in full—twenty-three roubles forty copecks 40 of 967 Crime and Punishment altogether—she called me her poppet: ‘poppet,’ said she, ‘my little poppet.’ And when we were by ourselves, you understand? You would not think me a beauty, you would not think much of me as a husband, would you? … Well, she pinched my cheek, ‘my little poppet,’ said she.’ Marmeladov broke off, tried to smile, but suddenly his chin began to twitch. He controlled himself however. The tavern, the degraded appearance of the man, the five nights in the hay barge, and the pot of spirits, and yet this poignant love for his wife and children bewildered his listener. Raskolnikov listened intently but with a sick sensation. He felt vexed that he had come here. ‘Honoured sir, honoured sir,’ cried Marmeladov recovering himself— ‘Oh, sir, perhaps all this seems a laughing matter to you, as it does to others, and perhaps I am only worrying you with the stupidity of all the trivial details of my home life, but it is not a laughing matter to me. For I can feel it all…. And the whole of that heavenly day of my life and the whole of that evening I passed in fleeting dreams of how I would arrange it all, and how I would dress all the children, and how I should give her rest, and how I should rescue my own daughter from dishonour and restore her to the bosom of her family…. And a great deal more…. Quite excusable, sir. Well, then, 41 of 967 Crime and Punishment sir’ (Marmeladov suddenly gave a sort of start, raised his head and gazed intently at his listener) ‘well, on the very next day after all those dreams, that is to say, exactly five days ago, in the evening, by a cunning trick, like a thief in the night, I stole from Katerina Ivanovna the key of her box, took out what was left of my earnings, how much it was I have forgotten, and now look at me, all of you! It’s the fifth day since I left home, and they are looking for me there and it’s the end of my employment, and my uniform is lying in a tavern on the Egyptian bridge. I exchanged it for the garments I have on … and it’s the end of everything!’ Marmeladov struck his forehead with his fist, clenched his teeth, closed his eyes and leaned heavily with his elbow on the table. But a minute later his face suddenly changed and with a certain assumed slyness and affectation of bravado, he glanced at Raskolnikov, laughed and said: ‘This morning I went to see Sonia, I went to ask her for a pick-me-up! He-he-he!’ ‘You don’t say she gave it to you?’ cried one of the new-comers; he shouted the words and went off into a guffaw. ‘This very quart was bought with her money,’ Marmeladov declared, addressing himself exclusively to 42 of 967 Crime and Punishment Raskolnikov. ‘Thirty copecks she gave me with her own hands, her last, all she had, as I saw…. She said nothing, she only looked at me without a word…. Not on earth, but up yonder … they grieve over men, they weep, but they don’t blame them, they don’t blame them! But it hurts more, it hurts more when they don’t blame! Thirty copecks yes! And maybe she needs them now, eh? What do you think, my dear sir? For now she’s got to keep up her appearance. It costs money, that smartness, that special smartness, you know? Do you understand? And there’s pomatum, too, you see, she must have things; petticoats, starched ones, shoes, too, real jaunty ones to show off her foot when she has to step over a puddle. Do you understand, sir, do you understand what all that smartness means? And here I, her own father, here I took thirty copecks of that money for a drink! And I am drinking it! And I have already drunk it! Come, who will have pity on a man like me, eh? Are you sorry for me, sir, or not? Tell me, sir, are you sorry or not? He-he-he!’ He would have filled his glass, but there was no drink left. The pot was empty. ‘What are you to be pitied for?’ shouted the tavern-keeper who was again near them. 43 of 967 Crime and Punishment Shouts of laughter and even oaths followed. The laughter and the oaths came from those who were listening and also from those who had heard nothing but were simply looking at the figure of the discharged government clerk. ‘To be pitied! Why am I to be pitied?’ Marmeladov suddenly declaimed, standing up with his arm outstretched, as though he had been only waiting for that question. ‘Why am I to be pitied, you say? Yes! there’s nothing to pity me for! I ought to be crucified, crucified on a cross, not pitied! Crucify me, oh judge, crucify me but pity me! And then I will go of myself to be crucified, for it’s not merry-making I seek but tears and tribulation! … Do you suppose, you that sell, that this pint of yours has been sweet to me? It was tribulation I sought at the bottom of it, tears and tribulation, and have found it, and I have tasted it; but He will pity us Who has had pity on all men, Who has understood all men and all things, He is the One, He too is the judge. He will come in that day and He will ask: ‘Where is the daughter who gave herself for her cross, consumptive step-mother and for the little children of another? Where is the daughter who had pity upon the filthy drunkard, her earthly father, undismayed 44 of 967 Crime and Punishment by his beastliness?’ And He will say, ‘Come to me! I have already forgiven thee once…. I have forgiven thee once…. Thy sins which are many are forgiven thee for thou hast loved much….’ And he will forgive my Sonia, He will forgive, I know it … I felt it in my heart when I was with her just now! And He will judge and will forgive all, the good and the evil, the wise and the meek…. And when He has done with all of them, then He will summon us. ‘You too come forth,’ He will say, ‘Come forth ye drunkards, come forth, ye weak ones, come forth, ye children of shame!’ And we shall all come forth, without shame and shall stand before him. And He will say unto us, ‘Ye are swine, made in the Image of the Beast and with his mark; but come ye also!’ And the wise ones and those of understanding will say, ‘Oh Lord, why dost Thou receive these men?’ And He will say, ‘This is why I receive them, oh ye wise, this is why I receive them, oh ye of understanding, that not one of them believed himself to be worthy of this.’ And He will hold out His hands to us and we shall fall down before him … and we shall weep … and we shall understand all things! Then we shall understand all! … and all will understand, Katerina Ivanovna even … she will understand…. Lord, Thy kingdom come!’ And he sank down on the bench 45 of 967 Crime and Punishment exhausted, and helpless, looking at no one, apparently oblivious of his surroundings and plunged in deep thought. His words had created a certain impression; there was a moment of silence; but soon laughter and oaths were heard again. ‘That’s his notion!’ ‘Talked himself silly!’ ‘A fine clerk he is!’ And so on, and so on. ‘Let us go, sir,’ said Marmeladov all at once, raising his head and addressing Raskolnikov—‘come along with me … Kozel’s house, looking into the yard. I’m going to Katerina Ivanovna—time I did.’ Raskolnikov had for some time been wanting to go and he had meant to help him. Marmeladov was much unsteadier on his legs than in his speech and leaned heavily on the young man. They had two or three hundred paces to go. The drunken man was more and more overcome by dismay and confusion as they drew nearer the house. ‘It’s not Katerina Ivanovna I am afraid of now,’ he muttered in agitation—‘and that she will begin pulling my hair. What does my hair matter! Bother my hair! That’s what I say! Indeed it will be better if she does begin pulling it, that’s not what I am afraid of … it’s her eyes I 46 of 967 Crime and Punishment am afraid of … yes, her eyes … the red on her cheeks, too, frightens me … and her breathing too…. Have you noticed how people in that disease breathe … when they are excited? I am frightened of the children’s crying, too…. For if Sonia has not taken them food … I don’t know what’s happened! I don’t know! But blows I am not afraid of…. Know, sir, that such blows are not a pain to me, but even an enjoyment. In fact I can’t get on without it…. It’s better so. Let her strike me, it relieves her heart … it’s better so … There is the house. The house of Kozel, the cabinet-maker … a German, well-to-do. Lead the way!’ They went in from the yard and up to the fourth storey. The staircase got darker and darker as they went up. It was nearly eleven o’clock and although in summer in Petersburg there is no real night, yet it was quite dark at the top of the stairs. A grimy little door at the very top of the stairs stood ajar. A very poor-looking room about ten paces long was lighted up by a candle-end; the whole of it was visible from the entrance. It was all in disorder, littered up with rags of all sorts, especially children’s garments. Across the furthest corner was stretched a ragged sheet. Behind it probably was the bed. There was nothing in the room 47 of 967 Crime and Punishment except two chairs and a sofa covered with American leather, full of holes, before which stood an old deal kitchen-table, unpainted and uncovered. At the edge of the table stood a smoldering tallow-candle in an iron candlestick. It appeared that the family had a room to themselves, not part of a room, but their room was practically a passage. The door leading to the other rooms, or rather cupboards, into which Amalia Lippevechsel’s flat was divided stood half open, and there was shouting, uproar and laughter within. People seemed to be playing cards and drinking tea there. Words of the most unceremonious kind flew out from time to time. Raskolnikov recognised Katerina Ivanovna at once. She was a rather tall, slim and graceful woman, terribly emaciated, with magnificent dark brown hair and with a hectic flush in her cheeks. She was pacing up and down in her little room, pressing her hands against her chest; her lips were parched and her breathing came in nervous broken gasps. Her eyes glittered as in fever and looked about with a harsh immovable stare. And that consumptive and excited face with the last flickering light of the candle-end playing upon it made a sickening impression. She seemed to Raskolnikov about thirty years old and was certainly a strange wife for Marmeladov…. 48 of 967 Crime and Punishment She had not heard them and did not notice them coming in. She seemed to be lost in thought, hearing and seeing nothing. The room was close, but she had not opened the window; a stench rose from the staircase, but the door on to the stairs was not closed. From the inner rooms clouds of tobacco smoke floated in, she kept coughing, but did not close the door. The youngest child, a girl of six, was asleep, sitting curled up on the floor with her head on the sofa. A boy a year older stood crying and shaking in the corner, probably he had just had a beating. Beside him stood a girl of nine years old, tall and thin, wearing a thin and ragged chemise with an ancient cashmere pelisse flung over her bare shoulders, long outgrown and barely reaching her knees. Her arm, as thin as a stick, was round her brother’s neck. She was trying to comfort him, whispering something to him, and doing all she could to keep him from whimpering again. At the same time her large dark eyes, which looked larger still from the thinness of her frightened face, were watching her mother with alarm. Marmeladov did not enter the door, but dropped on his knees in the very doorway, pushing Raskolnikov in front of him. The woman seeing a stranger stopped indifferently facing him, coming to herself for a moment and apparently wondering what he had come for. But 49 of 967 Crime and Punishment evidently she decided that he was going into the next room, as he had to pass through hers to get there. Taking no further notice of him, she walked towards the outer door to close it and uttered a sudden scream on seeing her husband on his knees in the doorway. ‘Ah!’ she cried out in a frenzy, ‘he has come back! The criminal! the monster! … And where is the money? What’s in your pocket, show me! And your clothes are all different! Where are your clothes? Where is the money! Speak!’ And she fell to searching him. Marmeladov submissively and obediently held up both arms to facilitate the search. Not a farthing was there. ‘Where is the money?’ she cried—‘Mercy on us, can he have drunk it all? There were twelve silver roubles left in the chest!’ and in a fury she seized him by the hair and dragged him into the room. Marmeladov seconded her efforts by meekly crawling along on his knees. ‘And this is a consolation to me! This does not hurt me, but is a positive con-so-la-tion, ho-nou-red sir,’ he called out, shaken to and fro by his hair and even once striking the ground with his forehead. The child asleep on the floor woke up, and began to cry. The boy in the corner losing all control began trembling and screaming and 50 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. rushed to his sister in violent terror, almost in a fit. The eldest girl was shaking like a leaf. ‘He’s drunk it! he’s drunk it all,’ the poor woman screamed in despair —‘and his clothes are gone! And they are hungry, hungry!’—and wringing her hands she pointed to the children. ‘Oh, accursed life! And you, are you not ashamed?’—she pounced all at once upon Raskolnikov— ‘from the tavern! Have you been drinking with him? You have been drinking with him, too! Go away!’ The young man was hastening away without uttering a word. The inner door was thrown wide open and inquisitive faces were peering in at it. Coarse laughing faces with pipes and cigarettes and heads wearing caps thrust themselves in at the doorway. Further in could be seen figures in dressing gowns flung open, in costumes of unseemly scantiness, some of them with cards in their hands. They were particularly diverted, when Marmeladov, dragged about by his hair, shouted that it was a consolation to him. They even began to come into the room; at last a sinister shrill outcry was heard: this came from Amalia Lippevechsel herself pushing her way amongst them and trying to restore order after her own fashion and for the hundredth time to frighten the poor woman by ordering her with coarse abuse to clear out of 51 of 967 Crime and Punishment the room next day. As he went out, Raskolnikov had time to put his hand into his pocket, to snatch up the coppers he had received in exchange for his rouble in the tavern and to lay them unnoticed on the window. Afterwards on the stairs, he changed his mind and would have gone back. ‘What a stupid thing I’ve done,’ he thought to himself, ‘they have Sonia and I want it myself.’ But reflecting that it would be impossible to take it back now and that in any case he would not have taken it, he dismissed it with a wave of his hand and went back to his lodging. ‘Sonia wants pomatum too,’ he said as he walked along the street, and he laughed malignantly—‘such smartness costs money…. Hm! And maybe Sonia herself will be bankrupt to-day, for there is always a risk, hunting big game … digging for gold … then they would all be without a crust to-morrow except for my money. Hurrah for Sonia! What a mine they’ve dug there! And they’re making the most of it! Yes, they are making the most of it! They’ve wept over it and grown used to it. Man grows used to everything, the scoundrel!’ He sank into thought. ‘And what if I am wrong,’ he cried suddenly after a moment’s thought. ‘What if man is not really a scoundrel, man in general, I mean, the whole race of mankind—then 52 of 967 Crime and Punishment all the rest is prejudice, simply artificial terrors and there are no barriers and it’s all as it should be.’ 53 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter III He waked up late next day after a broken sleep. But his sleep had not refreshed him; he waked up bilious, irritable, ill-tempered, and looked with hatred at his room. It was a tiny cupboard of a room about six paces in length. It had a poverty-stricken appearance with its dusty yellow paper peeling off the walls, and it was so low-pitched that a man of more than average height was ill at ease in it and felt every moment that he would knock his head against the ceiling. The furniture was in keeping with the room: there were three old chairs, rather rickety; a painted table in the corner on which lay a few manuscripts and books; the dust that lay thick upon them showed that they had been long untouched. A big clumsy sofa occupied almost the whole of one wall and half the floor space of the room; it was once covered with chintz, but was now in rags and served Raskolnikov as a bed. Often he went to sleep on it, as he was, without undressing, without sheets, wrapped in his old student’s overcoat, with his head on one little pillow, under which he heaped up all the linen he had, clean and dirty, by way of a bolster. A little table stood in front of the sofa. 54 of 967 Crime and Punishment It would have been difficult to sink to a lower ebb of disorder, but to Raskolnikov in his present state of mind this was positively agreeable. He had got completely away from everyone, like a tortoise in its shell, and even the sight of a servant girl who had to wait upon him and looked sometimes into his room made him writhe with nervous irritation. He was in the condition that overtakes some monomaniacs entirely concentrated upon one thing. His landlady had for the last fortnight given up sending him in meals, and he had not yet thought of expostulating with her, though he went without his dinner. Nastasya, the cook and only servant, was rather pleased at the lodger’s mood and had entirely given up sweeping and doing his room, only once a week or so she would stray into his room with a broom. She waked him up that day. ‘Get up, why are you asleep?’ she called to him. ‘It’s past nine, I have brought you some tea; will you have a cup? I should think you’re fairly starving?’ Raskolnikov opened his eyes, started and recognised Nastasya. ‘From the landlady, eh?’ he asked, slowly and with a sickly face sitting up on the sofa. ‘From the landlady, indeed!’ 55 of 967 Crime and Punishment She set before him her own cracked teapot full of weak and stale tea and laid two yellow lumps of sugar by the side of it. ‘Here, Nastasya, take it please,’ he said, fumbling in his pocket (for he had slept in his clothes) and taking out a handful of coppers—‘run and buy me a loaf. And get me a little sausage, the cheapest, at the pork-butcher’s.’ ‘The loaf I’ll fetch you this very minute, but wouldn’t you rather have some cabbage soup instead of sausage? It’s capital soup, yesterday’s. I saved it for you yesterday, but you came in late. It’s fine soup.’ When the soup had been brought, and he had begun upon it, Nastasya sat down beside him on the sofa and began chatting. She was a country peasant-woman and a very talkative one. ‘Praskovya Pavlovna means to complain to the police about you,’ she said. He scowled. ‘To the police? What does she want?’ ‘You don’t pay her money and you won’t turn out of the room. That’s what she wants, to be sure.’ ‘The devil, that’s the last straw,’ he muttered, grinding his teeth, ‘no, that would not suit me … just now. She is a fool,’ he added aloud. ‘I’ll go and talk to her to-day.’ 56 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Fool she is and no mistake, just as I am. But why, if you are so clever, do you lie here like a sack and have nothing to show for it? One time you used to go out, you say, to teach children. But why is it you do nothing now?’ ‘I am doing …’ Raskolnikov began sullenly and reluctantly. ‘What are you doing?’ ‘Work …’ ‘What sort of work?’ ‘I am thinking,’ he answered seriously after a pause. Nastasya was overcome with a fit of laughter. She was given to laughter and when anything amused her, she laughed inaudibly, quivering and shaking all over till she felt ill. ‘And have you made much money by your thinking?’ she managed to articulate at last. ‘One can’t go out to give lessons without boots. And I’m sick of it.’ ‘Don’t quarrel with your bread and butter.’ ‘They pay so little for lessons. What’s the use of a few coppers?’ he answered, reluctantly, as though replying to his own thought. ‘And you want to get a fortune all at once?’ He looked at her strangely. 57 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Yes, I want a fortune,’ he answered firmly, after a brief pause. ‘Don’t be in such a hurry, you quite frighten me! Shall I get you the loaf or not?’ ‘As you please.’ ‘Ah, I forgot! A letter came for you yesterday when you were out.’ ‘A letter? for me! from whom?’ ‘I can’t say. I gave three copecks of my own to the postman for it. Will you pay me back?’ ‘Then bring it to me, for God’s sake, bring it,’ cried Raskolnikov greatly excited—‘good God!’ A minute later the letter was brought him. That was it: from his mother, from the province of R——. He turned pale when he took it. It was a long while since he had received a letter, but another feeling also suddenly stabbed his heart. ‘Nastasya, leave me alone, for goodness’ sake; here are your three copecks, but for goodness’ sake, make haste and go!’ The letter was quivering in his hand; he did not want to open it in her presence; he wanted to be left alone with this letter. When Nastasya had gone out, he lifted it quickly to his lips and kissed it; then he gazed intently at 58 of 967 Crime and Punishment the address, the small, sloping handwriting, so dear and familiar, of the mother who had once taught him to read and write. He delayed; he seemed almost afraid of something. At last he opened it; it was a thick heavy letter, weighing over two ounces, two large sheets of note paper were covered with very small handwriting. "My dear Rodya,’ wrote his mother—‘it’s two months since I last had a talk with you by letter which has distressed me and even kept me awake at night, thinking. But I am sure you will not blame me for my inevitable silence. You know how I love you; you are all we have to look to, Dounia and I, you are our all, our one hope, our one stay. What a grief it was to me when I heard that you had given up the university some months ago, for want of means to keep yourself and that you had lost your lessons and your other work! How could I help you out of my hundred and twenty roubles a year pension? The fifteen roubles I sent you four months ago I borrowed, as you know, on security of my pension, from Vassily Ivanovitch Vahrushin a merchant of this town. He is a kind- hearted man and was a friend of your 59 of 967 Crime and Punishment father’s too. But having given him the right to receive the pension, I had to wait till the debt was paid off and that is only just done, so that I’ve been unable to send you anything all this time. But now, thank God, I believe I shall be able to send you something more and in fact we may congratulate ourselves on our good fortune now, of which I hasten to inform you. In the first place, would you have guessed, dear Rodya, that your sister has been living with me for the last six weeks and we shall not be separated in the future. Thank God, her sufferings are over, but I will tell you everything in order, so that you may know just how everything has happened and all that we have hitherto concealed from you. When you wrote to me two months ago that you had heard that Dounia had a great deal to put up with in the Svidrigraïlovs’ house, when you wrote that and asked me to tell you all about it—what could I write in answer to you? If I had written the whole truth to you, I dare say you would have thrown up everything and have come to us, even if you had to walk all the way, for I know your character and your feelings, and you would not let your sister be insulted. I was in despair myself, but 60 of 967 Crime and Punishment what could I do? And, besides, I did not know the whole truth myself then. What made it all so difficult was that Dounia received a hundred roubles in advance when she took the place as governess in their family, on condition of part of her salary being deducted every month, and so it was impossible to throw up the situation without repaying the debt. This sum (now I can explain it all to you, my precious Rodya) she took chiefly in order to send you sixty roubles, which you needed so terribly then and which you received from us last year. We deceived you then, writing that this money came from Dounia’s savings, but that was not so, and now I tell you all about it, because, thank God, things have suddenly changed for the better, and that you may know how Dounia loves you and what a heart she has. At first indeed Mr. Svidrigaïlov treated her very rudely and used to make disrespectful and jeering remarks at table…. But I don’t want to go into all those painful details, so as not to worry you for nothing when it is now all over. In short, in spite of the kind and generous behaviour of Marfa Petrovna, Mr. Svidrigaïlov’s wife, and all the rest of the household, Dounia had a very hard time, 61 of 967 Crime and Punishment especially when Mr. Svidrigaïlov, relapsing into his old regimental habits, was under the influence of Bacchus. And how do you think it was all explained later on? Would you believe that the crazy fellow had conceived a passion for Dounia from the beginning, but had concealed it under a show of rudeness and contempt. Possibly he was ashamed and horrified himself at his own flighty hopes, considering his years and his being the father of a family; and that made him angry with Dounia. And possibly, too, he hoped by his rude and sneering behaviour to hide the truth from others. But at last he lost all control and had the face to make Dounia an open and shameful proposal, promising her all sorts of inducements and offering, besides, to throw up everything and take her to another estate of his, or even abroad. You can imagine all she went through! To leave her situation at once was impossible not only on account of the money debt, but also to spare the feelings of Marfa Petrovna, whose suspicions would have been aroused: and then Dounia would have been the cause of a rupture in the family. And it would have meant a terrible scandal for Dounia too; that would have been inevitable. There 62 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. were various other reasons owing to which Dounia could not hope to escape from that awful house for another six weeks. You know Dounia, of course; you know how clever she is and what a strong will she has. Dounia can endure a great deal and even in the most difficult cases she has the fortitude to maintain her firmness. She did not even write to me about everything for fear of upsetting me, although we were constantly in communication. It all ended very unexpectedly. Marfa Petrovna accidentally overheard her husband imploring Dounia in the garden, and, putting quite a wrong interpretation on the position, threw the blame upon her, believing her to be the cause of it all. An awful scene took place between them on the spot in the garden; Marfa Petrovna went so far as to strike Dounia, refused to hear anything and was shouting at her for a whole hour and then gave orders that Dounia should be packed off at once to me in a plain peasant’s cart, into which they flung all her things, her linen and her clothes, all pell-mell, without folding it up and packing it. And a heavy shower of rain came on, too, and Dounia, insulted and put to shame, had to drive with a peasant in an open cart all the 63 of 967 Crime and Punishment seventeen versts into town. Only think now what answer could I have sent to the letter I received from you two months ago and what could I have written? I was in despair; I dared not write to you the truth because you would have been very unhappy, mortified and indignant, and yet what could you do? You could only perhaps ruin yourself, and, besides, Dounia would not allow it; and fill up my letter with trifles when my heart was so full of sorrow, I could not. For a whole month the town was full of gossip about this scandal, and it came to such a pass that Dounia and I dared not even go to church on account of the contemptuous looks, whispers, and even remarks made aloud about us. All our acquaintances avoided us, nobody even bowed to us in the street, and I learnt that some shopmen and clerks were intending to insult us in a shameful way, smearing the gates of our house with pitch, so that the landlord began to tell us we must leave. All this was set going by Marfa Petrovna who managed to slander Dounia and throw dirt at her in every family. She knows everyone in the neighbourhood, and that month she was continually coming into the town, and as she is rather talkative 64 of 967 Crime and Punishment and fond of gossiping about her family affairs and particularly of complaining to all and each of her husband—which is not at all right —so in a short time she had spread her story not only in the town, but over the whole surrounding district. It made me ill, but Dounia bore it better than I did, and if only you could have seen how she endured it all and tried to comfort me and cheer me up! She is an angel! But by God’s mercy, our sufferings were cut short: Mr. Svidrigaïlov returned to his senses and repented and, probably feeling sorry for Dounia, he laid before Marfa Petrovna a complete and unmistakable proof of Dounia’s innocence, in the form of a letter Dounia had been forced to write and give to him, before Marfa Petrovna came upon them in the garden. This letter, which remained in Mr. Svidrigaïlov’s hands after her departure, she had written to refuse personal explanations and secret interviews, for which he was entreating her. In that letter she reproached him with great heat and indignation for the baseness of his behaviour in regard to Marfa Petrovna, reminding him that he was the father and head of a family and telling him how infamous it was of him to torment and 65 of 967 Crime and Punishment make unhappy a defenceless girl, unhappy enough already. Indeed, dear Rodya, the letter was so nobly and touchingly written that I sobbed when I read it and to this day I cannot read it without tears. Moreover, the evidence of the servants, too, cleared Dounia’s reputation; they had seen and known a great deal more than Mr. Svidrigaïlov had himself supposed —as indeed is always the case with servants. Marfa Petrovna was completely taken aback, and ‘again crushed’ as she said herself to us, but she was completely convinced of Dounia’s innocence. The very next day, being Sunday, she went straight to the Cathedral, knelt down and prayed with tears to Our Lady to give her strength to bear this new trial and to do her duty. Then she came straight from the Cathedral to us, told us the whole story, wept bitterly and, fully penitent, she embraced Dounia and besought her to forgive her. The same morning without any delay, she went round to all the houses in the town and everywhere, shedding tears, she asserted in the most flattering terms Dounia’s innocence and the nobility of her feelings and her behavior. What was more, she showed and read to everyone the 66 of 967 Crime and Punishment letter in Dounia’s own handwriting to Mr. Svidrigaïlov and even allowed them to take copies of it—which I must say I think was superfluous. In this way she was busy for several days in driving about the whole town, because some people had taken offence through precedence having been given to others. And therefore they had to take turns, so that in every house she was expected before she arrived, and everyone knew that on such and such a day Marfa Petrovna would be reading the letter in such and such a place and people assembled for every reading of it, even many who had heard it several times already both in their own houses and in other people’s. In my opinion a great deal, a very great deal of all this was unnecessary; but that’s Marfa Petrovna’s character. Anyway she succeeded in completely re-establishing Dounia’s reputation and the whole ignominy of this affair rested as an indelible disgrace upon her husband, as the only person to blame, so that I really began to feel sorry for him; it was really treating the crazy fellow too harshly. Dounia was at once asked to give lessons in several families, but she refused. All of a sudden everyone began to treat her with marked 67 of 967 Crime and Punishment respect and all this did much to bring about the event by which, one may say, our whole fortunes are now transformed. You must know, dear Rodya, that Dounia has a suitor and that she has already consented to marry him. I hasten to tell you all about the matter, and though it has been arranged without asking your consent, I think you will not be aggrieved with me or with your sister on that account, for you will see that we could not wait and put off our decision till we heard from you. And you could not have judged all the facts without being on the spot. This was how it happened. He is already of the rank of a counsellor, Pyotr Petrovitch Luzhin, and is distantly related to Marfa Petrovna, who has been very active in bringing the match about. It began with his expressing through her his desire to make our acquaintance. He was properly received, drank coffee with us and the very next day he sent us a letter in which he very courteously made an offer and begged for a speedy and decided answer. He is a very busy man and is in a great hurry to get to Petersburg, so that every moment is precious to him. At first, of course, we were greatly surprised, as it had all happened so quickly and 68 of 967 Crime and Punishment unexpectedly. We thought and talked it over the whole day. He is a well-to-do man, to be depended upon, he has two posts in the government and has already made his fortune. It is true that he is forty- five years old, but he is of a fairly prepossessing appearance and might still be thought attractive by women, and he is altogether a very respectable and presentable man, only he seems a little morose and somewhat conceited. But possibly that may only be the impression he makes at first sight. And beware, dear Rodya, when he comes to Petersburg, as he shortly will do, beware of judging him too hastily and severely, as your way is, if there is anything you do not like in him at first sight. I give you this warning, although I feel sure that he will make a favourable impression upon you. Moreover, in order to understand any man one must be deliberate and careful to avoid forming prejudices and mistaken ideas, which are very difficult to correct and get over afterwards. And Pyotr Petrovitch, judging by many indications, is a thoroughly estimable man. At his first visit, indeed, he told us that he was a practical man, but still he shares, as he expressed it, many of the 69 of 967 Crime and Punishment convictions ‘of our most rising generation’ and he is an opponent of all prejudices. He said a good deal more, for he seems a little conceited and likes to be listened to, but this is scarcely a vice. I, of course, understood very little of it, but Dounia explained to me that, though he is not a man of great education, he is clever and seems to be good-natured. You know your sister’s character, Rodya. She is a resolute, sensible, patient and generous girl, but she has a passionate heart, as I know very well. Of course, there is no great love either on his side, or on hers, but Dounia is a clever girl and has the heart of an angel, and will make it her duty to make her husband happy who on his side will make her happiness his care. Of that we have no good reason to doubt, though it must be admitted the matter has been arranged in great haste. Besides he is a man of great prudence and he will see, to be sure, of himself, that his own happiness will be the more secure, the happier Dounia is with him. And as for some defects of character, for some habits and even certain differences of opinion —which indeed are inevitable even in the happiest marriages— Dounia has said that, as regards all that, she relies on 70 of 967 Crime and Punishment herself, that there is nothing to be uneasy about, and that she is ready to put up with a great deal, if only their future relationship can be an honourable and straightforward one. He struck me, for instance, at first, as rather abrupt, but that may well come from his being an outspoken man, and that is no doubt how it is. For instance, at his second visit, after he had received Dounia’s consent, in the course of conversation, he declared that before making Dounia’s acquaintance, he had made up his mind to marry a girl of good reputation, without dowry and, above all, one who had experienced poverty, because, as he explained, a man ought not to be indebted to his wife, but that it is better for a wife to look upon her husband as her benefactor. I must add that he expressed it more nicely and politely than I have done, for I have forgotten his actual phrases and only remember the meaning. And, besides, it was obviously not said of design, but slipped out in the heat of conversation, so that he tried afterwards to correct himself and smooth it over, but all the same it did strike me as somewhat rude, and I said so afterwards to Dounia. But Dounia was vexed, and answered that ‘words are not 71 of 967 Crime and Punishment deeds,’ and that, of course, is perfectly true. Dounia did not sleep all night before she made up her mind, and, thinking that I was asleep, she got out of bed and was walking up and down the room all night; at last she knelt down before the ikon and prayed long and fervently and in the morning she told me that she had decided. ‘I have mentioned already that Pyotr Petrovitch is just setting off for Petersburg, where he has a great deal of business, and he wants to open a legal bureau. He has been occupied for many years in conducting civil and commercial litigation, and only the other day he won an important case. He has to be in Petersburg because he has an important case before the Senate. So, Rodya dear, he may be of the greatest use to you, in every way indeed, and Dounia and I have agreed that from this very day you could definitely enter upon your career and might consider that your future is marked out and assured for you. Oh, if only this comes to pass! This 72 of 967 Crime and Punishment would be such a benefit that we could only look upon it as a providential blessing. Dounia is dreaming of nothing else. We have even ventured already to drop a few words on the subject to Pyotr Petrovitch. He was cautious in his answer, and said that, of course, as he could not get on without a secretary, it would be better to be paying a salary to a relation than to a stranger, if only the former were fitted for the duties (as though there could be doubt of your being fitted!) but then he expressed doubts whether your studies at the university would leave you time for work at his office. The matter dropped for the time, but Dounia is thinking of nothing else now. She has been in a sort of fever for the last few days, and has already made a regular plan for your becoming in the end an associate and even a partner in Pyotr Petrovitch’s business, which might well be, seeing that you are a student of law. I am in complete agreement with her, Rodya, and share all her plans and hopes, and think 73 of 967 Crime and Punishment there is every probability of realising them. And in spite of Pyotr Petrovitch’s evasiveness, very natural at present (since he does not know you), Dounia is firmly persuaded that she will gain everything by her good influence over her future husband; this she is reckoning upon. Of course we are careful not to talk of any of these more remote plans to Pyotr Petrovitch, especially of your becoming his partner. He is a practical man and might take this very coldly, it might all seem to him simply a day-dream. Nor has either Dounia or I breathed a word to him of the great hopes we have of his helping us to pay for your university studies; we have not spoken of it in the first place, because it will come to pass of itself, later on, and he will no doubt without wasting words offer to do it of himself, (as though he could refuse Dounia that) the more readily since you may by your own efforts become his right hand in the office, and receive this assistance not as a charity, but as a salary 74 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. earned by your own work. Dounia wants to arrange it all like this and I quite agree with her. And we have not spoken of our plans for another reason, that is, because I particularly wanted you to feel on an equal footing when you first meet him. When Dounia spoke to him with enthusiasm about you, he answered that one could never judge of a man without seeing him close, for oneself, and that he looked forward to forming his own opinion when he makes your acquaintance. Do you know, my precious Rodya, I think that perhaps for some reasons (nothing to do with Pyotr Petrovitch though, simply for my own personal, perhaps old- womanish, fancies) I should do better to go on living by myself, apart, than with them, after the wedding. I am convinced that he will be generous and delicate enough to invite me and to urge me to remain with my daughter for the future, and if he has said nothing about it hitherto, it is simply because it has been taken for granted; but I 75 of 967 Crime and Punishment shall refuse. I have noticed more than once in my life that husbands don’t quite get on with their mothers-in- law, and I don’t want to be the least bit in anyone’s way, and for my own sake, too, would rather be quite independent, so long as I have a crust of bread of my own, and such children as you and Dounia. If possible, I would settle somewhere near you, for the most joyful piece of news, dear Rodya, I have kept for the end of my letter: know then, my dear boy, that we may, perhaps, be all together in a very short time and may embrace one another again after a separation of almost three years! It is settled for certain that Dounia and I are to set off for Petersburg, exactly when I don’t know, but very, very soon, possibly in a week. It all depends on Pyotr Petrovitch who will let us know when he has had time to look round him in Petersburg. To suit his own arrangements he is anxious to have the ceremony as soon as possible, even before the fast of Our Lady, if it could be 76 of 967 Crime and Punishment managed, or if that is too soon to be ready, immediately after. Oh, with what happiness I shall press you to my heart! Dounia is all excitement at the joyful thought of seeing you, she said one day in joke that she would be ready to marry Pyotr Petrovitch for that alone. She is an angel! She is not writing anything to you now, and has only told me to write that she has so much, so much to tell you that she is not going to take up her pen now, for a few lines would tell you nothing, and it would only mean upsetting herself; she bids me send you her love and innumerable kisses. But although we shall be meeting so soon, perhaps I shall send you as much money as I can in a day or two. Now that everyone has heard that Dounia is to marry Pyotr Petrovitch, my credit has suddenly improved and I know that Afanasy Ivanovitch will trust me now even to seventy-five roubles on the security of my pension, so that perhaps I shall be able to send you twenty-five or even thirty roubles. I would send you more, but I am 77 of 967 Crime and Punishment uneasy about our travelling expenses; for though Pyotr Petrovitch has been so kind as to undertake part of the expenses of the journey, that is to say, he has taken upon himself the conveyance of our bags and big trunk (which will be conveyed through some acquaintances of his), we must reckon upon some expense on our arrival in Petersburg, where we can’t be left without a halfpenny, at least for the first few days. But we have calculated it all, Dounia and I, to the last penny, and we see that the journey will not cost very much. It is only ninety versts from us to the railway and we have come to an agreement with a driver we know, so as to be in readiness; and from there Dounia and I can travel quite comfortably third class. So that I may very likely be able to send to you not twenty- five, but thirty roubles. But enough; I have covered two sheets already and there is no space left for more; our whole history, but so many events have happened! And now, my precious Rodya, I embrace you and 78 of 967 Crime and Punishment send you a mother’s blessing till we meet. Love Dounia your sister, Rodya; love her as she loves you and understand that she loves you beyond everything, more than herself. She is an angel and you, Rodya, you are everything to us—our one hope, our one consolation. If only you are happy, we shall be happy. Do you still say your prayers, Rodya, and believe in the mercy of our Creator and our Redeemer? I am afraid in my heart that you may have been visited by the new spirit of infidelity that is abroad to-day; If it is so, I pray for you. Remember, dear boy, how in your childhood, when your father was living, you used to lisp your prayers at my knee, and how happy we all were in those days. Good-bye, till we meet then— I embrace you warmly, warmly, with many kisses. ‘Yours till death, ‘PULCHERIA RASKOLNIKOV.’ Almost from the first, while he read the letter, Raskolnikov’s face was wet with tears; but when he finished it, his face was pale and distorted and a bitter, 79 of 967 Crime and Punishment wrathful and malignant smile was on his lips. He laid his head down on his threadbare dirty pillow and pondered, pondered a long time. His heart was beating violently, and his brain was in a turmoil. At last he felt cramped and stifled in the little yellow room that was like a cupboard or a box. His eyes and his mind craved for space. He took up his hat and went out, this time without dread of meeting anyone; he had forgotten his dread. He turned in the direction of the Vassilyevsky Ostrov, walking along Vassilyevsky Prospect, as though hastening on some business, but he walked, as his habit was, without noticing his way, muttering and even speaking aloud to himself, to the astonishment of the passers-by. Many of them took him to be drunk. 80 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter IV His mother’s letter had been a torture to him, but as regards the chief fact in it, he had felt not one moment’s hesitation, even whilst he was reading the letter. The essential question was settled, and irrevocably settled, in his mind: ‘Never such a marriage while I am alive and Mr. Luzhin be damned!’ ‘The thing is perfectly clear,’ he muttered to himself, with a malignant smile anticipating the triumph of his decision. ‘No, mother, no, Dounia, you won’t deceive me! and then they apologise for not asking my advice and for taking the decision without me! I dare say! They imagine it is arranged now and can’t be broken off; but we will see whether it can or not! A magnificent excuse: ‘Pyotr Petrovitch is such a busy man that even his wedding has to be in post-haste, almost by express.’ No, Dounia, I see it all and I know what you want to say to me; and I know too what you were thinking about, when you walked up and down all night, and what your prayers were like before the Holy Mother of Kazan who stands in mother’s bedroom. Bitter is the ascent to Golgotha…. Hm … so it is finally settled; you have determined to marry a sensible business man, Avdotya Romanovna, one who has 81 of 967 Crime and Punishment a fortune (has already made his fortune, that is so much more solid and impressive) a man who holds two government posts and who shares the ideas of our most rising generation, as mother writes, and who seems to be kind, as Dounia herself observes. That seems beats everything! And that very Dounia for that very ‘ seems ’ is marrying him! Splendid! splendid! ‘… But I should like to know why mother has written to me about ‘our most rising generation’? Simply as a descriptive touch, or with the idea of prepossessing me in favour of Mr. Luzhin? Oh, the cunning of them! I should like to know one thing more: how far they were open with one another that day and night and all this time since? Was it all put into words or did both understand that they had the same thing at heart and in their minds, so that there was no need to speak of it aloud, and better not to speak of it. Most likely it was partly like that, from mother’s letter it’s evident: he struck her as rude a little and mother in her simplicity took her observations to Dounia. And she was sure to be vexed and ‘answered her angrily.’ I should think so! Who would not be angered when it was quite clear without any naïve questions and when it was understood that it was useless to discuss it. And why does she write to me, ‘love Dounia, Rodya, and she loves you 82 of 967 Crime and Punishment more than herself’? Has she a secret conscience-prick at sacrificing her daughter to her son? ‘You are our one comfort, you are everything to us.’ Oh, mother!’ His bitterness grew more and more intense, and if he had happened to meet Mr. Luzhin at the moment, he might have murdered him. ‘Hm … yes, that’s true,’ he continued, pursuing the whirling ideas that chased each other in his brain, ‘it is true that ‘it needs time and care to get to know a man,’ but there is no mistake about Mr. Luzhin. The chief thing is he is ‘a man of business and seems kind,’ that was something, wasn’t it, to send the bags and big box for them! A kind man, no doubt after that! But his bride and her mother are to drive in a peasant’s cart covered with sacking (I know, I have been driven in it). No matter! It is only ninety versts and then they can ‘travel very comfortably, third class,’ for a thousand versts! Quite right, too. One must cut one’s coat according to one’s cloth, but what about you, Mr. Luzhin? She is your bride…. And you must be aware that her mother has to raise money on her pension for the journey. To be sure it’s a matter of business, a partnership for mutual benefit, with equal shares and expenses;—food and drink provided, but pay for your tobacco. The business man has got the better of 83 of 967 Crime and Punishment them, too. The luggage will cost less than their fares and very likely go for nothing. How is it that they don’t both see all that, or is it that they don’t want to see? And they are pleased, pleased! And to think that this is only the first blossoming, and that the real fruits are to come! But what really matters is not the stinginess, is not the meanness, but the tone of the whole thing. For that will be the tone after marriage, it’s a foretaste of it. And mother too, why should she be so lavish? What will she have by the time she gets to Petersburg? Three silver roubles or two ‘paper ones’ as she says…. that old woman … hm. What does she expect to live upon in Petersburg afterwards? She has her reasons already for guessing that she could not live with Dounia after the marriage, even for the first few months. The good man has no doubt let slip something on that subject also, though mother would deny it: ‘I shall refuse,’ says she. On whom is she reckoning then? Is she counting on what is left of her hundred and twenty roubles of pension when Afanasy Ivanovitch’s debt is paid? She knits woollen shawls and embroiders cuffs, ruining her old eyes. And all her shawls don’t add more than twenty roubles a year to her hundred and twenty, I know that. So she is building all her hopes all the time on Mr. Luzhin’s generosity; ‘he will offer it of himself, he will press it on me.’ You may 84 of 967 Crime and Punishment wait a long time for that! That’s how it always is with these Schilleresque noble hearts; till the last moment every goose is a swan with them, till the last moment, they hope for the best and will see nothing wrong, and although they have an inkling of the other side of the picture, yet they won’t face the truth till they are forced to; the very thought of it makes them shiver; they thrust the truth away with both hands, until the man they deck out in false colours puts a fool’s cap on them with his own hands. I should like to know whether Mr. Luzhin has any orders of merit; I bet he has the Anna in his buttonhole and that he puts it on when he goes to dine with contractors or merchants. He will be sure to have it for his wedding, too! Enough of him, confound him! ‘Well, … mother I don’t wonder at, it’s like her, God bless her, but how could Dounia? Dounia darling, as though I did not know you! You were nearly twenty when I saw you last: I understood you then. Mother writes that ‘Dounia can put up with a great deal.’ I know that very well. I knew that two years and a half ago, and for the last two and a half years I have been thinking about it, thinking of just that, that ‘Dounia can put up with a great deal.’ If she could put up with Mr. Svidrigaïlov and all the rest of it, she certainly can put up with a great deal. 85 of 967 Crime and Punishment And now mother and she have taken it into their heads that she can put up with Mr. Luzhin, who propounds the theory of the superiority of wives raised from destitution and owing everything to their husband’s bounty—who propounds it, too, almost at the first interview. Granted that he ‘let it slip,’ though he is a sensible man, (yet maybe it was not a slip at all, but he meant to make himself clear as soon as possible) but Dounia, Dounia? She understands the man, of course, but she will have to live with the man. Why! she’d live on black bread and water, she would not sell her soul, she would not barter her moral freedom for comfort; she would not barter it for all Schleswig-Holstein, much less Mr. Luzhin’s money. No, Dounia was not that sort when I knew her and … she is still the same, of course! Yes, there’s no denying, the Svidrigaïlovs are a bitter pill! It’s a bitter thing to spend one’s life a governess in the provinces for two hundred roubles, but I know she would rather be a nigger on a plantation or a Lett with a German master than degrade her soul, and her moral dignity, by binding herself for ever to a man whom she does not respect and with whom she has nothing in common—for her own advantage. And if Mr. Luzhin had been of unalloyed gold, or one huge diamond, she would never have consented to become his legal concubine. 86 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. Why is she consenting then? What’s the point of it? What’s the answer? It’s clear enough: for herself, for her comfort, to save her life she would not sell herself, but for someone else she is doing it! For one she loves, for one she adores, she will sell herself! That’s what it all amounts to; for her brother, for her mother, she will sell herself! She will sell everything! In such cases, ‘we overcome our moral feeling if necessary,’ freedom, peace, conscience even, all, all are brought into the market. Let my life go, if only my dear ones may be happy! More than that, we become casuists, we learn to be Jesuitical and for a time maybe we can soothe ourselves, we can persuade ourselves that it is one’s duty for a good object. That’s just like us, it’s as clear as daylight. It’s clear that Rodion Romanovitch Raskolnikov is the central figure in the business, and no one else. Oh, yes, she can ensure his happiness, keep him in the university, make him a partner in the office, make his whole future secure; perhaps he may even be a rich man later on, prosperous, respected, and may even end his life a famous man! But my mother? It’s all Rodya, precious Rodya, her first born! For such a son who would not sacrifice such a daughter! Oh, loving, over-partial hearts! Why, for his sake we would not shrink even from Sonia’s fate. Sonia, Sonia Marmeladov, the 87 of 967 Crime and Punishment eternal victim so long as the world lasts. Have you taken the measure of your sacrifice, both of you? Is it right? Can you bear it? Is it any use? Is there sense in it? And let me tell you, Dounia, Sonia’s life is no worse than life with Mr. Luzhin. ‘There can be no question of love,’ mother writes. And what if there can be no respect either, if on the contrary there is aversion, contempt, repulsion, what then? So you will have to ‘keep up your appearance,’ too. Is not that so? Do you understand what that smartness means? Do you understand that the Luzhin smartness is just the same thing as Sonia’s and may be worse, viler, baser, because in your case, Dounia, it’s a bargain for luxuries, after all, but with Sonia it’s simply a question of starvation. It has to be paid for, it has to be paid for, Dounia, this smartness. And what if it’s more than you can bear afterwards, if you regret it? The bitterness, the misery, the curses, the tears hidden from all the world, for you are not a Marfa Petrovna. And how will your mother feel then? Even now she is uneasy, she is worried, but then, when she sees it all clearly? And I? Yes, indeed, what have you taken me for? I won’t have your sacrifice, Dounia, I won’t have it, mother! It shall not be, so long as I am alive, it shall not, it shall not! I won’t accept it!’ He suddenly paused in his reflection and stood still. 88 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘It shall not be? But what are you going to do to prevent it? You’ll forbid it? And what right have you? What can you promise them on your side to give you such a right? Your whole life, your whole future, you will devote to them when you have finished your studies and obtained a post ? Yes, we have heard all that before, and that’s all words but now? Now something must be done, now, do you understand that? And what are you doing now? You are living upon them. They borrow on their hundred roubles pension. They borrow from the Svidrigaïlovs. How are you going to save them from Svidrigaïlovs, from Afanasy Ivanovitch Vahrushin, oh, future millionaire Zeus who would arrange their lives for them? In another ten years? In another ten years, mother will be blind with knitting shawls, maybe with weeping too. She will be worn to a shadow with fasting; and my sister? Imagine for a moment what may have become of your sister in ten years? What may happen to her during those ten years? Can you fancy?’ So he tortured himself, fretting himself with such questions, and finding a kind of enjoyment in it. And yet all these questions were not new ones suddenly confronting him, they were old familiar aches. It was long since they had first begun to grip and rend his heart. Long, 89 of 967 Crime and Punishment long ago his present anguish had its first beginnings; it had waxed and gathered strength, it had matured and concentrated, until it had taken the form of a fearful, frenzied and fantastic question, which tortured his heart and mind, clamouring insistently for an answer. Now his mother’s letter had burst on him like a thunderclap. It was clear that he must not now suffer passively, worrying himself over unsolved questions, but that he must do something, do it at once, and do it quickly. Anyway he must decide on something, or else … ‘Or throw up life altogether!’ he cried suddenly, in a frenzy—‘accept one’s lot humbly as it is, once for all and stifle everything in oneself, giving up all claim to activity, life and love!’ ‘Do you understand, sir, do you understand what it means when you have absolutely nowhere to turn?’ Marmeladov’s question came suddenly into his mind, ‘for every man must have somewhere to turn….’ He gave a sudden start; another thought, that he had had yesterday, slipped back into his mind. But he did not start at the thought recurring to him, for he knew, he had felt beforehand that it must come back, he was expecting it; besides it was not only yesterday’s thought. The difference was that a month ago, yesterday even, the thought was a 90 of 967 Crime and Punishment mere dream: but now … now it appeared not a dream at all, it had taken a new menacing and quite unfamiliar shape, and he suddenly became aware of this himself…. He felt a hammering in his head, and there was a darkness before his eyes. He looked round hurriedly, he was searching for something. He wanted to sit down and was looking for a seat; he was walking along the K—— Boulevard. There was a seat about a hundred paces in front of him. He walked towards it as fast he could; but on the way he met with a little adventure which absorbed all his attention. Looking for the seat, he had noticed a woman walking some twenty paces in front of him, but at first he took no more notice of her than of other objects that crossed his path. It had happened to him many times going home not to notice the road by which he was going, and he was accustomed to walk like that. But there was at first sight something so strange about the woman in front of him, that gradually his attention was riveted upon her, at first reluctantly and, as it were, resentfully, and then more and more intently. He felt a sudden desire to find out what it was that was so strange about the woman. In the first place, she appeared to be a girl quite young, and she was walking in the great heat bareheaded and with no parasol 91 of 967 Crime and Punishment or gloves, waving her arms about in an absurd way. She had on a dress of some light silky material, but put on strangely awry, not properly hooked up, and torn open at the top of the skirt, close to the waist: a great piece was rent and hanging loose. A little kerchief was flung about her bare throat, but lay slanting on one side. The girl was walking unsteadily, too, stumbling and staggering from side to side. She drew Raskolnikov’s whole attention at last. He overtook the girl at the seat, but, on reaching it, she dropped down on it, in the corner; she let her head sink on the back of the seat and closed her eyes, apparently in extreme exhaustion. Looking at her closely, he saw at once that she was completely drunk. It was a strange and shocking sight. He could hardly believe that he was not mistaken. He saw before him the face of a quite young, fair-haired girl—sixteen, perhaps not more than fifteen, years old, pretty little face, but flushed and heavy looking and, as it were, swollen. The girl seemed hardly to know what she was doing; she crossed one leg over the other, lifting it indecorously, and showed every sign of being unconscious that she was in the street. Raskolnikov did not sit down, but he felt unwilling to leave her, and stood facing her in perplexity. This boulevard was never much frequented; and now, at two 92 of 967 Crime and Punishment o’clock, in the stifling heat, it was quite deserted. And yet on the further side of the boulevard, about fifteen paces away, a gentleman was standing on the edge of the pavement. He, too, would apparently have liked to approach the girl with some object of his own. He, too, had probably seen her in the distance and had followed her, but found Raskolnikov in his way. He looked angrily at him, though he tried to escape his notice, and stood impatiently biding his time, till the unwelcome man in rags should have moved away. His intentions were unmistakable. The gentleman was a plump, thickly-set man, about thirty, fashionably dressed, with a high colour, red lips and moustaches. Raskolnikov felt furious; he had a sudden longing to insult this fat dandy in some way. He left the girl for a moment and walked towards the gentleman. ‘Hey! You Svidrigaïlov! What do you want here?’ he shouted, clenching his fists and laughing, spluttering with rage. ‘What do you mean?’ the gentleman asked sternly, scowling in haughty astonishment. ‘Get away, that’s what I mean.’ ‘How dare you, you low fellow!’ 93 of 967 Crime and Punishment He raised his cane. Raskolnikov rushed at him with his fists, without reflecting that the stout gentleman was a match for two men like himself. But at that instant someone seized him from behind, and a police constable stood between them. ‘That’s enough, gentlemen, no fighting, please, in a public place. What do you want? Who are you?’ he asked Raskolnikov sternly, noticing his rags. Raskolnikov looked at him intently. He had a straightforward, sensible, soldierly face, with grey moustaches and whiskers. ‘You are just the man I want,’ Raskolnikov cried, catching at his arm. ‘I am a student, Raskolnikov…. You may as well know that too,’ he added, addressing the gentleman, ‘come along, I have something to show you.’ And taking the policeman by the hand he drew him towards the seat. ‘Look here, hopelessly drunk, and she has just come down the boulevard. There is no telling who and what she is, she does not look like a professional. It’s more likely she has been given drink and deceived somewhere … for the first time … you understand? and they’ve put her out into the street like that. Look at the way her dress is torn, and the way it has been put on: she has been dressed by 94 of 967 Crime and Punishment somebody, she has not dressed herself, and dressed by unpractised hands, by a man’s hands; that’s evident. And now look there: I don’t know that dandy with whom I was going to fight, I see him for the first time, but he, too, has seen her on the road, just now, drunk, not knowing what she is doing, and now he is very eager to get hold of her, to get her away somewhere while she is in this state … that’s certain, believe me, I am not wrong. I saw him myself watching her and following her, but I prevented him, and he is just waiting for me to go away. Now he has walked away a little, and is standing still, pretending to make a cigarette…. Think how can we keep her out of his hands, and how are we to get her home?’ The policeman saw it all in a flash. The stout gentleman was easy to understand, he turned to consider the girl. The policeman bent over to examine her more closely, and his face worked with genuine compassion. ‘Ah, what a pity!’ he said, shaking his head—‘why, she is quite a child! She has been deceived, you can see that at once. Listen, lady,’ he began addressing her, ‘where do you live?’ The girl opened her weary and sleepy-looking eyes, gazed blankly at the speaker and waved her hand. ‘Here,’ said Raskolnikov feeling in his pocket and finding twenty copecks, ‘here, call a cab and tell him to 95 of 967 Crime and Punishment drive her to her address. The only thing is to find out her address!’ ‘Missy, missy!’ the policeman began again, taking the money. ‘I’ll fetch you a cab and take you home myself. Where shall I take you, eh? Where do you live?’ ‘Go away! They won’t let me alone,’ the girl muttered, and once more waved her hand. ‘Ach, ach, how shocking! It’s shameful, missy, it’s a shame!’ He shook his head again, shocked, sympathetic and indignant. ‘It’s a difficult job,’ the policeman said to Raskolnikov, and as he did so, he looked him up and down in a rapid glance. He, too, must have seemed a strange figure to him: dressed in rags and handing him money! ‘Did you meet her far from here?’ he asked him. ‘I tell you she was walking in front of me, staggering, just here, in the boulevard. She only just reached the seat and sank down on it.’ ‘Ah, the shameful things that are done in the world nowadays, God have mercy on us! An innocent creature like that, drunk already! She has been deceived, that’s a sure thing. See how her dress has been torn too…. Ah, the vice one sees nowadays! And as likely as not she belongs to gentlefolk too, poor ones maybe…. There are many like 96 of 967 Crime and Punishment that nowadays. She looks refined, too, as though she were a lady,’ and he bent over her once more. Perhaps he had daughters growing up like that, ‘looking like ladies and refined’ with pretensions to gentility and smartness…. ‘The chief thing is,’ Raskolnikov persisted, ‘to keep her out of this scoundrel’s hands! Why should he outrage her! It’s as clear as day what he is after; ah, the brute, he is not moving off!’ Raskolnikov spoke aloud and pointed to him. The gentleman heard him, and seemed about to fly into a rage again, but thought better of it, and confined himself to a contemptuous look. He then walked slowly another ten paces away and again halted. ‘Keep her out of his hands we can,’ said the constable thoughtfully, ‘if only she’d tell us where to take her, but as it is…. Missy, hey, missy!’ he bent over her once more. She opened her eyes fully all of a sudden, looked at him intently, as though realising something, got up from the seat and walked away in the direction from which she had come. ‘Oh shameful wretches, they won’t let me alone!’ she said, waving her hand again. She walked quickly, though staggering as before. The dandy followed her, but along another avenue, keeping his eye on her. 97 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Don’t be anxious, I won’t let him have her,’ the policeman said resolutely, and he set off after them. ‘Ah, the vice one sees nowadays!’ he repeated aloud, sighing. At that moment something seemed to sting Raskolnikov; in an instant a complete revulsion of feeling came over him. ‘Hey, here!’ he shouted after the policeman. The latter turned round. ‘Let them be! What is it to do with you? Let her go! Let him amuse himself.’ He pointed at the dandy, ‘What is it to do with you?’ The policeman was bewildered, and stared at him open-eyed. Raskolnikov laughed. ‘Well!’ ejaculated the policeman, with a gesture of contempt, and he walked after the dandy and the girl, probably taking Raskolnikov for a madman or something even worse. ‘He has carried off my twenty copecks,’ Raskolnikov murmured angrily when he was left alone. ‘Well, let him take as much from the other fellow to allow him to have the girl and so let it end. And why did I want to interfere? Is it for me to help? Have I any right to help? Let them 98 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. devour each other alive—what is to me? How did I dare to give him twenty copecks? Were they mine?’ In spite of those strange words he felt very wretched. He sat down on the deserted seat. His thoughts strayed aimlessly…. He found it hard to fix his mind on anything at that moment. He longed to forget himself altogether, to forget everything, and then to wake up and begin life anew…. ‘Poor girl!’ he said, looking at the empty corner where she had sat— ‘She will come to herself and weep, and then her mother will find out…. She will give her a beating, a horrible, shameful beating and then maybe, turn her out of doors…. And even if she does not, the Darya Frantsovnas will get wind of it, and the girl will soon be slipping out on the sly here and there. Then there will be the hospital directly (that’s always the luck of those girls with respectable mothers, who go wrong on the sly) and then … again the hospital … drink … the taverns … and more hospital, in two or three years—a wreck, and her life over at eighteen or nineteen…. Have not I seen cases like that? And how have they been brought to it? Why, they’ve all come to it like that. Ugh! But what does it matter? That’s as it should be, they tell us. A certain percentage, they tell us, must every year go … that way … 99 of 967 Crime and Punishment to the devil, I suppose, so that the rest may remain chaste, and not be interfered with. A percentage! What splendid words they have; they are so scientific, so consolatory…. Once you’ve said ‘percentage’ there’s nothing more to worry about. If we had any other word … maybe we might feel more uneasy…. But what if Dounia were one of the percentage! Of another one if not that one? ‘But where am I going?’ he thought suddenly. ‘Strange, I came out for something. As soon as I had read the letter I came out…. I was going to Vassilyevsky Ostrov, to Razumihin. That’s what it was … now I remember. What for, though? And what put the idea of going to Razumihin into my head just now? That’s curious.’ He wondered at himself. Razumihin was one of his old comrades at the university. It was remarkable that Raskolnikov had hardly any friends at the university; he kept aloof from everyone, went to see no one, and did not welcome anyone who came to see him, and indeed everyone soon gave him up. He took no part in the students’ gatherings, amusements or conversations. He worked with great intensity without sparing himself, and he was respected for this, but no one liked him. He was very poor, and there was a sort of haughty pride and reserve about him, as though he were keeping something 100 of 967 Crime and Punishment to himself. He seemed to some of his comrades to look down upon them all as children, as though he were superior in development, knowledge and convictions, as though their beliefs and interests were beneath him. With Razumihin he had got on, or, at least, he was more unreserved and communicative with him. Indeed it was impossible to be on any other terms with Razumihin. He was an exceptionally good-humoured and candid youth, good-natured to the point of simplicity, though both depth and dignity lay concealed under that simplicity. The better of his comrades understood this, and all were fond of him. He was extremely intelligent, though he was certainly rather a simpleton at times. He was of striking appearance—tall, thin, blackhaired and always badly shaved. He was sometimes uproarious and was reputed to be of great physical strength. One night, when out in a festive company, he had with one blow laid a gigantic policeman on his back. There was no limit to his drinking powers, but he could abstain from drink altogether; he sometimes went too far in his pranks; but he could do without pranks altogether. Another thing striking about Razumihin, no failure distressed him, and it seemed as though no unfavourable circumstances could crush him. He could lodge anywhere, and bear the extremes of cold 101 of 967 Crime and Punishment and hunger. He was very poor, and kept himself entirely on what he could earn by work of one sort or another. He knew of no end of resources by which to earn money. He spent one whole winter without lighting his stove, and used to declare that he liked it better, because one slept more soundly in the cold. For the present he, too, had been obliged to give up the university, but it was only for a time, and he was working with all his might to save enough to return to his studies again. Raskolnikov had not been to see him for the last four months, and Razumihin did not even know his address. About two months before, they had met in the street, but Raskolnikov had turned away and even crossed to the other side that he might not be observed. And though Razumihin noticed him, he passed him by, as he did not want to annoy him. 102 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter V ‘Of course, I’ve been meaning lately to go to Razumihin’s to ask for work, to ask him to get me lessons or something …’ Raskolnikov thought, ‘but what help can he be to me now? Suppose he gets me lessons, suppose he shares his last farthing with me, if he has any farthings, so that I could get some boots and make myself tidy enough to give lessons … hm … Well and what then? What shall I do with the few coppers I earn? That’s not what I want now. It’s really absurd for me to go to Razumihin….’ The question why he was now going to Razumihin agitated him even more than he was himself aware; he kept uneasily seeking for some sinister significance in this apparently ordinary action. ‘Could I have expected to set it all straight and to find a way out by means of Razumihin alone?’ he asked himself in perplexity. He pondered and rubbed his forehead, and, strange to say, after long musing, suddenly, as if it were spontaneously and by chance, a fantastic thought came into his head. 103 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Hm … to Razumihin’s,’ he said all at once, calmly, as though he had reached a final determination. ‘I shall go to Razumihin’s of course, but … not now. I shall go to him … on the next day after It, when It will be over and everything will begin afresh….’ And suddenly he realised what he was thinking. ‘After It,’ he shouted, jumping up from the seat, ‘but is It really going to happen? Is it possible it really will happen?’ He left the seat, and went off almost at a run; he meant to turn back, homewards, but the thought of going home suddenly filled him with intense loathing; in that hole, in that awful little cupboard of his, all this had for a month past been growing up in him; and he walked on at random. His nervous shudder had passed into a fever that made him feel shivering; in spite of the heat he felt cold. With a kind of effort he began almost unconsciously, from some inner craving, to stare at all the objects before him, as though looking for something to distract his attention; but he did not succeed, and kept dropping every moment into brooding. When with a start he lifted his head again and looked round, he forgot at once what he had just been thinking about and even where he was going. In this way he walked right across Vassilyevsky Ostrov, came out on 104 of 967 Crime and Punishment to the Lesser Neva, crossed the bridge and turned towards the islands. The greenness and freshness were at first restful to his weary eyes after the dust of the town and the huge houses that hemmed him in and weighed upon him. Here there were no taverns, no stifling closeness, no stench. But soon these new pleasant sensations passed into morbid irritability. Sometimes he stood still before a brightly painted summer villa standing among green foliage, he gazed through the fence, he saw in the distance smartly dressed women on the verandahs and balconies, and children running in the gardens. The flowers especially caught his attention; he gazed at them longer than at anything. He was met, too, by luxurious carriages and by men and women on horseback; he watched them with curious eyes and forgot about them before they had vanished from his sight. Once he stood still and counted his money; he found he had thirty copecks. ‘Twenty to the policeman, three to Nastasya for the letter, so I must have given forty-seven or fifty to the Marmeladovs yesterday,’ he thought, reckoning it up for some unknown reason, but he soon forgot with what object he had taken the money out of his pocket. He recalled it on passing an eating-house or tavern, and felt that he was hungry…. Going into the tavern he drank a glass of vodka and ate a 105 of 967 Crime and Punishment pie of some sort. He finished eating it as he walked away. It was a long while since he had taken vodka and it had an effect upon him at once, though he only drank a wineglassful. His legs felt suddenly heavy and a great drowsiness came upon him. He turned homewards, but reaching Petrovsky Ostrov he stopped completely exhausted, turned off the road into the bushes, sank down upon the grass and instantly fell asleep. In a morbid condition of the brain, dreams often have a singular actuality, vividness, and extraordinary semblance of reality. At times monstrous images are created, but the setting and the whole picture are so truthlike and filled with details so delicate, so unexpectedly, but so artistically consistent, that the dreamer, were he an artist like Pushkin or Turgenev even, could never have invented them in the waking state. Such sick dreams always remain long in the memory and make a powerful impression on the overwrought and deranged nervous system. Raskolnikov had a fearful dream. He dreamt he was back in his childhood in the little town of his birth. He was a child about seven years old, walking into the country with his father on the evening of a holiday. It was a grey and heavy day, the country was exactly as he remembered it; indeed he recalled it far more vividly in 106 of 967 Crime and Punishment his dream than he had done in memory. The little town stood on a level flat as bare as the hand, not even a willow near it; only in the far distance, a copse lay, a dark blur on the very edge of the horizon. A few paces beyond the last market garden stood a tavern, a big tavern, which had always aroused in him a feeling of aversion, even of fear, when he walked by it with his father. There was always a crowd there, always shouting, laughter and abuse, hideous hoarse singing and often fighting. Drunken and horrible-looking figures were hanging about the tavern. He used to cling close to his father, trembling all over when he met them. Near the tavern the road became a dusty track, the dust of which was always black. It was a winding road, and about a hundred paces further on, it turned to the right to the graveyard. In the middle of the graveyard stood a stone church with a green cupola where he used to go to mass two or three times a year with his father and mother, when a service was held in memory of his grandmother, who had long been dead, and whom he had never seen. On these occasions they used to take on a white dish tied up in a table napkin a special sort of rice pudding with raisins stuck in it in the shape of a cross. He loved that church, the old-fashioned, unadorned ikons and the old priest with the shaking head. Near his grandmother’s 107 of 967 Crime and Punishment grave, which was marked by a stone, was the little grave of his younger brother who had died at six months old. He did not remember him at all, but he had been told about his little brother, and whenever he visited the graveyard he used religiously and reverently to cross himself and to bow down and kiss the little grave. And now he dreamt that he was walking with his father past the tavern on the way to the graveyard; he was holding his father’s hand and looking with dread at the tavern. A peculiar circumstance attracted his attention: there seemed to be some kind of festivity going on, there were crowds of gaily dressed townspeople, peasant women, their husbands, and riff-raff of all sorts, all singing and all more or less drunk. Near the entrance of the tavern stood a cart, but a strange cart. It was one of those big carts usually drawn by heavy cart-horses and laden with casks of wine or other heavy goods. He always liked looking at those great cart- horses, with their long manes, thick legs, and slow even pace, drawing along a perfect mountain with no appearance of effort, as though it were easier going with a load than without it. But now, strange to say, in the shafts of such a cart he saw a thin little sorrel beast, one of those peasants’ nags which he had often seen straining their utmost under a heavy load of wood or hay, especially when the wheels were 108 of 967 Crime and Punishment stuck in the mud or in a rut. And the peasants would beat them so cruelly, sometimes even about the nose and eyes, and he felt so sorry, so sorry for them that he almost cried, and his mother always used to take him away from the window. All of a sudden there was a great uproar of shouting, singing and the balalaïka, and from the tavern a number of big and very drunken peasants came out, wearing red and blue shirts and coats thrown over their shoulders. ‘Get in, get in!’ shouted one of them, a young thick-necked peasant with a fleshy face red as a carrot. ‘I’ll take you all, get in!’ But at once there was an outbreak of laughter and exclamations in the crowd. ‘Take us all with a beast like that!’ ‘Why, Mikolka, are you crazy to put a nag like that in such a cart?’ ‘And this mare is twenty if she is a day, mates!’ ‘Get in, I’ll take you all,’ Mikolka shouted again, leaping first into the cart, seizing the reins and standing straight up in front. ‘The bay has gone with Matvey,’ he shouted from the cart—‘and this brute, mates, is just breaking my heart, I feel as if I could kill her. She’s just eating her head off. Get in, I tell you! I’ll make her gallop! 109 of 967 Crime and Punishment She’ll gallop!’ and he picked up the whip, preparing himself with relish to flog the little mare. ‘Get in! Come along!’ The crowd laughed. ‘D’you hear, she’ll gallop!’ ‘Gallop indeed! She has not had a gallop in her for the last ten years!’ ‘She’ll jog along!’ ‘Don’t you mind her, mates, bring a whip each of you, get ready!’ ‘All right! Give it to her!’ They all clambered into Mikolka’s cart, laughing and making jokes. Six men got in and there was still room for more. They hauled in a fat, rosy-cheeked woman. She was dressed in red cotton, in a pointed, beaded headdress and thick leather shoes; she was cracking nuts and laughing. The crowd round them was laughing too and indeed, how could they help laughing? That wretched nag was to drag all the cartload of them at a gallop! Two young fellows in the cart were just getting whips ready to help Mikolka. With the cry of ‘now,’ the mare tugged with all her might, but far from galloping, could scarcely move forward; she struggled with her legs, gasping and shrinking from the blows of the three whips which were showered upon her like hail. The laughter in the cart and in the 110 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. crowd was redoubled, but Mikolka flew into a rage and furiously thrashed the mare, as though he supposed she really could gallop. ‘Let me get in, too, mates,’ shouted a young man in the crowd whose appetite was aroused. ‘Get in, all get in,’ cried Mikolka, ‘she will draw you all. I’ll beat her to death!’ And he thrashed and thrashed at the mare, beside himself with fury. ‘Father, father,’ he cried, ‘father, what are they doing? Father, they are beating the poor horse!’ ‘Come along, come along!’ said his father. ‘They are drunken and foolish, they are in fun; come away, don’t look!’ and he tried to draw him away, but he tore himself away from his hand, and, beside himself with horror, ran to the horse. The poor beast was in a bad way. She was gasping, standing still, then tugging again and almost falling. ‘Beat her to death,’ cried Mikolka, ‘it’s come to that. I’ll do for her!’ ‘What are you about, are you a Christian, you devil?’ shouted an old man in the crowd. ‘Did anyone ever see the like? A wretched nag like that pulling such a cartload,’ said another. ‘You’ll kill her,’ shouted the third. 111 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Don’t meddle! It’s my property, I’ll do what I choose. Get in, more of you! Get in, all of you! I will have her go at a gallop! …’ All at once laughter broke into a roar and covered everything: the mare, roused by the shower of blows, began feebly kicking. Even the old man could not help smiling. To think of a wretched little beast like that trying to kick! Two lads in the crowd snatched up whips and ran to the mare to beat her about the ribs. One ran each side. ‘Hit her in the face, in the eyes, in the eyes,’ cried Mikolka. ‘Give us a song, mates,’ shouted someone in the cart and everyone in the cart joined in a riotous song, jingling a tambourine and whistling. The woman went on cracking nuts and laughing. … He ran beside the mare, ran in front of her, saw her being whipped across the eyes, right in the eyes! He was crying, he felt choking, his tears were streaming. One of the men gave him a cut with the whip across the face, he did not feel it. Wringing his hands and screaming, he rushed up to the grey-headed old man with the grey beard, who was shaking his head in disapproval. One woman seized him by the hand and would have taken him 112 of 967 Crime and Punishment away, but he tore himself from her and ran back to the mare. She was almost at the last gasp, but began kicking once more. ‘I’ll teach you to kick,’ Mikolka shouted ferociously. He threw down the whip, bent forward and picked up from the bottom of the cart a long, thick shaft, he took hold of one end with both hands and with an effort brandished it over the mare. ‘He’ll crush her,’ was shouted round him. ‘He’ll kill her!’ ‘It’s my property,’ shouted Mikolka and brought the shaft down with a swinging blow. There was a sound of a heavy thud. ‘Thrash her, thrash her! Why have you stopped?’ shouted voices in the crowd. And Mikolka swung the shaft a second time and it fell a second time on the spine of the luckless mare. She sank back on her haunches, but lurched forward and tugged forward with all her force, tugged first on one side and then on the other, trying to move the cart. But the six whips were attacking her in all directions, and the shaft was raised again and fell upon her a third time, then a fourth, with heavy measured blows. Mikolka was in a fury that he could not kill her at one blow. 113 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘She’s a tough one,’ was shouted in the crowd. ‘She’ll fall in a minute, mates, there will soon be an end of her,’ said an admiring spectator in the crowd. ‘Fetch an axe to her! Finish her off,’ shouted a third. ‘I’ll show you! Stand off,’ Mikolka screamed frantically; he threw down the shaft, stooped down in the cart and picked up an iron crowbar. ‘Look out,’ he shouted, and with all his might he dealt a stunning blow at the poor mare. The blow fell; the mare staggered, sank back, tried to pull, but the bar fell again with a swinging blow on her back and she fell on the ground like a log. ‘Finish her off,’ shouted Mikolka and he leapt beside himself, out of the cart. Several young men, also flushed with drink, seized anything they could come across— whips, sticks, poles, and ran to the dying mare. Mikolka stood on one side and began dealing random blows with the crowbar. The mare stretched out her head, drew a long breath and died. ‘You butchered her,’ someone shouted in the crowd. ‘Why wouldn’t she gallop then?’ ‘My property!’ shouted Mikolka, with bloodshot eyes, brandishing the bar in his hands. He stood as though regretting that he had nothing more to beat. 114 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘No mistake about it, you are not a Christian,’ many voices were shouting in the crowd. But the poor boy, beside himself, made his way, screaming, through the crowd to the sorrel nag, put his arms round her bleeding dead head and kissed it, kissed the eyes and kissed the lips…. Then he jumped up and flew in a frenzy with his little fists out at Mikolka. At that instant his father, who had been running after him, snatched him up and carried him out of the crowd. ‘Come along, come! Let us go home,’ he said to him. ‘Father! Why did they … kill … the poor horse!’ he sobbed, but his voice broke and the words came in shrieks from his panting chest. ‘They are drunk…. They are brutal … it’s not our business!’ said his father. He put his arms round his father but he felt choked, choked. He tried to draw a breath, to cry out—and woke up. He waked up, gasping for breath, his hair soaked with perspiration, and stood up in terror. ‘Thank God, that was only a dream,’ he said, sitting down under a tree and drawing deep breaths. ‘But what is it? Is it some fever coming on? Such a hideous dream!’ 115 of 967 Crime and Punishment He felt utterly broken: darkness and confusion were in his soul. He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned his head on his hands. ‘Good God!’ he cried, ‘can it be, can it be, that I shall really take an axe, that I shall strike her on the head, split her skull open … that I shall tread in the sticky warm blood, break the lock, steal and tremble; hide, all spattered in the blood … with the axe…. Good God, can it be?’ He was shaking like a leaf as he said this. ‘But why am I going on like this?’ he continued, sitting up again, as it were in profound amazement. ‘I knew that I could never bring myself to it, so what have I been torturing myself for till now? Yesterday, yesterday, when I went to make that … experiment yesterday I realised completely that I could never bear to do it…. Why am I going over it again, then? Why am I hesitating? As I came down the stairs yesterday, I said myself that it was base, loathsome, vile, vile … the very thought of it made me feel sick and filled me with horror. ‘No, I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t do it! Granted, granted that there is no flaw in all that reasoning, that all that I have concluded this last month is clear as day, true as arithmetic…. My God! Anyway I couldn’t bring myself to 116 of 967 Crime and Punishment it! I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t do it! Why, why then am I still … ?’ He rose to his feet, looked round in wonder as though surprised at finding himself in this place, and went towards the bridge. He was pale, his eyes glowed, he was exhausted in every limb, but he seemed suddenly to breathe more easily. He felt he had cast off that fearful burden that had so long been weighing upon him, and all at once there was a sense of relief and peace in his soul. ‘Lord,’ he prayed, ‘show me my path—I renounce that accursed … dream of mine.’ Crossing the bridge, he gazed quietly and calmly at the Neva, at the glowing red sun setting in the glowing sky. In spite of his weakness he was not conscious of fatigue. It was as though an abscess that had been forming for a month past in his heart had suddenly broken. Freedom, freedom! He was free from that spell, that sorcery, that obsession! Later on, when he recalled that time and all that happened to him during those days, minute by minute, point by point, he was superstitiously impressed by one circumstance, which, though in itself not very exceptional, always seemed to him afterwards the predestined turning-point of his fate. He could never understand and explain 117 of 967 Crime and Punishment to himself why, when he was tired and worn out, when it would have been more convenient for him to go home by the shortest and most direct way, he had returned by the Hay Market where he had no need to go. It was obviously and quite unnecessarily out of his way, though not much so. It is true that it happened to him dozens of times to return home without noticing what streets he passed through. But why, he was always asking himself, why had such an important, such a decisive and at the same time such an absolutely chance meeting happened in the Hay Market (where he had moreover no reason to go) at the very hour, the very minute of his life when he was just in the very mood and in the very circumstances in which that meeting was able to exert the gravest and most decisive influence on his whole destiny? As though it had been lying in wait for him on purpose! It was about nine o’clock when he crossed the Hay Market. At the tables and the barrows, at the booths and the shops, all the market people were closing their establishments or clearing away and packing up their wares and, like their customers, were going home. Rag pickers and costermongers of all kinds were crowding round the taverns in the dirty and stinking courtyards of the Hay Market. Raskolnikov particularly liked this place and the 118 of 967 Crime and Punishment neighbouring alleys, when he wandered aimlessly in the streets. Here his rags did not attract contemptuous attention, and one could walk about in any attire without scandalising people. At the corner of an alley a huckster and his wife had two tables set out with tapes, thread, cotton handkerchiefs, etc. They, too, had got up to go home, but were lingering in conversation with a friend, who had just come up to them. This friend was Lizaveta Ivanovna, or, as everyone called her, Lizaveta, the younger sister of the old pawnbroker, Alyona Ivanovna, whom Raskolnikov had visited the previous day to pawn his watch and make his experiment …. He already knew all about Lizaveta and she knew him a little too. She was a single woman of about thirty-five, tall, clumsy, timid, submissive and almost idiotic. She was a complete slave and went in fear and trembling of her sister, who made her work day and night, and even beat her. She was standing with a bundle before the huckster and his wife, listening earnestly and doubtfully. They were talking of something with special warmth. The moment Raskolnikov caught sight of her, he was overcome by a strange sensation as it were of intense astonishment, though there was nothing astonishing about this meeting. 119 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘You could make up your mind for yourself, Lizaveta Ivanovna,’ the huckster was saying aloud. ‘Come round to-morrow about seven. They will be here too.’ ‘To-morrow?’ said Lizaveta slowly and thoughtfully, as though unable to make up her mind. ‘Upon my word, what a fright you are in of Alyona Ivanovna,’ gabbled the huckster’s wife, a lively little woman. ‘I look at you, you are like some little babe. And she is not your own sister either-nothing but a step-sister and what a hand she keeps over you!’ ‘But this time don’t say a word to Alyona Ivanovna,’ her husband interrupted; ‘that’s my advice, but come round to us without asking. It will be worth your while. Later on your sister herself may have a notion.’ ‘Am I to come?’ ‘About seven o’clock to-morrow. And they will be here. You will be able to decide for yourself.’ ‘And we’ll have a cup of tea,’ added his wife. ‘All right, I’ll come,’ said Lizaveta, still pondering, and she began slowly moving away. Raskolnikov had just passed and heard no more. He passed softly, unnoticed, trying not to miss a word. His first amazement was followed by a thrill of horror, like a shiver running down his spine. He had learnt, he had 120 of 967 Crime and Punishment suddenly quite unexpectedly learnt, that the next day at seven o’clock Lizaveta, the old woman’s sister and only companion, would be away from home and that therefore at seven o’clock precisely the old woman would be left alone . He was only a few steps from his lodging. He went in like a man condemned to death. He thought of nothing and was incapable of thinking; but he felt suddenly in his whole being that he had no more freedom of thought, no will, and that everything was suddenly and irrevocably decided. Certainly, if he had to wait whole years for a suitable opportunity, he could not reckon on a more certain step towards the success of the plan than that which had just presented itself. In any case, it would have been difficult to find out beforehand and with certainty, with greater exactness and less risk, and without dangerous inquiries and investigations, that next day at a certain time an old woman, on whose life an attempt was contemplated, would be at home and entirely alone. 121 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter VI Later on Raskolnikov happened to find out why the huckster and his wife had invited Lizaveta. It was a very ordinary matter and there was nothing exceptional about it. A family who had come to the town and been reduced to poverty were selling their household goods and clothes, all women’s things. As the things would have fetched little in the market, they were looking for a dealer. This was Lizaveta’s business. She undertook such jobs and was frequently employed, as she was very honest and always fixed a fair price and stuck to it. She spoke as a rule little and, as we have said already, she was very submissive and timid. But Raskolnikov had become superstitious of late. The traces of superstition remained in him long after, and were almost ineradicable. And in all this he was always afterwards disposed to see something strange and mysterious, as it were, the presence of some peculiar influences and coincidences. In the previous winter a student he knew called Pokorev, who had left for Harkov, had chanced in conversation to give him the address of Alyona Ivanovna, the old pawnbroker, in case he might 122 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. want to pawn anything. For a long while he did not go to her, for he had lessons and managed to get along somehow. Six weeks ago he had remembered the address; he had two articles that could be pawned: his father’s old silver watch and a little gold ring with three red stones, a present from his sister at parting. He decided to take the ring. When he found the old woman he had felt an insurmountable repulsion for her at the first glance, though he knew nothing special about her. He got two roubles from her and went into a miserable little tavern on his way home. He asked for tea, sat down and sank into deep thought. A strange idea was pecking at his brain like a chicken in the egg, and very, very much absorbed him. Almost beside him at the next table there was sitting a student, whom he did not know and had never seen, and with him a young officer. They had played a game of billiards and began drinking tea. All at once he heard the student mention to the officer the pawnbroker Alyona Ivanovna and give him her address. This of itself seemed strange to Raskolnikov; he had just come from her and here at once he heard her name. Of course it was a chance, but he could not shake off a very extraordinary impression, and here someone seemed to be speaking 123 of 967 Crime and Punishment expressly for him; the student began telling his friend various details about Alyona Ivanovna. ‘She is first-rate,’ he said. ‘You can always get money from her. She is as rich as a Jew, she can give you five thousand roubles at a time and she is not above taking a pledge for a rouble. Lots of our fellows have had dealings with her. But she is an awful old harpy….’ And he began describing how spiteful and uncertain she was, how if you were only a day late with your interest the pledge was lost; how she gave a quarter of the value of an article and took five and even seven percent a month on it and so on. The student chattered on, saying that she had a sister Lizaveta, whom the wretched little creature was continually beating, and kept in complete bondage like a small child, though Lizaveta was at least six feet high. ‘There’s a phenomenon for you,’ cried the student and he laughed. They began talking about Lizaveta. The student spoke about her with a peculiar relish and was continually laughing and the officer listened with great interest and asked him to send Lizaveta to do some mending for him. Raskolnikov did not miss a word and learned everything about her. Lizaveta was younger than the old woman and 124 of 967 Crime and Punishment was her half-sister, being the child of a different mother. She was thirty-five. She worked day and night for her sister, and besides doing the cooking and the washing, she did sewing and worked as a charwoman and gave her sister all she earned. She did not dare to accept an order or job of any kind without her sister’s permission. The old woman had already made her will, and Lizaveta knew of it, and by this will she would not get a farthing; nothing but the movables, chairs and so on; all the money was left to a monastery in the province of N——, that prayers might be said for her in perpetuity. Lizaveta was of lower rank than her sister, unmarried and awfully uncouth in appearance, remarkably tall with long feet that looked as if they were bent outwards. She always wore battered goatskin shoes, and was clean in her person. What the student expressed most surprise and amusement about was the fact that Lizaveta was continually with child. ‘But you say she is hideous?’ observed the officer. ‘Yes, she is so dark-skinned and looks like a soldier dressed up, but you know she is not at all hideous. She has such a good-natured face and eyes. Strikingly so. And the proof of it is that lots of people are attracted by her. She is such a soft, gentle creature, ready to put up with anything, 125 of 967 Crime and Punishment always willing, willing to do anything. And her smile is really very sweet.’ ‘You seem to find her attractive yourself,’ laughed the officer. ‘From her queerness. No, I’ll tell you what. I could kill that damned old woman and make off with her money, I assure you, without the faintest conscience-prick,’ the student added with warmth. The officer laughed again while Raskolnikov shuddered. How strange it was! ‘Listen, I want to ask you a serious question,’ the student said hotly. ‘I was joking of course, but look here; on one side we have a stupid, senseless, worthless, spiteful, ailing, horrid old woman, not simply useless but doing actual mischief, who has not an idea what she is living for herself, and who will die in a day or two in any case. You understand? You understand?’ ‘Yes, yes, I understand,’ answered the officer, watching his excited companion attentively. ‘Well, listen then. On the other side, fresh young lives thrown away for want of help and by thousands, on every side! A hundred thousand good deeds could be done and helped, on that old woman’s money which will be buried in a monastery! Hundreds, thousands perhaps, might be set on the right path; dozens of families saved from 126 of 967 Crime and Punishment destitution, from ruin, from vice, from the Lock hospitals—and all with her money. Kill her, take her money and with the help of it devote oneself to the service of humanity and the good of all. What do you think, would not one tiny crime be wiped out by thousands of good deeds? For one life thousands would be saved from corruption and decay. One death, and a hundred lives in exchange—it’s simple arithmetic! Besides, what value has the life of that sickly, stupid, ill-natured old woman in the balance of existence! No more than the life of a louse, of a black-beetle, less in fact because the old woman is doing harm. She is wearing out the lives of others; the other day she bit Lizaveta’s finger out of spite; it almost had to be amputated.’ ‘Of course she does not deserve to live,’ remarked the officer, ‘but there it is, it’s nature.’ ‘Oh, well, brother, but we have to correct and direct nature, and, but for that, we should drown in an ocean of prejudice. But for that, there would never have been a single great man. They talk of duty, conscience—I don’t want to say anything against duty and conscience; —but the point is, what do we mean by them. Stay, I have another question to ask you. Listen!’ ‘No, you stay, I’ll ask you a question. Listen!’ 127 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Well?’ ‘You are talking and speechifying away, but tell me, would you kill the old woman yourself ?’ ‘Of course not! I was only arguing the justice of it…. It’s nothing to do with me….’ ‘But I think, if you would not do it yourself, there’s no justice about it…. Let us have another game.’ Raskolnikov was violently agitated. Of course, it was all ordinary youthful talk and thought, such as he had often heard before in different forms and on different themes. But why had he happened to hear such a discussion and such ideas at the very moment when his own brain was just conceiving … the very same ideas ? And why, just at the moment when he had brought away the embryo of his idea from the old woman had he dropped at once upon a conversation about her? This coincidence always seemed strange to him. This trivial talk in a tavern had an immense influence on him in his later action; as though there had really been in it something preordained, some guiding hint….   *****   Crime and Punishment On returning from the Hay Market he flung himself on the sofa and sat for a whole hour without stirring. Meanwhile it got dark; he had no candle and, indeed, it did not occur to him to light up. He could never recollect whether he had been thinking about anything at that time. At last he was conscious of his former fever and shivering, and he realised with relief that he could lie down on the sofa. Soon heavy, leaden sleep came over him, as it were crushing him. He slept an extraordinarily long time and without dreaming. Nastasya, coming into his room at ten o’clock the next morning, had difficulty in rousing him. She brought him in tea and bread. The tea was again the second brew and again in her own tea-pot. ‘My goodness, how he sleeps!’ she cried indignantly. ‘And he is always asleep.’ He got up with an effort. His head ached, he stood up, took a turn in his garret and sank back on the sofa again. ‘Going to sleep again,’ cried Nastasya. ‘Are you ill, eh?’ He made no reply. ‘Do you want some tea?’ ‘Afterwards,’ he said with an effort, closing his eyes again and turning to the wall. Nastasya stood over him. 129 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Perhaps he really is ill,’ she said, turned and went out. She came in again at two o’clock with soup. He was lying as before. The tea stood untouched. Nastasya felt positively offended and began wrathfully rousing him. ‘Why are you lying like a log?’ she shouted, looking at him with repulsion. He got up, and sat down again, but said nothing and stared at the floor. ‘Are you ill or not?’ asked Nastasya and again received no answer. ‘You’d better go out and get a breath of air,’ she said after a pause. ‘Will you eat it or not?’ ‘Afterwards,’ he said weakly. ‘You can go.’ And he motioned her out. She remained a little longer, looked at him with compassion and went out. A few minutes afterwards, he raised his eyes and looked for a long while at the tea and the soup. Then he took the bread, took up a spoon and began to eat. He ate a little, three or four spoonfuls, without appetite, as it were mechanically. His head ached less. After his meal he stretched himself on the sofa again, but now he could not sleep; he lay without stirring, with his face in the pillow. He was haunted by day-dreams and such strange day-dreams; in one, that kept recurring, he 130 of 967 Crime and Punishment fancied that he was in Africa, in Egypt, in some sort of oasis. The caravan was resting, the camels were peacefully lying down; the palms stood all around in a complete circle; all the party were at dinner. But he was drinking water from a spring which flowed gurgling close by. And it was so cool, it was wonderful, wonderful, blue, cold water running among the parti-coloured stones and over the clean sand which glistened here and there like gold…. Suddenly he heard a clock strike. He started, roused himself, raised his head, looked out of the window, and seeing how late it was, suddenly jumped up wide awake as though someone had pulled him off the sofa. He crept on tiptoe to the door, stealthily opened it and began listening on the staircase. His heart beat terribly. But all was quiet on the stairs as if everyone was asleep…. It seemed to him strange and monstrous that he could have slept in such forgetfulness from the previous day and had done nothing, had prepared nothing yet…. And meanwhile perhaps it had struck six. And his drowsiness and stupefaction were followed by an extraordinary, feverish, as it were distracted haste. But the preparations to be made were few. He concentrated all his energies on thinking of everything and forgetting nothing; and his heart kept beating and thumping so that he could hardly breathe. First he had to 131 of 967 Crime and Punishment make a noose and sew it into his overcoat—a work of a moment. He rummaged under his pillow and picked out amongst the linen stuffed away under it, a worn out, old unwashed shirt. From its rags he tore a long strip, a couple of inches wide and about sixteen inches long. He folded this strip in two, took off his wide, strong summer overcoat of some stout cotton material (his only outer garment) and began sewing the two ends of the rag on the inside, under the left armhole. His hands shook as he sewed, but he did it successfully so that nothing showed outside when he put the coat on again. The needle and thread he had got ready long before and they lay on his table in a piece of paper. As for the noose, it was a very ingenious device of his own; the noose was intended for the axe. It was impossible for him to carry the axe through the street in his hands. And if hidden under his coat he would still have had to support it with his hand, which would have been noticeable. Now he had only to put the head of the axe in the noose, and it would hang quietly under his arm on the inside. Putting his hand in his coat pocket, he could hold the end of the handle all the way, so that it did not swing; and as the coat was very full, a regular sack in fact, it could not be seen from outside that he was holding something with the hand that was in the 132 of 967 Crime and Punishment pocket. This noose, too, he had designed a fortnight before. When he had finished with this, he thrust his hand into a little opening between his sofa and the floor, fumbled in the left corner and drew out the pledge which he had got ready long before and hidden there. This pledge was, however, only a smoothly planed piece of wood the size and thickness of a silver cigarette case. He picked up this piece of wood in one of his wanderings in a courtyard where there was some sort of a workshop. Afterwards he had added to the wood a thin smooth piece of iron, which he had also picked up at the same time in the street. Putting the iron which was a little the smaller on the piece of wood, he fastened them very firmly, crossing and re-crossing the thread round them; then wrapped them carefully and daintily in clean white paper and tied up the parcel so that it would be very difficult to untie it. This was in order to divert the attention of the old woman for a time, while she was trying to undo the knot, and so to gain a moment. The iron strip was added to give weight, so that the woman might not guess the first minute that the ‘thing’ was made of wood. All this had been stored by him beforehand under the sofa. He had only just got the 133 of 967 Crime and Punishment pledge out when he heard someone suddenly about in the yard. ‘It struck six long ago.’ ‘Long ago! My God!’ He rushed to the door, listened, caught up his hat and began to descend his thirteen steps cautiously, noiselessly, like a cat. He had still the most important thing to do—to steal the axe from the kitchen. That the deed must be done with an axe he had decided long ago. He had also a pocket pruning-knife, but he could not rely on the knife and still less on his own strength, and so resolved finally on the axe. We may note in passing, one peculiarity in regard to all the final resolutions taken by him in the matter; they had one strange characteristic: the more final they were, the more hideous and the more absurd they at once became in his eyes. In spite of all his agonising inward struggle, he never for a single instant all that time could believe in the carrying out of his plans. And, indeed, if it had ever happened that everything to the least point could have been considered and finally settled, and no uncertainty of any kind had remained, he would, it seems, have renounced it all as something absurd, monstrous and impossible. But a whole mass of unsettled points and uncertainties remained. As for getting 134 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. the axe, that trifling business cost him no anxiety, for nothing could be easier. Nastasya was continually out of the house, especially in the evenings; she would run in to the neighbours or to a shop, and always left the door ajar. It was the one thing the landlady was always scolding her about. And so, when the time came, he would only have to go quietly into the kitchen and to take the axe, and an hour later (when everything was over) go in and put it back again. But these were doubtful points. Supposing he returned an hour later to put it back, and Nastasya had come back and was on the spot. He would of course have to go by and wait till she went out again. But supposing she were in the meantime to miss the axe, look for it, make an outcry —that would mean suspicion or at least grounds for suspicion. But those were all trifles which he had not even begun to consider, and indeed he had no time. He was thinking of the chief point, and put off trifling details, until he could believe in it all . But that seemed utterly unattainable. So it seemed to himself at least. He could not imagine, for instance, that he would sometime leave off thinking, get up and simply go there…. Even his late experiment (i.e. his visit with the object of a final survey of the place) was simply an attempt at an experiment, far from being the real 135 of 967 Crime and Punishment thing, as though one should say ‘come, let us go and try it—why dream about it!’—and at once he had broken down and had run away cursing, in a frenzy with himself. Meanwhile it would seem, as regards the moral question, that his analysis was complete; his casuistry had become keen as a razor, and he could not find rational objections in himself. But in the last resort he simply ceased to believe in himself, and doggedly, slavishly sought arguments in all directions, fumbling for them, as though someone were forcing and drawing him to it. At first—long before indeed—he had been much occupied with one question; why almost all crimes are so badly concealed and so easily detected, and why almost all criminals leave such obvious traces? He had come gradually to many different and curious conclusions, and in his opinion the chief reason lay not so much in the material impossibility of concealing the crime, as in the criminal himself. Almost every criminal is subject to a failure of will and reasoning power by a childish and phenomenal heedlessness, at the very instant when prudence and caution are most essential. It was his conviction that this eclipse of reason and failure of will power attacked a man like a disease, developed gradually and reached its highest point just before the perpetration 136 of 967 Crime and Punishment of the crime, continued with equal violence at the moment of the crime and for longer or shorter time after, according to the individual case, and then passed off like any other disease. The question whether the disease gives rise to the crime, or whether the crime from its own peculiar nature is always accompanied by something of the nature of disease, he did not yet feel able to decide. When he reached these conclusions, he decided that in his own case there could not be such a morbid reaction, that his reason and will would remain unimpaired at the time of carrying out his design, for the simple reason that his design was ‘not a crime….’ We will omit all the process by means of which he arrived at this last conclusion; we have run too far ahead already…. We may add only that the practical, purely material difficulties of the affair occupied a secondary position in his mind. ‘One has but to keep all one’s will-power and reason to deal with them, and they will all be overcome at the time when once one has familiarised oneself with the minutest details of the business….’ But this preparation had never been begun. His final decisions were what he came to trust least, and when the hour struck, it all came to pass quite differently, as it were accidentally and unexpectedly. 137 of 967 Crime and Punishment One trifling circumstance upset his calculations, before he had even left the staircase. When he reached the landlady’s kitchen, the door of which was open as usual, he glanced cautiously in to see whether, in Nastasya’s absence, the landlady herself was there, or if not, whether the door to her own room was closed, so that she might not peep out when he went in for the axe. But what was his amazement when he suddenly saw that Nastasya was not only at home in the kitchen, but was occupied there, taking linen out of a basket and hanging it on a line. Seeing him, she left off hanging the clothes, turned to him and stared at him all the time he was passing. He turned away his eyes, and walked past as though he noticed nothing. But it was the end of everything; he had not the axe! He was overwhelmed. ‘What made me think,’ he reflected, as he went under the gateway, ‘what made me think that she would be sure not to be at home at that moment! Why, why, why did I assume this so certainly?’ He was crushed and even humiliated. He could have laughed at himself in his anger…. A dull animal rage boiled within him. He stood hesitating in the gateway. To go into the street, to go a walk for appearance’ sake was revolting; to 138 of 967 Crime and Punishment go back to his room, even more revolting. ‘And what a chance I have lost for ever!’ he muttered, standing aimlessly in the gateway, just opposite the porter’s little dark room, which was also open. Suddenly he started. From the porter’s room, two paces away from him, something shining under the bench to the right caught his eye…. He looked about him—nobody. He approached the room on tiptoe, went down two steps into it and in a faint voice called the porter. ‘Yes, not at home! Somewhere near though, in the yard, for the door is wide open.’ He dashed to the axe (it was an axe) and pulled it out from under the bench, where it lay between two chunks of wood; at once, before going out, he made it fast in the noose, he thrust both hands into his pockets and went out of the room; no one had noticed him! ‘When reason fails, the devil helps!’ he thought with a strange grin. This chance raised his spirits extraordinarily. He walked along quietly and sedately, without hurry, to avoid awakening suspicion. He scarcely looked at the passers-by, tried to escape looking at their faces at all, and to be as little noticeable as possible. Suddenly he thought of his hat. ‘Good heavens! I had the money the day before yesterday and did not get a cap to wear instead!’ A curse rose from the bottom of his soul. 139 of 967 Crime and Punishment Glancing out of the corner of his eye into a shop, he saw by a clock on the wall that it was ten minutes past seven. He had to make haste and at the same time to go someway round, so as to approach the house from the other side…. When he had happened to imagine all this beforehand, he had sometimes thought that he would be very much afraid. But he was not very much afraid now, was not afraid at all, indeed. His mind was even occupied by irrelevant matters, but by nothing for long. As he passed the Yusupov garden, he was deeply absorbed in considering the building of great fountains, and of their refreshing effect on the atmosphere in all the squares. By degrees he passed to the conviction that if the summer garden were extended to the field of Mars, and perhaps joined to the garden of the Mihailovsky Palace, it would be a splendid thing and a great benefit to the town. Then he was interested by the question why in all great towns men are not simply driven by necessity, but in some peculiar way inclined to live in those parts of the town where there are no gardens nor fountains; where there is most dirt and smell and all sorts of nastiness. Then his own walks through the Hay Market came back to his mind, 140 of 967 Crime and Punishment and for a moment he waked up to reality. ‘What nonsense!’ he thought, ‘better think of nothing at all!’ ‘So probably men led to execution clutch mentally at every object that meets them on the way,’ flashed through his mind, but simply flashed, like lightning; he made haste to dismiss this thought…. And by now he was near; here was the house, here was the gate. Suddenly a clock somewhere struck once. ‘What! can it be half-past seven? Impossible, it must be fast!’ Luckily for him, everything went well again at the gates. At that very moment, as though expressly for his benefit, a huge waggon of hay had just driven in at the gate, completely screening him as he passed under the gateway, and the waggon had scarcely had time to drive through into the yard, before he had slipped in a flash to the right. On the other side of the waggon he could hear shouting and quarrelling; but no one noticed him and no one met him. Many windows looking into that huge quadrangular yard were open at that moment, but he did not raise his head—he had not the strength to. The staircase leading to the old woman’s room was close by, just on the right of the gateway. He was already on the stairs…. 141 of 967 Crime and Punishment Drawing a breath, pressing his hand against his throbbing heart, and once more feeling for the axe and setting it straight, he began softly and cautiously ascending the stairs, listening every minute. But the stairs, too, were quite deserted; all the doors were shut; he met no one. One flat indeed on the first floor was wide open and painters were at work in it, but they did not glance at him. He stood still, thought a minute and went on. ‘Of course it would be better if they had not been here, but … it’s two storeys above them.’ And there was the fourth storey, here was the door, here was the flat opposite, the empty one. The flat underneath the old woman’s was apparently empty also; the visiting card nailed on the door had been torn off— they had gone away! … He was out of breath. For one instant the thought floated through his mind ‘Shall I go back?’ But he made no answer and began listening at the old woman’s door, a dead silence. Then he listened again on the staircase, listened long and intently … then looked about him for the last time, pulled himself together, drew himself up, and once more tried the axe in the noose. ‘Am I very pale?’ he wondered. ‘Am I not evidently agitated? She is mistrustful…. Had I better wait a little longer … till my heart leaves off thumping?’ 142 of 967 Crime and Punishment But his heart did not leave off. On the contrary, as though to spite him, it throbbed more and more violently. He could stand it no longer, he slowly put out his hand to the bell and rang. Half a minute later he rang again, more loudly. No answer. To go on ringing was useless and out of place. The old woman was, of course, at home, but she was suspicious and alone. He had some knowledge of her habits … and once more he put his ear to the door. Either his senses were peculiarly keen (which it is difficult to suppose), or the sound was really very distinct. Anyway, he suddenly heard something like the cautious touch of a hand on the lock and the rustle of a skirt at the very door. someone was standing stealthily close to the lock and just as he was doing on the outside was secretly listening within, and seemed to have her ear to the door…. He moved a little on purpose and muttered something aloud that he might not have the appearance of hiding, then rang a third time, but quietly, soberly, and without impatience, Recalling it afterwards, that moment stood out in his mind vividly, distinctly, for ever; he could not make out how he had had such cunning, for his mind was as it were clouded at moments and he was almost 143 of 967 Crime and Punishment unconscious of his body…. An instant later he heard the latch unfastened. 144 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter VII The door was as before opened a tiny crack, and again two sharp and suspicious eyes stared at him out of the darkness. Then Raskolnikov lost his head and nearly made a great mistake. Fearing the old woman would be frightened by their being alone, and not hoping that the sight of him would disarm her suspicions, he took hold of the door and drew it towards him to prevent the old woman from attempting to shut it again. Seeing this she did not pull the door back, but she did not let go the handle so that he almost dragged her out with it on to the stairs. Seeing that she was standing in the doorway not allowing him to pass, he advanced straight upon her. She stepped back in alarm, tried to say something, but seemed unable to speak and stared with open eyes at him. ‘Good evening, Alyona Ivanovna,’ he began, trying to speak easily, but his voice would not obey him, it broke and shook. ‘I have come … I have brought something … but we’d better come in … to the light….’ 145 of 967 Crime and Punishment And leaving her, he passed straight into the room uninvited. The old woman ran after him; her tongue was unloosed. ‘Good heavens! What it is? Who is it? What do you want?’ ‘Why, Alyona Ivanovna, you know me … Raskolnikov … here, I brought you the pledge I promised the other day …’ And he held out the pledge. The old woman glanced for a moment at the pledge, but at once stared in the eyes of her uninvited visitor. She looked intently, maliciously and mistrustfully. A minute passed; he even fancied something like a sneer in her eyes, as though she had already guessed everything. He felt that he was losing his head, that he was almost frightened, so frightened that if she were to look like that and not say a word for another half minute, he thought he would have run away from her. ‘Why do you look at me as though you did not know me?’ he said suddenly, also with malice. ‘Take it if you like, if not I’ll go elsewhere, I am in a hurry.’ He had not even thought of saying this, but it was suddenly said of itself. The old woman recovered herself, and her visitor’s resolute tone evidently restored her confidence. 146 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. ‘But why, my good sir, all of a minute…. What is it?’ she asked, looking at the pledge. ‘The silver cigarette case; I spoke of it last time, you know.’ She held out her hand. ‘But how pale you are, to be sure … and your hands are trembling too? Have you been bathing, or what?’ ‘Fever,’ he answered abruptly. ‘You can’t help getting pale … if you’ve nothing to eat,’ he added, with difficulty articulating the words. His strength was failing him again. But his answer sounded like the truth; the old woman took the pledge. ‘What is it?’ she asked once more, scanning Raskolnikov intently, and weighing the pledge in her hand. ‘A thing … cigarette case…. Silver…. Look at it.’ ‘It does not seem somehow like silver…. How he has wrapped it up!’ Trying to untie the string and turning to the window, to the light (all her windows were shut, in spite of the stifling heat), she left him altogether for some seconds and stood with her back to him. He unbuttoned his coat and freed the axe from the noose, but did not yet take it out altogether, simply holding it in his right hand under the 147 of 967 Crime and Punishment coat. His hands were fearfully weak, he felt them every moment growing more numb and more wooden. He was afraid he would let the axe slip and fall…. A sudden giddiness came over him. ‘But what has he tied it up like this for?’ the old woman cried with vexation and moved towards him. He had not a minute more to lose. He pulled the axe quite out, swung it with both arms, scarcely conscious of himself, and almost without effort, almost mechanically, brought the blunt side down on her head. He seemed not to use his own strength in this. But as soon as he had once brought the axe down, his strength returned to him. The old woman was as always bareheaded. Her thin, light hair, streaked with grey, thickly smeared with grease, was plaited in a rat’s tail and fastened by a broken horn comb which stood out on the nape of her neck. As she was so short, the blow fell on the very top of her skull. She cried out, but very faintly, and suddenly sank all of a heap on the floor, raising her hands to her head. In one hand she still held ‘the pledge.’ Then he dealt her another and another blow with the blunt side and on the same spot. The blood gushed as from an overturned glass, the body fell back. He stepped back, let it fall, and at once bent over her face; she was dead. Her eyes seemed to be 148 of 967 Crime and Punishment starting out of their sockets, the brow and the whole face were drawn and contorted convulsively. He laid the axe on the ground near the dead body and felt at once in her pocket (trying to avoid the streaming body)—the same right-hand pocket from which she had taken the key on his last visit. He was in full possession of his faculties, free from confusion or giddiness, but his hands were still trembling. He remembered afterwards that he had been particularly collected and careful, trying all the time not to get smeared with blood…. He pulled out the keys at once, they were all, as before, in one bunch on a steel ring. He ran at once into the bedroom with them. It was a very small room with a whole shrine of holy images. Against the other wall stood a big bed, very clean and covered with a silk patchwork wadded quilt. Against a third wall was a chest of drawers. Strange to say, so soon as he began to fit the keys into the chest, so soon as he heard their jingling, a convulsive shudder passed over him. He suddenly felt tempted again to give it all up and go away. But that was only for an instant; it was too late to go back. He positively smiled at himself, when suddenly another terrifying idea occurred to his mind. He suddenly fancied that the old woman might be still alive and might recover her senses. Leaving the keys in the chest, he ran back to 149 of 967 Crime and Punishment the body, snatched up the axe and lifted it once more over the old woman, but did not bring it down. There was no doubt that she was dead. Bending down and examining her again more closely, he saw clearly that the skull was broken and even battered in on one side. He was about to feel it with his finger, but drew back his hand and indeed it was evident without that. Meanwhile there was a perfect pool of blood. All at once he noticed a string on her neck; he tugged at it, but the string was strong and did not snap and besides, it was soaked with blood. He tried to pull it out from the front of the dress, but something held it and prevented its coming. In his impatience he raised the axe again to cut the string from above on the body, but did not dare, and with difficulty, smearing his hand and the axe in the blood, after two minutes’ hurried effort, he cut the string and took it off without touching the body with the axe; he was not mistaken—it was a purse. On the string were two crosses, one of Cyprus wood and one of copper, and an image in silver filigree, and with them a small greasy chamois leather purse with a steel rim and ring. The purse was stuffed very full; Raskolnikov thrust it in his pocket without looking at it, flung the crosses on the old woman’s body and rushed back into the bedroom, this time taking the axe with him. 150 of 967 Crime and Punishment He was in terrible haste, he snatched the keys, and began trying them again. But he was unsuccessful. They would not fit in the locks. It was not so much that his hands were shaking, but that he kept making mistakes; though he saw for instance that a key was not the right one and would not fit, still he tried to put it in. Suddenly he remembered and realised that the big key with the deep notches, which was hanging there with the small keys could not possibly belong to the chest of drawers (on his last visit this had struck him), but to some strong box, and that everything perhaps was hidden in that box. He left the chest of drawers, and at once felt under the bedstead, knowing that old women usually keep boxes under their beds. And so it was; there was a good-sized box under the bed, at least a yard in length, with an arched lid covered with red leather and studded with steel nails. The notched key fitted at once and unlocked it. At the top, under a white sheet, was a coat of red brocade lined with hareskin; under it was a silk dress, then a shawl and it seemed as though there was nothing below but clothes. The first thing he did was to wipe his blood- stained hands on the red brocade. ‘It’s red, and on red blood will be less noticeable,’ the thought passed through his mind; then he 151 of 967 Crime and Punishment suddenly came to himself. ‘Good God, am I going out of my senses?’ he thought with terror. But no sooner did he touch the clothes than a gold watch slipped from under the fur coat. He made haste to turn them all over. There turned out to be various articles made of gold among the clothes—probably all pledges, unredeemed or waiting to be redeemed—bracelets, chains, ear-rings, pins and such things. Some were in cases, others simply wrapped in newspaper, carefully and exactly folded, and tied round with tape. Without any delay, he began filling up the pockets of his trousers and overcoat without examining or undoing the parcels and cases; but he had not time to take many…. He suddenly heard steps in the room where the old woman lay. He stopped short and was still as death. But all was quiet, so it must have been his fancy. All at once he heard distinctly a faint cry, as though someone had uttered a low broken moan. Then again dead silence for a minute or two. He sat squatting on his heels by the box and waited holding his breath. Suddenly he jumped up, seized the axe and ran out of the bedroom. In the middle of the room stood Lizaveta with a big bundle in her arms. She was gazing in stupefaction at her murdered sister, white as a sheet and seeming not to have 152 of 967 Crime and Punishment the strength to cry out. Seeing him run out of the bedroom, she began faintly quivering all over, like a leaf, a shudder ran down her face; she lifted her hand, opened her mouth, but still did not scream. She began slowly backing away from him into the corner, staring intently, persistently at him, but still uttered no sound, as though she could not get breath to scream. He rushed at her with the axe; her mouth twitched piteously, as one sees babies’ mouths, when they begin to be frightened, stare intently at what frightens them and are on the point of screaming. And this hapless Lizaveta was so simple and had been so thoroughly crushed and scared that she did not even raise a hand to guard her face, though that was the most necessary and natural action at the moment, for the axe was raised over her face. She only put up her empty left hand, but not to her face, slowly holding it out before her as though motioning him away. The axe fell with the sharp edge just on the skull and split at one blow all the top of the head. She fell heavily at once. Raskolnikov completely lost his head, snatching up her bundle, dropped it again and ran into the entry. Fear gained more and more mastery over him, especially after this second, quite unexpected murder. He longed to run away from the place as fast as possible. And 153 of 967 Crime and Punishment if at that moment he had been capable of seeing and reasoning more correctly, if he had been able to realise all the difficulties of his position, the hopelessness, the hideousness and the absurdity of it, if he could have understood how many obstacles and, perhaps, crimes he had still to overcome or to commit, to get out of that place and to make his way home, it is very possible that he would have flung up everything, and would have gone to give himself up, and not from fear, but from simple horror and loathing of what he had done. The feeling of loathing especially surged up within him and grew stronger every minute. He would not now have gone to the box or even into the room for anything in the world. But a sort of blankness, even dreaminess, had begun by degrees to take possession of him; at moments he forgot himself, or rather, forgot what was of importance, and caught at trifles. Glancing, however, into the kitchen and seeing a bucket half full of water on a bench, he bethought him of washing his hands and the axe. His hands were sticky with blood. He dropped the axe with the blade in the water, snatched a piece of soap that lay in a broken saucer on the window, and began washing his hands in the bucket. When they were clean, he took out the axe, washed the blade and spent a long time, about three 154 of 967 Crime and Punishment minutes, washing the wood where there were spots of blood rubbing them with soap. Then he wiped it all with some linen that was hanging to dry on a line in the kitchen and then he was a long while attentively examining the axe at the window. There was no trace left on it, only the wood was still damp. He carefully hung the axe in the noose under his coat. Then as far as was possible, in the dim light in the kitchen, he looked over his overcoat, his trousers and his boots. At the first glance there seemed to be nothing but stains on the boots. He wetted the rag and rubbed the boots. But he knew he was not looking thoroughly, that there might be something quite noticeable that he was overlooking. He stood in the middle of the room, lost in thought. Dark agonising ideas rose in his mind—the idea that he was mad and that at that moment he was incapable of reasoning, of protecting himself, that he ought perhaps to be doing something utterly different from what he was now doing. ‘Good God!’ he muttered ‘I must fly, fly,’ and he rushed into the entry. But here a shock of terror awaited him such as he had never known before. He stood and gazed and could not believe his eyes: the door, the outer door from the stairs, at which he had not long before waited and rung, was standing unfastened and 155 of 967 Crime and Punishment at least six inches open. No lock, no bolt, all the time, all that time! The old woman had not shut it after him perhaps as a precaution. But, good God! Why, he had seen Lizaveta afterwards! And how could he, how could he have failed to reflect that she must have come in somehow! She could not have come through the wall! He dashed to the door and fastened the latch. ‘But no, the wrong thing again! I must get away, get away….’ He unfastened the latch, opened the door and began listening on the staircase. He listened a long time. Somewhere far away, it might be in the gateway, two voices were loudly and shrilly shouting, quarrelling and scolding. ‘What are they about?’ He waited patiently. At last all was still, as though suddenly cut off; they had separated. He was meaning to go out, but suddenly, on the floor below, a door was noisily opened and someone began going downstairs humming a tune. ‘How is it they all make such a noise?’ flashed through his mind. Once more he closed the door and waited. At last all was still, not a soul stirring. He was just taking a step towards the stairs when he heard fresh footsteps. 156 of 967 Crime and Punishment The steps sounded very far off, at the very bottom of the stairs, but he remembered quite clearly and distinctly that from the first sound he began for some reason to suspect that this was someone coming there to the fourth floor, to the old woman. Why? Were the sounds somehow peculiar, significant? The steps were heavy, even and unhurried. Now he had passed the first floor, now he was mounting higher, it was growing more and more distinct! He could hear his heavy breathing. And now the third storey had been reached. Coming here! And it seemed to him all at once that he was turned to stone, that it was like a dream in which one is being pursued, nearly caught and will be killed, and is rooted to the spot and cannot even move one’s arms. At last when the unknown was mounting to the fourth floor, he suddenly started, and succeeded in slipping neatly and quickly back into the flat and closing the door behind him. Then he took the hook and softly, noiselessly, fixed it in the catch. Instinct helped him. When he had done this, he crouched holding his breath, by the door. The unknown visitor was by now also at the door. They were now standing opposite one another, as he had just before been standing with the old woman, when the door divided them and he was listening. 157 of 967 Crime and Punishment The visitor panted several times. ‘He must be a big, fat man,’ thought Raskolnikov, squeezing the axe in his hand. It seemed like a dream indeed. The visitor took hold of the bell and rang it loudly. As soon as the tin bell tinkled, Raskolnikov seemed to be aware of something moving in the room. For some seconds he listened quite seriously. The unknown rang again, waited and suddenly tugged violently and impatiently at the handle of the door. Raskolnikov gazed in horror at the hook shaking in its fastening, and in blank terror expected every minute that the fastening would be pulled out. It certainly did seem possible, so violently was he shaking it. He was tempted to hold the fastening, but he might be aware of it. A giddiness came over him again. ‘I shall fall down!’ flashed through his mind, but the unknown began to speak and he recovered himself at once. ‘What’s up? Are they asleep or murdered? D-damn them!’ he bawled in a thick voice, ‘Hey, Alyona Ivanovna, old witch! Lizaveta Ivanovna, hey, my beauty! open the door! Oh, damn them! Are they asleep or what?’ And again, enraged, he tugged with all his might a dozen times at the bell. He must certainly be a man of authority and an intimate acquaintance. 158 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. At this moment light hurried steps were heard not far off, on the stairs. someone else was approaching. Raskolnikov had not heard them at first. ‘You don’t say there’s no one at home,’ the new-comer cried in a cheerful, ringing voice, addressing the first visitor, who still went on pulling the bell. ‘Good evening, Koch.’ ‘From his voice he must be quite young,’ thought Raskolnikov. ‘Who the devil can tell? I’ve almost broken the lock,’ answered Koch. ‘But how do you come to know me? ‘Why! The day before yesterday I beat you three times running at billiards at Gambrinus’.’ ‘Oh!’ ‘So they are not at home? That’s queer. It’s awfully stupid though. Where could the old woman have gone? I’ve come on business.’ ‘Yes; and I have business with her, too.’ ‘Well, what can we do? Go back, I suppose, Aie—aie! And I was hoping to get some money!’ cried the young man. ‘We must give it up, of course, but what did she fix this time for? The old witch fixed the time for me to come herself. It’s out of my way. And where the devil she can 159 of 967 Crime and Punishment have got to, I can’t make out. She sits here from year’s end to year’s end, the old hag; her legs are bad and yet here all of a sudden she is out for a walk!’ ‘Hadn’t we better ask the porter?’ ‘What?’ ‘Where she’s gone and when she’ll be back.’ ‘Hm…. Damn it all! … We might ask…. But you know she never does go anywhere.’ And he once more tugged at the door-handle. ‘Damn it all. There’s nothing to be done, we must go!’ ‘Stay!’ cried the young man suddenly. ‘Do you see how the door shakes if you pull it?’ ‘Well?’ ‘That shows it’s not locked, but fastened with the hook! Do you hear how the hook clanks?’ ‘Well?’ ‘Why, don’t you see? That proves that one of them is at home. If they were all out, they would have locked the door from the outside with the key and not with the hook from inside. There, do you hear how the hook is clanking? To fasten the hook on the inside they must be at home, don’t you see. So there they are sitting inside and don’t open the door!’ 160 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Well! And so they must be!’ cried Koch, astonished. ‘What are they about in there?’ And he began furiously shaking the door. ‘Stay!’ cried the young man again. ‘Don’t pull at it! There must be something wrong…. Here, you’ve been ringing and pulling at the door and still they don’t open! So either they’ve both fainted or …’ ‘What?’ ‘I tell you what. Let’s go fetch the porter, let him wake them up.’ ‘All right.’ Both were going down. ‘Stay. You stop here while I run down for the porter.’ ‘What for?’ ‘Well, you’d better.’ ‘All right.’ ‘I’m studying the law you see! It’s evident, e-vi-dent there’s something wrong here!’ the young man cried hotly, and he ran downstairs. Koch remained. Once more he softly touched the bell which gave one tinkle, then gently, as though reflecting and looking about him, began touching the door-handle pulling it and letting it go to make sure once more that it was only fastened by the hook. Then puffing and panting 161 of 967 Crime and Punishment he bent down and began looking at the keyhole: but the key was in the lock on the inside and so nothing could be seen. Raskolnikov stood keeping tight hold of the axe. He was in a sort of delirium. He was even making ready to fight when they should come in. While they were knocking and talking together, the idea several times occurred to him to end it all at once and shout to them through the door. Now and then he was tempted to swear at them, to jeer at them, while they could not open the door! ‘Only make haste!’ was the thought that flashed through his mind. ‘But what the devil is he about? …’ Time was passing, one minute, and another—no one came. Koch began to be restless. ‘What the devil?’ he cried suddenly and in impatience deserting his sentry duty, he, too, went down, hurrying and thumping with his heavy boots on the stairs. The steps died away. ‘Good heavens! What am I to do?’ Raskolnikov unfastened the hook, opened the door— there was no sound. Abruptly, without any thought at all, he went out, closing the door as thoroughly as he could, and went downstairs. 162 of 967 Crime and Punishment He had gone down three flights when he suddenly heard a loud voice below—where could he go! There was nowhere to hide. He was just going back to the flat. ‘Hey there! Catch the brute!’ Somebody dashed out of a flat below, shouting, and rather fell than ran down the stairs, bawling at the top of his voice. ‘Mitka! Mitka! Mitka! Mitka! Mitka! Blast him!’ The shout ended in a shriek; the last sounds came from the yard; all was still. But at the same instant several men talking loud and fast began noisily mounting the stairs. There were three or four of them. He distinguished the ringing voice of the young man. ‘They!’ Filled with despair he went straight to meet them, feeling ‘come what must!’ If they stopped him—all was lost; if they let him pass—all was lost too; they would remember him. They were approaching; they were only a flight from him—and suddenly deliverance! A few steps from him on the right, there was an empty flat with the door wide open, the flat on the second floor where the painters had been at work, and which, as though for his benefit, they had just left. It was they, no doubt, who had just run down, shouting. The floor had only just been painted, in the middle of the room stood a pail and a 163 of 967 Crime and Punishment broken pot with paint and brushes. In one instant he had whisked in at the open door and hidden behind the wall and only in the nick of time; they had already reached the landing. Then they turned and went on up to the fourth floor, talking loudly. He waited, went out on tiptoe and ran down the stairs. No one was on the stairs, nor in the gateway. He passed quickly through the gateway and turned to the left in the street. He knew, he knew perfectly well that at that moment they were at the flat, that they were greatly astonished at finding it unlocked, as the door had just been fastened, that by now they were looking at the bodies, that before another minute had passed they would guess and completely realise that the murderer had just been there, and had succeeded in hiding somewhere, slipping by them and escaping. They would guess most likely that he had been in the empty flat, while they were going upstairs. And meanwhile he dared not quicken his pace much, though the next turning was still nearly a hundred yards away. ‘Should he slip through some gateway and wait somewhere in an unknown street? No, hopeless! Should he fling away the axe? Should he take a cab? Hopeless, hopeless!’ 164 of 967 Crime and Punishment At last he reached the turning. He turned down it more dead than alive. Here he was half way to safety, and he understood it; it was less risky because there was a great crowd of people, and he was lost in it like a grain of sand. But all he had suffered had so weakened him that he could scarcely move. Perspiration ran down him in drops, his neck was all wet. ‘My word, he has been going it!’ someone shouted at him when he came out on the canal bank. He was only dimly conscious of himself now, and the farther he went the worse it was. He remembered however, that on coming out on to the canal bank, he was alarmed at finding few people there and so being more conspicuous, and he had thought of turning back. Though he was almost falling from fatigue, he went a long way round so as to get home from quite a different direction. He was not fully conscious when he passed through the gateway of his house! he was already on the staircase before he recollected the axe. And yet he had a very grave problem before him, to put it back and to escape observation as far as possible in doing so. He was of course incapable of reflecting that it might perhaps be far better not to restore the axe at all, but to drop it later on in somebody’s yard. But it all happened fortunately, the door 165 of 967 Crime and Punishment of the porter’s room was closed but not locked, so that it seemed most likely that the porter was at home. But he had so completely lost all power of reflection that he walked straight to the door and opened it. If the porter had asked him, ‘What do you want?’ he would perhaps have simply handed him the axe. But again the porter was not at home, and he succeeded in putting the axe back under the bench, and even covering it with the chunk of wood as before. He met no one, not a soul, afterwards on the way to his room; the landlady’s door was shut. When he was in his room, he flung himself on the sofa just as he was—he did not sleep, but sank into blank forgetfulness. If anyone had come into his room then, he would have jumped up at once and screamed. Scraps and shreds of thoughts were simply swarming in his brain, but he could not catch at one, he could not rest on one, in spite of all his efforts…. 166 of 967 Crime and Punishment PART II 167 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter I So he lay a very long while. Now and then he seemed to wake up, and at such moments he noticed that it was far into the night, but it did not occur to him to get up. At last he noticed that it was beginning to get light. He was lying on his back, still dazed from his recent oblivion. Fearful, despairing cries rose shrilly from the street, sounds which he heard every night, indeed, under his window after two o’clock. They woke him up now. ‘Ah! the drunken men are coming out of the taverns,’ he thought, ‘it’s past two o’clock,’ and at once he leaped up, as though someone had pulled him from the sofa. ‘What! Past two o’clock!’ He sat down on the sofa—and instantly recollected everything! All at once, in one flash, he recollected everything. For the first moment he thought he was going mad. A dreadful chill came over him; but the chill was from the fever that had begun long before in his sleep. Now he was suddenly taken with violent shivering, so that his teeth chattered and all his limbs were shaking. He opened the door and began listening—everything in the house was asleep. With amazement he gazed at himself and 168 of 967 Crime and Punishment everything in the room around him, wondering how he could have come in the night before without fastening the door, and have flung himself on the sofa without undressing, without even taking his hat off. It had fallen off and was lying on the floor near his pillow. ‘If anyone had come in, what would he have thought? That I’m drunk but …’ He rushed to the window. There was light enough, and he began hurriedly looking himself all over from head to foot, all his clothes; were there no traces? But there was no doing it like that; shivering with cold, he began taking off everything and looking over again. He turned everything over to the last threads and rags, and mistrusting himself, went through his search three times. But there seemed to be nothing, no trace, except in one place, where some thick drops of congealed blood were clinging to the frayed edge of his trousers. He picked up a big claspknife and cut off the frayed threads. There seemed to be nothing more. Suddenly he remembered that the purse and the things he had taken out of the old woman’s box were still in his pockets! He had not thought till then of taking them out and hiding them! He had not even thought of them while he was examining his clothes! What next? Instantly he 169 of 967 Crime and Punishment rushed to take them out and fling them on the table. When he had pulled out everything, and turned the pocket inside out to be sure there was nothing left, he carried the whole heap to the corner. The paper had come off the bottom of the wall and hung there in tatters. He began stuffing all the things into the hole under the paper: ‘They’re in! All out of sight, and the purse too!’ he thought gleefully, getting up and gazing blankly at the hole which bulged out more than ever. Suddenly he shuddered all over with horror; ‘My God!’ he whispered in despair: ‘what’s the matter with me? Is that hidden? Is that the way to hide things?’ He had not reckoned on having trinkets to hide. He had only thought of money, and so had not prepared a hiding-place. ‘But now, now, what am I glad of?’ he thought, ‘Is that hiding things? My reason’s deserting me—simply!’ He sat down on the sofa in exhaustion and was at once shaken by another unbearable fit of shivering. Mechanically he drew from a chair beside him his old student’s winter coat, which was still warm though almost in rags, covered himself up with it and once more sank into drowsiness and delirium. He lost consciousness. 170 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. Not more than five minutes had passed when he jumped up a second time, and at once pounced in a frenzy on his clothes again. ‘How could I go to sleep again with nothing done? Yes, yes; I have not taken the loop off the armhole! I forgot it, forgot a thing like that! Such a piece of evidence!’ He pulled off the noose, hurriedly cut it to pieces and threw the bits among his linen under the pillow. ‘Pieces of torn linen couldn’t rouse suspicion, whatever happened; I think not, I think not, any way!’ he repeated, standing in the middle of the room, and with painful concentration he fell to gazing about him again, at the floor and everywhere, trying to make sure he had not forgotten anything. The conviction that all his faculties, even memory, and the simplest power of reflection were failing him, began to be an insufferable torture. ‘Surely it isn’t beginning already! Surely it isn’t my punishment coming upon me? It is!’ The frayed rags he had cut off his trousers were actually lying on the floor in the middle of the room, where anyone coming in would see them! ‘What is the matter with me!’ he cried again, like one distraught. 171 of 967 Crime and Punishment Then a strange idea entered his head; that, perhaps, all his clothes were covered with blood, that, perhaps, there were a great many stains, but that he did not see them, did not notice them because his perceptions were failing, were going to pieces … his reason was clouded…. Suddenly he remembered that there had been blood on the purse too. ‘Ah! Then there must be blood on the pocket too, for I put the wet purse in my pocket!’ In a flash he had turned the pocket inside out and, yes!—there were traces, stains on the lining of the pocket! ‘So my reason has not quite deserted me, so I still have some sense and memory, since I guessed it of myself,’ he thought triumphantly, with a deep sigh of relief; ‘it’s simply the weakness of fever, a moment’s delirium,’ and he tore the whole lining out of the left pocket of his trousers. At that instant the sunlight fell on his left boot; on the sock which poked out from the boot, he fancied there were traces! He flung off his boots; ‘traces indeed! The tip of the sock was soaked with blood;’ he must have unwarily stepped into that pool…. ‘But what am I to do with this now? Where am I to put the sock and rags and pocket?’ He gathered them all up in his hands and stood in the middle of the room. 172 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘In the stove? But they would ransack the stove first of all. Burn them? But what can I burn them with? There are no matches even. No, better go out and throw it all away somewhere. Yes, better throw it away,’ he repeated, sitting down on the sofa again, ‘and at once, this minute, without lingering …’ But his head sank on the pillow instead. Again the unbearable icy shivering came over him; again he drew his coat over him. And for a long while, for some hours, he was haunted by the impulse to ‘go off somewhere at once, this moment, and fling it all away, so that it may be out of sight and done with, at once, at once!’ Several times he tried to rise from the sofa, but could not. He was thoroughly waked up at last by a violent knocking at his door. ‘Open, do, are you dead or alive? He keeps sleeping here!’ shouted Nastasya, banging with her fist on the door. ‘For whole days together he’s snoring here like a dog! A dog he is too. Open I tell you. It’s past ten.’ ‘Maybe he’s not at home,’ said a man’s voice. ‘Ha! that’s the porter’s voice…. What does he want?’ He jumped up and sat on the sofa. The beating of his heart was a positive pain. 173 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Then who can have latched the door?’ retorted Nastasya. ‘He’s taken to bolting himself in! As if he were worth stealing! Open, you stupid, wake up!’ ‘What do they want? Why the porter? All’s discovered. Resist or open? Come what may! …’ He half rose, stooped forward and unlatched the door. His room was so small that he could undo the latch without leaving the bed. Yes; the porter and Nastasya were standing there. Nastasya stared at him in a strange way. He glanced with a defiant and desperate air at the porter, who without a word held out a grey folded paper sealed with bottle-wax. ‘A notice from the office,’ he announced, as he gave him the paper. ‘From what office?’ ‘A summons to the police office, of course. You know which office.’ ‘To the police? … What for? …’ ‘How can I tell? You’re sent for, so you go.’ The man looked at him attentively, looked round the room and turned to go away. 174 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘He’s downright ill!’ observed Nastasya, not taking her eyes off him. The porter turned his head for a moment. ‘He’s been in a fever since yesterday,’ she added. Raskolnikov made no response and held the paper in his hands, without opening it. ‘Don’t you get up then,’ Nastasya went on compassionately, seeing that he was letting his feet down from the sofa. ‘You’re ill, and so don’t go; there’s no such hurry. What have you got there?’ He looked; in his right hand he held the shreds he had cut from his trousers, the sock, and the rags of the pocket. So he had been asleep with them in his hand. Afterwards reflecting upon it, he remembered that half waking up in his fever, he had grasped all this tightly in his hand and so fallen asleep again. ‘Look at the rags he’s collected and sleeps with them, as though he has got hold of a treasure …’ And Nastasya went off into her hysterical giggle. Instantly he thrust them all under his great coat and fixed his eyes intently upon her. Far as he was from being capable of rational reflection at that moment, he felt that no one would behave like that with a person who was going to be arrested. ‘But … the police?’ 175 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘You’d better have some tea! Yes? I’ll bring it, there’s some left.’ ‘No … I’m going; I’ll go at once,’ he muttered, getting on to his feet. ‘Why, you’ll never get downstairs!’ ‘Yes, I’ll go.’ ‘As you please.’ She followed the porter out. At once he rushed to the light to examine the sock and the rags. ‘There are stains, but not very noticeable; all covered with dirt, and rubbed and already discoloured. No one who had no suspicion could distinguish anything. Nastasya from a distance could not have noticed, thank God!’ Then with a tremor he broke the seal of the notice and began reading; he was a long while reading, before he understood. It was an ordinary summons from the district police-station to appear that day at half-past nine at the office of the district superintendent. ‘But when has such a thing happened? I never have anything to do with the police! And why just to-day?’ he thought in agonising bewilderment. ‘Good God, only get it over soon!’ 176 of 967 Crime and Punishment He was flinging himself on his knees to pray, but broke into laughter —not at the idea of prayer, but at himself. He began, hurriedly dressing. ‘If I’m lost, I am lost, I don’t care! Shall I put the sock on?’ he suddenly wondered, ‘it will get dustier still and the traces will be gone.’ But no sooner had he put it on than he pulled it off again in loathing and horror. He pulled it off, but reflecting that he had no other socks, he picked it up and put it on again—and again he laughed. ‘That’s all conventional, that’s all relative, merely a way of looking at it,’ he thought in a flash, but only on the top surface of his mind, while he was shuddering all over, ‘there, I’ve got it on! I have finished by getting it on!’ But his laughter was quickly followed by despair. ‘No, it’s too much for me …’ he thought. His legs shook. ‘From fear,’ he muttered. His head swam and ached with fever. ‘It’s a trick! They want to decoy me there and confound me over everything,’ he mused, as he went out on to the stairs—‘the worst of it is I’m almost light-headed … I may blurt out something stupid …’ On the stairs he remembered that he was leaving all the things just as they were in the hole in the wall, ‘and very likely, it’s on purpose to search when I’m out,’ he 177 of 967 Crime and Punishment thought, and stopped short. But he was possessed by such despair, such cynicism of misery, if one may so call it, that with a wave of his hand he went on. ‘Only to get it over!’ In the street the heat was insufferable again; not a drop of rain had fallen all those days. Again dust, bricks and mortar, again the stench from the shops and pot-houses, again the drunken men, the Finnish pedlars and half-broken-down cabs. The sun shone straight in his eyes, so that it hurt him to look out of them, and he felt his head going round—as a man in a fever is apt to feel when he comes out into the street on a bright sunny day. When he reached the turning into the street, in an agony of trepidation he looked down it … at the house … and at once averted his eyes. ‘If they question me, perhaps I’ll simply tell,’ he thought, as he drew near the police-station. The police-station was about a quarter of a mile off. It had lately been moved to new rooms on the fourth floor of a new house. He had been once for a moment in the old office but long ago. Turning in at the gateway, he saw on the right a flight of stairs which a peasant was mounting with a book in his hand. ‘A house-porter, no doubt; so then, the office is here,’ and he began ascending the stairs 178 of 967 Crime and Punishment on the chance. He did not want to ask questions of anyone. ‘I’ll go in, fall on my knees, and confess everything …’ he thought, as he reached the fourth floor. The staircase was steep, narrow and all sloppy with dirty water. The kitchens of the flats opened on to the stairs and stood open almost the whole day. So there was a fearful smell and heat. The staircase was crowded with porters going up and down with their books under their arms, policemen, and persons of all sorts and both sexes. The door of the office, too, stood wide open. Peasants stood waiting within. There, too, the heat was stifling and there was a sickening smell of fresh paint and stale oil from the newly decorated rooms. After waiting a little, he decided to move forward into the next room. All the rooms were small and low-pitched. A fearful impatience drew him on and on. No one paid attention to him. In the second room some clerks sat writing, dressed hardly better than he was, and rather a queer-looking set. He went up to one of them. ‘What is it?’ He showed the notice he had received. ‘You are a student?’ the man asked, glancing at the notice. 179 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Yes, formerly a student.’ The clerk looked at him, but without the slightest interest. He was a particularly unkempt person with the look of a fixed idea in his eye. ‘There would be no getting anything out of him, because he has no interest in anything,’ thought Raskolnikov. ‘Go in there to the head clerk,’ said the clerk, pointing towards the furthest room. He went into that room—the fourth in order; it was a small room and packed full of people, rather better dressed than in the outer rooms. Among them were two ladies. One, poorly dressed in mourning, sat at the table opposite the chief clerk, writing something at his dictation. The other, a very stout, buxom woman with a purplish-red, blotchy face, excessively smartly dressed with a brooch on her bosom as big as a saucer, was standing on one side, apparently waiting for something. Raskolnikov thrust his notice upon the head clerk. The latter glanced at it, said: ‘Wait a minute,’ and went on attending to the lady in mourning. He breathed more freely. ‘It can’t be that!’ By degrees he began to regain confidence, he kept urging himself to have courage and be calm. 180 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Some foolishness, some trifling carelessness, and I may betray myself! Hm … it’s a pity there’s no air here,’ he added, ‘it’s stifling…. It makes one’s head dizzier than ever … and one’s mind too …’ He was conscious of a terrible inner turmoil. He was afraid of losing his self-control; he tried to catch at something and fix his mind on it, something quite irrelevant, but he could not succeed in this at all. Yet the head clerk greatly interested him, he kept hoping to see through him and guess something from his face. He was a very young man, about two and twenty, with a dark mobile face that looked older than his years. He was fashionably dressed and foppish, with his hair parted in the middle, well combed and pomaded, and wore a number of rings on his well-scrubbed fingers and a gold chain on his waistcoat. He said a couple of words in French to a foreigner who was in the room, and said them fairly correctly. ‘Luise Ivanovna, you can sit down,’ he said casually to the gaily- dressed, purple-faced lady, who was still standing as though not venturing to sit down, though there was a chair beside her. ‘Ich danke,’ said the latter, and softly, with a rustle of silk she sank into the chair. Her light blue dress trimmed 181 of 967 Crime and Punishment with white lace floated about the table like an air-balloon and filled almost half the room. She smelt of scent. But she was obviously embarrassed at filling half the room and smelling so strongly of scent; and though her smile was impudent as well as cringing, it betrayed evident uneasiness. The lady in mourning had done at last, and got up. All at once, with some noise, an officer walked in very jauntily, with a peculiar swing of his shoulders at each step. He tossed his cockaded cap on the table and sat down in an easy-chair. The small lady positively skipped from her seat on seeing him, and fell to curtsying in a sort of ecstasy; but the officer took not the smallest notice of her, and she did not venture to sit down again in his presence. He was the assistant superintendent. He had a reddish moustache that stood out horizontally on each side of his face, and extremely small features, expressive of nothing much except a certain insolence. He looked askance and rather indignantly at Raskolnikov; he was so very badly dressed, and in spite of his humiliating position, his bearing was by no means in keeping with his clothes. Raskolnikov had unwarily fixed a very long and direct look on him, so that he felt positively affronted. 182 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. ‘What do you want?’ he shouted, apparently astonished that such a ragged fellow was not annihilated by the majesty of his glance. ‘I was summoned … by a notice …’ Raskolnikov faltered. ‘For the recovery of money due, from the student ’ the head clerk interfered hurriedly, tearing himself from his papers. ‘Here!’ and he flung Raskolnikov a document and pointed out the place. ‘Read that!’ ‘Money? What money?’ thought Raskolnikov, ‘but … then … it’s certainly not that . ’ And he trembled with joy. He felt sudden intense indescribable relief. A load was lifted from his back. ‘And pray, what time were you directed to appear, sir?’ shouted the assistant superintendent, seeming for some unknown reason more and more aggrieved. ‘You are told to come at nine, and now it’s twelve!’ ‘The notice was only brought me a quarter of an hour ago,’ Raskolnikov answered loudly over his shoulder. To his own surprise he, too, grew suddenly angry and found a certain pleasure in it. ‘And it’s enough that I have come here ill with fever.’ ‘Kindly refrain from shouting!’ 183 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘I’m not shouting, I’m speaking very quietly, it’s you who are shouting at me. I’m a student, and allow no one to shout at me.’ The assistant superintendent was so furious that for the first minute he could only splutter inarticulately. He leaped up from his seat. ‘Be silent! You are in a government office. Don’t be impudent, sir!’ ‘You’re in a government office, too,’ cried Raskolnikov, ‘and you’re smoking a cigarette as well as shouting, so you are showing disrespect to all of us.’ He felt an indescribable satisfaction at having said this. The head clerk looked at him with a smile. The angry assistant superintendent was obviously disconcerted. ‘That’s not your business!’ he shouted at last with unnatural loudness. ‘Kindly make the declaration demanded of you. Show him. Alexandr Grigorievitch. There is a complaint against you! You don’t pay your debts! You’re a fine bird!’ But Raskolnikov was not listening now; he had eagerly clutched at the paper, in haste to find an explanation. He read it once, and a second time, and still did not understand. ‘What is this?’ he asked the head clerk. 184 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘It is for the recovery of money on an I O U, a writ. You must either pay it, with all expenses, costs and so on, or give a written declaration when you can pay it, and at the same time an undertaking not to leave the capital without payment, and nor to sell or conceal your property. The creditor is at liberty to sell your property, and proceed against you according to the law.’ ‘But I … am not in debt to anyone!’ ‘That’s not our business. Here, an I O U for a hundred and fifteen roubles, legally attested, and due for payment, has been brought us for recovery, given by you to the widow of the assessor Zarnitsyn, nine months ago, and paid over by the widow Zarnitsyn to one Mr. Tchebarov. We therefore summon you, hereupon.’ ‘But she is my landlady!’ ‘And what if she is your landlady?’ The head clerk looked at him with a condescending smile of compassion, and at the same time with a certain triumph, as at a novice under fire for the first time—as though he would say: ‘Well, how do you feel now?’ But what did he care now for an I O U, for a writ of recovery! Was that worth worrying about now, was it worth attention even! He stood, he read, he listened, he answered, he even asked questions himself, but all 185 of 967 Crime and Punishment mechanically. The triumphant sense of security, of deliverance from overwhelming danger, that was what filled his whole soul that moment without thought for the future, without analysis, without suppositions or surmises, without doubts and without questioning. It was an instant of full, direct, purely instinctive joy. But at that very moment something like a thunderstorm took place in the office. The assistant superintendent, still shaken by Raskolnikov’s disrespect, still fuming and obviously anxious to keep up his wounded dignity, pounced on the unfortunate smart lady, who had been gazing at him ever since he came in with an exceedingly silly smile. ‘You shameful hussy!’ he shouted suddenly at the top of his voice. (The lady in mourning had left the office.) ‘What was going on at your house last night? Eh! A disgrace again, you’re a scandal to the whole street. Fighting and drinking again. Do you want the house of correction? Why, I have warned you ten times over that I would not let you off the eleventh! And here you are again, again, you … you … !’ The paper fell out of Raskolnikov’s hands, and he looked wildly at the smart lady who was so unceremoniously treated. But he soon saw what it meant, and at once began to find positive amusement in the 186 of 967 Crime and Punishment scandal. He listened with pleasure, so that he longed to laugh and laugh … all his nerves were on edge. ‘Ilya Petrovitch!’ the head clerk was beginning anxiously, but stopped short, for he knew from experience that the enraged assistant could not be stopped except by force. As for the smart lady, at first she positively trembled before the storm. But, strange to say, the more numerous and violent the terms of abuse became, the more amiable she looked, and the more seductive the smiles she lavished on the terrible assistant. She moved uneasily, and curtsied incessantly, waiting impatiently for a chance of putting in her word: and at last she found it. ‘There was no sort of noise or fighting in my house, Mr. Captain,’ she pattered all at once, like peas dropping, speaking Russian confidently, though with a strong German accent, ‘and no sort of scandal, and his honour came drunk, and it’s the whole truth I am telling, Mr. Captain, and I am not to blame…. Mine is an honourable house, Mr. Captain, and honourable behaviour, Mr. Captain, and I always, always dislike any scandal myself. But he came quite tipsy, and asked for three bottles again, and then he lifted up one leg, and began playing the pianoforte with one foot, and that is not at all right in an 187 of 967 Crime and Punishment honourable house, and he ganz broke the piano, and it was very bad manners indeed and I said so. And he took up a bottle and began hitting everyone with it. And then I called the porter, and Karl came, and he took Karl and hit him in the eye; and he hit Henriette in the eye, too, and gave me five slaps on the cheek. And it was so ungentlemanly in an honourable house, Mr. Captain, and I screamed. And he opened the window over the canal, and stood in the window, squealing like a little pig; it was a disgrace. The idea of squealing like a little pig at the window into the street! Fie upon him! And Karl pulled him away from the window by his coat, and it is true, Mr. Captain, he tore sein rock . And then he shouted that man muss pay him fifteen roubles damages. And I did pay him, Mr. Captain, five roubles for sein rock . And he is an ungentlemanly visitor and caused all the scandal. ‘I will show you up,’ he said, ‘for I can write to all the papers about you.’’ ‘Then he was an author?’ ‘Yes, Mr. Captain, and what an ungentlemanly visitor in an honourable house….’ ‘Now then! Enough! I have told you already …’ ‘Ilya Petrovitch!’ the head clerk repeated significantly. 188 of 967 Crime and Punishment The assistant glanced rapidly at him; the head clerk slightly shook his head. ‘… So I tell you this, most respectable Luise Ivanovna, and I tell it you for the last time,’ the assistant went on. ‘If there is a scandal in your honourable house once again, I will put you yourself in the lock-up, as it is called in polite society. Do you hear? So a literary man, an author took five roubles for his coat-tail in an ‘honourable house’? A nice set, these authors!’ And he cast a contemptuous glance at Raskolnikov. ‘There was a scandal the other day in a restaurant, too. An author had eaten his dinner and would not pay; ‘I’ll write a satire on you,’ says he. And there was another of them on a steamer last week used the most disgraceful language to the respectable family of a civil councillor, his wife and daughter. And there was one of them turned out of a confectioner’s shop the other day. They are like that, authors, literary men, students, town-criers…. Pfoo! You get along! I shall look in upon you myself one day. Then you had better be careful! Do you hear?’ With hurried deference, Luise Ivanovna fell to curtsying in all directions, and so curtsied herself to the door. But at the door, she stumbled backwards against a good-looking officer with a fresh, open face and splendid 189 of 967 Crime and Punishment thick fair whiskers. This was the superintendent of the district himself, Nikodim Fomitch. Luise Ivanovna made haste to curtsy almost to the ground, and with mincing little steps, she fluttered out of the office. ‘Again thunder and lightning—a hurricane!’ said Nikodim Fomitch to Ilya Petrovitch in a civil and friendly tone. ‘You are aroused again, you are fuming again! I heard it on the stairs!’ ‘Well, what then!’ Ilya Petrovitch drawled with gentlemanly nonchalance; and he walked with some papers to another table, with a jaunty swing of his shoulders at each step. ‘Here, if you will kindly look: an author, or a student, has been one at least, does not pay his debts, has given an I O U, won’t clear out of his room, and complaints are constantly being lodged against him, and here he has been pleased to make a protest against my smoking in his presence! He behaves like a cad himself, and just look at him, please. Here’s the gentleman, and very attractive he is!’ ‘Poverty is not a vice, my friend, but we know you go off like powder, you can’t bear a slight, I daresay you took offence at something and went too far yourself,’ continued Nikodim Fomitch, turning affably to Raskolnikov. ‘But you were wrong there; he is a capital fellow, I assure you, 190 of 967 Crime and Punishment but explosive, explosive! He gets hot, fires up, boils over, and no stopping him! And then it’s all over! And at the bottom he’s a heart of gold! His nickname in the regiment was the Explosive Lieutenant….’ ‘And what a regiment it was, too,’ cried Ilya Petrovitch, much gratified at this agreeable banter, though still sulky. Raskolnikov had a sudden desire to say something exceptionally pleasant to them all. ‘Excuse me, Captain,’ he began easily, suddenly addressing Nikodim Fomitch, ‘will you enter into my position? … I am ready to ask pardon, if I have been ill-mannered. I am a poor student, sick and shattered (shattered was the word he used) by poverty. I am not studying, because I cannot keep myself now, but I shall get money…. I have a mother and sister in the province of X. They will send it to me, and I will pay. My landlady is a good- hearted woman, but she is so exasperated at my having lost my lessons, and not paying her for the last four months, that she does not even send up my dinner … and I don’t understand this I O U at all. She is asking me to pay her on this I O U. How am I to pay her? Judge for yourselves! …’ ‘But that is not our business, you know,’ the head clerk was observing. 191 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Yes, yes. I perfectly agree with you. But allow me to explain …’ Raskolnikov put in again, still addressing Nikodim Fomitch, but trying his best to address Ilya Petrovitch also, though the latter persistently appeared to be rummaging among his papers and to be contemptuously oblivious of him. ‘Allow me to explain that I have been living with her for nearly three years and at first … at first … for why should I not confess it, at the very beginning I promised to marry her daughter, it was a verbal promise, freely given … she was a girl … indeed, I liked her, though I was not in love with her … a youthful affair in fact … that is, I mean to say, that my landlady gave me credit freely in those days, and I led a life of … I was very heedless …’ ‘Nobody asks you for these personal details, sir, we’ve no time to waste,’ Ilya Petrovitch interposed roughly and with a note of triumph; but Raskolnikov stopped him hotly, though he suddenly found it exceedingly difficult to speak. ‘But excuse me, excuse me. It is for me to explain … how it all happened … In my turn … though I agree with you … it is unnecessary. But a year ago, the girl died of typhus. I remained lodging there as before, and when my landlady moved into her present quarters, she said to me 192 of 967 Crime and Punishment … and in a friendly way … that she had complete trust in me, but still, would I not give her an I O U for one hundred and fifteen roubles, all the debt I owed her. She said if only I gave her that, she would trust me again, as much as I liked, and that she would never, never—those were her own words—make use of that I O U till I could pay of myself … and now, when I have lost my lessons and have nothing to eat, she takes action against me. What am I to say to that?’ ‘All these affecting details are no business of ours.’ Ilya Petrovitch interrupted rudely. ‘You must give a written undertaking but as for your love affairs and all these tragic events, we have nothing to do with that.’ ‘Come now … you are harsh,’ muttered Nikodim Fomitch, sitting down at the table and also beginning to write. He looked a little ashamed. ‘Write!’ said the head clerk to Raskolnikov. ‘Write what?’ the latter asked, gruffly. ‘I will dictate to you.’ Raskolnikov fancied that the head clerk treated him more casually and contemptuously after his speech, but strange to say he suddenly felt completely indifferent to anyone’s opinion, and this revulsion took place in a flash, in one instant. If he had cared to think a little, he would 193 of 967 Crime and Punishment have been amazed indeed that he could have talked to them like that a minute before, forcing his feelings upon them. And where had those feelings come from? Now if the whole room had been filled, not with police officers, but with those nearest and dearest to him, he would not have found one human word for them, so empty was his heart. A gloomy sensation of agonising, everlasting solitude and remoteness, took conscious form in his soul. It was not the meanness of his sentimental effusions before Ilya Petrovitch, nor the meanness of the latter’s triumph over him that had caused this sudden revulsion in his heart. Oh, what had he to do now with his own baseness, with all these petty vanities, officers, German women, debts, police- offices? If he had been sentenced to be burnt at that moment, he would not have stirred, would hardly have heard the sentence to the end. Something was happening to him entirely new, sudden and unknown. It was not that he understood, but he felt clearly with all the intensity of sensation that he could never more appeal to these people in the police-office with sentimental effusions like his recent outburst, or with anything whatever; and that if they had been his own brothers and sisters and not police-officers, it would have been utterly out of the question to appeal to them in any circumstance of life. He 194 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. had never experienced such a strange and awful sensation. And what was most agonising—it was more a sensation than a conception or idea, a direct sensation, the most agonising of all the sensations he had known in his life. The head clerk began dictating to him the usual form of declaration, that he could not pay, that he undertook to do so at a future date, that he would not leave the town, nor sell his property, and so on. ‘But you can’t write, you can hardly hold the pen,’ observed the head clerk, looking with curiosity at Raskolnikov. ‘Are you ill?’ ‘Yes, I am giddy. Go on!’ ‘That’s all. Sign it.’ The head clerk took the paper, and turned to attend to others. Raskolnikov gave back the pen; but instead of getting up and going away, he put his elbows on the table and pressed his head in his hands. He felt as if a nail were being driven into his skull. A strange idea suddenly occurred to him, to get up at once, to go up to Nikodim Fomitch, and tell him everything that had happened yesterday, and then to go with him to his lodgings and to show him the things in the hole in the corner. The impulse was so strong that he got up from his seat to carry it out. ‘Hadn’t I better 195 of 967 Crime and Punishment think a minute?’ flashed through his mind. ‘No, better cast off the burden without thinking.’ But all at once he stood still, rooted to the spot. Nikodim Fomitch was talking eagerly with Ilya Petrovitch, and the words reached him: ‘It’s impossible, they’ll both be released. To begin with, the whole story contradicts itself. Why should they have called the porter, if it had been their doing? To inform against themselves? Or as a blind? No, that would be too cunning! Besides, Pestryakov, the student, was seen at the gate by both the porters and a woman as he went in. He was walking with three friends, who left him only at the gate, and he asked the porters to direct him, in the presence of the friends. Now, would he have asked his way if he had been going with such an object? As for Koch, he spent half an hour at the silversmith’s below, before he went up to the old woman and he left him at exactly a quarter to eight. Now just consider …’ ‘But excuse me, how do you explain this contradiction? They state themselves that they knocked and the door was locked; yet three minutes later when they went up with the porter, it turned out the door was unfastened.’ ‘That’s just it; the murderer must have been there and bolted himself in; and they’d have caught him for a certainty if Koch had not been an ass and gone to look for 196 of 967 Crime and Punishment the porter too. He must have seized the interval to get downstairs and slip by them somehow. Koch keeps crossing himself and saying: ‘If I had been there, he would have jumped out and killed me with his axe.’ He is going to have a thanksgiving service—ha, ha!’ ‘And no one saw the murderer?’ ‘They might well not see him; the house is a regular Noah’s Ark,’ said the head clerk, who was listening. ‘It’s clear, quite clear,’ Nikodim Fomitch repeated warmly. ‘No, it is anything but clear,’ Ilya Petrovitch maintained. Raskolnikov picked up his hat and walked towards the door, but he did not reach it…. When he recovered consciousness, he found himself sitting in a chair, supported by someone on the right side, while someone else was standing on the left, holding a yellowish glass filled with yellow water, and Nikodim Fomitch standing before him, looking intently at him. He got up from the chair. ‘What’s this? Are you ill?’ Nikodim Fomitch asked, rather sharply. 197 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘He could hardly hold his pen when he was signing,’ said the head clerk, settling back in his place, and taking up his work again. ‘Have you been ill long?’ cried Ilya Petrovitch from his place, where he, too, was looking through papers. He had, of course, come to look at the sick man when he fainted, but retired at once when he recovered. ‘Since yesterday,’ muttered Raskolnikov in reply. ‘Did you go out yesterday?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Though you were ill?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘At what time?’ ‘About seven.’ ‘And where did you go, my I ask?’ ‘Along the street.’ ‘Short and clear.’ Raskolnikov, white as a handkerchief, had answered sharply, jerkily, without dropping his black feverish eyes before Ilya Petrovitch’s stare. ‘He can scarcely stand upright. And you …’ Nikodim Fomitch was beginning. ‘No matter,’ Ilya Petrovitch pronounced rather peculiarly. 198 of 967 Crime and Punishment Nikodim Fomitch would have made some further protest, but glancing at the head clerk who was looking very hard at him, he did not speak. There was a sudden silence. It was strange. ‘Very well, then,’ concluded Ilya Petrovitch, ‘we will not detain you.’ Raskolnikov went out. He caught the sound of eager conversation on his departure, and above the rest rose the questioning voice of Nikodim Fomitch. In the street, his faintness passed off completely. ‘A search—there will be a search at once,’ he repeated to himself, hurrying home. ‘The brutes! they suspect.’ His former terror mastered him completely again. 199 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter II ‘And what if there has been a search already? What if I find them in my room?’ But here was his room. Nothing and no one in it. No one had peeped in. Even Nastasya had not touched it. But heavens! how could he have left all those things in the hole? He rushed to the corner, slipped his hand under the paper, pulled the things out and lined his pockets with them. There were eight articles in all: two little boxes with ear-rings or something of the sort, he hardly looked to see; then four small leather cases. There was a chain, too, merely wrapped in newspaper and something else in newspaper, that looked like a decoration…. He put them all in the different pockets of his overcoat, and the remaining pocket of his trousers, trying to conceal them as much as possible. He took the purse, too. Then he went out of his room, leaving the door open. He walked quickly and resolutely, and though he felt shattered, he had his senses about him. He was afraid of pursuit, he was afraid that in another half-hour, another quarter of an hour perhaps, instructions would be issued for his pursuit, and 200 of 967 Crime and Punishment so at all costs, he must hide all traces before then. He must clear everything up while he still had some strength, some reasoning power left him…. Where was he to go? That had long been settled: ‘Fling them into the canal, and all traces hidden in the water, the thing would be at an end.’ So he had decided in the night of his delirium when several times he had had the impulse to get up and go away, to make haste, and get rid of it all. But to get rid of it, turned out to be a very difficult task. He wandered along the bank of the Ekaterininsky Canal for half an hour or more and looked several times at the steps running down to the water, but he could not think of carrying out his plan; either rafts stood at the steps’ edge, and women were washing clothes on them, or boats were moored there, and people were swarming everywhere. Moreover he could be seen and noticed from the banks on all sides; it would look suspicious for a man to go down on purpose, stop, and throw something into the water. And what if the boxes were to float instead of sinking? And of course they would. Even as it was, everyone he met seemed to stare and look round, as if they had nothing to do but to watch him. ‘Why is it, or can it be my fancy?’ he thought. 201 of 967 Crime and Punishment At last the thought struck him that it might be better to go to the Neva. There were not so many people there, he would be less observed, and it would be more convenient in every way, above all it was further off. He wondered how he could have been wandering for a good half- hour, worried and anxious in this dangerous past without thinking of it before. And that half-hour he had lost over an irrational plan, simply because he had thought of it in delirium! He had become extremely absent and forgetful and he was aware of it. He certainly must make haste. He walked towards the Neva along V—— Prospect, but on the way another idea struck him. ‘Why to the Neva? Would it not be better to go somewhere far off, to the Islands again, and there hide the things in some solitary place, in a wood or under a bush, and mark the spot perhaps?’ And though he felt incapable of clear judgment, the idea seemed to him a sound one. But he was not destined to go there. For coming out of V—— Prospect towards the square, he saw on the left a passage leading between two blank walls to a courtyard. On the right hand, the blank unwhitewashed wall of a four-storied house stretched far into the court; on the left, a wooden hoarding ran parallel with it for twenty paces into the court, and then turned sharply to the left. Here was a 202 of 967 Crime and Punishment deserted fenced-off place where rubbish of different sorts was lying. At the end of the court, the corner of a low, smutty, stone shed, apparently part of some workshop, peeped from behind the hoarding. It was probably a carriage builder’s or carpenter’s shed; the whole place from the entrance was black with coal dust. Here would be the place to throw it, he thought. Not seeing anyone in the yard, he slipped in, and at once saw near the gate a sink, such as is often put in yards where there are many workmen or cab-drivers; and on the hoarding above had been scribbled in chalk the time-honoured witticism, ‘Standing here strictly forbidden.’ This was all the better, for there would be nothing suspicious about his going in. ‘Here I could throw it all in a heap and get away!’ Looking round once more, with his hand already in his pocket, he noticed against the outer wall, between the entrance and the sink, a big unhewn stone, weighing perhaps sixty pounds. The other side of the wall was a street. He could hear passers-by, always numerous in that part, but he could not be seen from the entrance, unless someone came in from the street, which might well happen indeed, so there was need of haste. He bent down over the stone, seized the top of it firmly in both hands, and using all his strength turned it 203 of 967 Crime and Punishment over. Under the stone was a small hollow in the ground, and he immediately emptied his pocket into it. The purse lay at the top, and yet the hollow was not filled up. Then he seized the stone again and with one twist turned it back, so that it was in the same position again, though it stood a very little higher. But he scraped the earth about it and pressed it at the edges with his foot. Nothing could be noticed. Then he went out, and turned into the square. Again an intense, almost unbearable joy overwhelmed him for an instant, as it had in the police-office. ‘I have buried my tracks! And who, who can think of looking under that stone? It has been lying there most likely ever since the house was built, and will lie as many years more. And if it were found, who would think of me? It is all over! No clue!’ And he laughed. Yes, he remembered that he began laughing a thin, nervous noiseless laugh, and went on laughing all the time he was crossing the square. But when he reached the K—— Boulevard where two days before he had come upon that girl, his laughter suddenly ceased. Other ideas crept into his mind. He felt all at once that it would be loathsome to pass that seat on which after the girl was gone, he had sat and pondered, and that it would 204 of 967 Crime and Punishment be hateful, too, to meet that whiskered policeman to whom he had given the twenty copecks: ‘Damn him!’ He walked, looking about him angrily and distractedly. All his ideas now seemed to be circling round some single point, and he felt that there really was such a point, and that now, now, he was left facing that point—and for the first time, indeed, during the last two months. ‘Damn it all!’ he thought suddenly, in a fit of ungovernable fury. ‘If it has begun, then it has begun. Hang the new life! Good Lord, how stupid it is! … And what lies I told to-day! How despicably I fawned upon that wretched Ilya Petrovitch! But that is all folly! What do I care for them all, and my fawning upon them! It is not that at all! It is not that at all!’ Suddenly he stopped; a new utterly unexpected and exceedingly simple question perplexed and bitterly confounded him. ‘If it all has really been done deliberately and not idiotically, if I really had a certain and definite object, how is it I did not even glance into the purse and don’t know what I had there, for which I have undergone these agonies, and have deliberately undertaken this base, filthy degrading business? And here I wanted at once to throw 205 of 967 Crime and Punishment into the water the purse together with all the things which I had not seen either … how’s that?’ Yes, that was so, that was all so. Yet he had known it all before, and it was not a new question for him, even when it was decided in the night without hesitation and consideration, as though so it must be, as though it could not possibly be otherwise…. Yes, he had known it all, and understood it all; it surely had all been settled even yesterday at the moment when he was bending over the box and pulling the jewel-cases out of it…. Yes, so it was. ‘It is because I am very ill,’ he decided grimly at last, ‘I have been worrying and fretting myself, and I don’t know what I am doing…. Yesterday and the day before yesterday and all this time I have been worrying myself…. I shall get well and I shall not worry…. But what if I don’t get well at all? Good God, how sick I am of it all!’ He walked on without resting. He had a terrible longing for some distraction, but he did not know what to do, what to attempt. A new overwhelming sensation was gaining more and more mastery over him every moment; this was an immeasurable, almost physical, repulsion for everything surrounding him, an obstinate, malignant feeling of hatred. All who met him were loathsome to him—he loathed their faces, their movements, their 206 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. gestures. If anyone had addressed him, he felt that he might have spat at him or bitten him…. He stopped suddenly, on coming out on the bank of the Little Neva, near the bridge to Vassilyevsky Ostrov. ‘Why, he lives here, in that house,’ he thought, ‘why, I have not come to Razumihin of my own accord! Here it’s the same thing over again…. Very interesting to know, though; have I come on purpose or have I simply walked here by chance? Never mind, I said the day before yesterday that I would go and see him the day after ; well, and so I will! Besides I really cannot go further now.’ He went up to Razumihin’s room on the fifth floor. The latter was at home in his garret, busily writing at the moment, and he opened the door himself. It was four months since they had seen each other. Razumihin was sitting in a ragged dressing-gown, with slippers on his bare feet, unkempt, unshaven and unwashed. His face showed surprise. ‘Is it you?’ he cried. He looked his comrade up and down; then after a brief pause, he whistled. ‘As hard up as all that! Why, brother, you’ve cut me out!’ he added, looking at Raskolnikov’s rags. ‘Come sit down, you are tired, I’ll be bound.’ 207 of 967 Crime and Punishment And when he had sunk down on the American leather sofa, which was in even worse condition than his own, Razumihin saw at once that his visitor was ill. ‘Why, you are seriously ill, do you know that?’ He began feeling his pulse. Raskolnikov pulled away his hand. ‘Never mind,’ he said, ‘I have come for this: I have no lessons…. I wanted, … but I don’t really want lessons….’ ‘But I say! You are delirious, you know!’ Razumihin observed, watching him carefully. ‘No, I am not.’ Raskolnikov got up from the sofa. As he had mounted the stairs to Razumihin’s, he had not realised that he would be meeting his friend face to face. Now, in a flash, he knew, that what he was least of all disposed for at that moment was to be face to face with anyone in the wide world. His spleen rose within him. He almost choked with rage at himself as soon as he crossed Razumihin’s threshold. ‘Good-bye,’ he said abruptly, and walked to the door. ‘Stop, stop! You queer fish.’ ‘I don’t want to,’ said the other, again pulling away his hand. 208 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Then why the devil have you come? Are you mad, or what? Why, this is … almost insulting! I won’t let you go like that.’ ‘Well, then, I came to you because I know no one but you who could help … to begin … because you are kinder than anyone— cleverer, I mean, and can judge … and now I see that I want nothing. Do you hear? Nothing at all … no one’s services … no one’s sympathy. I am by myself … alone. Come, that’s enough. Leave me alone.’ ‘Stay a minute, you sweep! You are a perfect madman. As you like for all I care. I have no lessons, do you see, and I don’t care about that, but there’s a bookseller, Heruvimov—and he takes the place of a lesson. I would not exchange him for five lessons. He’s doing publishing of a kind, and issuing natural science manuals and what a circulation they have! The very titles are worth the money! You always maintained that I was a fool, but by Jove, my boy, there are greater fools than I am! Now he is setting up for being advanced, not that he has an inkling of anything, but, of course, I encourage him. Here are two signatures of the German text—in my opinion, the crudest charlatanism; it discusses the question, ‘Is woman a human being?’ And, of course, triumphantly proves that she is. Heruvimov is going to bring out this work as a 209 of 967 Crime and Punishment contribution to the woman question; I am translating it; he will expand these two and a half signatures into six, we shall make up a gorgeous title half a page long and bring it out at half a rouble. It will do! He pays me six roubles the signature, it works out to about fifteen roubles for the job, and I’ve had six already in advance. When we have finished this, we are going to begin a translation about whales, and then some of the dullest scandals out of the second part of Les Confessions we have marked for translation; somebody has told Heruvimov, that Rousseau was a kind of Radishchev. You may be sure I don’t contradict him, hang him! Well, would you like to do the second signature of ‘ Is woman a human being? ’ If you would, take the German and pens and paper—all those are provided, and take three roubles; for as I have had six roubles in advance on the whole thing, three roubles come to you for your share. And when you have finished the signature there will be another three roubles for you. And please don’t think I am doing you a service; quite the contrary, as soon as you came in, I saw how you could help me; to begin with, I am weak in spelling, and secondly, I am sometimes utterly adrift in German, so that I make it up as I go along for the most part. The only comfort is, that it’s bound to be a change for the better. 210 of 967 Crime and Punishment Though who can tell, maybe it’s sometimes for the worse. Will you take it?’ Raskolnikov took the German sheets in silence, took the three roubles and without a word went out. Razumihin gazed after him in astonishment. But when Raskolnikov was in the next street, he turned back, mounted the stairs to Razumihin’s again and laying on the table the German article and the three roubles, went out again, still without uttering a word. ‘Are you raving, or what?’ Razumihin shouted, roused to fury at last. ‘What farce is this? You’ll drive me crazy too … what did you come to see me for, damn you?’ ‘I don’t want … translation,’ muttered Raskolnikov from the stairs. ‘Then what the devil do you want?’ shouted Razumihin from above. Raskolnikov continued descending the staircase in silence. ‘Hey, there! Where are you living?’ No answer. ‘Well, confound you then!’ But Raskolnikov was already stepping into the street. On the Nikolaevsky Bridge he was roused to full consciousness again by an unpleasant incident. A coachman, after shouting at him two or three times, gave 211 of 967 Crime and Punishment him a violent lash on the back with his whip, for having almost fallen under his horses’ hoofs. The lash so infuriated him that he dashed away to the railing (for some unknown reason he had been walking in the very middle of the bridge in the traffic). He angrily clenched and ground his teeth. He heard laughter, of course. ‘Serves him right!’ ‘A pickpocket I dare say.’ ‘Pretending to be drunk, for sure, and getting under the wheels on purpose; and you have to answer for him.’ ‘It’s a regular profession, that’s what it is.’ But while he stood at the railing, still looking angry and bewildered after the retreating carriage, and rubbing his back, he suddenly felt someone thrust money into his hand. He looked. It was an elderly woman in a kerchief and goatskin shoes, with a girl, probably her daughter wearing a hat, and carrying a green parasol. ‘Take it, my good man, in Christ’s name.’ He took it and they passed on. It was a piece of twenty copecks. From his dress and appearance they might well have taken him for a beggar asking alms in the streets, and the gift of the twenty copecks he doubtless owed to the blow, which made them feel sorry for him. 212 of 967 Crime and Punishment He closed his hand on the twenty copecks, walked on for ten paces, and turned facing the Neva, looking towards the palace. The sky was without a cloud and the water was almost bright blue, which is so rare in the Neva. The cupola of the cathedral, which is seen at its best from the bridge about twenty paces from the chapel, glittered in the sunlight, and in the pure air every ornament on it could be clearly distinguished. The pain from the lash went off, and Raskolnikov forgot about it; one uneasy and not quite definite idea occupied him now completely. He stood still, and gazed long and intently into the distance; this spot was especially familiar to him. When he was attending the university, he had hundreds of times—generally on his way home—stood still on this spot, gazed at this truly magnificent spectacle and almost always marvelled at a vague and mysterious emotion it roused in him. It left him strangely cold; this gorgeous picture was for him blank and lifeless. He wondered every time at his sombre and enigmatic impression and, mistrusting himself, put off finding the explanation of it. He vividly recalled those old doubts and perplexities, and it seemed to him that it was no mere chance that he recalled them now. It struck him as strange and grotesque, that he should have stopped at the same spot as before, as though he actually imagined he 213 of 967 Crime and Punishment could think the same thoughts, be interested in the same theories and pictures that had interested him … so short a time ago. He felt it almost amusing, and yet it wrung his heart. Deep down, hidden far away out of sight all that seemed to him now—all his old past, his old thoughts, his old problems and theories, his old impressions and that picture and himself and all, all…. He felt as though he were flying upwards, and everything were vanishing from his sight. Making an unconscious movement with his hand, he suddenly became aware of the piece of money in his fist. He opened his hand, stared at the coin, and with a sweep of his arm flung it into the water; then he turned and went home. It seemed to him, he had cut himself off from everyone and from everything at that moment. Evening was coming on when he reached home, so that he must have been walking about six hours. How and where he came back he did not remember. Undressing, and quivering like an overdriven horse, he lay down on the sofa, drew his greatcoat over him, and at once sank into oblivion…. It was dusk when he was waked up by a fearful scream. Good God, what a scream! Such unnatural sounds, such howling, wailing, grinding, tears, blows and curses he had never heard. 214 of 967 Crime and Punishment He could never have imagined such brutality, such frenzy. In terror he sat up in bed, almost swooning with agony. But the fighting, wailing and cursing grew louder and louder. And then to his intense amazement he caught the voice of his landlady. She was howling, shrieking and wailing, rapidly, hurriedly, incoherently, so that he could not make out what she was talking about; she was beseeching, no doubt, not to be beaten, for she was being mercilessly beaten on the stairs. The voice of her assailant was so horrible from spite and rage that it was almost a croak; but he, too, was saying something, and just as quickly and indistinctly, hurrying and spluttering. All at once Raskolnikov trembled; he recognised the voice—it was the voice of Ilya Petrovitch. Ilya Petrovitch here and beating the landlady! He is kicking her, banging her head against the steps—that’s clear, that can be told from the sounds, from the cries and the thuds. How is it, is the world topsy-turvy? He could hear people running in crowds from all the storeys and all the staircases; he heard voices, exclamations, knocking, doors banging. ‘But why, why, and how could it be?’ he repeated, thinking seriously that he had gone mad. But no, he heard too distinctly! And they would come to him then next, ‘for no doubt … it’s all about that … about yesterday…. Good God!’ He 215 of 967 Crime and Punishment would have fastened his door with the latch, but he could not lift his hand … besides, it would be useless. Terror gripped his heart like ice, tortured him and numbed him…. But at last all this uproar, after continuing about ten minutes, began gradually to subside. The landlady was moaning and groaning; Ilya Petrovitch was still uttering threats and curses…. But at last he, too, seemed to be silent, and now he could not be heard. ‘Can he have gone away? Good Lord!’ Yes, and now the landlady is going too, still weeping and moaning … and then her door slammed…. Now the crowd was going from the stairs to their rooms, exclaiming, disputing, calling to one another, raising their voices to a shout, dropping them to a whisper. There must have been numbers of them—almost all the inmates of the block. ‘But, good God, how could it be! And why, why had he come here!’ Raskolnikov sank worn out on the sofa, but could not close his eyes. He lay for half an hour in such anguish, such an intolerable sensation of infinite terror as he had never experienced before. Suddenly a bright light flashed into his room. Nastasya came in with a candle and a plate of soup. Looking at him carefully and ascertaining that he was not asleep, she set the candle on the table and began 216 of 967 Crime and Punishment to lay out what she had brought—bread, salt, a plate, a spoon. ‘You’ve eaten nothing since yesterday, I warrant. You’ve been trudging about all day, and you’re shaking with fever.’ ‘Nastasya … what were they beating the landlady for?’ She looked intently at him. ‘Who beat the landlady?’ ‘Just now … half an hour ago, Ilya Petrovitch, the assistant superintendent, on the stairs…. Why was he ill-treating her like that, and … why was he here?’ Nastasya scrutinised him, silent and frowning, and her scrutiny lasted a long time. He felt uneasy, even frightened at her searching eyes. ‘Nastasya, why don’t you speak?’ he said timidly at last in a weak voice. ‘It’s the blood,’ she answered at last softly, as though speaking to herself. ‘Blood? What blood?’ he muttered, growing white and turning towards the wall. Nastasya still looked at him without speaking. ‘Nobody has been beating the landlady,’ she declared at last in a firm, resolute voice. He gazed at her, hardly able to breathe. 217 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘I heard it myself…. I was not asleep … I was sitting up,’ he said still more timidly. ‘I listened a long while. The assistant superintendent came…. Everyone ran out on to the stairs from all the flats.’ ‘No one has been here. That’s the blood crying in your ears. When there’s no outlet for it and it gets clotted, you begin fancying things…. Will you eat something?’ He made no answer. Nastasya still stood over him, watching him. ‘Give me something to drink … Nastasya.’ She went downstairs and returned with a white earthenware jug of water. He remembered only swallowing one sip of the cold water and spilling some on his neck. Then followed forgetfulness. 218 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. Chapter III He was not completely unconscious, however, all the time he was ill; he was in a feverish state, sometimes delirious, sometimes half conscious. He remembered a great deal afterwards. Sometimes it seemed as though there were a number of people round him; they wanted to take him away somewhere, there was a great deal of squabbling and discussing about him. Then he would be alone in the room; they had all gone away afraid of him, and only now and then opened the door a crack to look at him; they threatened him, plotted something together, laughed, and mocked at him. He remembered Nastasya often at his bedside; he distinguished another person, too, whom he seemed to know very well, though he could not remember who he was, and this fretted him, even made him cry. Sometimes he fancied he had been lying there a month; at other times it all seemed part of the same day. But of that —of that he had no recollection, and yet every minute he felt that he had forgotten something he ought to remember. He worried and tormented himself trying to remember, moaned, flew into a rage, or sank into awful, intolerable terror. Then he struggled to get up, would 219 of 967 Crime and Punishment have run away, but someone always prevented him by force, and he sank back into impotence and forgetfulness. At last he returned to complete consciousness. It happened at ten o’clock in the morning. On fine days the sun shone into the room at that hour, throwing a streak of light on the right wall and the corner near the door. Nastasya was standing beside him with another person, a complete stranger, who was looking at him very inquisitively. He was a young man with a beard, wearing a full, short- waisted coat, and looked like a messenger. The landlady was peeping in at the half-opened door. Raskolnikov sat up. ‘Who is this, Nastasya?’ he asked, pointing to the young man. ‘I say, he’s himself again!’ she said. ‘He is himself,’ echoed the man. Concluding that he had returned to his senses, the landlady closed the door and disappeared. She was always shy and dreaded conversations or discussions. She was a woman of forty, not at all bad-looking, fat and buxom, with black eyes and eyebrows, good-natured from fatness and laziness, and absurdly bashful. 220 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Who … are you?’ he went on, addressing the man. But at that moment the door was flung open, and, stooping a little, as he was so tall, Razumihin came in. ‘What a cabin it is!’ he cried. ‘I am always knocking my head. You call this a lodging! So you are conscious, brother? I’ve just heard the news from Pashenka.’ ‘He has just come to,’ said Nastasya. ‘Just come to,’ echoed the man again, with a smile. ‘And who are you?’ Razumihin asked, suddenly addressing him. ‘My name is Vrazumihin, at your service; not Razumihin, as I am always called, but Vrazumihin, a student and gentleman; and he is my friend. And who are you?’ ‘I am the messenger from our office, from the merchant Shelopaev, and I’ve come on business.’ ‘Please sit down.’ Razumihin seated himself on the other side of the table. ‘It’s a good thing you’ve come to, brother,’ he went on to Raskolnikov. ‘For the last four days you have scarcely eaten or drunk anything. We had to give you tea in spoonfuls. I brought Zossimov to see you twice. You remember Zossimov? He examined you carefully and said at once it was nothing serious— something seemed to have gone to your head. Some nervous nonsense, the result of bad feeding, he says you 221 of 967 Crime and Punishment have not had enough beer and radish, but it’s nothing much, it will pass and you will be all right. Zossimov is a first-rate fellow! He is making quite a name. Come, I won’t keep you,’ he said, addressing the man again. ‘Will you explain what you want? You must know, Rodya, this is the second time they have sent from the office; but it was another man last time, and I talked to him. Who was it came before?’ ‘That was the day before yesterday, I venture to say, if you please, sir. That was Alexey Semyonovitch; he is in our office, too.’ ‘He was more intelligent than you, don’t you think so?’ ‘Yes, indeed, sir, he is of more weight than I am.’ ‘Quite so; go on.’ ‘At your mamma’s request, through Afanasy Ivanovitch Vahrushin, of whom I presume you have heard more than once, a remittance is sent to you from our office,’ the man began, addressing Raskolnikov. ‘If you are in an intelligible condition, I’ve thirty-five roubles to remit to you, as Semyon Semyonovitch has received from Afanasy Ivanovitch at your mamma’s request instructions to that effect, as on previous occasions. Do you know him, sir?’ ‘Yes, I remember … Vahrushin,’ Raskolnikov said dreamily. 222 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘You hear, he knows Vahrushin,’ cried Razumihin. ‘He is in ‘an intelligible condition’! And I see you are an intelligent man too. Well, it’s always pleasant to hear words of wisdom.’ ‘That’s the gentleman, Vahrushin, Afanasy Ivanovitch. And at the request of your mamma, who has sent you a remittance once before in the same manner through him, he did not refuse this time also, and sent instructions to Semyon Semyonovitch some days since to hand you thirty-five roubles in the hope of better to come.’ ‘That ‘hoping for better to come’ is the best thing you’ve said, though ‘your mamma’ is not bad either. Come then, what do you say? Is he fully conscious, eh?’ ‘That’s all right. If only he can sign this little paper.’ ‘He can scrawl his name. Have you got the book?’ ‘Yes, here’s the book.’ ‘Give it to me. Here, Rodya, sit up. I’ll hold you. Take the pen and scribble ‘Raskolnikov’ for him. For just now, brother, money is sweeter to us than treacle.’ ‘I don’t want it,’ said Raskolnikov, pushing away the pen. ‘Not want it?’ ‘I won’t sign it.’ ‘How the devil can you do without signing it?’ 223 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘I don’t want … the money.’ ‘Don’t want the money! Come, brother, that’s nonsense, I bear witness. Don’t trouble, please, it’s only that he is on his travels again. But that’s pretty common with him at all times though…. You are a man of judgment and we will take him in hand, that is, more simply, take his hand and he will sign it. Here.’ ‘But I can come another time.’ ‘No, no. Why should we trouble you? You are a man of judgment…. Now, Rodya, don’t keep your visitor, you see he is waiting,’ and he made ready to hold Raskolnikov’s hand in earnest. ‘Stop, I’ll do it alone,’ said the latter, taking the pen and signing his name. The messenger took out the money and went away. ‘Bravo! And now, brother, are you hungry?’ ‘Yes,’ answered Raskolnikov. ‘Is there any soup?’ ‘Some of yesterday’s,’ answered Nastasya, who was still standing there. ‘With potatoes and rice in it?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘I know it by heart. Bring soup and give us some tea.’ ‘Very well.’ 224 of 967 Crime and Punishment Raskolnikov looked at all this with profound astonishment and a dull, unreasoning terror. He made up his mind to keep quiet and see what would happen. ‘I believe I am not wandering. I believe it’s reality,’ he thought. In a couple of minutes Nastasya returned with the soup, and announced that the tea would be ready directly. With the soup she brought two spoons, two plates, salt, pepper, mustard for the beef, and so on. The table was set as it had not been for a long time. The cloth was clean. ‘It would not be amiss, Nastasya, if Praskovya Pavlovna were to send us up a couple of bottles of beer. We could empty them.’ ‘Well, you are a cool hand,’ muttered Nastasya, and she departed to carry out his orders. Raskolnikov still gazed wildly with strained attention. Meanwhile Razumihin sat down on the sofa beside him, as clumsily as a bear put his left arm round Raskolnikov’s head, although he was able to sit up, and with his right hand gave him a spoonful of soup, blowing on it that it might not burn him. But the soup was only just warm. Raskolnikov swallowed one spoonful greedily, then a second, then a third. But after giving him a few more spoonfuls of soup, Razumihin suddenly stopped, and said 225 of 967 Crime and Punishment that he must ask Zossimov whether he ought to have more. Nastasya came in with two bottles of beer. ‘And will you have tea?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Cut along, Nastasya, and bring some tea, for tea we may venture on without the faculty. But here is the beer!’ He moved back to his chair, pulled the soup and meat in front of him, and began eating as though he had not touched food for three days. ‘I must tell you, Rodya, I dine like this here every day now,’ he mumbled with his mouth full of beef, ‘and it’s all Pashenka, your dear little landlady, who sees to that; she loves to do anything for me. I don’t ask for it, but, of course, I don’t object. And here’s Nastasya with the tea. She is a quick girl. Nastasya, my dear, won’t you have some beer?’ ‘Get along with your nonsense!’ ‘A cup of tea, then?’ ‘A cup of tea, maybe.’ ‘Pour it out. Stay, I’ll pour it out myself. Sit down.’ He poured out two cups, left his dinner, and sat on the sofa again. As before, he put his left arm round the sick man’s head, raised him up and gave him tea in spoonfuls, 226 of 967 Crime and Punishment again blowing each spoonful steadily and earnestly, as though this process was the principal and most effective means towards his friend’s recovery. Raskolnikov said nothing and made no resistance, though he felt quite strong enough to sit up on the sofa without support and could not merely have held a cup or a spoon, but even perhaps could have walked about. But from some queer, almost animal, cunning he conceived the idea of hiding his strength and lying low for a time, pretending if necessary not to be yet in full possession of his faculties, and meanwhile listening to find out what was going on. Yet he could not overcome his sense of repugnance. After sipping a dozen spoonfuls of tea, he suddenly released his head, pushed the spoon away capriciously, and sank back on the pillow. There were actually real pillows under his head now, down pillows in clean cases, he observed that, too, and took note of it. ‘Pashenka must give us some raspberry jam to-day to make him some raspberry tea,’ said Razumihin, going back to his chair and attacking his soup and beer again. ‘And where is she to get raspberries for you?’ asked Nastasya, balancing a saucer on her five outspread fingers and sipping tea through a lump of sugar. 227 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘She’ll get it at the shop, my dear. You see, Rodya, all sorts of things have been happening while you have been laid up. When you decamped in that rascally way without leaving your address, I felt so angry that I resolved to find you out and punish you. I set to work that very day. How I ran about making inquiries for you! This lodging of yours I had forgotten, though I never remembered it, indeed, because I did not know it; and as for your old lodgings, I could only remember it was at the Five Corners, Harlamov’s house. I kept trying to find that Harlamov’s house, and afterwards it turned out that it was not Harlamov’s, but Buch’s. How one muddles up sound sometimes! So I lost my temper, and I went on the chance to the address bureau next day, and only fancy, in two minutes they looked you up! Your name is down there.’ ‘My name!’ ‘I should think so; and yet a General Kobelev they could not find while I was there. Well, it’s a long story. But as soon as I did land on this place, I soon got to know all your affairs—all, all, brother, I know everything; Nastasya here will tell you. I made the acquaintance of Nikodim Fomitch and Ilya Petrovitch, and the house-porter and Mr. Zametov, Alexandr Grigorievitch, the 228 of 967 Crime and Punishment head clerk in the police office, and, last, but not least, of Pashenka; Nastasya here knows….’ ‘He’s got round her,’ Nastasya murmured, smiling slyly. ‘Why don’t you put the sugar in your tea, Nastasya Nikiforovna?’ ‘You are a one!’ Nastasya cried suddenly, going off into a giggle. ‘I am not Nikiforovna, but Petrovna,’ she added suddenly, recovering from her mirth. ‘I’ll make a note of it. Well, brother, to make a long story short, I was going in for a regular explosion here to uproot all malignant influences in the locality, but Pashenka won the day. I had not expected, brother, to find her so … prepossessing. Eh, what do you think?’ Raskolnikov did not speak, but he still kept his eyes fixed upon him, full of alarm. ‘And all that could be wished, indeed, in every respect,’ Razumihin went on, not at all embarrassed by his silence. ‘Ah, the sly dog!’ Nastasya shrieked again. This conversation afforded her unspeakable delight. ‘It’s a pity, brother, that you did not set to work in the right way at first. You ought to have approached her differently. She is, so to speak, a most unaccountable character. But we will talk about her character later…. How could you let things come to such a pass that she 229 of 967 Crime and Punishment gave up sending you your dinner? And that I O U? You must have been mad to sign an I O U. And that promise of marriage when her daughter, Natalya Yegorovna, was alive? … I know all about it! But I see that’s a delicate matter and I am an ass; forgive me. But, talking of foolishness, do you know Praskovya Pavlovna is not nearly so foolish as you would think at first sight?’ ‘No,’ mumbled Raskolnikov, looking away, but feeling that it was better to keep up the conversation. ‘She isn’t, is she?’ cried Razumihin, delighted to get an answer out of him. ‘But she is not very clever either, eh? She is essentially, essentially an unaccountable character! I am sometimes quite at a loss, I assure you…. She must be forty; she says she is thirty- six, and of course she has every right to say so. But I swear I judge her intellectually, simply from the metaphysical point of view; there is a sort of symbolism sprung up between us, a sort of algebra or what not! I don’t understand it! Well, that’s all nonsense. Only, seeing that you are not a student now and have lost your lessons and your clothes, and that through the young lady’s death she has no need to treat you as a relation, she suddenly took fright; and as you hid in your den and dropped all your old relations with her, she planned to get rid of you. And she’s been cherishing that design a long 230 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. time, but was sorry to lose the I O U, for you assured her yourself that your mother would pay.’ ‘It was base of me to say that…. My mother herself is almost a beggar … and I told a lie to keep my lodging … and be fed,’ Raskolnikov said loudly and distinctly. ‘Yes, you did very sensibly. But the worst of it is that at that point Mr. Tchebarov turns up, a business man. Pashenka would never have thought of doing anything on her own account, she is too retiring; but the business man is by no means retiring, and first thing he puts the question, ‘Is there any hope of realising the I O U?’ Answer: there is, because he has a mother who would save her Rodya with her hundred and twenty-five roubles pension, if she has to starve herself; and a sister, too, who would go into bondage for his sake. That’s what he was building upon…. Why do you start? I know all the ins and outs of your affairs now, my dear boy—it’s not for nothing that you were so open with Pashenka when you were her prospective son-in-law, and I say all this as a friend…. But I tell you what it is; an honest and sensitive man is open; and a business man ‘listens and goes on eating’ you up. Well, then she gave the I O U by way of payment to this Tchebarov, and without hesitation he made a formal demand for payment. When I heard of all 231 of 967 Crime and Punishment this I wanted to blow him up, too, to clear my conscience, but by that time harmony reigned between me and Pashenka, and I insisted on stopping the whole affair, engaging that you would pay. I went security for you, brother. Do you understand? We called Tchebarov, flung him ten roubles and got the I O U back from him, and here I have the honour of presenting it to you. She trusts your word now. Here, take it, you see I have torn it.’ Razumihin put the note on the table. Raskolnikov looked at him and turned to the wall without uttering a word. Even Razumihin felt a twinge. ‘I see, brother,’ he said a moment later, ‘that I have been playing the fool again. I thought I should amuse you with my chatter, and I believe I have only made you cross.’ ‘Was it you I did not recognise when I was delirious?’ Raskolnikov asked, after a moment’s pause without turning his head. ‘Yes, and you flew into a rage about it, especially when I brought Zametov one day.’ ‘Zametov? The head clerk? What for?’ Raskolnikov turned round quickly and fixed his eyes on Razumihin. ‘What’s the matter with you? … What are you upset about? He wanted to make your acquaintance because I 232 of 967 Crime and Punishment talked to him a lot about you…. How could I have found out so much except from him? He is a capital fellow, brother, first-rate … in his own way, of course. Now we are friends—see each other almost every day. I have moved into this part, you know. I have only just moved. I’ve been with him to Luise Ivanovna once or twice…. Do you remember Luise, Luise Ivanovna? ‘Did I say anything in delirium?’ ‘I should think so! You were beside yourself.’ ‘What did I rave about?’ ‘What next? What did you rave about? What people do rave about…. Well, brother, now I must not lose time. To work.’ He got up from the table and took up his cap. ‘What did I rave about?’ ‘How he keeps on! Are you afraid of having let out some secret? Don’t worry yourself; you said nothing about a countess. But you said a lot about a bulldog, and about ear-rings and chains, and about Krestovsky Island, and some porter, and Nikodim Fomitch and Ilya Petrovitch, the assistant superintendent. And another thing that was of special interest to you was your own sock. You whined, ‘Give me my sock.’ Zametov hunted all about your room for your socks, and with his own scented, ring-bedecked fingers he gave you the rag. And only then were you 233 of 967 Crime and Punishment comforted, and for the next twenty-four hours you held the wretched thing in your hand; we could not get it from you. It is most likely somewhere under your quilt at this moment. And then you asked so piteously for fringe for your trousers. We tried to find out what sort of fringe, but we could not make it out. Now to business! Here are thirty-five roubles; I take ten of them, and shall give you an account of them in an hour or two. I will let Zossimov know at the same time, though he ought to have been here long ago, for it is nearly twelve. And you, Nastasya, look in pretty often while I am away, to see whether he wants a drink or anything else. And I will tell Pashenka what is wanted myself. Good-bye!’ ‘He calls her Pashenka! Ah, he’s a deep one!’ said Nastasya as he went out; then she opened the door and stood listening, but could not resist running downstairs after him. She was very eager to hear what he would say to the landlady. She was evidently quite fascinated by Razumihin. No sooner had she left the room than the sick man flung off the bedclothes and leapt out of bed like a madman. With burning, twitching impatience he had waited for them to be gone so that he might set to work. 234 of 967 Crime and Punishment But to what work? Now, as though to spite him, it eluded him. ‘Good God, only tell me one thing: do they know of it yet or not? What if they know it and are only pretending, mocking me while I am laid up, and then they will come in and tell me that it’s been discovered long ago and that they have only … What am I to do now? That’s what I’ve forgotten, as though on purpose; forgotten it all at once, I remembered a minute ago.’ He stood in the middle of the room and gazed in miserable bewilderment about him; he walked to the door, opened it, listened; but that was not what he wanted. Suddenly, as though recalling something, he rushed to the corner where there was a hole under the paper, began examining it, put his hand into the hole, fumbled—but that was not it. He went to the stove, opened it and began rummaging in the ashes; the frayed edges of his trousers and the rags cut off his pocket were lying there just as he had thrown them. No one had looked, then! Then he remembered the sock about which Razumihin had just been telling him. Yes, there it lay on the sofa under the quilt, but it was so covered with dust and grime that Zametov could not have seen anything on it. 235 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Bah, Zametov! The police office! And why am I sent for to the police office? Where’s the notice? Bah! I am mixing it up; that was then. I looked at my sock then, too, but now … now I have been ill. But what did Zametov come for? Why did Razumihin bring him?’ he muttered, helplessly sitting on the sofa again. ‘What does it mean? Am I still in delirium, or is it real? I believe it is real…. Ah, I remember; I must escape! Make haste to escape. Yes, I must, I must escape! Yes … but where? And where are my clothes? I’ve no boots. They’ve taken them away! They’ve hidden them! I understand! Ah, here is my coat— they passed that over! And here is money on the table, thank God! And here’s the I O U … I’ll take the money and go and take another lodging. They won’t find me! … Yes, but the address bureau? They’ll find me, Razumihin will find me. Better escape altogether … far away … to America, and let them do their worst! And take the I O U … it would be of use there…. What else shall I take? They think I am ill! They don’t know that I can walk, ha-ha-ha! I could see by their eyes that they know all about it! If only I could get downstairs! And what if they have set a watch there—policemen! What’s this tea? Ah, and here is beer left, half a bottle, cold!’ 236 of 967 Crime and Punishment He snatched up the bottle, which still contained a glassful of beer, and gulped it down with relish, as though quenching a flame in his breast. But in another minute the beer had gone to his head, and a faint and even pleasant shiver ran down his spine. He lay down and pulled the quilt over him. His sick and incoherent thoughts grew more and more disconnected, and soon a light, pleasant drowsiness came upon him. With a sense of comfort he nestled his head into the pillow, wrapped more closely about him the soft, wadded quilt which had replaced the old, ragged greatcoat, sighed softly and sank into a deep, sound, refreshing sleep. He woke up, hearing someone come in. He opened his eyes and saw Razumihin standing in the doorway, uncertain whether to come in or not. Raskolnikov sat up quickly on the sofa and gazed at him, as though trying to recall something. ‘Ah, you are not asleep! Here I am! Nastasya, bring in the parcel!’ Razumihin shouted down the stairs. ‘You shall have the account directly.’ ‘What time is it?’ asked Raskolnikov, looking round uneasily. 237 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Yes, you had a fine sleep, brother, it’s almost evening, it will be six o’clock directly. You have slept more than six hours.’ ‘Good heavens! Have I?’ ‘And why not? It will do you good. What’s the hurry? A tryst, is it? We’ve all time before us. I’ve been waiting for the last three hours for you; I’ve been up twice and found you asleep. I’ve called on Zossimov twice; not at home, only fancy! But no matter, he will turn up. And I’ve been out on my own business, too. You know I’ve been moving to-day, moving with my uncle. I have an uncle living with me now. But that’s no matter, to business. Give me the parcel, Nastasya. We will open it directly. And how do you feel now, brother?’ ‘I am quite well, I am not ill. Razumihin, have you been here long?’ ‘I tell you I’ve been waiting for the last three hours.’ ‘No, before.’ ‘How do you mean?’ ‘How long have you been coming here?’ ‘Why I told you all about it this morning. Don’t you remember?’ 238 of 967 Crime and Punishment Raskolnikov pondered. The morning seemed like a dream to him. He could not remember alone, and looked inquiringly at Razumihin. ‘Hm!’ said the latter, ‘he has forgotten. I fancied then that you were not quite yourself. Now you are better for your sleep…. You really look much better. First-rate! Well, to business. Look here, my dear boy.’ He began untying the bundle, which evidently interested him. ‘Believe me, brother, this is something specially near my heart. For we must make a man of you. Let’s begin from the top. Do you see this cap?’ he said, taking out of the bundle a fairly good though cheap and ordinary cap. ‘Let me try it on.’ ‘Presently, afterwards,’ said Raskolnikov, waving it off pettishly. ‘Come, Rodya, my boy, don’t oppose it, afterwards will be too late; and I shan’t sleep all night, for I bought it by guess, without measure. Just right!’ he cried triumphantly, fitting it on, ‘just your size! A proper head-covering is the first thing in dress and a recommendation in its own way. Tolstyakov, a friend of mine, is always obliged to take off his pudding basin when he goes into any public place where other people wear their hats or 239 of 967 Crime and Punishment caps. People think he does it from slavish politeness, but it’s simply because he is ashamed of his bird’s nest; he is such a boastful fellow! Look, Nastasya, here are two specimens of headgear: this Palmerston’—he took from the corner Raskolnikov’s old, battered hat, which for some unknown reason, he called a Palmerston—‘or this jewel! Guess the price, Rodya, what do you suppose I paid for it, Nastasya!’ he said, turning to her, seeing that Raskolnikov did not speak. ‘Twenty copecks, no more, I dare say,’ answered Nastasya. ‘Twenty copecks, silly!’ he cried, offended. ‘Why, nowadays you would cost more than that—eighty copecks! And that only because it has been worn. And it’s bought on condition that when’s it’s worn out, they will give you another next year. Yes, on my word! Well, now let us pass to the United States of America, as they called them at school. I assure you I am proud of these breeches,’ and he exhibited to Raskolnikov a pair of light, summer trousers of grey woollen material. ‘No holes, no spots, and quite respectable, although a little worn; and a waistcoat to match, quite in the fashion. And its being worn really is an improvement, it’s softer, smoother…. You see, Rodya, to my thinking, the great thing for getting on in the world is 240 of 967 Crime and Punishment always to keep to the seasons; if you don’t insist on having asparagus in January, you keep your money in your purse; and it’s the same with this purchase. It’s summer now, so I’ve been buying summer things— warmer materials will be wanted for autumn, so you will have to throw these away in any case … especially as they will be done for by then from their own lack of coherence if not your higher standard of luxury. Come, price them! What do you say? Two roubles twenty-five copecks! And remember the condition: if you wear these out, you will have another suit for nothing! They only do business on that system at Fedyaev’s; if you’ve bought a thing once, you are satisfied for life, for you will never go there again of your own free will. Now for the boots. What do you say? You see that they are a bit worn, but they’ll last a couple of months, for it’s foreign work and foreign leather; the secretary of the English Embassy sold them last week—he had only worn them six days, but he was very short of cash. Price—a rouble and a half. A bargain?’ ‘But perhaps they won’t fit,’ observed Nastasya. ‘Not fit? Just look!’ and he pulled out of his pocket Raskolnikov’s old, broken boot, stiffly coated with dry mud. ‘I did not go empty- handed—they took the size from this monster. We all did our best. And as to your 241 of 967 Crime and Punishment linen, your landlady has seen to that. Here, to begin with are three shirts, hempen but with a fashionable front…. Well now then, eighty copecks the cap, two roubles twenty-five copecks the suit—together three roubles five copecks—a rouble and a half for the boots—for, you see, they are very good—and that makes four roubles fifty-five copecks; five roubles for the underclothes—they were bought in the lo— which makes exactly nine roubles fifty-five copecks. Forty-five copecks change in coppers. Will you take it? And so, Rodya, you are set up with a complete new rig-out, for your overcoat will serve, and even has a style of its own. That comes from getting one’s clothes from Sharmer’s! As for your socks and other things, I leave them to you; we’ve twenty-five roubles left. And as for Pashenka and paying for your lodging, don’t you worry. I tell you she’ll trust you for anything. And now, brother, let me change your linen, for I daresay you will throw off your illness with your shirt.’ ‘Let me be! I don’t want to!’ Raskolnikov waved him off. He had listened with disgust to Razumihin’s efforts to be playful about his purchases. ‘Come, brother, don’t tell me I’ve been trudging around for nothing,’ Razumihin insisted. ‘Nastasya, don’t be bashful, but help me—that’s it,’ and in spite of 242 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. Raskolnikov’s resistance he changed his linen. The latter sank back on the pillows and for a minute or two said nothing. ‘It will be long before I get rid of them,’ he thought. ‘What money was all that bought with?’ he asked at last, gazing at the wall. ‘Money? Why, your own, what the messenger brought from Vahrushin, your mother sent it. Have you forgotten that, too?’ ‘I remember now,’ said Raskolnikov after a long, sullen silence. Razumihin looked at him, frowning and uneasy. The door opened and a tall, stout man whose appearance seemed familiar to Raskolnikov came in. 243 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter IV Zossimov was a tall, fat man with a puffy, colourless, clean-shaven face and straight flaxen hair. He wore spectacles, and a big gold ring on his fat finger. He was twenty-seven. He had on a light grey fashionable loose coat, light summer trousers, and everything about him loose, fashionable and spick and span; his linen was irreproachable, his watch-chain was massive. In manner he was slow and, as it were, nonchalant, and at the same time studiously free and easy; he made efforts to conceal his self-importance, but it was apparent at every instant. All his acquaintances found him tedious, but said he was clever at his work. ‘I’ve been to you twice to-day, brother. You see, he’s come to himself,’ cried Razumihin. ‘I see, I see; and how do we feel now, eh?’ said Zossimov to Raskolnikov, watching him carefully and, sitting down at the foot of the sofa, he settled himself as comfortably as he could. ‘He is still depressed,’ Razumihin went on. ‘We’ve just changed his linen and he almost cried.’ 244 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘That’s very natural; you might have put it off if he did not wish it…. His pulse is first-rate. Is your head still aching, eh?’ ‘I am well, I am perfectly well!’ Raskolnikov declared positively and irritably. He raised himself on the sofa and looked at them with glittering eyes, but sank back on to the pillow at once and turned to the wall. Zossimov watched him intently. ‘Very good…. Going on all right,’ he said lazily. ‘Has he eaten anything?’ They told him, and asked what he might have. ‘He may have anything … soup, tea … mushrooms and cucumbers, of course, you must not give him; he’d better not have meat either, and … but no need to tell you that!’ Razumihin and he looked at each other. ‘No more medicine or anything. I’ll look at him again to-morrow. Perhaps, to-day even … but never mind …’ ‘To-morrow evening I shall take him for a walk,’ said Razumihin. ‘We are going to the Yusupov garden and then to the Palais de Crystal.’ ‘I would not disturb him to-morrow at all, but I don’t know … a little, maybe … but we’ll see.’ ‘Ach, what a nuisance! I’ve got a house-warming party to-night; it’s only a step from here. Couldn’t he come? He 245 of 967 Crime and Punishment could lie on the sofa. You are coming?’ Razumihin said to Zossimov. ‘Don’t forget, you promised.’ ‘All right, only rather later. What are you going to do?’ ‘Oh, nothing—tea, vodka, herrings. There will be a pie … just our friends.’ ‘And who?’ ‘All neighbours here, almost all new friends, except my old uncle, and he is new too—he only arrived in Petersburg yesterday to see to some business of his. We meet once in five years.’ ‘What is he?’ ‘He’s been stagnating all his life as a district postmaster; gets a little pension. He is sixty-five—not worth talking about…. But I am fond of him. Porfiry Petrovitch, the head of the Investigation Department here … But you know him.’ ‘Is he a relation of yours, too?’ ‘A very distant one. But why are you scowling? Because you quarrelled once, won’t you come then?’ ‘I don’t care a damn for him.’ ‘So much the better. Well, there will be some students, a teacher, a government clerk, a musician, an officer and Zametov.’ 246 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Do tell me, please, what you or he’—Zossimov nodded at Raskolnikov— ‘can have in common with this Zametov?’ ‘Oh, you particular gentleman! Principles! You are worked by principles, as it were by springs; you won’t venture to turn round on your own account. If a man is a nice fellow, that’s the only principle I go upon. Zametov is a delightful person.’ ‘Though he does take bribes.’ ‘Well, he does! and what of it? I don’t care if he does take bribes,’ Razumihin cried with unnatural irritability. ‘I don’t praise him for taking bribes. I only say he is a nice man in his own way! But if one looks at men in all ways— are there many good ones left? Why, I am sure I shouldn’t be worth a baked onion myself … perhaps with you thrown in.’ ‘That’s too little; I’d give two for you.’ ‘And I wouldn’t give more than one for you. No more of your jokes! Zametov is no more than a boy. I can pull his hair and one must draw him not repel him. You’ll never improve a man by repelling him, especially a boy. One has to be twice as careful with a boy. Oh, you progressive dullards! You don’t understand. You harm 247 of 967 Crime and Punishment yourselves running another man down…. But if you want to know, we really have something in common.’ ‘I should like to know what.’ ‘Why, it’s all about a house-painter…. We are getting him out of a mess! Though indeed there’s nothing to fear now. The matter is absolutely self-evident. We only put on steam.’ ‘A painter?’ ‘Why, haven’t I told you about it? I only told you the beginning then about the murder of the old pawnbroker-woman. Well, the painter is mixed up in it …’ ‘Oh, I heard about that murder before and was rather interested in it … partly … for one reason…. I read about it in the papers, too….’ ‘Lizaveta was murdered, too,’ Nastasya blurted out, suddenly addressing Raskolnikov. She remained in the room all the time, standing by the door listening. ‘Lizaveta,’ murmured Raskolnikov hardly audibly. ‘Lizaveta, who sold old clothes. Didn’t you know her? She used to come here. She mended a shirt for you, too.’ Raskolnikov turned to the wall where in the dirty, yellow paper he picked out one clumsy, white flower with brown lines on it and began examining how many petals there were in it, how many scallops in the petals and how 248 of 967 Crime and Punishment many lines on them. He felt his arms and legs as lifeless as though they had been cut off. He did not attempt to move, but stared obstinately at the flower. ‘But what about the painter?’ Zossimov interrupted Nastasya’s chatter with marked displeasure. She sighed and was silent. ‘Why, he was accused of the murder,’ Razumihin went on hotly. ‘Was there evidence against him then?’ ‘Evidence, indeed! Evidence that was no evidence, and that’s what we have to prove. It was just as they pitched on those fellows, Koch and Pestryakov, at first. Foo! how stupidly it’s all done, it makes one sick, though it’s not one’s business! Pestryakov may be coming to-night…. By the way, Rodya, you’ve heard about the business already; it happened before you were ill, the day before you fainted at the police office while they were talking about it.’ Zossimov looked curiously at Raskolnikov. He did not stir. ‘But I say, Razumihin, I wonder at you. What a busybody you are!’ Zossimov observed. ‘Maybe I am, but we will get him off anyway,’ shouted Razumihin, bringing his fist down on the table. ‘What’s 249 of 967 Crime and Punishment the most offensive is not their lying—one can always forgive lying—lying is a delightful thing, for it leads to truth—what is offensive is that they lie and worship their own lying…. I respect Porfiry, but … What threw them out at first? The door was locked, and when they came back with the porter it was open. So it followed that Koch and Pestryakov were the murderers—that was their logic!’ ‘But don’t excite yourself; they simply detained them, they could not help that…. And, by the way, I’ve met that man Koch. He used to buy unredeemed pledges from the old woman? Eh?’ ‘Yes, he is a swindler. He buys up bad debts, too. He makes a profession of it. But enough of him! Do you know what makes me angry? It’s their sickening rotten, petrified routine…. And this case might be the means of introducing a new method. One can show from the psychological data alone how to get on the track of the real man. ‘We have facts,’ they say. But facts are not everything—at least half the business lies in how you interpret them!’ ‘Can you interpret them, then?’ ‘Anyway, one can’t hold one’s tongue when one has a feeling, a tangible feeling, that one might be a help if only…. Eh! Do you know the details of the case?’ 250 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘I am waiting to hear about the painter.’ ‘Oh, yes! Well, here’s the story. Early on the third day after the murder, when they were still dandling Koch and Pestryakov—though they accounted for every step they took and it was as plain as a pikestaff- an unexpected fact turned up. A peasant called Dushkin, who keeps a dram-shop facing the house, brought to the police office a jeweller’s case containing some gold ear-rings, and told a long rigamarole. ‘The day before yesterday, just after eight o’clock’—mark the day and the hour!—’a journeyman house-painter, Nikolay, who had been in to see me already that day, brought me this box of gold ear-rings and stones, and asked me to give him two roubles for them. When I asked him where he got them, he said that he picked them up in the street. I did not ask him anything more.’ I am telling you Dushkin’s story. ‘I gave him a note’—a rouble that is—’for I thought if he did not pawn it with me he would with another. It would all come to the same thing—he’d spend it on drink, so the thing had better be with me. The further you hide it the quicker you will find it, and if anything turns up, if I hear any rumours, I’ll take it to the police.’ Of course, that’s all taradiddle; he lies like a horse, for I know this Dushkin, he is a pawnbroker and a receiver of stolen goods, and he did 251 of 967 Crime and Punishment not cheat Nikolay out of a thirty-rouble trinket in order to give it to the police. He was simply afraid. But no matter, to return to Dushkin’s story. ‘I’ve known this peasant, Nikolay Dementyev, from a child; he comes from the same province and district of Zaraïsk, we are both Ryazan men. And though Nikolay is not a drunkard, he drinks, and I knew he had a job in that house, painting work with Dmitri, who comes from the same village, too. As soon as he got the rouble he changed it, had a couple of glasses, took his change and went out. But I did not see Dmitri with him then. And the next day I heard that someone had murdered Alyona Ivanovna and her sister, Lizaveta Ivanovna, with an axe. I knew them, and I felt suspicious about the ear-rings at once, for I knew the murdered woman lent money on pledges. I went to the house, and began to make careful inquiries without saying a word to anyone. First of all I asked, ‘Is Nikolay here?’ Dmitri told me that Nikolay had gone off on the spree; he had come home at daybreak drunk, stayed in the house about ten minutes, and went out again. Dmitri didn’t see him again and is finishing the job alone. And their job is on the same staircase as the murder, on the second floor. When I heard all that I did not say a word to anyone’—that’s Dushkin’s tale—’but I found out what I could about the murder, and 252 of 967 Crime and Punishment went home feeling as suspicious as ever. And at eight o’clock this morning’— that was the third day, you understand—’I saw Nikolay coming in, not sober, though not to say very drunk—he could understand what was said to him. He sat down on the bench and did not speak. There was only one stranger in the bar and a man I knew asleep on a bench and our two boys. ‘Have you seen Dmitri?’ said I. ‘No, I haven’t,’ said he. ‘And you’ve not been here either?’ ‘Not since the day before yesterday,’ said he. ‘And where did you sleep last night?’ ‘In Peski, with the Kolomensky men.’ ‘And where did you get those ear-rings?’ I asked. ‘I found them in the street,’ and the way he said it was a bit queer; he did not look at me. ‘Did you hear what happened that very evening, at that very hour, on that same staircase?’ said I. ‘No,’ said he, ‘I had not heard,’ and all the while he was listening, his eyes were staring out of his head and he turned as white as chalk. I told him all about it and he took his hat and began getting up. I wanted to keep him. ‘Wait a bit, Nikolay,’ said I, ‘won’t you have a drink?’ And I signed to the boy to hold the door, and I came out from behind the bar; but he darted out and down the street to the turning at a run. I have not seen him since. Then my doubts were at an end—it was his doing, as clear as could be….’’ 253 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘I should think so,’ said Zossimov. ‘Wait! Hear the end. Of course they sought high and low for Nikolay; they detained Dushkin and searched his house; Dmitri, too, was arrested; the Kolomensky men also were turned inside out. And the day before yesterday they arrested Nikolay in a tavern at the end of the town. He had gone there, taken the silver cross off his neck and asked for a dram for it. They gave it to him. A few minutes afterwards the woman went to the cowshed, and through a crack in the wall she saw in the stable adjoining he had made a noose of his sash from the beam, stood on a block of wood, and was trying to put his neck in the noose. The woman screeched her hardest; people ran in. ‘So that’s what you are up to!’ ‘Take me,’ he says, ‘to such-and-such a police officer; I’ll confess everything.’ Well, they took him to that police station— that is here— with a suitable escort. So they asked him this and that, how old he is, ‘twenty-two,’ and so on. At the question, ‘When you were working with Dmitri, didn’t you see anyone on the staircase at such-and-such a time?’— answer: ‘To be sure folks may have gone up and down, but I did not notice them.’ ‘And didn’t you hear anything, any noise, and so on?’ ‘We heard nothing special.’ ‘And did you hear, Nikolay, that on the same day Widow So-254 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. and-so and her sister were murdered and robbed?’ ‘I never knew a thing about it. The first I heard of it was from Afanasy Pavlovitch the day before yesterday.’ ‘And where did you find the ear-rings?’ ‘I found them on the pavement. ‘Why didn’t you go to work with Dmitri the other day?’ ‘Because I was drinking.’ ‘And where were you drinking?’ ‘Oh, in such-and-such a place.’ ‘Why did you run away from Dushkin’s?’ ‘Because I was awfully frightened.’ ‘What were you frightened of?’ ‘That I should be accused.’ ‘How could you be frightened, if you felt free from guilt?’ Now, Zossimov, you may not believe me, that question was put literally in those words. I know it for a fact, it was repeated to me exactly! What do you say to that?’ ‘Well, anyway, there’s the evidence.’ ‘I am not talking of the evidence now, I am talking about that question, of their own idea of themselves. Well, so they squeezed and squeezed him and he confessed: ‘I did not find it in the street, but in the flat where I was painting with Dmitri.’ ‘And how was that?’ ‘Why, Dmitri and I were painting there all day, and we were just getting ready to go, and Dmitri took a brush and painted my face, and he ran off and I after him. I ran after him, shouting my hardest, and at the bottom of the stairs I ran right 255 of 967 Crime and Punishment against the porter and some gentlemen—and how many gentlemen were there I don’t remember. And the porter swore at me, and the other porter swore, too, and the porter’s wife came out, and swore at us, too; and a gentleman came into the entry with a lady, and he swore at us, too, for Dmitri and I lay right across the way. I got hold of Dmitri’s hair and knocked him down and began beating him. And Dmitri, too, caught me by the hair and began beating me. But we did it all not for temper but in a friendly way, for sport. And then Dmitri escaped and ran into the street, and I ran after him; but I did not catch him, and went back to the flat alone; I had to clear up my things. I began putting them together, expecting Dmitri to come, and there in the passage, in the corner by the door, I stepped on the box. I saw it lying there wrapped up in paper. I took off the paper, saw some little hooks, undid them, and in the box were the ear-rings….’’ ‘Behind the door? Lying behind the door? Behind the door?’ Raskolnikov cried suddenly, staring with a blank look of terror at Razumihin, and he slowly sat up on the sofa, leaning on his hand. ‘Yes … why? What’s the matter? What’s wrong?’ Razumihin, too, got up from his seat. 256 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Nothing,’ Raskolnikov answered faintly, turning to the wall. All were silent for a while. ‘He must have waked from a dream,’ Razumihin said at last, looking inquiringly at Zossimov. The latter slightly shook his head. ‘Well, go on,’ said Zossimov. ‘What next?’ ‘What next? As soon as he saw the ear-rings, forgetting Dmitri and everything, he took up his cap and ran to Dushkin and, as we know, got a rouble from him. He told a lie saying he found them in the street, and went off drinking. He keeps repeating his old story about the murder: ‘I know nothing of it, never heard of it till the day before yesterday.’ ‘And why didn’t you come to the police till now?’ ‘I was frightened.’ ‘And why did you try to hang yourself?’ ‘From anxiety.’ ‘What anxiety?’ ‘That I should be accused of it.’ Well, that’s the whole story. And now what do you suppose they deduced from that?’ ‘Why, there’s no supposing. There’s a clue, such as it is, a fact. You wouldn’t have your painter set free?’ ‘Now they’ve simply taken him for the murderer. They haven’t a shadow of doubt.’ ‘That’s nonsense. You are excited. But what about the ear-rings? You must admit that, if on the very same day and hour ear-rings from the old woman’s box have come 257 of 967 Crime and Punishment into Nikolay’s hands, they must have come there somehow. That’s a good deal in such a case.’ ‘How did they get there? How did they get there?’ cried Razumihin. ‘How can you, a doctor, whose duty it is to study man and who has more opportunity than anyone else for studying human nature—how can you fail to see the character of the man in the whole story? Don’t you see at once that the answers he has given in the examination are the holy truth? They came into his hand precisely as he has told us—he stepped on the box and picked it up.’ ‘The holy truth! But didn’t he own himself that he told a lie at first?’ ‘Listen to me, listen attentively. The porter and Koch and Pestryakov and the other porter and the wife of the first porter and the woman who was sitting in the porter’s lodge and the man Kryukov, who had just got out of a cab at that minute and went in at the entry with a lady on his arm, that is eight or ten witnesses, agree that Nikolay had Dmitri on the ground, was lying on him beating him, while Dmitri hung on to his hair, beating him, too. They lay right across the way, blocking the thoroughfare. They were sworn at on all sides while they ‘like children’ (the very words of the witnesses) were falling over one 258 of 967 Crime and Punishment another, squealing, fighting and laughing with the funniest faces, and, chasing one another like children, they ran into the street. Now take careful note. The bodies upstairs were warm, you understand, warm when they found them! If they, or Nikolay alone, had murdered them and broken open the boxes, or simply taken part in the robbery, allow me to ask you one question: do their state of mind, their squeals and giggles and childish scuffling at the gate fit in with axes, bloodshed, fiendish cunning, robbery? They’d just killed them, not five or ten minutes before, for the bodies were still warm, and at once, leaving the flat open, knowing that people would go there at once, flinging away their booty, they rolled about like children, laughing and attracting general attention. And there are a dozen witnesses to swear to that!’ ‘Of course it is strange! It’s impossible, indeed, but …’ ‘No, brother, no buts . And if the ear-rings being found in Nikolay’s hands at the very day and hour of the murder constitutes an important piece of circumstantial evidence against him—although the explanation given by him accounts for it, and therefore it does not tell seriously against him—one must take into consideration the facts which prove him innocent, especially as they are facts that cannot be denied . And do you suppose, from the character 259 of 967 Crime and Punishment of our legal system, that they will accept, or that they are in a position to accept, this fact— resting simply on a psychological impossibility—as irrefutable and conclusively breaking down the circumstantial evidence for the prosecution? No, they won’t accept it, they certainly won’t, because they found the jewel-case and the man tried to hang himself, ‘which he could not have done if he hadn’t felt guilty.’ That’s the point, that’s what excites me, you must understand!’ ‘Oh, I see you are excited! Wait a bit. I forgot to ask you; what proof is there that the box came from the old woman?’ ‘That’s been proved,’ said Razumihin with apparent reluctance, frowning. ‘Koch recognised the jewel-case and gave the name of the owner, who proved conclusively that it was his.’ ‘That’s bad. Now another point. Did anyone see Nikolay at the time that Koch and Pestryakov were going upstairs at first, and is there no evidence about that?’ ‘Nobody did see him,’ Razumihin answered with vexation. ‘That’s the worst of it. Even Koch and Pestryakov did not notice them on their way upstairs, though, indeed, their evidence could not have been worth much. They said they saw the flat was open, and that there 260 of 967 Crime and Punishment must be work going on in it, but they took no special notice and could not remember whether there actually were men at work in it.’ ‘Hm! … So the only evidence for the defence is that they were beating one another and laughing. That constitutes a strong presumption, but … How do you explain the facts yourself?’ ‘How do I explain them? What is there to explain? It’s clear. At any rate, the direction in which explanation is to be sought is clear, and the jewel-case points to it. The real murderer dropped those ear- rings. The murderer was upstairs, locked in, when Koch and Pestryakov knocked at the door. Koch, like an ass, did not stay at the door; so the murderer popped out and ran down, too; for he had no other way of escape. He hid from Koch, Pestryakov and the porter in the flat when Nikolay and Dmitri had just run out of it. He stopped there while the porter and others were going upstairs, waited till they were out of hearing, and then went calmly downstairs at the very minute when Dmitri and Nikolay ran out into the street and there was no one in the entry; possibly he was seen, but not noticed. There are lots of people going in and out. He must have dropped the ear-rings out of his pocket when he stood behind the door, and did not notice he dropped them, 261 of 967 Crime and Punishment because he had other things to think of. The jewel-case is a conclusive proof that he did stand there…. That’s how I explain it.’ ‘Too clever! No, my boy, you’re too clever. That beats everything.’ ‘But, why, why?’ ‘Why, because everything fits too well … it’s too melodramatic.’ ‘A-ach!’ Razumihin was exclaiming, but at that moment the door opened and a personage came in who was a stranger to all present. 262 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter V This was a gentleman no longer young, of a stiff and portly appearance, and a cautious and sour countenance. He began by stopping short in the doorway, staring about him with offensive and undisguised astonishment, as though asking himself what sort of place he had come to. Mistrustfully and with an affectation of being alarmed and almost affronted, he scanned Raskolnikov’s low and narrow ‘cabin.’ With the same amazement he stared at Raskolnikov, who lay undressed, dishevelled, unwashed, on his miserable dirty sofa, looking fixedly at him. Then with the same deliberation he scrutinised the uncouth, unkempt figure and unshaven face of Razumihin, who looked him boldly and inquiringly in the face without rising from his seat. A constrained silence lasted for a couple of minutes, and then, as might be expected, some scene-shifting took place. Reflecting, probably from certain fairly unmistakable signs, that he would get nothing in this ‘cabin’ by attempting to overawe them, the gentleman softened somewhat, and civilly, though with some severity, emphasising every syllable of his question, addressed Zossimov: 263 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Rodion Romanovitch Raskolnikov, a student, or formerly a student?’ Zossimov made a slight movement, and would have answered, had not Razumihin anticipated him. ‘Here he is lying on the sofa! What do you want?’ This familiar ‘what do you want’ seemed to cut the ground from the feet of the pompous gentleman. He was turning to Razumihin, but checked himself in time and turned to Zossimov again. ‘This is Raskolnikov,’ mumbled Zossimov, nodding towards him. Then he gave a prolonged yawn, opening his mouth as wide as possible. Then he lazily put his hand into his waistcoat-pocket, pulled out a huge gold watch in a round hunter’s case, opened it, looked at it and as slowly and lazily proceeded to put it back. Raskolnikov himself lay without speaking, on his back, gazing persistently, though without understanding, at the stranger. Now that his face was turned away from the strange flower on the paper, it was extremely pale and wore a look of anguish, as though he had just undergone an agonising operation or just been taken from the rack. But the new-comer gradually began to arouse his attention, then his wonder, then suspicion and even alarm. When Zossimov said ‘This is Raskolnikov’ he jumped up 264 of 967 Crime and Punishment quickly, sat on the sofa and with an almost defiant, but weak and breaking, voice articulated: ‘Yes, I am Raskolnikov! What do you want?’ The visitor scrutinised him and pronounced impressively: ‘Pyotr Petrovitch Luzhin. I believe I have reason to hope that my name is not wholly unknown to you?’ But Raskolnikov, who had expected something quite different, gazed blankly and dreamily at him, making no reply, as though he heard the name of Pyotr Petrovitch for the first time. ‘Is it possible that you can up to the present have received no information?’ asked Pyotr Petrovitch, somewhat disconcerted. In reply Raskolnikov sank languidly back on the pillow, put his hands behind his head and gazed at the ceiling. A look of dismay came into Luzhin’s face. Zossimov and Razumihin stared at him more inquisitively than ever, and at last he showed unmistakable signs of embarrassment. ‘I had presumed and calculated,’ he faltered, ‘that a letter posted more than ten days, if not a fortnight ago …’ ‘I say, why are you standing in the doorway?’ Razumihin interrupted suddenly. ‘If you’ve something to 265 of 967 Crime and Punishment say, sit down. Nastasya and you are so crowded. Nastasya, make room. Here’s a chair, thread your way in!’ He moved his chair back from the table, made a little space between the table and his knees, and waited in a rather cramped position for the visitor to ‘thread his way in.’ The minute was so chosen that it was impossible to refuse, and the visitor squeezed his way through, hurrying and stumbling. Reaching the chair, he sat down, looking suspiciously at Razumihin. ‘No need to be nervous,’ the latter blurted out. ‘Rodya has been ill for the last five days and delirious for three, but now he is recovering and has got an appetite. This is his doctor, who has just had a look at him. I am a comrade of Rodya’s, like him, formerly a student, and now I am nursing him; so don’t you take any notice of us, but go on with your business.’ ‘Thank you. But shall I not disturb the invalid by my presence and conversation?’ Pyotr Petrovitch asked of Zossimov. ‘N-no,’ mumbled Zossimov; ‘you may amuse him.’ He yawned again. ‘He has been conscious a long time, since the morning,’ went on Razumihin, whose familiarity seemed so much like unaffected good- nature that Pyotr 266 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. Petrovitch began to be more cheerful, partly, perhaps, because this shabby and impudent person had introduced himself as a student. ‘Your mamma,’ began Luzhin. ‘Hm!’ Razumihin cleared his throat loudly. Luzhin looked at him inquiringly. ‘That’s all right, go on.’ Luzhin shrugged his shoulders. ‘Your mamma had commenced a letter to you while I was sojourning in her neighbourhood. On my arrival here I purposely allowed a few days to elapse before coming to see you, in order that I might be fully assured that you were in full possession of the tidings; but now, to my astonishment …’ ‘I know, I know!’ Raskolnikov cried suddenly with impatient vexation. ‘So you are the fiancé ? I know, and that’s enough!’ There was no doubt about Pyotr Petrovitch’s being offended this time, but he said nothing. He made a violent effort to understand what it all meant. There was a moment’s silence. Meanwhile Raskolnikov, who had turned a little towards him when he answered, began suddenly staring at him again with marked curiosity, as though he had not 267 of 967 Crime and Punishment had a good look at him yet, or as though something new had struck him; he rose from his pillow on purpose to stare at him. There certainly was something peculiar in Pyotr Petrovitch’s whole appearance, something which seemed to justify the title of ‘fiancé’ so unceremoniously applied to him. In the first place, it was evident, far too much so indeed, that Pyotr Petrovitch had made eager use of his few days in the capital to get himself up and rig himself out in expectation of his betrothed—a perfectly innocent and permissible proceeding, indeed. Even his own, perhaps too complacent, consciousness of the agreeable improvement in his appearance might have been forgiven in such circumstances, seeing that Pyotr Petrovitch had taken up the rôle of fiancé. All his clothes were fresh from the tailor’s and were all right, except for being too new and too distinctly appropriate. Even the stylish new round hat had the same significance. Pyotr Petrovitch treated it too respectfully and held it too carefully in his hands. The exquisite pair of lavender gloves, real Louvain, told the same tale, if only from the fact of his not wearing them, but carrying them in his hand for show. Light and youthful colours predominated in Pyotr Petrovitch’s attire. He wore a charming summer jacket of a fawn shade, light thin trousers, a waistcoat of 268 of 967 Crime and Punishment the same, new and fine linen, a cravat of the lightest cambric with pink stripes on it, and the best of it was, this all suited Pyotr Petrovitch. His very fresh and even handsome face looked younger than his forty-five years at all times. His dark, mutton-chop whiskers made an agreeable setting on both sides, growing thickly upon his shining, clean-shaven chin. Even his hair, touched here and there with grey, though it had been combed and curled at a hairdresser’s, did not give him a stupid appearance, as curled hair usually does, by inevitably suggesting a German on his wedding-day. If there really was something unpleasing and repulsive in his rather good-looking and imposing countenance, it was due to quite other causes. After scanning Mr. Luzhin unceremoniously, Raskolnikov smiled malignantly, sank back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling as before. But Mr. Luzhin hardened his heart and seemed to determine to take no notice of their oddities. ‘I feel the greatest regret at finding you in this situation,’ he began, again breaking the silence with an effort. ‘If I had been aware of your illness I should have come earlier. But you know what business is. I have, too, a very important legal affair in the Senate, not to mention 269 of 967 Crime and Punishment other preoccupations which you may well conjecture. I am expecting your mamma and sister any minute.’ Raskolnikov made a movement and seemed about to speak; his face showed some excitement. Pyotr Petrovitch paused, waited, but as nothing followed, he went on: ‘… Any minute. I have found a lodging for them on their arrival.’ ‘Where?’ asked Raskolnikov weakly. ‘Very near here, in Bakaleyev’s house.’ ‘That’s in Voskresensky,’ put in Razumihin. ‘There are two storeys of rooms, let by a merchant called Yushin; I’ve been there.’ ‘Yes, rooms …’ ‘A disgusting place—filthy, stinking and, what’s more, of doubtful character. Things have happened there, and there are all sorts of queer people living there. And I went there about a scandalous business. It’s cheap, though …’ ‘I could not, of course, find out so much about it, for I am a stranger in Petersburg myself,’ Pyotr Petrovitch replied huffily. ‘However, the two rooms are exceedingly clean, and as it is for so short a time … I have already taken a permanent, that is, our future flat,’ he said, addressing Raskolnikov, ‘and I am having it done up. And meanwhile I am myself cramped for room in a lodging 270 of 967 Crime and Punishment with my friend Andrey Semyonovitch Lebeziatnikov, in the flat of Madame Lippevechsel; it was he who told me of Bakaleyev’s house, too …’ ‘Lebeziatnikov?’ said Raskolnikov slowly, as if recalling something. ‘Yes, Andrey Semyonovitch Lebeziatnikov, a clerk in the Ministry. Do you know him?’ ‘Yes … no,’ Raskolnikov answered. ‘Excuse me, I fancied so from your inquiry. I was once his guardian…. A very nice young man and advanced. I like to meet young people: one learns new things from them.’ Luzhin looked round hopefully at them all. ‘How do you mean?’ asked Razumihin. ‘In the most serious and essential matters,’ Pyotr Petrovitch replied, as though delighted at the question. ‘You see, it’s ten years since I visited Petersburg. All the novelties, reforms, ideas have reached us in the provinces, but to see it all more clearly one must be in Petersburg. And it’s my notion that you observe and learn most by watching the younger generation. And I confess I am delighted …’ ‘At what?’ 271 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Your question is a wide one. I may be mistaken, but I fancy I find clearer views, more, so to say, criticism, more practicality …’ ‘That’s true,’ Zossimov let drop. ‘Nonsense! There’s no practicality.’ Razumihin flew at him. ‘Practicality is a difficult thing to find; it does not drop down from heaven. And for the last two hundred years we have been divorced from all practical life. Ideas, if you like, are fermenting,’ he said to Pyotr Petrovitch, ‘and desire for good exists, though it’s in a childish form, and honesty you may find, although there are crowds of brigands. Anyway, there’s no practicality. Practicality goes well shod.’ ‘I don’t agree with you,’ Pyotr Petrovitch replied, with evident enjoyment. ‘Of course, people do get carried away and make mistakes, but one must have indulgence; those mistakes are merely evidence of enthusiasm for the cause and of abnormal external environment. If little has been done, the time has been but short; of means I will not speak. It’s my personal view, if you care to know, that something has been accomplished already. New valuable ideas, new valuable works are circulating in the place of our old dreamy and romantic authors. Literature is taking a maturer form, many injurious prejudice have been 272 of 967 Crime and Punishment rooted up and turned into ridicule…. In a word, we have cut ourselves off irrevocably from the past, and that, to my thinking, is a great thing …’ ‘He’s learnt it by heart to show off!’ Raskolnikov pronounced suddenly. ‘What?’ asked Pyotr Petrovitch, not catching his words; but he received no reply. ‘That’s all true,’ Zossimov hastened to interpose. ‘Isn’t it so?’ Pyotr Petrovitch went on, glancing affably at Zossimov. ‘You must admit,’ he went on, addressing Razumihin with a shade of triumph and superciliousness—he almost added ‘young man’—‘that there is an advance, or, as they say now, progress in the name of science and economic truth …’ ‘A commonplace.’ ‘No, not a commonplace! Hitherto, for instance, if I were told, ‘love thy neighbour,’ what came of it?’ Pyotr Petrovitch went on, perhaps with excessive haste. ‘It came to my tearing my coat in half to share with my neighbour and we both were left half naked. As a Russian proverb has it, ‘Catch several hares and you won’t catch one.’ Science now tells us, love yourself before all men, for everything in the world rests on self-interest. You love yourself and manage your own affairs properly and your 273 of 967 Crime and Punishment coat remains whole. Economic truth adds that the better private affairs are organised in society—the more whole coats, so to say—the firmer are its foundations and the better is the common welfare organised too. Therefore, in acquiring wealth solely and exclusively for myself, I am acquiring, so to speak, for all, and helping to bring to pass my neighbour’s getting a little more than a torn coat; and that not from private, personal liberality, but as a consequence of the general advance. The idea is simple, but unhappily it has been a long time reaching us, being hindered by idealism and sentimentality. And yet it would seem to want very little wit to perceive it …’ ‘Excuse me, I’ve very little wit myself,’ Razumihin cut in sharply, ‘and so let us drop it. I began this discussion with an object, but I’ve grown so sick during the last three years of this chattering to amuse oneself, of this incessant flow of commonplaces, always the same, that, by Jove, I blush even when other people talk like that. You are in a hurry, no doubt, to exhibit your acquirements; and I don’t blame you, that’s quite pardonable. I only wanted to find out what sort of man you are, for so many unscrupulous people have got hold of the progressive cause of late and have so distorted in their own interests everything they 274 of 967 Crime and Punishment touched, that the whole cause has been dragged in the mire. That’s enough!’ ‘Excuse me, sir,’ said Luzhin, affronted, and speaking with excessive dignity. ‘Do you mean to suggest so unceremoniously that I too …’ ‘Oh, my dear sir … how could I? … Come, that’s enough,’ Razumihin concluded, and he turned abruptly to Zossimov to continue their previous conversation. Pyotr Petrovitch had the good sense to accept the disavowal. He made up his mind to take leave in another minute or two. ‘I trust our acquaintance,’ he said, addressing Raskolnikov, ‘may, upon your recovery and in view of the circumstances of which you are aware, become closer … Above all, I hope for your return to health …’ Raskolnikov did not even turn his head. Pyotr Petrovitch began getting up from his chair. ‘One of her customers must have killed her,’ Zossimov declared positively. ‘Not a doubt of it,’ replied Razumihin. ‘Porfiry doesn’t give his opinion, but is examining all who have left pledges with her there.’ ‘Examining them?’ Raskolnikov asked aloud. ‘Yes. What then?’ 275 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Nothing.’ ‘How does he get hold of them?’ asked Zossimov. ‘Koch has given the names of some of them, other names are on the wrappers of the pledges and some have come forward of themselves.’ ‘It must have been a cunning and practised ruffian! The boldness of it! The coolness!’ ‘That’s just what it wasn’t!’ interposed Razumihin. ‘That’s what throws you all off the scent. But I maintain that he is not cunning, not practised, and probably this was his first crime! The supposition that it was a calculated crime and a cunning criminal doesn’t work. Suppose him to have been inexperienced, and it’s clear that it was only a chance that saved him—and chance may do anything. Why, he did not foresee obstacles, perhaps! And how did he set to work? He took jewels worth ten or twenty roubles, stuffing his pockets with them, ransacked the old woman’s trunks, her rags—and they found fifteen hundred roubles, besides notes, in a box in the top drawer of the chest! He did not know how to rob; he could only murder. It was his first crime, I assure you, his first crime; he lost his head. And he got off more by luck than good counsel!’ 276 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘You are talking of the murder of the old pawnbroker, I believe?’ Pyotr Petrovitch put in, addressing Zossimov. He was standing, hat and gloves in hand, but before departing he felt disposed to throw off a few more intellectual phrases. He was evidently anxious to make a favourable impression and his vanity overcame his prudence. ‘Yes. You’ve heard of it?’ ‘Oh, yes, being in the neighbourhood.’ ‘Do you know the details?’ ‘I can’t say that; but another circumstance interests me in the case— the whole question, so to say. Not to speak of the fact that crime has been greatly on the increase among the lower classes during the last five years, not to speak of the cases of robbery and arson everywhere, what strikes me as the strangest thing is that in the higher classes, too, crime is increasing proportionately. In one place one hears of a student’s robbing the mail on the high road; in another place people of good social position forge false banknotes; in Moscow of late a whole gang has been captured who used to forge lottery tickets, and one of the ringleaders was a lecturer in universal history; then our secretary abroad was murdered from some obscure motive of gain…. And if this old woman, the pawnbroker, has 277 of 967 Crime and Punishment been murdered by someone of a higher class in society— for peasants don’t pawn gold trinkets— how are we to explain this demoralisation of the civilised part of our society?’ ‘There are many economic changes,’ put in Zossimov. ‘How are we to explain it?’ Razumihin caught him up. ‘It might be explained by our inveterate impracticality.’ ‘How do you mean?’ ‘What answer had your lecturer in Moscow to make to the question why he was forging notes? ‘Everybody is getting rich one way or another, so I want to make haste to get rich too.’ I don’t remember the exact words, but the upshot was that he wants money for nothing, without waiting or working! We’ve grown used to having everything ready-made, to walking on crutches, to having our food chewed for us. Then the great hour struck,[*] and every man showed himself in his true colours.’ [*] The emancipation of the serfs in 1861 is meant.— TRANSLATOR’S NOTE. ‘But morality? And so to speak, principles …’ ‘But why do you worry about it?’ Raskolnikov interposed suddenly. ‘It’s in accordance with your theory!’ ‘In accordance with my theory?’ 278 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. ‘Why, carry out logically the theory you were advocating just now, and it follows that people may be killed …’ ‘Upon my word!’ cried Luzhin. ‘No, that’s not so,’ put in Zossimov. Raskolnikov lay with a white face and twitching upper lip, breathing painfully. ‘There’s a measure in all things,’ Luzhin went on superciliously. ‘Economic ideas are not an incitement to murder, and one has but to suppose …’ ‘And is it true,’ Raskolnikov interposed once more suddenly, again in a voice quivering with fury and delight in insulting him, ‘is it true that you told your fiancée … within an hour of her acceptance, that what pleased you most … was that she was a beggar … because it was better to raise a wife from poverty, so that you may have complete control over her, and reproach her with your being her benefactor?’ ‘Upon my word,’ Luzhin cried wrathfully and irritably, crimson with confusion, ‘to distort my words in this way! Excuse me, allow me to assure you that the report which has reached you, or rather, let me say, has been conveyed to you, has no foundation in truth, and I … suspect who … in a word … this arrow … in a word, your mamma … 279 of 967 Crime and Punishment She seemed to me in other things, with all her excellent qualities, of a somewhat high-flown and romantic way of thinking…. But I was a thousand miles from supposing that she would misunderstand and misrepresent things in so fanciful a way…. And indeed … indeed …’ ‘I tell you what,’ cried Raskolnikov, raising himself on his pillow and fixing his piercing, glittering eyes upon him, ‘I tell you what.’ ‘What?’ Luzhin stood still, waiting with a defiant and offended face. Silence lasted for some seconds. ‘Why, if ever again … you dare to mention a single word … about my mother … I shall send you flying downstairs!’ ‘What’s the matter with you?’ cried Razumihin. ‘So that’s how it is?’ Luzhin turned pale and bit his lip. ‘Let me tell you, sir,’ he began deliberately, doing his utmost to restrain himself but breathing hard, ‘at the first moment I saw you you were ill-disposed to me, but I remained here on purpose to find out more. I could forgive a great deal in a sick man and a connection, but you … never after this …’ ‘I am not ill,’ cried Raskolnikov. ‘So much the worse …’ ‘Go to hell!’ 280 of 967 Crime and Punishment But Luzhin was already leaving without finishing his speech, squeezing between the table and the chair; Razumihin got up this time to let him pass. Without glancing at anyone, and not even nodding to Zossimov, who had for some time been making signs to him to let the sick man alone, he went out, lifting his hat to the level of his shoulders to avoid crushing it as he stooped to go out of the door. And even the curve of his spine was expressive of the horrible insult he had received. ‘How could you—how could you!’ Razumihin said, shaking his head in perplexity. ‘Let me alone—let me alone all of you!’ Raskolnikov cried in a frenzy. ‘Will you ever leave off tormenting me? I am not afraid of you! I am not afraid of anyone, anyone now! Get away from me! I want to be alone, alone, alone!’ ‘Come along,’ said Zossimov, nodding to Razumihin. ‘But we can’t leave him like this!’ ‘Come along,’ Zossimov repeated insistently, and he went out. Razumihin thought a minute and ran to overtake him. ‘It might be worse not to obey him,’ said Zossimov on the stairs. ‘He mustn’t be irritated.’ ‘What’s the matter with him?’ 281 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘If only he could get some favourable shock, that’s what would do it! At first he was better…. You know he has got something on his mind! Some fixed idea weighing on him…. I am very much afraid so; he must have!’ ‘Perhaps it’s that gentleman, Pyotr Petrovitch. From his conversation I gather he is going to marry his sister, and that he had received a letter about it just before his illness….’ ‘Yes, confound the man! he may have upset the case altogether. But have you noticed, he takes no interest in anything, he does not respond to anything except one point on which he seems excited—that’s the murder?’ ‘Yes, yes,’ Razumihin agreed, ‘I noticed that, too. He is interested, frightened. It gave him a shock on the day he was ill in the police office; he fainted.’ ‘Tell me more about that this evening and I’ll tell you something afterwards. He interests me very much! In half an hour I’ll go and see him again…. There’ll be no inflammation though.’ ‘Thanks! And I’ll wait with Pashenka meantime and will keep watch on him through Nastasya….’ Raskolnikov, left alone, looked with impatience and misery at Nastasya, but she still lingered. ‘Won’t you have some tea now?’ she asked. 282 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Later! I am sleepy! Leave me.’ He turned abruptly to the wall; Nastasya went out. 283 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter VI But as soon as she went out, he got up, latched the door, undid the parcel which Razumihin had brought in that evening and had tied up again and began dressing. Strange to say, he seemed immediately to have become perfectly calm; not a trace of his recent delirium nor of the panic fear that had haunted him of late. It was the first moment of a strange sudden calm. His movements were precise and definite; a firm purpose was evident in them. ‘To-day, to-day,’ he muttered to himself. He understood that he was still weak, but his intense spiritual concentration gave him strength and self-confidence. He hoped, moreover, that he would not fall down in the street. When he had dressed in entirely new clothes, he looked at the money lying on the table, and after a moment’s thought put it in his pocket. It was twenty-five roubles. He took also all the copper change from the ten roubles spent by Razumihin on the clothes. Then he softly unlatched the door, went out, slipped downstairs and glanced in at the open kitchen door. Nastasya was standing with her back to him, blowing up the landlady’s samovar. 284 of 967 Crime and Punishment She heard nothing. Who would have dreamed of his going out, indeed? A minute later he was in the street. It was nearly eight o’clock, the sun was setting. It was as stifling as before, but he eagerly drank in the stinking, dusty town air. His head felt rather dizzy; a sort of savage energy gleamed suddenly in his feverish eyes and his wasted, pale and yellow face. He did not know and did not think where he was going, he had one thought only: ‘that all this must be ended to-day, once for all, immediately; that he would not return home without it, because he would not go on living like that . ’ How, with what to make an end? He had not an idea about it, he did not even want to think of it. He drove away thought; thought tortured him. All he knew, all he felt was that everything must be changed ‘one way or another,’ he repeated with desperate and immovable self-confidence and determination. From old habit he took his usual walk in the direction of the Hay Market. A dark-haired young man with a barrel organ was standing in the road in front of a little general shop and was grinding out a very sentimental song. He was accompanying a girl of fifteen, who stood on the pavement in front of him. She was dressed up in a crinoline, a mantle and a straw hat with a flame-coloured 285 of 967 Crime and Punishment feather in it, all very old and shabby. In a strong and rather agreeable voice, cracked and coarsened by street singing, she sang in hope of getting a copper from the shop. Raskolnikov joined two or three listeners, took out a five copeck piece and put it in the girl’s hand. She broke off abruptly on a sentimental high note, shouted sharply to the organ grinder ‘Come on,’ and both moved on to the next shop. ‘Do you like street music?’ said Raskolnikov, addressing a middle-aged man standing idly by him. The man looked at him, startled and wondering. ‘I love to hear singing to a street organ,’ said Raskolnikov, and his manner seemed strangely out of keeping with the subject—‘I like it on cold, dark, damp autumn evenings—they must be damp—when all the passers-by have pale green, sickly faces, or better still when wet snow is falling straight down, when there’s no wind— you know what I mean?—and the street lamps shine through it …’ ‘I don’t know…. Excuse me …’ muttered the stranger, frightened by the question and Raskolnikov’s strange manner, and he crossed over to the other side of the street. Raskolnikov walked straight on and came out at the corner of the Hay Market, where the huckster and his 286 of 967 Crime and Punishment wife had talked with Lizaveta; but they were not there now. Recognising the place, he stopped, looked round and addressed a young fellow in a red shirt who stood gaping before a corn chandler’s shop. ‘Isn’t there a man who keeps a booth with his wife at this corner?’ ‘All sorts of people keep booths here,’ answered the young man, glancing superciliously at Raskolnikov. ‘What’s his name?’ ‘What he was christened.’ ‘Aren’t you a Zaraïsky man, too? Which province?’ The young man looked at Raskolnikov again. ‘It’s not a province, your excellency, but a district. Graciously forgive me, your excellency!’ ‘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. 287 of 967 Crime and Punishment 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 288 of 967 Crime and Punishment 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…. someone 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. 289 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘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….’ 290 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. 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 someone 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 Cristal! Razumihin was just talking of the Palais de Cristal. 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 291 of 967 Crime and Punishment 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 someone 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-292 of 967 Crime and Punishment 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 smile on his lips, and a new shade of irritable impatience was apparent in that smile. ‘I know you have,’ he answered. ‘I’ve heard it. You looked for my sock…. And you know Razumihin has lost his heart to you? He says you’ve been with him to Luise Ivanovna’s—you know, the woman you tried to befriend, for whom you winked to the Explosive Lieutenant and he would not understand. Do you remember? How could he fail to understand—it was quite clear, wasn’t it?’ ‘What a hot head he is!’ ‘The explosive one?’ ‘No, your friend Razumihin.’ ‘You must have a jolly life, Mr. Zametov; entrance free to the most agreeable places. Who’s been pouring champagne into you just now?’ 293 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘We’ve just been … having a drink together…. You talk about pouring it into me!’ ‘By way of a fee! You profit by everything!’ Raskolnikov laughed, ‘it’s all right, my dear boy,’ he added, slapping Zametov on the shoulder. ‘I am not speaking from temper, but in a friendly way, for sport, as that workman of yours said when he was scuffling with Dmitri, in the case of the old woman….’ ‘How do you know about it?’ ‘Perhaps I know more about it than you do.’ ‘How strange you are…. I am sure you are still very unwell. You oughtn’t to have come out.’ ‘Oh, do I seem strange to you?’ ‘Yes. What are you doing, reading the papers?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘There’s a lot about the fires.’ ‘No, I am not reading about the fires.’ Here he looked mysteriously at Zametov; his lips were twisted again in a mocking smile. ‘No, I am not reading about the fires,’ he went on, winking at Zametov. ‘But confess now, my dear fellow, you’re awfully anxious to know what I am reading about?’ ‘I am not in the least. Mayn’t I ask a question? Why do you keep on … ?’ 294 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Listen, you are a man of culture and education?’ ‘I was in the sixth class at the gymnasium,’ said Zametov with some dignity. ‘Sixth class! Ah, my cock-sparrow! With your parting and your rings— you are a gentleman of fortune. Foo! what a charming boy!’ Here Raskolnikov broke into a nervous laugh right in Zametov’s face. The latter drew back, more amazed than offended. ‘Foo! how strange you are!’ Zametov repeated very seriously. ‘I can’t help thinking you are still delirious.’ ‘I am delirious? You are fibbing, my cock-sparrow! So I am strange? You find me curious, do you?’ ‘Yes, curious.’ ‘Shall I tell you what I was reading about, what I was looking for? See what a lot of papers I’ve made them bring me. Suspicious, eh?’ ‘Well, what is it?’ ‘You prick up your ears?’ ‘How do you mean—’prick up my ears’?’ ‘I’ll explain that afterwards, but now, my boy, I declare to you … no, better ‘I confess’ … No, that’s not right either; ‘I make a deposition and you take it.’ I depose that I was reading, that I was looking and searching….’ he screwed up his eyes and paused. ‘I was searching—and 295 of 967 Crime and Punishment came here on purpose to do it—for news of the murder of the old pawnbroker woman,’ he articulated at last, almost in a whisper, bringing his face exceedingly close to the face of Zametov. Zametov looked at him steadily, without moving or drawing his face away. What struck Zametov afterwards as the strangest part of it all was that silence followed for exactly a minute, and that they gazed at one another all the while. ‘What if you have been reading about it?’ he cried at last, perplexed and impatient. ‘That’s no business of mine! What of it?’ ‘The same old woman,’ Raskolnikov went on in the same whisper, not heeding Zametov’s explanation, ‘about whom you were talking in the police-office, you remember, when I fainted. Well, do you understand now?’ ‘What do you mean? Understand … what?’ Zametov brought out, almost alarmed. Raskolnikov’s set and earnest face was suddenly transformed, and he suddenly went off into the same nervous laugh as before, as though utterly unable to restrain himself. And in one flash he recalled with extraordinary vividness of sensation a moment in the recent past, that moment when he stood with the axe 296 of 967 Crime and Punishment behind the door, while the latch trembled and the men outside swore and shook it, and he had a sudden desire to shout at them, to swear at them, to put out his tongue at them, to mock them, to laugh, and laugh, and laugh! ‘You are either mad, or …’ began Zametov, and he broke off, as though stunned by the idea that had suddenly flashed into his mind. ‘Or? Or what? What? Come, tell me!’ ‘Nothing,’ said Zametov, getting angry, ‘it’s all nonsense!’ Both were silent. After his sudden fit of laughter Raskolnikov became suddenly thoughtful and melancholy. He put his elbow on the table and leaned his head on his hand. He seemed to have completely forgotten Zametov. The silence lasted for some time. ‘Why don’t you drink your tea? It’s getting cold,’ said Zametov. ‘What! Tea? Oh, yes….’ Raskolnikov sipped the glass, put a morsel of bread in his mouth and, suddenly looking at Zametov, seemed to remember everything and pulled himself together. At the same moment his face resumed its original mocking expression. He went on drinking tea. ‘There have been a great many of these crimes lately,’ said Zametov. ‘Only the other day I read in the Moscow 297 of 967 Crime and Punishment News that a whole gang of false coiners had been caught in Moscow. It was a regular society. They used to forge tickets!’ ‘Oh, but it was a long time ago! I read about it a month ago,’ Raskolnikov answered calmly. ‘So you consider them criminals?’ he added, smiling. ‘Of course they are criminals.’ ‘They? They are children, simpletons, not criminals! Why, half a hundred people meeting for such an object— what an idea! Three would be too many, and then they want to have more faith in one another than in themselves! One has only to blab in his cups and it all collapses. Simpletons! They engaged untrustworthy people to change the notes— what a thing to trust to a casual stranger! Well, let us suppose that these simpletons succeed and each makes a million, and what follows for the rest of their lives? Each is dependent on the others for the rest of his life! Better hang oneself at once! And they did not know how to change the notes either; the man who changed the notes took five thousand roubles, and his hands trembled. He counted the first four thousand, but did not count the fifth thousand—he was in such a hurry to get the money into his pocket and run away. Of course 298 of 967 Crime and Punishment he roused suspicion. And the whole thing came to a crash through one fool! Is it possible?’ ‘That his hands trembled?’ observed Zametov, ‘yes, that’s quite possible. That, I feel quite sure, is possible. Sometimes one can’t stand things.’ ‘Can’t stand that?’ ‘Why, could you stand it then? No, I couldn’t. For the sake of a hundred roubles to face such a terrible experience? To go with false notes into a bank where it’s their business to spot that sort of thing! No, I should not have the face to do it. Would you?’ Raskolnikov had an intense desire again ‘to put his tongue out.’ Shivers kept running down his spine. ‘I should do it quite differently,’ Raskolnikov began. ‘This is how I would change the notes: I’d count the first thousand three or four times backwards and forwards, looking at every note and then I’d set to the second thousand; I’d count that half-way through and then hold some fifty-rouble note to the light, then turn it, then hold it to the light again—to see whether it was a good one. ‘I am afraid,’ I would say, ‘a relation of mine lost twenty-five roubles the other day through a false note,’ and then I’d tell them the whole story. And after I began counting the third, ‘No, excuse me,’ I would say, ‘I fancy I made a 299 of 967 Crime and Punishment mistake in the seventh hundred in that second thousand, I am not sure.’ And so I would give up the third thousand and go back to the second and so on to the end. And when I had finished, I’d pick out one from the fifth and one from the second thousand and take them again to the light and ask again, ‘Change them, please,’ and put the clerk into such a stew that he would not know how to get rid of me. When I’d finished and had gone out, I’d come back, ‘No, excuse me,’ and ask for some explanation. That’s how I’d do it.’ ‘Foo! what terrible things you say!’ said Zametov, laughing. ‘But all that is only talk. I dare say when it came to deeds you’d make a slip. I believe that even a practised, desperate man cannot always reckon on himself, much less you and I. To take an example near home—that old woman murdered in our district. The murderer seems to have been a desperate fellow, he risked everything in open daylight, was saved by a miracle—but his hands shook, too. He did not succeed in robbing the place, he couldn’t stand it. That was clear from the …’ Raskolnikov seemed offended. ‘Clear? Why don’t you catch him then?’ he cried, maliciously gibing at Zametov. ‘Well, they will catch him.’ 300 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Who? You? Do you suppose you could catch him? You’ve a tough job! A great point for you is whether a man is spending money or not. If he had no money and suddenly begins spending, he must be the man. So that any child can mislead you.’ ‘The fact is they always do that, though,’ answered Zametov. ‘A man will commit a clever murder at the risk of his life and then at once he goes drinking in a tavern. They are caught spending money, they are not all as cunning as you are. You wouldn’t go to a tavern, of course?’ Raskolnikov frowned and looked steadily at Zametov. ‘You seem to enjoy the subject and would like to know how I should behave in that case, too?’ he asked with displeasure. ‘I should like to,’ Zametov answered firmly and seriously. Somewhat too much earnestness began to appear in his words and looks. ‘Very much?’ ‘Very much!’ ‘All right then. This is how I should behave,’ Raskolnikov began, again bringing his face close to Zametov’s, again staring at him and speaking in a whisper, so that the latter positively shuddered. ‘This is what I 301 of 967 Crime and Punishment should have done. I should have taken the money and jewels, I should have walked out of there and have gone straight to some deserted place with fences round it and scarcely anyone to be seen, some kitchen garden or place of that sort. I should have looked out beforehand some stone weighing a hundredweight or more which had been lying in the corner from the time the house was built. I would lift that stone—there would sure to be a hollow under it, and I would put the jewels and money in that hole. Then I’d roll the stone back so that it would look as before, would press it down with my foot and walk away. And for a year or two, three maybe, I would not touch it. And, well, they could search! There’d be no trace.’ ‘You are a madman,’ said Zametov, and for some reason he too spoke in a whisper, and moved away from Raskolnikov, whose eyes were glittering. He had turned fearfully pale and his upper lip was twitching and quivering. He bent down as close as possible to Zametov, and his lips began to move without uttering a word. This lasted for half a minute; he knew what he was doing, but could not restrain himself. The terrible word trembled on his lips, like the latch on that door; in another moment it will break out, in another moment he will let it go, he will speak out. 302 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. ‘And what if it was I who murdered the old woman and Lizaveta?’ he said suddenly and—realised what he had done. Zametov looked wildly at him and turned white as the tablecloth. His face wore a contorted smile. ‘But is it possible?’ he brought out faintly. Raskolnikov looked wrathfully at him. ‘Own up that you believed it, yes, you did?’ ‘Not a bit of it, I believe it less than ever now,’ Zametov cried hastily. ‘I’ve caught my cock-sparrow! So you did believe it before, if now you believe less than ever?’ ‘Not at all,’ cried Zametov, obviously embarrassed. ‘Have you been frightening me so as to lead up to this?’ ‘You don’t believe it then? What were you talking about behind my back when I went out of the police-office? And why did the explosive lieutenant question me after I fainted? Hey, there,’ he shouted to the waiter, getting up and taking his cap, ‘how much?’ ‘Thirty copecks,’ the latter replied, running up. ‘And there is twenty copecks for vodka. See what a lot of money!’ he held out his shaking hand to Zametov with notes in it. ‘Red notes and blue, twenty-five roubles. Where did I get them? And where did my new clothes 303 of 967 Crime and Punishment come from? You know I had not a copeck. You’ve cross-examined my landlady, I’ll be bound…. Well, that’s enough! Assez causé! Till we meet again!’ He went out, trembling all over from a sort of wild hysterical sensation, in which there was an element of insufferable rapture. Yet he was gloomy and terribly tired. His face was twisted as after a fit. His fatigue increased rapidly. Any shock, any irritating sensation stimulated and revived his energies at once, but his strength failed as quickly when the stimulus was removed. Zametov, left alone, sat for a long time in the same place, plunged in thought. Raskolnikov had unwittingly worked a revolution in his brain on a certain point and had made up his mind for him conclusively. ‘Ilya Petrovitch is a blockhead,’ he decided. Raskolnikov had hardly opened the door of the restaurant when he stumbled against Razumihin on the steps. They did not see each other till they almost knocked against each other. For a moment they stood looking each other up and down. Razumihin was greatly astounded, then anger, real anger gleamed fiercely in his eyes. ‘So here you are!’ he shouted at the top of his voice— ‘you ran away from your bed! And here I’ve been looking for you under the sofa! We went up to the garret. I almost 304 of 967 Crime and Punishment beat Nastasya on your account. And here he is after all. Rodya! What is the meaning of it? Tell me the whole truth! Confess! Do you hear?’ ‘It means that I’m sick to death of you all and I want to be alone,’ Raskolnikov answered calmly. ‘Alone? When you are not able to walk, when your face is as white as a sheet and you are gasping for breath! Idiot! … What have you been doing in the Palais de Cristal? Own up at once!’ ‘Let me go!’ said Raskolnikov and tried to pass him. This was too much for Razumihin; he gripped him firmly by the shoulder. ‘Let you go? You dare tell me to let you go? Do you know what I’ll do with you directly? I’ll pick you up, tie you up in a bundle, carry you home under my arm and lock you up!’ ‘Listen, Razumihin,’ Raskolnikov began quietly, apparently calm— ‘can’t you see that I don’t want your benevolence? A strange desire you have to shower benefits on a man who … curses them, who feels them a burden in fact! Why did you seek me out at the beginning of my illness? Maybe I was very glad to die. Didn’t I tell you plainly enough to-day that you were torturing me, that I was … sick of you! You seem to want to torture people! I 305 of 967 Crime and Punishment assure you that all that is seriously hindering my recovery, because it’s continually irritating me. You saw Zossimov went away just now to avoid irritating me. You leave me alone too, for goodness’ sake! What right have you, indeed, to keep me by force? Don’t you see that I am in possession of all my faculties now? How, how can I persuade you not to persecute me with your kindness? I may be ungrateful, I may be mean, only let me be, for God’s sake, let me be! Let me be, let me be!’ He began calmly, gloating beforehand over the venomous phrases he was about to utter, but finished, panting for breath, in a frenzy, as he had been with Luzhin. Razumihin stood a moment, thought and let his hand drop. ‘Well, go to hell then,’ he said gently and thoughtfully. ‘Stay,’ he roared, as Raskolnikov was about to move. ‘Listen to me. Let me tell you, that you are all a set of babbling, posing idiots! If you’ve any little trouble you brood over it like a hen over an egg. And you are plagiarists even in that! There isn’t a sign of independent life in you! You are made of spermaceti ointment and you’ve lymph in your veins instead of blood. I don’t believe in anyone of you! In any circumstances the first 306 of 967 Crime and Punishment thing for all of you is to be unlike a human being! Stop!’ he cried with redoubled fury, noticing that Raskolnikov was again making a movement—‘hear me out! You know I’m having a house-warming this evening, I dare say they’ve arrived by now, but I left my uncle there—I just ran in—to receive the guests. And if you weren’t a fool, a common fool, a perfect fool, if you were an original instead of a translation … you see, Rodya, I recognise you’re a clever fellow, but you’re a fool!—and if you weren’t a fool you’d come round to me this evening instead of wearing out your boots in the street! Since you have gone out, there’s no help for it! I’d give you a snug easy chair, my landlady has one … a cup of tea, company…. Or you could lie on the sofa—any way you would be with us…. Zossimov will be there too. Will you come?’ ‘No.’ ‘R-rubbish!’ Razumihin shouted, out of patience. ‘How do you know? You can’t answer for yourself! You don’t know anything about it…. Thousands of times I’ve fought tooth and nail with people and run back to them afterwards…. One feels ashamed and goes back to a man! So remember, Potchinkov’s house on the third storey….’ 307 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Why, Mr. Razumihin, I do believe you’d let anybody beat you from sheer benevolence.’ ‘Beat? Whom? Me? I’d twist his nose off at the mere idea! Potchinkov’s house, 47, Babushkin’s flat….’ ‘I shall not come, Razumihin.’ Raskolnikov turned and walked away. ‘I bet you will,’ Razumihin shouted after him. ‘I refuse to know you if you don’t! Stay, hey, is Zametov in there?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Did you see him?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Talked to him?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘What about? Confound you, don’t tell me then. Potchinkov’s house, 47, Babushkin’s flat, remember!’ Raskolnikov walked on and turned the corner into Sadovy Street. Razumihin looked after him thoughtfully. Then with a wave of his hand he went into the house but stopped short of the stairs. ‘Confound it,’ he went on almost aloud. ‘He talked sensibly but yet … I am a fool! As if madmen didn’t talk sensibly! And this was just what Zossimov seemed afraid of.’ He struck his finger on his forehead. ‘What if … how could I let him go off alone? He may drown himself…. 308 of 967 Crime and Punishment Ach, what a blunder! I can’t.’ And he ran back to overtake Raskolnikov, but there was no trace of him. With a curse he returned with rapid steps to the Palais de Cristal to question Zametov. Raskolnikov walked straight to X—— Bridge, stood in the middle, and leaning both elbows on the rail stared into the distance. On parting with Razumihin, he felt so much weaker that he could scarcely reach this place. He longed to sit or lie down somewhere in the street. Bending over the water, he gazed mechanically at the last pink flush of the sunset, at the row of houses growing dark in the gathering twilight, at one distant attic window on the left bank, flashing as though on fire in the last rays of the setting sun, at the darkening water of the canal, and the water seemed to catch his attention. At last red circles flashed before his eyes, the houses seemed moving, the passers-by, the canal banks, the carriages, all danced before his eyes. Suddenly he started, saved again perhaps from swooning by an uncanny and hideous sight. He became aware of someone standing on the right side of him; he looked and saw a tall woman with a kerchief on her head, with a long, yellow, wasted face and red sunken eyes. She was looking straight at him, but obviously she saw nothing and recognised no one. Suddenly she leaned her right 309 of 967 Crime and Punishment hand on the parapet, lifted her right leg over the railing, then her left and threw herself into the canal. The filthy water parted and swallowed up its victim for a moment, but an instant later the drowning woman floated to the surface, moving slowly with the current, her head and legs in the water, her skirt inflated like a balloon over her back. ‘A woman drowning! A woman drowning!’ shouted dozens of voices; people ran up, both banks were thronged with spectators, on the bridge people crowded about Raskolnikov, pressing up behind him. ‘Mercy on it! it’s our Afrosinya!’ a woman cried tearfully close by. ‘Mercy! save her! kind people, pull her out!’ ‘A boat, a boat’ was shouted in the crowd. But there was no need of a boat; a policeman ran down the steps to the canal, threw off his great coat and his boots and rushed into the water. It was easy to reach her: she floated within a couple of yards from the steps, he caught hold of her clothes with his right hand and with his left seized a pole which a comrade held out to him; the drowning woman was pulled out at once. They laid her on the granite pavement of the embankment. She soon recovered consciousness, raised her head, sat up and began sneezing 310 of 967 Crime and Punishment and coughing, stupidly wiping her wet dress with her hands. She said nothing. ‘She’s drunk herself out of her senses,’ the same woman’s voice wailed at her side. ‘Out of her senses. The other day she tried to hang herself, we cut her down. I ran out to the shop just now, left my little girl to look after her—and here she’s in trouble again! A neighbour, gentleman, a neighbour, we live close by, the second house from the end, see yonder….’ The crowd broke up. The police still remained round the woman, someone mentioned the police station…. Raskolnikov looked on with a strange sensation of indifference and apathy. He felt disgusted. ‘No, that’s loathsome … water … it’s not good enough,’ he muttered to himself. ‘Nothing will come of it,’ he added, ‘no use to wait. What about the police office … ? And why isn’t Zametov at the police office? The police office is open till ten o’clock….’ He turned his back to the railing and looked about him. ‘Very well then!’ he said resolutely; he moved from the bridge and walked in the direction of the police office. His heart felt hollow and empty. He did not want to think. Even his depression had passed, there was not a trace now 311 of 967 Crime and Punishment of the energy with which he had set out ‘to make an end of it all.’ Complete apathy had succeeded to it. ‘Well, it’s a way out of it,’ he thought, walking slowly and listlessly along the canal bank. ‘Anyway I’ll make an end, for I want to…. But is it a way out? What does it matter! There’ll be the square yard of space—ha! But what an end! Is it really the end? Shall I tell them or not? Ah … damn! How tired I am! If I could find somewhere to sit or lie down soon! What I am most ashamed of is its being so stupid. But I don’t care about that either! What idiotic ideas come into one’s head.’ To reach the police office he had to go straight forward and take the second turning to the left. It was only a few paces away. But at the first turning he stopped and, after a minute’s thought, turned into a side street and went two streets out of his way, possibly without any object, or possibly to delay a minute and gain time. He walked, looking at the ground; suddenly someone seemed to whisper in his ear; he lifted his head and saw that he was standing at the very gate of the house. He had not passed it, he had not been near it since that evening. An overwhelming, unaccountable prompting drew him on. He went into the house, passed through the gateway, then into the first entrance on the right, and began mounting 312 of 967 Crime and Punishment the familiar staircase to the fourth storey. The narrow, steep staircase was very dark. He stopped at each landing and looked round him with curiosity; on the first landing the framework of the window had been taken out. ‘That wasn’t so then,’ he thought. Here was the flat on the second storey where Nikolay and Dmitri had been working. ‘It’s shut up and the door newly painted. So it’s to let.’ Then the third storey and the fourth. ‘Here!’ He was perplexed to find the door of the flat wide open. There were men there, he could hear voices; he had not expected that. After brief hesitation he mounted the last stairs and went into the flat. It, too, was being done up; there were workmen in it. This seemed to amaze him; he somehow fancied that he would find everything as he left it, even perhaps the corpses in the same places on the floor. And now, bare walls, no furniture; it seemed strange. He walked to the window and sat down on the window-sill. There were two workmen, both young fellows, but one much younger than the other. They were papering the walls with a new white paper covered with lilac flowers, instead of the old, dirty, yellow one. Raskolnikov for some reason felt horribly annoyed by this. He looked at the new paper with dislike, as though he felt sorry to have it all so changed. The workmen had 313 of 967 Crime and Punishment obviously stayed beyond their time and now they were hurriedly rolling up their paper and getting ready to go home. They took no notice of Raskolnikov’s coming in; they were talking. Raskolnikov folded his arms and listened. ‘She comes to me in the morning,’ said the elder to the younger, ‘very early, all dressed up. ‘Why are you preening and prinking?’ says I. ‘I am ready to do anything to please you, Tit Vassilitch!’ That’s a way of going on! And she dressed up like a regular fashion book!’ ‘And what is a fashion book?’ the younger one asked. He obviously regarded the other as an authority. ‘A fashion book is a lot of pictures, coloured, and they come to the tailors here every Saturday, by post from abroad, to show folks how to dress, the male sex as well as the female. They’re pictures. The gentlemen are generally wearing fur coats and for the ladies’ fluffles, they’re beyond anything you can fancy.’ ‘There’s nothing you can’t find in Petersburg,’ the younger cried enthusiastically, ‘except father and mother, there’s everything!’ ‘Except them, there’s everything to be found, my boy,’ the elder declared sententiously. 314 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. Raskolnikov got up and walked into the other room where the strong box, the bed, and the chest of drawers had been; the room seemed to him very tiny without furniture in it. The paper was the same; the paper in the corner showed where the case of ikons had stood. He looked at it and went to the window. The elder workman looked at him askance. ‘What do you want?’ he asked suddenly. Instead of answering Raskolnikov went into the passage and pulled the bell. The same bell, the same cracked note. He rang it a second and a third time; he listened and remembered. The hideous and agonisingly fearful sensation he had felt then began to come back more and more vividly. He shuddered at every ring and it gave him more and more satisfaction. ‘Well, what do you want? Who are you?’ the workman shouted, going out to him. Raskolnikov went inside again. ‘I want to take a flat,’ he said. ‘I am looking round.’ ‘It’s not the time to look at rooms at night! and you ought to come up with the porter.’ ‘The floors have been washed, will they be painted?’ Raskolnikov went on. ‘Is there no blood?’ ‘What blood?’ 315 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Why, the old woman and her sister were murdered here. There was a perfect pool there.’ ‘But who are you?’ the workman cried, uneasy. ‘Who am I?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘You want to know? Come to the police station, I’ll tell you.’ The workmen looked at him in amazement. ‘It’s time for us to go, we are late. Come along, Alyoshka. We must lock up,’ said the elder workman. ‘Very well, come along,’ said Raskolnikov indifferently, and going out first, he went slowly downstairs. ‘Hey, porter,’ he cried in the gateway. At the entrance several people were standing, staring at the passers- by; the two porters, a peasant woman, a man in a long coat and a few others. Raskolnikov went straight up to them. ‘What do you want?’ asked one of the porters. ‘Have you been to the police office?’ ‘I’ve just been there. What do you want?’ ‘Is it open?’ ‘Of course.’ ‘Is the assistant there?’ ‘He was there for a time. What do you want?’ 316 of 967 Crime and Punishment Raskolnikov made no reply, but stood beside them lost in thought. ‘He’s been to look at the flat,’ said the elder workman, coming forward. ‘Which flat?’ ‘Where we are at work. ‘Why have you washed away the blood?’ says he. ‘There has been a murder here,’ says he, ‘and I’ve come to take it.’ And he began ringing at the bell, all but broke it. ‘Come to the police station,’ says he. ‘I’ll tell you everything there.’ He wouldn’t leave us.’ The porter looked at Raskolnikov, frowning and perplexed. ‘Who are you?’ he shouted as impressively as he could. ‘I am Rodion Romanovitch Raskolnikov, formerly a student, I live in Shil’s house, not far from here, flat Number 14, ask the porter, he knows me.’ Raskolnikov said all this in a lazy, dreamy voice, not turning round, but looking intently into the darkening street. ‘Why have you been to the flat?’ ‘To look at it.’ ‘What is there to look at?’ ‘Take him straight to the police station,’ the man in the long coat jerked in abruptly. 317 of 967 Crime and Punishment Raskolnikov looked intently at him over his shoulder and said in the same slow, lazy tones: ‘Come along.’ ‘Yes, take him,’ the man went on more confidently. ‘Why was he going into that what’s in his mind, eh?’ ‘He’s not drunk, but God knows what’s the matter with him,’ muttered the workman. ‘But what do you want?’ the porter shouted again, beginning to get angry in earnest—‘Why are you hanging about?’ ‘You funk the police station then?’ said Raskolnikov jeeringly. ‘How funk it? Why are you hanging about?’ ‘He’s a rogue!’ shouted the peasant woman. ‘Why waste time talking to him?’ cried the other porter, a huge peasant in a full open coat and with keys on his belt. ‘Get along! He is a rogue and no mistake. Get along!’ And seizing Raskolnikov by the shoulder he flung him into the street. He lurched forward, but recovered his footing, looked at the spectators in silence and walked away. ‘Strange man!’ observed the workman. 318 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘There are strange folks about nowadays,’ said the woman. ‘You should have taken him to the police station all the same,’ said the man in the long coat. ‘Better have nothing to do with him,’ decided the big porter. ‘A regular rogue! Just what he wants, you may be sure, but once take him up, you won’t get rid of him…. We know the sort!’ ‘Shall I go there or not?’ thought Raskolnikov, standing in the middle of the thoroughfare at the cross-roads, and he looked about him, as though expecting from someone a decisive word. But no sound came, all was dead and silent like the stones on which he walked, dead to him, to him alone…. All at once at the end of the street, two hundred yards away, in the gathering dusk he saw a crowd and heard talk and shouts. In the middle of the crowd stood a carriage…. A light gleamed in the middle of the street. ‘What is it?’ Raskolnikov turned to the right and went up to the crowd. He seemed to clutch at everything and smiled coldly when he recognised it, for he had fully made up his mind to go to the police station and knew that it would all soon be over. 319 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter VII An elegant carriage stood in the middle of the road with a pair of spirited grey horses; there was no one in it, and the coachman had got off his box and stood by; the horses were being held by the bridle…. A mass of people had gathered round, the police standing in front. One of them held a lighted lantern which he was turning on something lying close to the wheels. Everyone was talking, shouting, exclaiming; the coachman seemed at a loss and kept repeating: ‘What a misfortune! Good Lord, what a misfortune!’ Raskolnikov pushed his way in as far as he could, and succeeded at last in seeing the object of the commotion and interest. On the ground a man who had been run over lay apparently unconscious, and covered with blood; he was very badly dressed, but not like a workman. Blood was flowing from his head and face; his face was crushed, mutilated and disfigured. He was evidently badly injured. ‘Merciful heaven!’ wailed the coachman, ‘what more could I do? If I’d been driving fast or had not shouted to him, but I was going quietly, not in a hurry. Everyone could see I was going along just like everybody else. A 320 of 967 Crime and Punishment drunken man can’t walk straight, we all know…. I saw him crossing the street, staggering and almost falling. I shouted again and a second and a third time, then I held the horses in, but he fell straight under their feet! Either he did it on purpose or he was very tipsy…. The horses are young and ready to take fright … they started, he screamed … that made them worse. That’s how it happened!’ ‘That’s just how it was,’ a voice in the crowd confirmed. ‘He shouted, that’s true, he shouted three times,’ another voice declared. ‘Three times it was, we all heard it,’ shouted a third. But the coachman was not very much distressed and frightened. It was evident that the carriage belonged to a rich and important person who was awaiting it somewhere; the police, of course, were in no little anxiety to avoid upsetting his arrangements. All they had to do was to take the injured man to the police station and the hospital. No one knew his name. Meanwhile Raskolnikov had squeezed in and stooped closer over him. The lantern suddenly lighted up the unfortunate man’s face. He recognised him. 321 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘I know him! I know him!’ he shouted, pushing to the front. ‘It’s a government clerk retired from the service, Marmeladov. He lives close by in Kozel’s house…. Make haste for a doctor! I will pay, see?’ He pulled money out of his pocket and showed it to the policeman. He was in violent agitation. The police were glad that they had found out who the man was. Raskolnikov gave his own name and address, and, as earnestly as if it had been his father, he besought the police to carry the unconscious Marmeladov to his lodging at once. ‘Just here, three houses away,’ he said eagerly, ‘the house belongs to Kozel, a rich German. He was going home, no doubt drunk. I know him, he is a drunkard. He has a family there, a wife, children, he has one daughter…. It will take time to take him to the hospital, and there is sure to be a doctor in the house. I’ll pay, I’ll pay! At least he will be looked after at home … they will help him at once. But he’ll die before you get him to the hospital.’ He managed to slip something unseen into the policeman’s hand. But the thing was straightforward and legitimate, and in any case help was closer here. They raised the injured man; people volunteered to help. 322 of 967 Crime and Punishment Kozel’s house was thirty yards away. Raskolnikov walked behind, carefully holding Marmeladov’s head and showing the way. ‘This way, this way! We must take him upstairs head foremost. Turn round! I’ll pay, I’ll make it worth your while,’ he muttered. Katerina Ivanovna had just begun, as she always did at every free moment, walking to and fro in her little room from window to stove and back again, with her arms folded across her chest, talking to herself and coughing. Of late she had begun to talk more than ever to her eldest girl, Polenka, a child of ten, who, though there was much she did not understand, understood very well that her mother needed her, and so always watched her with her big clever eyes and strove her utmost to appear to understand. This time Polenka was undressing her little brother, who had been unwell all day and was going to bed. The boy was waiting for her to take off his shirt, which had to be washed at night. He was sitting straight and motionless on a chair, with a silent, serious face, with his legs stretched out straight before him —heels together and toes turned out. He was listening to what his mother was saying to his sister, sitting perfectly still with pouting lips and wide-323 of 967 Crime and Punishment open eyes, just as all good little boys have to sit when they are undressed to go to bed. A little girl, still younger, dressed literally in rags, stood at the screen, waiting for her turn. The door on to the stairs was open to relieve them a little from the clouds of tobacco smoke which floated in from the other rooms and brought on long terrible fits of coughing in the poor, consumptive woman. Katerina Ivanovna seemed to have grown even thinner during that week and the hectic flush on her face was brighter than ever. ‘You wouldn’t believe, you can’t imagine, Polenka,’ she said, walking about the room, ‘what a happy luxurious life we had in my papa’s house and how this drunkard has brought me, and will bring you all, to ruin! Papa was a civil colonel and only a step from being a governor; so that everyone who came to see him said, ‘We look upon you, Ivan Mihailovitch, as our governor!’ When I … when …’ she coughed violently, ‘oh, cursed life,’ she cried, clearing her throat and pressing her hands to her breast, ‘when I … when at the last ball … at the marshal’s … Princess Bezzemelny saw me—who gave me the blessing when your father and I were married, Polenka— she asked at once ‘Isn’t that the pretty girl who danced the shawl dance at the breaking-up?’ (You must mend that 324 of 967 Crime and Punishment tear, you must take your needle and darn it as I showed you, or to-morrow—cough, cough, cough—he will make the hole bigger,’ she articulated with effort.) ‘Prince Schegolskoy, a kammerjunker, had just come from Petersburg then … he danced the mazurka with me and wanted to make me an offer next day; but I thanked him in flattering expressions and told him that my heart had long been another’s. That other was your father, Polya; papa was fearfully angry…. Is the water ready? Give me the shirt, and the stockings! Lida,’ said she to the youngest one, ‘you must manage without your chemise to-night … and lay your stockings out with it … I’ll wash them together…. How is it that drunken vagabond doesn’t come in? He has worn his shirt till it looks like a dish-clout, he has torn it to rags! I’d do it all together, so as not to have to work two nights running! Oh, dear! (Cough, cough, cough, cough!) Again! What’s this?’ she cried, noticing a crowd in the passage and the men, who were pushing into her room, carrying a burden. ‘What is it? What are they bringing? Mercy on us!’ ‘Where are we to put him?’ asked the policeman, looking round when Marmeladov, unconscious and covered with blood, had been carried in. 325 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘On the sofa! Put him straight on the sofa, with his head this way,’ Raskolnikov showed him. ‘Run over in the road! Drunk!’ someone shouted in the passage. Katerina Ivanovna stood, turning white and gasping for breath. The children were terrified. Little Lida screamed, rushed to Polenka and clutched at her, trembling all over. Having laid Marmeladov down, Raskolnikov flew to Katerina Ivanovna. ‘For God’s sake be calm, don’t be frightened!’ he said, speaking quickly, ‘he was crossing the road and was run over by a carriage, don’t be frightened, he will come to, I told them bring him here … I’ve been here already, you remember? He will come to; I’ll pay!’ ‘He’s done it this time!’ Katerina Ivanovna cried despairingly and she rushed to her husband. Raskolnikov noticed at once that she was not one of those women who swoon easily. She instantly placed under the luckless man’s head a pillow, which no one had thought of and began undressing and examining him. She kept her head, forgetting herself, biting her trembling lips and stifling the screams which were ready to break from her. 326 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. Raskolnikov meanwhile induced someone to run for a doctor. There was a doctor, it appeared, next door but one. ‘I’ve sent for a doctor,’ he kept assuring Katerina Ivanovna, ‘don’t be uneasy, I’ll pay. Haven’t you water? … and give me a napkin or a towel, anything, as quick as you can…. He is injured, but not killed, believe me…. We shall see what the doctor says!’ Katerina Ivanovna ran to the window; there, on a broken chair in the corner, a large earthenware basin full of water had been stood, in readiness for washing her children’s and husband’s linen that night. This washing was done by Katerina Ivanovna at night at least twice a week, if not oftener. For the family had come to such a pass that they were practically without change of linen, and Katerina Ivanovna could not endure uncleanliness and, rather than see dirt in the house, she preferred to wear herself out at night, working beyond her strength when the rest were asleep, so as to get the wet linen hung on a line and dry by the morning. She took up the basin of water at Raskolnikov’s request, but almost fell down with her burden. But the latter had already succeeded in finding a towel, wetted it and began washing the blood off Marmeladov’s face. 327 of 967 Crime and Punishment Katerina Ivanovna stood by, breathing painfully and pressing her hands to her breast. She was in need of attention herself. Raskolnikov began to realise that he might have made a mistake in having the injured man brought here. The policeman, too, stood in hesitation. ‘Polenka,’ cried Katerina Ivanovna, ‘run to Sonia, make haste. If you don’t find her at home, leave word that her father has been run over and that she is to come here at once … when she comes in. Run, Polenka! there, put on the shawl.’ ‘Run your fastest!’ cried the little boy on the chair suddenly, after which he relapsed into the same dumb rigidity, with round eyes, his heels thrust forward and his toes spread out. Meanwhile the room had become so full of people that you couldn’t have dropped a pin. The policemen left, all except one, who remained for a time, trying to drive out the people who came in from the stairs. Almost all Madame Lippevechsel’s lodgers had streamed in from the inner rooms of the flat; at first they were squeezed together in the doorway, but afterwards they overflowed into the room. Katerina Ivanovna flew into a fury. ‘You might let him die in peace, at least,’ she shouted at the crowd, ‘is it a spectacle for you to gape at? With 328 of 967 Crime and Punishment cigarettes! (Cough, cough, cough!) You might as well keep your hats on…. And there is one in his hat! … Get away! You should respect the dead, at least!’ Her cough choked her—but her reproaches were not without result. They evidently stood in some awe of Katerina Ivanovna. The lodgers, one after another, squeezed back into the doorway with that strange inner feeling of satisfaction which may be observed in the presence of a sudden accident, even in those nearest and dearest to the victim, from which no living man is exempt, even in spite of the sincerest sympathy and compassion. Voices outside were heard, however, speaking of the hospital and saying that they’d no business to make a disturbance here. ‘No business to die!’ cried Katerina Ivanovna, and she was rushing to the door to vent her wrath upon them, but in the doorway came face to face with Madame Lippevechsel who had only just heard of the accident and ran in to restore order. She was a particularly quarrelsome and irresponsible German. ‘Ah, my God!’ she cried, clasping her hands, ‘your husband drunken horses have trampled! To the hospital with him! I am the landlady!’ 329 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Amalia Ludwigovna, I beg you to recollect what you are saying,’ Katerina Ivanovna began haughtily (she always took a haughty tone with the landlady that she might ‘remember her place’ and even now could not deny herself this satisfaction). ‘Amalia Ludwigovna …’ ‘I have you once before told that you to call me Amalia Ludwigovna may not dare; I am Amalia Ivanovna.’ ‘You are not Amalia Ivanovna, but Amalia Ludwigovna, and as I am not one of your despicable flatterers like Mr. Lebeziatnikov, who’s laughing behind the door at this moment (a laugh and a cry of ‘they are at it again’ was in fact audible at the door) so I shall always call you Amalia Ludwigovna, though I fail to understand why you dislike that name. You can see for yourself what has happened to Semyon Zaharovitch; he is dying. I beg you to close that door at once and to admit no one. Let him at least die in peace! Or I warn you the Governor-General, himself, shall be informed of your conduct to-morrow. The prince knew me as a girl; he remembers Semyon Zaharovitch well and has often been a benefactor to him. Everyone knows that Semyon Zaharovitch had many friends and protectors, whom he abandoned himself from an honourable pride, knowing his unhappy weakness, but now (she pointed to Raskolnikov) a 330 of 967 Crime and Punishment generous young man has come to our assistance, who has wealth and connections and whom Semyon Zaharovitch has known from a child. You may rest assured, Amalia Ludwigovna …’ All this was uttered with extreme rapidity, getting quicker and quicker, but a cough suddenly cut short Katerina Ivanovna’s eloquence. At that instant the dying man recovered consciousness and uttered a groan; she ran to him. The injured man opened his eyes and without recognition or understanding gazed at Raskolnikov who was bending over him. He drew deep, slow, painful breaths; blood oozed at the corners of his mouth and drops of perspiration came out on his forehead. Not recognising Raskolnikov, he began looking round uneasily. Katerina Ivanovna looked at him with a sad but stern face, and tears trickled from her eyes. ‘My God! His whole chest is crushed! How he is bleeding,’ she said in despair. ‘We must take off his clothes. Turn a little, Semyon Zaharovitch, if you can,’ she cried to him. Marmeladov recognised her. ‘A priest,’ he articulated huskily. Katerina Ivanovna walked to the window, laid her head against the window frame and exclaimed in despair: 331 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Oh, cursed life!’ ‘A priest,’ the dying man said again after a moment’s silence. ‘They’ve gone for him,’ Katerina Ivanovna shouted to him, he obeyed her shout and was silent. With sad and timid eyes he looked for her; she returned and stood by his pillow. He seemed a little easier but not for long. Soon his eyes rested on little Lida, his favourite, who was shaking in the corner, as though she were in a fit, and staring at him with her wondering childish eyes. ‘A-ah,’ he signed towards her uneasily. He wanted to say something. ‘What now?’ cried Katerina Ivanovna. ‘Barefoot, barefoot!’ he muttered, indicating with frenzied eyes the child’s bare feet. ‘Be silent,’ Katerina Ivanovna cried irritably, ‘you know why she is barefooted.’ ‘Thank God, the doctor,’ exclaimed Raskolnikov, relieved. The doctor came in, a precise little old man, a German, looking about him mistrustfully; he went up to the sick man, took his pulse, carefully felt his head and with the help of Katerina Ivanovna he unbuttoned the blood-stained shirt, and bared the injured man’s chest. It was 332 of 967 Crime and Punishment gashed, crushed and fractured, several ribs on the right side were broken. On the left side, just over the heart, was a large, sinister-looking yellowish-black bruise—a cruel kick from the horse’s hoof. The doctor frowned. The policeman told him that he was caught in the wheel and turned round with it for thirty yards on the road. ‘It’s wonderful that he has recovered consciousness,’ the doctor whispered softly to Raskolnikov. ‘What do you think of him?’ he asked. ‘He will die immediately.’ ‘Is there really no hope?’ ‘Not the faintest! He is at the last gasp…. His head is badly injured, too … Hm … I could bleed him if you like, but … it would be useless. He is bound to die within the next five or ten minutes.’ ‘Better bleed him then.’ ‘If you like…. But I warn you it will be perfectly useless.’ At that moment other steps were heard; the crowd in the passage parted, and the priest, a little, grey old man, appeared in the doorway bearing the sacrament. A policeman had gone for him at the time of the accident. The doctor changed places with him, exchanging glances 333 of 967 Crime and Punishment with him. Raskolnikov begged the doctor to remain a little while. He shrugged his shoulders and remained. All stepped back. The confession was soon over. The dying man probably understood little; he could only utter indistinct broken sounds. Katerina Ivanovna took little Lida, lifted the boy from the chair, knelt down in the corner by the stove and made the children kneel in front of her. The little girl was still trembling; but the boy, kneeling on his little bare knees, lifted his hand rhythmically, crossing himself with precision and bowed down, touching the floor with his forehead, which seemed to afford him especial satisfaction. Katerina Ivanovna bit her lips and held back her tears; she prayed, too, now and then pulling straight the boy’s shirt, and managed to cover the girl’s bare shoulders with a kerchief, which she took from the chest without rising from her knees or ceasing to pray. Meanwhile the door from the inner rooms was opened inquisitively again. In the passage the crowd of spectators from all the flats on the staircase grew denser and denser, but they did not venture beyond the threshold. A single candle-end lighted up the scene. At that moment Polenka forced her way through the crowd at the door. She came in panting from running so fast, took off her kerchief, looked for her mother, went up 334 of 967 Crime and Punishment to her and said, ‘She’s coming, I met her in the street.’ Her mother made her kneel beside her. Timidly and noiselessly a young girl made her way through the crowd, and strange was her appearance in that room, in the midst of want, rags, death and despair. She, too, was in rags, her attire was all of the cheapest, but decked out in gutter finery of a special stamp, unmistakably betraying its shameful purpose. Sonia stopped short in the doorway and looked about her bewildered, unconscious of everything. She forgot her fourth-hand, gaudy silk dress, so unseemly here with its ridiculous long train, and her immense crinoline that filled up the whole doorway, and her light-coloured shoes, and the parasol she brought with her, though it was no use at night, and the absurd round straw hat with its flaring flame-coloured feather. Under this rakishly-tilted hat was a pale, frightened little face with lips parted and eyes staring in terror. Sonia was a small thin girl of eighteen with fair hair, rather pretty, with wonderful blue eyes. She looked intently at the bed and the priest; she too was out of breath with running. At last whispers, some words in the crowd probably, reached her. She looked down and took a step forward into the room, still keeping close to the door. 335 of 967 Crime and Punishment The service was over. Katerina Ivanovna went up to her husband again. The priest stepped back and turned to say a few words of admonition and consolation to Katerina Ivanovna on leaving. ‘What am I to do with these?’ she interrupted sharply and irritably, pointing to the little ones. ‘God is merciful; look to the Most High for succour,’ the priest began. ‘Ach! He is merciful, but not to us.’ ‘That’s a sin, a sin, madam,’ observed the priest, shaking his head. ‘And isn’t that a sin?’ cried Katerina Ivanovna, pointing to the dying man. ‘Perhaps those who have involuntarily caused the accident will agree to compensate you, at least for the loss of his earnings.’ ‘You don’t understand!’ cried Katerina Ivanovna angrily waving her hand. ‘And why should they compensate me? Why, he was drunk and threw himself under the horses! What earnings? He brought us in nothing but misery. He drank everything away, the drunkard! He robbed us to get drink, he wasted their lives and mine for drink! And thank God he’s dying! One less to keep!’ 336 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘You must forgive in the hour of death, that’s a sin, madam, such feelings are a great sin.’ Katerina Ivanovna was busy with the dying man; she was giving him water, wiping the blood and sweat from his head, setting his pillow straight, and had only turned now and then for a moment to address the priest. Now she flew at him almost in a frenzy. ‘Ah, father! That’s words and only words! Forgive! If he’d not been run over, he’d have come home to-day drunk and his only shirt dirty and in rags and he’d have fallen asleep like a log, and I should have been sousing and rinsing till daybreak, washing his rags and the children’s and then drying them by the window and as soon as it was daylight I should have been darning them. That’s how I spend my nights! … What’s the use of talking of forgiveness! I have forgiven as it is!’ A terrible hollow cough interrupted her words. She put her handkerchief to her lips and showed it to the priest, pressing her other hand to her aching chest. The handkerchief was covered with blood. The priest bowed his head and said nothing. Marmeladov was in the last agony; he did not take his eyes off the face of Katerina Ivanovna, who was bending over him again. He kept trying to say something to her; 337 of 967 Crime and Punishment he began moving his tongue with difficulty and articulating indistinctly, but Katerina Ivanovna, understanding that he wanted to ask her forgiveness, called peremptorily to him: ‘Be silent! No need! I know what you want to say!’ And the sick man was silent, but at the same instant his wandering eyes strayed to the doorway and he saw Sonia. Till then he had not noticed her: she was standing in the shadow in a corner. ‘Who’s that? Who’s that?’ he said suddenly in a thick gasping voice, in agitation, turning his eyes in horror towards the door where his daughter was standing, and trying to sit up. ‘Lie down! Lie do-own!’ cried Katerina Ivanovna. With unnatural strength he had succeeded in propping himself on his elbow. He looked wildly and fixedly for some time on his daughter, as though not recognising her. He had never seen her before in such attire. Suddenly he recognised her, crushed and ashamed in her humiliation and gaudy finery, meekly awaiting her turn to say good-bye to her dying father. His face showed intense suffering. ‘Sonia! Daughter! Forgive!’ he cried, and he tried to hold out his hand to her, but losing his balance, he fell off the sofa, face downwards on the floor. They rushed to 338 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. pick him up, they put him on the sofa; but he was dying. Sonia with a faint cry ran up, embraced him and remained so without moving. He died in her arms. ‘He’s got what he wanted,’ Katerina Ivanovna cried, seeing her husband’s dead body. ‘Well, what’s to be done now? How am I to bury him! What can I give them to-morrow to eat?’ Raskolnikov went up to Katerina Ivanovna. ‘Katerina Ivanovna,’ he began, ‘last week your husband told me all his life and circumstances…. Believe me, he spoke of you with passionate reverence. From that evening, when I learnt how devoted he was to you all and how he loved and respected you especially, Katerina Ivanovna, in spite of his unfortunate weakness, from that evening we became friends…. Allow me now … to do something … to repay my debt to my dead friend. Here are twenty roubles, I think—and if that can be of any assistance to you, then … I … in short, I will come again, I will be sure to come again … I shall, perhaps, come again to-morrow…. Good-bye!’ And he went quickly out of the room, squeezing his way through the crowd to the stairs. But in the crowd he suddenly jostled against Nikodim Fomitch, who had heard of the accident and had come to give instructions in 339 of 967 Crime and Punishment person. They had not met since the scene at the police station, but Nikodim Fomitch knew him instantly. ‘Ah, is that you?’ he asked him. ‘He’s dead,’ answered Raskolnikov. ‘The doctor and the priest have been, all as it should have been. Don’t worry the poor woman too much, she is in consumption as it is. Try and cheer her up, if possible … you are a kind-hearted man, I know …’ he added with a smile, looking straight in his face. ‘But you are spattered with blood,’ observed Nikodim Fomitch, noticing in the lamplight some fresh stains on Raskolnikov’s waistcoat. ‘Yes … I’m covered with blood,’ Raskolnikov said with a peculiar air; then he smiled, nodded and went downstairs. He walked down slowly and deliberately, feverish but not conscious of it, entirely absorbed in a new overwhelming sensation of life and strength that surged up suddenly within him. This sensation might be compared to that of a man condemned to death who has suddenly been pardoned. Halfway down the staircase he was overtaken by the priest on his way home; Raskolnikov let him pass, exchanging a silent greeting with him. He was just descending the last steps when he heard rapid footsteps 340 of 967 Crime and Punishment behind him. someone overtook him; it was Polenka. She was running after him, calling ‘Wait! wait!’ He turned round. She was at the bottom of the staircase and stopped short a step above him. A dim light came in from the yard. Raskolnikov could distinguish the child’s thin but pretty little face, looking at him with a bright childish smile. She had run after him with a message which she was evidently glad to give. ‘Tell me, what is your name? … and where do you live?’ she said hurriedly in a breathless voice. He laid both hands on her shoulders and looked at her with a sort of rapture. It was such a joy to him to look at her, he could not have said why. ‘Who sent you?’ ‘Sister Sonia sent me,’ answered the girl, smiling still more brightly. ‘I knew it was sister Sonia sent you.’ ‘Mamma sent me, too … when sister Sonia was sending me, mamma came up, too, and said ‘Run fast, Polenka.’’ ‘Do you love sister Sonia?’ ‘I love her more than anyone,’ Polenka answered with a peculiar earnestness, and her smile became graver. ‘And will you love me?’ 341 of 967 Crime and Punishment By way of answer he saw the little girl’s face approaching him, her full lips naïvely held out to kiss him. Suddenly her arms as thin as sticks held him tightly, her head rested on his shoulder and the little girl wept softly, pressing her face against him. ‘I am sorry for father,’ she said a moment later, raising her tear- stained face and brushing away the tears with her hands. ‘It’s nothing but misfortunes now,’ she added suddenly with that peculiarly sedate air which children try hard to assume when they want to speak like grown-up people. ‘Did your father love you?’ ‘He loved Lida most,’ she went on very seriously without a smile, exactly like grown-up people, ‘he loved her because she is little and because she is ill, too. And he always used to bring her presents. But he taught us to read and me grammar and scripture, too,’ she added with dignity. ‘And mother never used to say anything, but we knew that she liked it and father knew it, too. And mother wants to teach me French, for it’s time my education began.’ ‘And do you know your prayers?’ ‘Of course, we do! We knew them long ago. I say my prayers to myself as I am a big girl now, but Kolya and 342 of 967 Crime and Punishment Lida say them aloud with mother. First they repeat the ‘Ave Maria’ and then another prayer: ‘Lord, forgive and bless sister Sonia,’ and then another, ‘Lord, forgive and bless our second father.’ For our elder father is dead and this is another one, but we do pray for the other as well.’ ‘Polenka, my name is Rodion. Pray sometimes for me, too. ‘And Thy servant Rodion,’ nothing more.’ ‘I’ll pray for you all the rest of my life,’ the little girl declared hotly, and suddenly smiling again she rushed at him and hugged him warmly once more. Raskolnikov told her his name and address and promised to be sure to come next day. The child went away quite enchanted with him. It was past ten when he came out into the street. In five minutes he was standing on the bridge at the spot where the woman had jumped in. ‘Enough,’ he pronounced resolutely and triumphantly. ‘I’ve done with fancies, imaginary terrors and phantoms! Life is real! haven’t I lived just now? My life has not yet died with that old woman! The Kingdom of Heaven to her—and now enough, madam, leave me in peace! Now for the reign of reason and light … and of will, and of strength … and now we will see! We will try our strength!’ he added defiantly, as though challenging some 343 of 967 Crime and Punishment power of darkness. ‘And I was ready to consent to live in a square of space! ‘I am very weak at this moment, but … I believe my illness is all over. I knew it would be over when I went out. By the way, Potchinkov’s house is only a few steps away. I certainly must go to Razumihin even if it were not close by … let him win his bet! Let us give him some satisfaction, too—no matter! Strength, strength is what one wants, you can get nothing without it, and strength must be won by strength—that’s what they don’t know,’ he added proudly and self-confidently and he walked with flagging footsteps from the bridge. Pride and self-confidence grew continually stronger in him; he was becoming a different man every moment. What was it had happened to work this revolution in him? He did not know himself; like a man catching at a straw, he suddenly felt that he, too, ‘could live, that there was still life for him, that his life had not died with the old woman.’ Perhaps he was in too great a hurry with his conclusions, but he did not think of that. ‘But I did ask her to remember ‘Thy servant Rodion’ in her prayers,’ the idea struck him. ‘Well, that was … in case of emergency,’ he added and laughed himself at his boyish sally. He was in the best of spirits. 344 of 967 Crime and Punishment He easily found Razumihin; the new lodger was already known at Potchinkov’s and the porter at once showed him the way. Half-way upstairs he could hear the noise and animated conversation of a big gathering of people. The door was wide open on the stairs; he could hear exclamations and discussion. Razumihin’s room was fairly large; the company consisted of fifteen people. Raskolnikov stopped in the entry, where two of the landlady’s servants were busy behind a screen with two samovars, bottles, plates and dishes of pie and savouries, brought up from the landlady’s kitchen. Raskolnikov sent in for Razumihin. He ran out delighted. At the first glance it was apparent that he had had a great deal to drink and, though no amount of liquor made Razumihin quite drunk, this time he was perceptibly affected by it. ‘Listen,’ Raskolnikov hastened to say, ‘I’ve only just come to tell you you’ve won your bet and that no one really knows what may not happen to him. I can’t come in; I am so weak that I shall fall down directly. And so good evening and good-bye! Come and see me to-morrow.’ ‘Do you know what? I’ll see you home. If you say you’re weak yourself, you must …’ 345 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘And your visitors? Who is the curly-headed one who has just peeped out?’ ‘He? Goodness only knows! Some friend of uncle’s, I expect, or perhaps he has come without being invited … I’ll leave uncle with them, he is an invaluable person, pity I can’t introduce you to him now. But confound them all now! They won’t notice me, and I need a little fresh air, for you’ve come just in the nick of time—another two minutes and I should have come to blows! They are talking such a lot of wild stuff … you simply can’t imagine what men will say! Though why shouldn’t you imagine? Don’t we talk nonsense ourselves? And let them … that’s the way to learn not to! … Wait a minute, I’ll fetch Zossimov.’ Zossimov pounced upon Raskolnikov almost greedily; he showed a special interest in him; soon his face brightened. ‘You must go to bed at once,’ he pronounced, examining the patient as far as he could, ‘and take something for the night. Will you take it? I got it ready some time ago … a powder.’ ‘Two, if you like,’ answered Raskolnikov. The powder was taken at once. 346 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘It’s a good thing you are taking him home,’ observed Zossimov to Razumihin—‘we shall see how he is to-morrow, to-day he’s not at all amiss—a considerable change since the afternoon. Live and learn …’ ‘Do you know what Zossimov whispered to me when we were coming out?’ Razumihin blurted out, as soon as they were in the street. ‘I won’t tell you everything, brother, because they are such fools. Zossimov told me to talk freely to you on the way and get you to talk freely to me, and afterwards I am to tell him about it, for he’s got a notion in his head that you are … mad or close on it. Only fancy! In the first place, you’ve three times the brains he has; in the second, if you are not mad, you needn’t care a hang that he has got such a wild idea; and thirdly, that piece of beef whose specialty is surgery has gone mad on mental diseases, and what’s brought him to this conclusion about you was your conversation to-day with Zametov.’ ‘Zametov told you all about it?’ ‘Yes, and he did well. Now I understand what it all means and so does Zametov…. Well, the fact is, Rodya … the point is … I am a little drunk now…. But that’s … no matter … the point is that this idea … you understand? was just being hatched in their brains … you understand? That is, no one ventured to say it aloud, because the idea 347 of 967 Crime and Punishment is too absurd and especially since the arrest of that painter, that bubble’s burst and gone for ever. But why are they such fools? I gave Zametov a bit of a thrashing at the time— that’s between ourselves, brother; please don’t let out a hint that you know of it; I’ve noticed he is a ticklish subject; it was at Luise Ivanovna’s. But to-day, to-day it’s all cleared up. That Ilya Petrovitch is at the bottom of it! He took advantage of your fainting at the police station, but he is ashamed of it himself now; I know that …’ Raskolnikov listened greedily. Razumihin was drunk enough to talk too freely. ‘I fainted then because it was so close and the smell of paint,’ said Raskolnikov. ‘No need to explain that! And it wasn’t the paint only: the fever had been coming on for a month; Zossimov testifies to that! But how crushed that boy is now, you wouldn’t believe! ‘I am not worth his little finger,’ he says. Yours, he means. He has good feelings at times, brother. But the lesson, the lesson you gave him to-day in the Palais de Cristal, that was too good for anything! You frightened him at first, you know, he nearly went into convulsions! You almost convinced him again of the truth of all that hideous nonsense, and then you suddenly—put out your tongue at him: ‘There now, what do you make 348 of 967 Crime and Punishment of it?’ It was perfect! He is crushed, annihilated now! It was masterly, by Jove, it’s what they deserve! Ah, that I wasn’t there! He was hoping to see you awfully. Porfiry, too, wants to make your acquaintance …’ ‘Ah! … he too … but why did they put me down as mad?’ ‘Oh, not mad. I must have said too much, brother…. What struck him, you see, was that only that subject seemed to interest you; now it’s clear why it did interest you; knowing all the circumstances … and how that irritated you and worked in with your illness … I am a little drunk, brother, only, confound him, he has some idea of his own … I tell you, he’s mad on mental diseases. But don’t you mind him …’ For half a minute both were silent. ‘Listen, Razumihin,’ began Raskolnikov, ‘I want to tell you plainly: I’ve just been at a death-bed, a clerk who died … I gave them all my money … and besides I’ve just been kissed by someone who, if I had killed anyone, would just the same … in fact I saw someone else there … with a flame-coloured feather … but I am talking nonsense; I am very weak, support me … we shall be at the stairs directly …’ 349 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘What’s the matter? What’s the matter with you?’ Razumihin asked anxiously. ‘I am a little giddy, but that’s not the point, I am so sad, so sad … like a woman. Look, what’s that? Look, look!’ ‘What is it?’ ‘Don’t you see? A light in my room, you see? Through the crack …’ They were already at the foot of the last flight of stairs, at the level of the landlady’s door, and they could, as a fact, see from below that there was a light in Raskolnikov’s garret. ‘Queer! Nastasya, perhaps,’ observed Razumihin. ‘She is never in my room at this time and she must be in bed long ago, but … I don’t care! Good-bye!’ ‘What do you mean? I am coming with you, we’ll come in together!’ ‘I know we are going in together, but I want to shake hands here and say good-bye to you here. So give me your hand, good-bye!’ ‘What’s the matter with you, Rodya?’ ‘Nothing … come along … you shall be witness.’ They began mounting the stairs, and the idea struck Razumihin that perhaps Zossimov might be right after all. 350 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. ‘Ah, I’ve upset him with my chatter!’ he muttered to himself. When they reached the door they heard voices in the room. ‘What is it?’ cried Razumihin. Raskolnikov was the first to open the door; he flung it wide and stood still in the doorway, dumbfoundered. His mother and sister were sitting on his sofa and had been waiting an hour and a half for him. Why had he never expected, never thought of them, though the news that they had started, were on their way and would arrive immediately, had been repeated to him only that day? They had spent that hour and a half plying Nastasya with questions. She was standing before them and had told them everything by now. They were beside themselves with alarm when they heard of his ‘running away’ to-day, ill and, as they understood from her story, delirious! ‘Good Heavens, what had become of him?’ Both had been weeping, both had been in anguish for that hour and a half. A cry of joy, of ecstasy, greeted Raskolnikov’s entrance. Both rushed to him. But he stood like one dead; a sudden intolerable sensation struck him like a thunderbolt. He did not lift his arms to embrace them, he 351 of 967 Crime and Punishment could not. His mother and sister clasped him in their arms, kissed him, laughed and cried. He took a step, tottered and fell to the ground, fainting. Anxiety, cries of horror, moans … Razumihin who was standing in the doorway flew into the room, seized the sick man in his strong arms and in a moment had him on the sofa. ‘It’s nothing, nothing!’ he cried to the mother and sister—‘it’s only a faint, a mere trifle! Only just now the doctor said he was much better, that he is perfectly well! Water! See, he is coming to himself, he is all right again!’ And seizing Dounia by the arm so that he almost dislocated it, he made her bend down to see that ‘he is all right again.’ The mother and sister looked on him with emotion and gratitude, as their Providence. They had heard already from Nastasya all that had been done for their Rodya during his illness, by this ‘very competent young man,’ as Pulcheria Alexandrovna Raskolnikov called him that evening in conversation with Dounia. 352 of 967 Crime and Punishment PART III 353 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter I Raskolnikov got up, and sat down on the sofa. He waved his hand weakly to Razumihin to cut short the flow of warm and incoherent consolations he was addressing to his mother and sister, took them both by the hand and for a minute or two gazed from one to the other without speaking. His mother was alarmed by his expression. It revealed an emotion agonisingly poignant, and at the same time something immovable, almost insane. Pulcheria Alexandrovna began to cry. Avdotya Romanovna was pale; her hand trembled in her brother’s. ‘Go home … with him,’ he said in a broken voice, pointing to Razumihin, ‘good-bye till to-morrow; to-morrow everything … Is it long since you arrived?’ ‘This evening, Rodya,’ answered Pulcheria Alexandrovna, ‘the train was awfully late. But, Rodya, nothing would induce me to leave you now! I will spend the night here, near you …’ ‘Don’t torture me!’ he said with a gesture of irritation. ‘I will stay with him,’ cried Razumihin, ‘I won’t leave him for a moment. Bother all my visitors! Let them rage to their hearts’ content! My uncle is presiding there.’ 354 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘How, how can I thank you!’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna was beginning, once more pressing Razumihin’s hands, but Raskolnikov interrupted her again. ‘I can’t have it! I can’t have it!’ he repeated irritably, ‘don’t worry me! Enough, go away … I can’t stand it!’ ‘Come, mamma, come out of the room at least for a minute,’ Dounia whispered in dismay; ‘we are distressing him, that’s evident.’ ‘Mayn’t I look at him after three years?’ wept Pulcheria Alexandrovna. ‘Stay,’ he stopped them again, ‘you keep interrupting me, and my ideas get muddled…. Have you seen Luzhin?’ ‘No, Rodya, but he knows already of our arrival. We have heard, Rodya, that Pyotr Petrovitch was so kind as to visit you today,’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna added somewhat timidly. ‘Yes … he was so kind … Dounia, I promised Luzhin I’d throw him downstairs and told him to go to hell….’ ‘Rodya, what are you saying! Surely, you don’t mean to tell us …’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna began in alarm, but she stopped, looking at Dounia. Avdotya Romanovna was looking attentively at her brother, waiting for what would come next. Both of them had heard of the quarrel from Nastasya, so far as she had 355 of 967 Crime and Punishment succeeded in understanding and reporting it, and were in painful perplexity and suspense. ‘Dounia,’ Raskolnikov continued with an effort, ‘I don’t want that marriage, so at the first opportunity to-morrow you must refuse Luzhin, so that we may never hear his name again.’ ‘Good Heavens!’ cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. ‘Brother, think what you are saying!’ Avdotya Romanovna began impetuously, but immediately checked herself. ‘You are not fit to talk now, perhaps; you are tired,’ she added gently. ‘You think I am delirious? No … You are marrying Luzhin for my sake. But I won’t accept the sacrifice. And so write a letter before to-morrow, to refuse him … Let me read it in the morning and that will be the end of it!’ ‘That I can’t do!’ the girl cried, offended, ‘what right have you …’ ‘Dounia, you are hasty, too, be quiet, to-morrow … Don’t you see …’ the mother interposed in dismay. ‘Better come away!’ ‘He is raving,’ Razumihin cried tipsily, ‘or how would he dare! To-morrow all this nonsense will be over … today he certainly did drive him away. That was so. And 356 of 967 Crime and Punishment Luzhin got angry, too…. He made speeches here, wanted to show off his learning and he went out crest- fallen….’ ‘Then it’s true?’ cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. ‘Good-bye till to-morrow, brother,’ said Dounia compassionately—‘let us go, mother … Good-bye, Rodya.’ ‘Do you hear, sister,’ he repeated after them, making a last effort, ‘I am not delirious; this marriage is—an infamy. Let me act like a scoundrel, but you mustn’t … one is enough … and though I am a scoundrel, I wouldn’t own such a sister. It’s me or Luzhin! Go now….’ ‘But you’re out of your mind! Despot!’ roared Razumihin; but Raskolnikov did not and perhaps could not answer. He lay down on the sofa, and turned to the wall, utterly exhausted. Avdotya Romanovna looked with interest at Razumihin; her black eyes flashed; Razumihin positively started at her glance. Pulcheria Alexandrovna stood overwhelmed. ‘Nothing would induce me to go,’ she whispered in despair to Razumihin. ‘I will stay somewhere here … escort Dounia home.’ ‘You’ll spoil everything,’ Razumihin answered in the same whisper, losing patience—‘come out on to the stairs, anyway. Nastasya, show a light! I assure you,’ he went on 357 of 967 Crime and Punishment in a half whisper on the stairs- ‘that he was almost beating the doctor and me this afternoon! Do you understand? The doctor himself! Even he gave way and left him, so as not to irritate him. I remained downstairs on guard, but he dressed at once and slipped off. And he will slip off again if you irritate him, at this time of night, and will do himself some mischief….’ ‘What are you saying?’ ‘And Avdotya Romanovna can’t possibly be left in those lodgings without you. Just think where you are staying! That blackguard Pyotr Petrovitch couldn’t find you better lodgings … But you know I’ve had a little to drink, and that’s what makes me … swear; don’t mind it….’ ‘But I’ll go to the landlady here,’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna insisted, ‘Ill beseech her to find some corner for Dounia and me for the night. I can’t leave him like that, I cannot!’ This conversation took place on the landing just before the landlady’s door. Nastasya lighted them from a step below. Razumihin was in extraordinary excitement. Half an hour earlier, while he was bringing Raskolnikov home, he had indeed talked too freely, but he was aware of it himself, and his head was clear in spite of the vast 358 of 967 Crime and Punishment quantities he had imbibed. Now he was in a state bordering on ecstasy, and all that he had drunk seemed to fly to his head with redoubled effect. He stood with the two ladies, seizing both by their hands, persuading them, and giving them reasons with astonishing plainness of speech, and at almost every word he uttered, probably to emphasise his arguments, he squeezed their hands painfully as in a vise. He stared at Avdotya Romanovna without the least regard for good manners. They sometimes pulled their hands out of his huge bony paws, but far from noticing what was the matter, he drew them all the closer to him. If they’d told him to jump head foremost from the staircase, he would have done it without thought or hesitation in their service. Though Pulcheria Alexandrovna felt that the young man was really too eccentric and pinched her hand too much, in her anxiety over her Rodya she looked on his presence as providential, and was unwilling to notice all his peculiarities. But though Avdotya Romanovna shared her anxiety, and was not of timorous disposition, she could not see the glowing light in his eyes without wonder and almost alarm. It was only the unbounded confidence inspired by Nastasya’s account of her brother’s queer friend, which prevented her from trying to run away from 359 of 967 Crime and Punishment him, and to persuade her mother to do the same. She realised, too, that even running away was perhaps impossible now. Ten minutes later, however, she was considerably reassured; it was characteristic of Razumihin that he showed his true nature at once, whatever mood he might be in, so that people quickly saw the sort of man they had to deal with. ‘You can’t go to the landlady, that’s perfect nonsense!’ he cried. ‘If you stay, though you are his mother, you’ll drive him to a frenzy, and then goodness knows what will happen! Listen, I’ll tell you what I’ll do: Nastasya will stay with him now, and I’ll conduct you both home, you can’t be in the streets alone; Petersburg is an awful place in that way…. But no matter! Then I’ll run straight back here and a quarter of an hour later, on my word of honour, I’ll bring you news how he is, whether he is asleep, and all that. Then, listen! Then I’ll run home in a twinkling—I’ve a lot of friends there, all drunk—I’ll fetch Zossimov— that’s the doctor who is looking after him, he is there, too, but he is not drunk; he is not drunk, he is never drunk! I’ll drag him to Rodya, and then to you, so that you’ll get two reports in the hour—from the doctor, you understand, from the doctor himself, that’s a very different thing from my account of him! If there’s anything wrong, 360 of 967 Crime and Punishment I swear I’ll bring you here myself, but, if it’s all right, you go to bed. And I’ll spend the night here, in the passage, he won’t hear me, and I’ll tell Zossimov to sleep at the landlady’s, to be at hand. Which is better for him: you or the doctor? So come home then! But the landlady is out of the question; it’s all right for me, but it’s out of the question for you: she wouldn’t take you, for she’s … for she’s a fool … She’d be jealous on my account of Avdotya Romanovna and of you, too, if you want to know … of Avdotya Romanovna certainly. She is an absolutely, absolutely unaccountable character! But I am a fool, too! … No matter! Come along! Do you trust me? Come, do you trust me or not?’ ‘Let us go, mother,’ said Avdotya Romanovna, ‘he will certainly do what he has promised. He has saved Rodya already, and if the doctor really will consent to spend the night here, what could be better?’ ‘You see, you … you … understand me, because you are an angel!’ Razumihin cried in ecstasy, ‘let us go! Nastasya! Fly upstairs and sit with him with a light; I’ll come in a quarter of an hour.’ Though Pulcheria Alexandrovna was not perfectly convinced, she made no further resistance. Razumihin gave an arm to each and drew them down the stairs. He 361 of 967 Crime and Punishment still made her uneasy, as though he was competent and good-natured, was he capable of carrying out his promise? He seemed in such a condition…. ‘Ah, I see you think I am in such a condition!’ Razumihin broke in upon her thoughts, guessing them, as he strolled along the pavement with huge steps, so that the two ladies could hardly keep up with him, a fact he did not observe, however. ‘Nonsense! That is … I am drunk like a fool, but that’s not it; I am not drunk from wine. It’s seeing you has turned my head … But don’t mind me! Don’t take any notice: I am talking nonsense, I am not worthy of you…. I am utterly unworthy of you! The minute I’ve taken you home, I’ll pour a couple of pailfuls of water over my head in the gutter here, and then I shall be all right…. If only you knew how I love you both! Don’t laugh, and don’t be angry! You may be angry with anyone, but not with me! I am his friend, and therefore I am your friend, too, I want to be … I had a presentiment … Last year there was a moment … though it wasn’t a presentiment really, for you seem to have fallen from heaven. And I expect I shan’t sleep all night … Zossimov was afraid a little time ago that he would go mad … that’s why he mustn’t be irritated.’ ‘What do you say?’ cried the mother. 362 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. ‘Did the doctor really say that?’ asked Avdotya Romanovna, alarmed. ‘Yes, but it’s not so, not a bit of it. He gave him some medicine, a powder, I saw it, and then your coming here…. Ah! It would have been better if you had come to-morrow. It’s a good thing we went away. And in an hour Zossimov himself will report to you about everything. He is not drunk! And I shan’t be drunk…. And what made me get so tight? Because they got me into an argument, damn them! I’ve sworn never to argue! They talk such trash! I almost came to blows! I’ve left my uncle to preside. Would you believe, they insist on complete absence of individualism and that’s just what they relish! Not to be themselves, to be as unlike themselves as they can. That’s what they regard as the highest point of progress. If only their nonsense were their own, but as it is …’ ‘Listen!’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna interrupted timidly, but it only added fuel to the flames. ‘What do you think?’ shouted Razumihin, louder than ever, ‘you think I am attacking them for talking nonsense? Not a bit! I like them to talk nonsense. That’s man’s one privilege over all creation. Through error you come to the truth! I am a man because I err! You never reach any truth 363 of 967 Crime and Punishment without making fourteen mistakes and very likely a hundred and fourteen. And a fine thing, too, in its way; but we can’t even make mistakes on our own account! Talk nonsense, but talk your own nonsense, and I’ll kiss you for it. To go wrong in one’s own way is better than to go right in someone else’s. In the first case you are a man, in the second you’re no better than a bird. Truth won’t escape you, but life can be cramped. There have been examples. And what are we doing now? In science, development, thought, invention, ideals, aims, liberalism, judgment, experience and everything, everything, everything, we are still in the preparatory class at school. We prefer to live on other people’s ideas, it’s what we are used to! Am I right, am I right?’ cried Razumihin, pressing and shaking the two ladies’ hands. ‘Oh, mercy, I do not know,’ cried poor Pulcheria Alexandrovna. ‘Yes, yes … though I don’t agree with you in everything,’ added Avdotya Romanovna earnestly and at once uttered a cry, for he squeezed her hand so painfully. ‘Yes, you say yes … well after that you … you …’ he cried in a transport, ‘you are a fount of goodness, purity, sense … and perfection. Give me your hand … you give me yours, too! I want to kiss your hands here at once, on 364 of 967 Crime and Punishment my knees …’ and he fell on his knees on the pavement, fortunately at that time deserted. ‘Leave off, I entreat you, what are you doing?’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna cried, greatly distressed. ‘Get up, get up!’ said Dounia laughing, though she, too, was upset. ‘Not for anything till you let me kiss your hands! That’s it! Enough! I get up and we’ll go on! I am a luckless fool, I am unworthy of you and drunk … and I am ashamed…. I am not worthy to love you, but to do homage to you is the duty of every man who is not a perfect beast! And I’ve done homage…. Here are your lodgings, and for that alone Rodya was right in driving your Pyotr Petrovitch away…. How dare he! how dare he put you in such lodgings! It’s a scandal! Do you know the sort of people they take in here? And you his betrothed! You are his betrothed? Yes? Well, then, I’ll tell you, your fiancé is a scoundrel.’ ‘Excuse me, Mr. Razumihin, you are forgetting …’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna was beginning. ‘Yes, yes, you are right, I did forget myself, I am ashamed of it,’ Razumihin made haste to apologise. ‘But … but you can’t be angry with me for speaking so! For I speak sincerely and not because … hm, hm! That would 365 of 967 Crime and Punishment be disgraceful; in fact not because I’m in … hm! Well, anyway, I won’t say why, I daren’t…. But we all saw today when he came in that that man is not of our sort. Not because he had his hair curled at the barber’s, not because he was in such a hurry to show his wit, but because he is a spy, a speculator, because he is a skin-flint and a buffoon. That’s evident. Do you think him clever? No, he is a fool, a fool. And is he a match for you? Good heavens! Do you see, ladies?’ he stopped suddenly on the way upstairs to their rooms, ‘though all my friends there are drunk, yet they are all honest, and though we do talk a lot of trash, and I do, too, yet we shall talk our way to the truth at last, for we are on the right path, while Pyotr Petrovitch … is not on the right path. Though I’ve been calling them all sorts of names just now, I do respect them all … though I don’t respect Zametov, I like him, for he is a puppy, and that bullock Zossimov, because he is an honest man and knows his work. But enough, it’s all said and forgiven. Is it forgiven? Well, then, let’s go on. I know this corridor, I’ve been here, there was a scandal here at Number 3…. Where are you here? Which number? eight? Well, lock yourselves in for the night, then. Don’t let anybody in. In a quarter of an hour I’ll come back with news, and half an 366 of 967 Crime and Punishment hour later I’ll bring Zossimov, you’ll see! Good- bye, I’ll run.’ ‘Good heavens, Dounia, what is going to happen?’ said Pulcheria Alexandrovna, addressing her daughter with anxiety and dismay. ‘Don’t worry yourself, mother,’ said Dounia, taking off her hat and cape. ‘God has sent this gentleman to our aid, though he has come from a drinking party. We can depend on him, I assure you. And all that he has done for Rodya….’ ‘Ah. Dounia, goodness knows whether he will come! How could I bring myself to leave Rodya? … And how different, how different I had fancied our meeting! How sullen he was, as though not pleased to see us….’ Tears came into her eyes. ‘No, it’s not that, mother. You didn’t see, you were crying all the time. He is quite unhinged by serious illness—that’s the reason.’ ‘Ah, that illness! What will happen, what will happen? And how he talked to you, Dounia!’ said the mother, looking timidly at her daughter, trying to read her thoughts and, already half consoled by Dounia’s standing up for her brother, which meant that she had already 367 of 967 Crime and Punishment forgiven him. ‘I am sure he will think better of it to-morrow,’ she added, probing her further. ‘And I am sure that he will say the same to-morrow … about that,’ Avdotya Romanovna said finally. And, of course, there was no going beyond that, for this was a point which Pulcheria Alexandrovna was afraid to discuss. Dounia went up and kissed her mother. The latter warmly embraced her without speaking. Then she sat down to wait anxiously for Razumihin’s return, timidly watching her daughter who walked up and down the room with her arms folded, lost in thought. This walking up and down when she was thinking was a habit of Avdotya Romanovna’s and the mother was always afraid to break in on her daughter’s mood at such moments. Razumihin, of course, was ridiculous in his sudden drunken infatuation for Avdotya Romanovna. Yet apart from his eccentric condition, many people would have thought it justified if they had seen Avdotya Romanovna, especially at that moment when she was walking to and fro with folded arms, pensive and melancholy. Avdotya Romanovna was remarkably good looking; she was tall, strikingly well-proportioned, strong and self-reliant—the latter quality was apparent in every gesture, though it did not in the least detract from the grace and softness of her 368 of 967 Crime and Punishment movements. In face she resembled her brother, but she might be described as really beautiful. Her hair was dark brown, a little lighter than her brother’s; there was a proud light in her almost black eyes and yet at times a look of extraordinary kindness. She was pale, but it was a healthy pallor; her face was radiant with freshness and vigour. Her mouth was rather small; the full red lower lip projected a little as did her chin; it was the only irregularity in her beautiful face, but it gave it a peculiarly individual and almost haughty expression. Her face was always more serious and thoughtful than gay; but how well smiles, how well youthful, lighthearted, irresponsible, laughter suited her face! It was natural enough that a warm, open, simple-hearted, honest giant like Razumihin, who had never seen anyone like her and was not quite sober at the time, should lose his head immediately. Besides, as chance would have it, he saw Dounia for the first time transfigured by her love for her brother and her joy at meeting him. Afterwards he saw her lower lip quiver with indignation at her brother’s insolent, cruel and ungrateful words—and his fate was sealed. He had spoken the truth, moreover, when he blurted out in his drunken talk on the stairs that Praskovya Pavlovna, Raskolnikov’s eccentric landlady, would be 369 of 967 Crime and Punishment jealous of Pulcheria Alexandrovna as well as of Avdotya Romanovna on his account. Although Pulcheria Alexandrovna was forty-three, her face still retained traces of her former beauty; she looked much younger than her age, indeed, which is almost always the case with women who retain serenity of spirit, sensitiveness and pure sincere warmth of heart to old age. We may add in parenthesis that to preserve all this is the only means of retaining beauty to old age. Her hair had begun to grow grey and thin, there had long been little crow’s foot wrinkles round her eyes, her cheeks were hollow and sunken from anxiety and grief, and yet it was a handsome face. She was Dounia over again, twenty years older, but without the projecting underlip. Pulcheria Alexandrovna was emotional, but not sentimental, timid and yielding, but only to a certain point. She could give way and accept a great deal even of what was contrary to her convictions, but there was a certain barrier fixed by honesty, principle and the deepest convictions which nothing would induce her to cross. Exactly twenty minutes after Razumihin’s departure, there came two subdued but hurried knocks at the door: he had come back. ‘I won’t come in, I haven’t time,’ he hastened to say when the door was opened. ‘He sleeps like a top, soundly, 370 of 967 Crime and Punishment quietly, and God grant he may sleep ten hours. Nastasya’s with him; I told her not to leave till I came. Now I am fetching Zossimov, he will report to you and then you’d better turn in; I can see you are too tired to do anything….’ And he ran off down the corridor. ‘What a very competent and … devoted young man!’ cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna exceedingly delighted. ‘He seems a splendid person!’ Avdotya Romanovna replied with some warmth, resuming her walk up and down the room. It was nearly an hour later when they heard footsteps in the corridor and another knock at the door. Both women waited this time completely relying on Razumihin’s promise; he actually had succeeded in bringing Zossimov. Zossimov had agreed at once to desert the drinking party to go to Raskolnikov’s, but he came reluctantly and with the greatest suspicion to see the ladies, mistrusting Razumihin in his exhilarated condition. But his vanity was at once reassured and flattered; he saw that they were really expecting him as an oracle. He stayed just ten minutes and succeeded in completely convincing and comforting Pulcheria Alexandrovna. He spoke with marked sympathy, but with the reserve and extreme 371 of 967 Crime and Punishment seriousness of a young doctor at an important consultation. He did not utter a word on any other subject and did not display the slightest desire to enter into more personal relations with the two ladies. Remarking at his first entrance the dazzling beauty of Avdotya Romanovna, he endeavoured not to notice her at all during his visit and addressed himself solely to Pulcheria Alexandrovna. All this gave him extraordinary inward satisfaction. He declared that he thought the invalid at this moment going on very satisfactorily. According to his observations the patient’s illness was due partly to his unfortunate material surroundings during the last few months, but it had partly also a moral origin, ‘was, so to speak, the product of several material and moral influences, anxieties, apprehensions, troubles, certain ideas … and so on.’ Noticing stealthily that Avdotya Romanovna was following his words with close attention, Zossimov allowed himself to enlarge on this theme. On Pulcheria Alexandrovna’s anxiously and timidly inquiring as to ‘some suspicion of insanity,’ he replied with a composed and candid smile that his words had been exaggerated; that certainly the patient had some fixed idea, something approaching a monomania—he, Zossimov, was now particularly studying this interesting branch of medicine— 372 of 967 Crime and Punishment but that it must be recollected that until to-day the patient had been in delirium and … and that no doubt the presence of his family would have a favourable effect on his recovery and distract his mind, ‘if only all fresh shocks can be avoided,’ he added significantly. Then he got up, took leave with an impressive and affable bow, while blessings, warm gratitude, and entreaties were showered upon him, and Avdotya Romanovna spontaneously offered her hand to him. He went out exceedingly pleased with his visit and still more so with himself. ‘We’ll talk to-morrow; go to bed at once!’ Razumihin said in conclusion, following Zossimov out. ‘I’ll be with you to-morrow morning as early as possible with my report.’ ‘That’s a fetching little girl, Avdotya Romanovna,’ remarked Zossimov, almost licking his lips as they both came out into the street. ‘Fetching? You said fetching?’ roared Razumihin and he flew at Zossimov and seized him by the throat. ‘If you ever dare…. Do you understand? Do you understand?’ he shouted, shaking him by the collar and squeezing him against the wall. ‘Do you hear?’ ‘Let me go, you drunken devil,’ said Zossimov, struggling and when he had let him go, he stared at him 373 of 967 Crime and Punishment and went off into a sudden guffaw. Razumihin stood facing him in gloomy and earnest reflection. ‘Of course, I am an ass,’ he observed, sombre as a storm cloud, ‘but still … you are another.’ ‘No, brother, not at all such another. I am not dreaming of any folly.’ They walked along in silence and only when they were close to Raskolnikov’s lodgings, Razumihin broke the silence in considerable anxiety. ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘you’re a first-rate fellow, but among your other failings, you’re a loose fish, that I know, and a dirty one, too. You are a feeble, nervous wretch, and a mass of whims, you’re getting fat and lazy and can’t deny yourself anything—and I call that dirty because it leads one straight into the dirt. You’ve let yourself get so slack that I don’t know how it is you are still a good, even a devoted doctor. You—a doctor—sleep on a feather bed and get up at night to your patients! In another three or four years you won’t get up for your patients … But hang it all, that’s not the point! … You are going to spend to-night in the landlady’s flat here. (Hard work I’ve had to persuade her!) And I’ll be in the kitchen. So here’s a chance for you to get to know her better…. It’s not as you think! There’s not a trace of anything of the sort, brother …!’ 374 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. ‘But I don’t think!’ ‘Here you have modesty, brother, silence, bashfulness, a savage virtue … and yet she’s sighing and melting like wax, simply melting! Save me from her, by all that’s unholy! She’s most prepossessing … I’ll repay you, I’ll do anything….’ Zossimov laughed more violently than ever. ‘Well, you are smitten! But what am I to do with her?’ ‘It won’t be much trouble, I assure you. Talk any rot you like to her, as long as you sit by her and talk. You’re a doctor, too; try curing her of something. I swear you won’t regret it. She has a piano, and you know, I strum a little. I have a song there, a genuine Russian one: ‘I shed hot tears.’ She likes the genuine article—and well, it all began with that song; Now you’re a regular performer, a maître a Rubinstein…. I assure you, you won’t regret it!’ ‘But have you made her some promise? Something signed? A promise of marriage, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, nothing, absolutely nothing of the kind! Besides she is not that sort at all…. Tchebarov tried that….’ ‘Well then, drop her!’ ‘But I can’t drop her like that!’ ‘Why can’t you?’ 375 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Well, I can’t, that’s all about it! There’s an element of attraction here, brother.’ ‘Then why have you fascinated her?’ ‘I haven’t fascinated her; perhaps I was fascinated myself in my folly. But she won’t care a straw whether it’s you or I, so long as somebody sits beside her, sighing…. I can’t explain the position, brother … look here, you are good at mathematics, and working at it now … begin teaching her the integral calculus; upon my soul, I’m not joking, I’m in earnest, it’ll be just the same to her. She will gaze at you and sigh for a whole year together. I talked to her once for two days at a time about the Prussian House of Lords (for one must talk of something)—she just sighed and perspired! And you mustn’t talk of love—she’s bashful to hysterics—but just let her see you can’t tear yourself away—that’s enough. It’s fearfully comfortable; you’re quite at home, you can read, sit, lie about, write. You may even venture on a kiss, if you’re careful.’ ‘But what do I want with her?’ ‘Ach, I can’t make you understand! You see, you are made for each other! I have often been reminded of you! … You’ll come to it in the end! So does it matter whether it’s sooner or later? There’s the feather-bed element here, brother—ach! and not only that! There’s an attraction 376 of 967 Crime and Punishment here—here you have the end of the world, an anchorage, a quiet haven, the navel of the earth, the three fishes that are the foundation of the world, the essence of pancakes, of savoury fish- pies, of the evening samovar, of soft sighs and warm shawls, and hot stoves to sleep on—as snug as though you were dead, and yet you’re alive—the advantages of both at once! Well, hang it, brother, what stuff I’m talking, it’s bedtime! Listen. I sometimes wake up at night; so I’ll go in and look at him. But there’s no need, it’s all right. Don’t you worry yourself, yet if you like, you might just look in once, too. But if you notice anything— delirium or fever—wake me at once. But there can’t be….’ 377 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter II Razumihin waked up next morning at eight o’clock, troubled and serious. He found himself confronted with many new and unlooked-for perplexities. He had never expected that he would ever wake up feeling like that. He remembered every detail of the previous day and he knew that a perfectly novel experience had befallen him, that he had received an impression unlike anything he had known before. At the same time he recognised clearly that the dream which had fired his imagination was hopelessly unattainable—so unattainable that he felt positively ashamed of it, and he hastened to pass to the other more practical cares and difficulties bequeathed him by that ‘thrice accursed yesterday.’ The most awful recollection of the previous day was the way he had shown himself ‘base and mean,’ not only because he had been drunk, but because he had taken advantage of the young girl’s position to abuse her fiancé in his stupid jealousy, knowing nothing of their mutual relations and obligations and next to nothing of the man himself. And what right had he to criticise him in that hasty and unguarded manner? Who had asked for his 378 of 967 Crime and Punishment opinion? Was it thinkable that such a creature as Avdotya Romanovna would be marrying an unworthy man for money? So there must be something in him. The lodgings? But after all how could he know the character of the lodgings? He was furnishing a flat … Foo! how despicable it all was! And what justification was it that he was drunk? Such a stupid excuse was even more degrading! In wine is truth, and the truth had all come out, ‘that is, all the uncleanness of his coarse and envious heart’! And would such a dream ever be permissible to him, Razumihin? What was he beside such a girl—he, the drunken noisy braggart of last night? Was it possible to imagine so absurd and cynical a juxtaposition? Razumihin blushed desperately at the very idea and suddenly the recollection forced itself vividly upon him of how he had said last night on the stairs that the landlady would be jealous of Avdotya Romanovna … that was simply intolerable. He brought his fist down heavily on the kitchen stove, hurt his hand and sent one of the bricks flying. ‘Of course,’ he muttered to himself a minute later with a feeling of self-abasement, ‘of course, all these infamies can never be wiped out or smoothed over … and so it’s useless even to think of it, and I must go to them in 379 of 967 Crime and Punishment silence and do my duty … in silence, too … and not ask forgiveness, and say nothing … for all is lost now!’ And yet as he dressed he examined his attire more carefully than usual. He hadn’t another suit—if he had had, perhaps he wouldn’t have put it on. ‘I would have made a point of not putting it on.’ But in any case he could not remain a cynic and a dirty sloven; he had no right to offend the feelings of others, especially when they were in need of his assistance and asking him to see them. He brushed his clothes carefully. His linen was always decent; in that respect he was especially clean. He washed that morning scrupulously—he got some soap from Nastasya— he washed his hair, his neck and especially his hands. When it came to the question whether to shave his stubbly chin or not (Praskovya Pavlovna had capital razors that had been left by her late husband), the question was angrily answered in the negative. ‘Let it stay as it is! What if they think that I shaved on purpose to …? They certainly would think so! Not on any account!’ ‘And … the worst of it was he was so coarse, so dirty, he had the manners of a pothouse; and … and even admitting that he knew he had some of the essentials of a gentleman … what was there in that to be proud of? 380 of 967 Crime and Punishment Everyone ought to be a gentleman and more than that … and all the same (he remembered) he, too, had done little things … not exactly dishonest, and yet…. And what thoughts he sometimes had; hm … and to set all that beside Avdotya Romanovna! Confound it! So be it! Well, he’d make a point then of being dirty, greasy, pothouse in his manners and he wouldn’t care! He’d be worse!’ He was engaged in such monologues when Zossimov, who had spent the night in Praskovya Pavlovna’s parlour, came in. He was going home and was in a hurry to look at the invalid first. Razumihin informed him that Raskolnikov was sleeping like a dormouse. Zossimov gave orders that they shouldn’t wake him and promised to see him again about eleven. ‘If he is still at home,’ he added. ‘Damn it all! If one can’t control one’s patients, how is one to cure them? Do you know whether he will go to them, or whether they are coming here?’ ‘They are coming, I think,’ said Razumihin, understanding the object of the question, ‘and they will discuss their family affairs, no doubt. I’ll be off. You, as the doctor, have more right to be here than I.’ 381 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘But I am not a father confessor; I shall come and go away; I’ve plenty to do besides looking after them.’ ‘One thing worries me,’ interposed Razumihin, frowning. ‘On the way home I talked a lot of drunken nonsense to him … all sorts of things … and amongst them that you were afraid that he … might become insane.’ ‘You told the ladies so, too.’ ‘I know it was stupid! You may beat me if you like! Did you think so seriously?’ ‘That’s nonsense, I tell you, how could I think it seriously? You, yourself, described him as a monomaniac when you fetched me to him … and we added fuel to the fire yesterday, you did, that is, with your story about the painter; it was a nice conversation, when he was, perhaps, mad on that very point! If only I’d known what happened then at the police station and that some wretch … had insulted him with this suspicion! Hm … I would not have allowed that conversation yesterday. These monomaniacs will make a mountain out of a mole-hill … and see their fancies as solid realities…. As far as I remember, it was Zametov’s story that cleared up half the mystery, to my mind. Why, I know one case in which a hypochondriac, a man of forty, cut the throat of a little boy of eight, because 382 of 967 Crime and Punishment he couldn’t endure the jokes he made every day at table! And in this case his rags, the insolent police officer, the fever and this suspicion! All that working upon a man half frantic with hypochondria, and with his morbid exceptional vanity! That may well have been the starting-point of illness. Well, bother it all! … And, by the way, that Zametov certainly is a nice fellow, but hm … he shouldn’t have told all that last night. He is an awful chatterbox!’ ‘But whom did he tell it to? You and me?’ ‘And Porfiry.’ ‘What does that matter?’ ‘And, by the way, have you any influence on them, his mother and sister? Tell them to be more careful with him to-day….’ ‘They’ll get on all right!’ Razumihin answered reluctantly. ‘Why is he so set against this Luzhin? A man with money and she doesn’t seem to dislike him … and they haven’t a farthing, I suppose? eh?’ ‘But what business is it of yours?’ Razumihin cried with annoyance. ‘How can I tell whether they’ve a farthing? Ask them yourself and perhaps you’ll find out….’ 383 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Foo! what an ass you are sometimes! Last night’s wine has not gone off yet…. Good-bye; thank your Praskovya Pavlovna from me for my night’s lodging. She locked herself in, made no reply to my bonjour through the door; she was up at seven o’clock, the samovar was taken into her from the kitchen. I was not vouchsafed a personal interview….’ At nine o’clock precisely Razumihin reached the lodgings at Bakaleyev’s house. Both ladies were waiting for him with nervous impatience. They had risen at seven o’clock or earlier. He entered looking as black as night, bowed awkwardly and was at once furious with himself for it. He had reckoned without his host: Pulcheria Alexandrovna fairly rushed at him, seized him by both hands and was almost kissing them. He glanced timidly at Avdotya Romanovna, but her proud countenance wore at that moment an expression of such gratitude and friendliness, such complete and unlooked-for respect (in place of the sneering looks and ill-disguised contempt he had expected), that it threw him into greater confusion than if he had been met with abuse. Fortunately there was a subject for conversation, and he made haste to snatch at it. 384 of 967 Crime and Punishment Hearing that everything was going well and that Rodya had not yet waked, Pulcheria Alexandrovna declared that she was glad to hear it, because ‘she had something which it was very, very necessary to talk over beforehand.’ Then followed an inquiry about breakfast and an invitation to have it with them; they had waited to have it with him. Avdotya Romanovna rang the bell: it was answered by a ragged dirty waiter, and they asked him to bring tea which was served at last, but in such a dirty and disorderly way that the ladies were ashamed. Razumihin vigorously attacked the lodgings, but, remembering Luzhin, stopped in embarrassment and was greatly relieved by Pulcheria Alexandrovna’s questions, which showered in a continual stream upon him. He talked for three quarters of an hour, being constantly interrupted by their questions, and succeeded in describing to them all the most important facts he knew of the last year of Raskolnikov’s life, concluding with a circumstantial account of his illness. He omitted, however, many things, which were better omitted, including the scene at the police station with all its consequences. They listened eagerly to his story, and, when he thought he had finished and satisfied his listeners, he found that they considered he had hardly begun. 385 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Tell me, tell me! What do you think … ? Excuse me, I still don’t know your name!’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna put in hastily. ‘Dmitri Prokofitch.’ ‘I should like very, very much to know, Dmitri Prokofitch … how he looks … on things in general now, that is, how can I explain, what are his likes and dislikes? Is he always so irritable? Tell me, if you can, what are his hopes and, so to say, his dreams? Under what influences is he now? In a word, I should like …’ ‘Ah, mother, how can he answer all that at once?’ observed Dounia. ‘Good heavens, I had not expected to find him in the least like this, Dmitri Prokofitch!’ ‘Naturally,’ answered Razumihin. ‘I have no mother, but my uncle comes every year and almost every time he can scarcely recognise me, even in appearance, though he is a clever man; and your three years’ separation means a great deal. What am I to tell you? I have known Rodion for a year and a half; he is morose, gloomy, proud and haughty, and of late—and perhaps for a long time before—he has been suspicious and fanciful. He has a noble nature and a kind heart. He does not like showing his feelings and would rather do a cruel thing than open 386 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. his heart freely. Sometimes, though, he is not at all morbid, but simply cold and inhumanly callous; it’s as though he were alternating between two characters. Sometimes he is fearfully reserved! He says he is so busy that everything is a hindrance, and yet he lies in bed doing nothing. He doesn’t jeer at things, not because he hasn’t the wit, but as though he hadn’t time to waste on such trifles. He never listens to what is said to him. He is never interested in what interests other people at any given moment. He thinks very highly of himself and perhaps he is right. Well, what more? I think your arrival will have a most beneficial influence upon him.’ ‘God grant it may,’ cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna, distressed by Razumihin’s account of her Rodya. And Razumihin ventured to look more boldly at Avdotya Romanovna at last. He glanced at her often while he was talking, but only for a moment and looked away again at once. Avdotya Romanovna sat at the table, listening attentively, then got up again and began walking to and fro with her arms folded and her lips compressed, occasionally putting in a question, without stopping her walk. She had the same habit of not listening to what was said. She was wearing a dress of thin dark stuff and she had a white transparent scarf round her neck. Razumihin soon 387 of 967 Crime and Punishment detected signs of extreme poverty in their belongings. Had Avdotya Romanovna been dressed like a queen, he felt that he would not be afraid of her, but perhaps just because she was poorly dressed and that he noticed all the misery of her surroundings, his heart was filled with dread and he began to be afraid of every word he uttered, every gesture he made, which was very trying for a man who already felt diffident. ‘You’ve told us a great deal that is interesting about my brother’s character … and have told it impartially. I am glad. I thought that you were too uncritically devoted to him,’ observed Avdotya Romanovna with a smile. ‘I think you are right that he needs a woman’s care,’ she added thoughtfully. ‘I didn’t say so; but I daresay you are right, only …’ ‘What?’ ‘He loves no one and perhaps he never will,’ Razumihin declared decisively. ‘You mean he is not capable of love?’ ‘Do you know, Avdotya Romanovna, you are awfully like your brother, in everything, indeed!’ he blurted out suddenly to his own surprise, but remembering at once what he had just before said of her brother, he turned as red as a crab and was overcome with confusion. Avdotya 388 of 967 Crime and Punishment Romanovna couldn’t help laughing when she looked at him. ‘You may both be mistaken about Rodya,’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna remarked, slightly piqued. ‘I am not talking of our present difficulty, Dounia. What Pyotr Petrovitch writes in this letter and what you and I have supposed may be mistaken, but you can’t imagine, Dmitri Prokofitch, how moody and, so to say, capricious he is. I never could depend on what he would do when he was only fifteen. And I am sure that he might do something now that nobody else would think of doing … Well, for instance, do you know how a year and a half ago he astounded me and gave me a shock that nearly killed me, when he had the idea of marrying that girl—what was her name—his landlady’s daughter?’ ‘Did you hear about that affair?’ asked Avdotya Romanovna. ‘Do you suppose——’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna continued warmly. ‘Do you suppose that my tears, my entreaties, my illness, my possible death from grief, our poverty would have made him pause? No, he would calmly have disregarded all obstacles. And yet it isn’t that he doesn’t love us!’ 389 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘He has never spoken a word of that affair to me,’ Razumihin answered cautiously. ‘But I did hear something from Praskovya Pavlovna herself, though she is by no means a gossip. And what I heard certainly was rather strange.’ ‘And what did you hear?’ both the ladies asked at once. ‘Well, nothing very special. I only learned that the marriage, which only failed to take place through the girl’s death, was not at all to Praskovya Pavlovna’s liking. They say, too, the girl was not at all pretty, in fact I am told positively ugly … and such an invalid … and queer. But she seems to have had some good qualities. She must have had some good qualities or it’s quite inexplicable…. She had no money either and he wouldn’t have considered her money…. But it’s always difficult to judge in such matters.’ ‘I am sure she was a good girl,’ Avdotya Romanovna observed briefly. ‘God forgive me, I simply rejoiced at her death. Though I don’t know which of them would have caused most misery to the other—he to her or she to him,’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna concluded. Then she began tentatively questioning him about the scene on the previous day with Luzhin, hesitating and continually 390 of 967 Crime and Punishment glancing at Dounia, obviously to the latter’s annoyance. This incident more than all the rest evidently caused her uneasiness, even consternation. Razumihin described it in detail again, but this time he added his own conclusions: he openly blamed Raskolnikov for intentionally insulting Pyotr Petrovitch, not seeking to excuse him on the score of his illness. ‘He had planned it before his illness,’ he added. ‘I think so, too,’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna agreed with a dejected air. But she was very much surprised at hearing Razumihin express himself so carefully and even with a certain respect about Pyotr Petrovitch. Avdotya Romanovna, too, was struck by it. ‘So this is your opinion of Pyotr Petrovitch?’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna could not resist asking. ‘I can have no other opinion of your daughter’s future husband,’ Razumihin answered firmly and with warmth, ‘and I don’t say it simply from vulgar politeness, but because … simply because Avdotya Romanovna has of her own free will deigned to accept this man. If I spoke so rudely of him last night, it was because I was disgustingly drunk and … mad besides; yes, mad, crazy, I lost my head completely … and this morning I am ashamed of it.’ 391 of 967 Crime and Punishment He crimsoned and ceased speaking. Avdotya Romanovna flushed, but did not break the silence. She had not uttered a word from the moment they began to speak of Luzhin. Without her support Pulcheria Alexandrovna obviously did not know what to do. At last, faltering and continually glancing at her daughter, she confessed that she was exceedingly worried by one circumstance. ‘You see, Dmitri Prokofitch,’ she began. ‘I’ll be perfectly open with Dmitri Prokofitch, Dounia?’ ‘Of course, mother,’ said Avdotya Romanovna emphatically. ‘This is what it is,’ she began in haste, as though the permission to speak of her trouble lifted a weight off her mind. ‘Very early this morning we got a note from Pyotr Petrovitch in reply to our letter announcing our arrival. He promised to meet us at the station, you know; instead of that he sent a servant to bring us the address of these lodgings and to show us the way; and he sent a message that he would be here himself this morning. But this morning this note came from him. You’d better read it yourself; there is one point in it which worries me very much … you will soon see what that is, and … tell me your candid opinion, Dmitri Prokofitch! You know 392 of 967 Crime and Punishment Rodya’s character better than anyone and no one can advise us better than you can. Dounia, I must tell you, made her decision at once, but I still don’t feel sure how to act and I … I’ve been waiting for your opinion.’ Razumihin opened the note which was dated the previous evening and read as follows: "Dear Madam, Pulcheria Alexandrovna, I have the honour to inform you that owing to unforeseen obstacles I was rendered unable to meet you at the railway station; I sent a very competent person with the same object in view. I likewise shall be deprived of the honour of an interview with you to-morrow morning by business in the Senate that does not admit of delay, and also that I may not intrude on your family circle while you are meeting your son, and Avdotya Romanovna her brother. I shall have the honour of visiting you and paying you my respects at your lodgings not later than to-morrow evening at eight o’clock precisely, and herewith I venture to present my earnest and, I may add, imperative request that Rodion Romanovitch may not be present at our interview—as he offered me a gross and 393 of 967 Crime and Punishment unprecedented affront on the occasion of my visit to him in his illness yesterday, and, moreover, since I desire from you personally an indispensable and circumstantial explanation upon a certain point, in regard to which I wish to learn your own interpretation. I have the honour to inform you, in anticipation, that if, in spite of my request, I meet Rodion Romanovitch, I shall be compelled to withdraw immediately and then you have only yourself to blame. I write on the assumption that Rodion Romanovitch who appeared so ill at my visit, suddenly recovered two hours later and so, being able to leave the house, may visit you also. I was confirmed in that belief by the testimony of my own eyes in the lodging of a drunken man who was run over and has since died, to whose daughter, a young woman of notorious behaviour, he gave twenty-five roubles on the pretext of the funeral, which gravely surprised me knowing what pains you were at to raise that sum. Herewith expressing my special respect to your estimable daughter, Avdotya Romanovna, I beg you to accept the respectful homage of 394 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Your humble servant, ‘P. LUZHIN.’ ‘What am I to do now, Dmitri Prokofitch?’ began Pulcheria Alexandrovna, almost weeping. ‘How can I ask Rodya not to come? Yesterday he insisted so earnestly on our refusing Pyotr Petrovitch and now we are ordered not to receive Rodya! He will come on purpose if he knows, and … what will happen then?’ ‘Act on Avdotya Romanovna’s decision,’ Razumihin answered calmly at once. ‘Oh, dear me! She says … goodness knows what she says, she doesn’t explain her object! She says that it would be best, at least, not that it would be best, but that it’s absolutely necessary that Rodya should make a point of being here at eight o’clock and that they must meet…. I didn’t want even to show him the letter, but to prevent him from coming by some stratagem with your help … because he is so irritable…. Besides I don’t understand about that drunkard who died and that daughter, and how he could have given the daughter all the money … which …’ ‘Which cost you such sacrifice, mother,’ put in Avdotya Romanovna. 395 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘He was not himself yesterday,’ Razumihin said thoughtfully, ‘if you only knew what he was up to in a restaurant yesterday, though there was sense in it too…. Hm! He did say something, as we were going home yesterday evening, about a dead man and a girl, but I didn’t understand a word…. But last night, I myself …’ ‘The best thing, mother, will be for us to go to him ourselves and there I assure you we shall see at once what’s to be done. Besides, it’s getting late—good heavens, it’s past ten,’ she cried looking at a splendid gold enamelled watch which hung round her neck on a thin Venetian chain, and looked entirely out of keeping with the rest of her dress. ‘A present from her fiancé ’ thought Razumihin. ‘We must start, Dounia, we must start,’ her mother cried in a flutter. ‘He will be thinking we are still angry after yesterday, from our coming so late. Merciful heavens!’ While she said this she was hurriedly putting on her hat and mantle; Dounia, too, put on her things. Her gloves, as Razumihin noticed, were not merely shabby but had holes in them, and yet this evident poverty gave the two ladies an air of special dignity, which is always found in people who know how to wear poor clothes. Razumihin looked reverently at Dounia and felt proud of escorting her. ‘The 396 of 967 Crime and Punishment queen who mended her stockings in prison,’ he thought, ‘must have looked then every inch a queen and even more a queen than at sumptuous banquets and levées.’ ‘My God!’ exclaimed Pulcheria Alexandrovna, ‘little did I think that I should ever fear seeing my son, my darling, darling Rodya! I am afraid, Dmitri Prokofitch,’ she added, glancing at him timidly. ‘Don’t be afraid, mother,’ said Dounia, kissing her, ‘better have faith in him.’ ‘Oh, dear, I have faith in him, but I haven’t slept all night,’ exclaimed the poor woman. They came out into the street. ‘Do you know, Dounia, when I dozed a little this morning I dreamed of Marfa Petrovna … she was all in white … she came up to me, took my hand, and shook her head at me, but so sternly as though she were blaming me…. Is that a good omen? Oh, dear me! You don’t know, Dmitri Prokofitch, that Marfa Petrovna’s dead!’ ‘No, I didn’t know; who is Marfa Petrovna?’ ‘She died suddenly; and only fancy …’ ‘Afterwards, mamma,’ put in Dounia. ‘He doesn’t know who Marfa Petrovna is.’ ‘Ah, you don’t know? And I was thinking that you knew all about us. Forgive me, Dmitri Prokofitch, I don’t 397 of 967 Crime and Punishment know what I am thinking about these last few days. I look upon you really as a providence for us, and so I took it for granted that you knew all about us. I look on you as a relation…. Don’t be angry with me for saying so. Dear me, what’s the matter with your right hand? Have you knocked it?’ ‘Yes, I bruised it,’ muttered Razumihin overjoyed. ‘I sometimes speak too much from the heart, so that Dounia finds fault with me…. But, dear me, what a cupboard he lives in! I wonder whether he is awake? Does this woman, his landlady, consider it a room? Listen, you say he does not like to show his feelings, so perhaps I shall annoy him with my … weaknesses? Do advise me, Dmitri Prokofitch, how am I to treat him? I feel quite distracted, you know.’ ‘Don’t question him too much about anything if you see him frown; don’t ask him too much about his health; he doesn’t like that.’ ‘Ah, Dmitri Prokofitch, how hard it is to be a mother! But here are the stairs…. What an awful staircase!’ ‘Mother, you are quite pale, don’t distress yourself, darling,’ said Dounia caressing her, then with flashing eyes she added: ‘He ought to be happy at seeing you, and you are tormenting yourself so.’ 398 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. ‘Wait, I’ll peep in and see whether he has waked up.’ The ladies slowly followed Razumihin, who went on before, and when they reached the landlady’s door on the fourth storey, they noticed that her door was a tiny crack open and that two keen black eyes were watching them from the darkness within. When their eyes met, the door was suddenly shut with such a slam that Pulcheria Alexandrovna almost cried out. 399 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter III ‘He is well, quite well!’ Zossimov cried cheerfully as they entered. He had come in ten minutes earlier and was sitting in the same place as before, on the sofa. Raskolnikov was sitting in the opposite corner, fully dressed and carefully washed and combed, as he had not been for some time past. The room was immediately crowded, yet Nastasya managed to follow the visitors in and stayed to listen. Raskolnikov really was almost well, as compared with his condition the day before, but he was still pale, listless, and sombre. He looked like a wounded man or one who has undergone some terrible physical suffering. His brows were knitted, his lips compressed, his eyes feverish. He spoke little and reluctantly, as though performing a duty, and there was a restlessness in his movements. He only wanted a sling on his arm or a bandage on his finger to complete the impression of a man with a painful abscess or a broken arm. The pale, sombre face lighted up for a moment when his mother and sister entered, but this only gave it a look of more intense suffering, in place of its listless dejection. The light soon died away, but the look 400 of 967 Crime and Punishment of suffering remained, and Zossimov, watching and studying his patient with all the zest of a young doctor beginning to practise, noticed in him no joy at the arrival of his mother and sister, but a sort of bitter, hidden determination to bear another hour or two of inevitable torture. He saw later that almost every word of the following conversation seemed to touch on some sore place and irritate it. But at the same time he marvelled at the power of controlling himself and hiding his feelings in a patient who the previous day had, like a monomaniac, fallen into a frenzy at the slightest word. ‘Yes, I see myself now that I am almost well,’ said Raskolnikov, giving his mother and sister a kiss of welcome which made Pulcheria Alexandrovna radiant at once. ‘And I don’t say this as I did yesterday ’ he said, addressing Razumihin, with a friendly pressure of his hand. ‘Yes, indeed, I am quite surprised at him to-day,’ began Zossimov, much delighted at the ladies’ entrance, for he had not succeeded in keeping up a conversation with his patient for ten minutes. ‘In another three or four days, if he goes on like this, he will be just as before, that is, as he was a month ago, or two … or perhaps even three. This has been coming on for a long while…. eh? Confess, now, 401 of 967 Crime and Punishment that it has been perhaps your own fault?’ he added, with a tentative smile, as though still afraid of irritating him. ‘It is very possible,’ answered Raskolnikov coldly. ‘I should say, too,’ continued Zossimov with zest, ‘that your complete recovery depends solely on yourself. Now that one can talk to you, I should like to impress upon you that it is essential to avoid the elementary, so to speak, fundamental causes tending to produce your morbid condition: in that case you will be cured, if not, it will go from bad to worse. These fundamental causes I don’t know, but they must be known to you. You are an intelligent man, and must have observed yourself, of course. I fancy the first stage of your derangement coincides with your leaving the university. You must not be left without occupation, and so, work and a definite aim set before you might, I fancy, be very beneficial.’ ‘Yes, yes; you are perfectly right…. I will make haste and return to the university: and then everything will go smoothly….’ Zossimov, who had begun his sage advice partly to make an effect before the ladies, was certainly somewhat mystified, when, glancing at his patient, he observed unmistakable mockery on his face. This lasted an instant, however. Pulcheria Alexandrovna began at once thanking 402 of 967 Crime and Punishment Zossimov, especially for his visit to their lodging the previous night. ‘What! he saw you last night?’ Raskolnikov asked, as though startled. ‘Then you have not slept either after your journey.’ ‘Ach, Rodya, that was only till two o’clock. Dounia and I never go to bed before two at home.’ ‘I don’t know how to thank him either,’ Raskolnikov went on, suddenly frowning and looking down. ‘Setting aside the question of payment— forgive me for referring to it (he turned to Zossimov)—I really don’t know what I have done to deserve such special attention from you! I simply don’t understand it … and … and … it weighs upon me, indeed, because I don’t understand it. I tell you so candidly.’ ‘Don’t be irritated.’ Zossimov forced himself to laugh. ‘Assume that you are my first patient—well—we fellows just beginning to practise love our first patients as if they were our children, and some almost fall in love with them. And, of course, I am not rich in patients.’ ‘I say nothing about him,’ added Raskolnikov, pointing to Razumihin, ‘though he has had nothing from me either but insult and trouble.’ 403 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘What nonsense he is talking! Why, you are in a sentimental mood to-day, are you?’ shouted Razumihin. If he had had more penetration he would have seen that there was no trace of sentimentality in him, but something indeed quite the opposite. But Avdotya Romanovna noticed it. She was intently and uneasily watching her brother. ‘As for you, mother, I don’t dare to speak,’ he went on, as though repeating a lesson learned by heart. ‘It is only to-day that I have been able to realise a little how distressed you must have been here yesterday, waiting for me to come back.’ When he had said this, he suddenly held out his hand to his sister, smiling without a word. But in this smile there was a flash of real unfeigned feeling. Dounia caught it at once, and warmly pressed his hand, overjoyed and thankful. It was the first time he had addressed her since their dispute the previous day. The mother’s face lighted up with ecstatic happiness at the sight of this conclusive unspoken reconciliation. ‘Yes, that is what I love him for,’ Razumihin, exaggerating it all, muttered to himself, with a vigorous turn in his chair. ‘He has these movements.’ ‘And how well he does it all,’ the mother was thinking to herself. ‘What generous impulses he has, and how 404 of 967 Crime and Punishment simply, how delicately he put an end to all the misunderstanding with his sister—simply by holding out his hand at the right minute and looking at her like that…. And what fine eyes he has, and how fine his whole face is! … He is even better looking than Dounia…. But, good heavens, what a suit —how terribly he’s dressed! … Vasya, the messenger boy in Afanasy Ivanitch’s shop, is better dressed! I could rush at him and hug him … weep over him—but I am afraid…. Oh, dear, he’s so strange! He’s talking kindly, but I’m afraid! Why, what am I afraid of? …’ ‘Oh, Rodya, you wouldn’t believe,’ she began suddenly, in haste to answer his words to her, ‘how unhappy Dounia and I were yesterday! Now that it’s all over and done with and we are quite happy again—I can tell you. Fancy, we ran here almost straight from the train to embrace you and that woman—ah, here she is! Good morning, Nastasya! … She told us at once that you were lying in a high fever and had just run away from the doctor in delirium, and they were looking for you in the streets. You can’t imagine how we felt! I couldn’t help thinking of the tragic end of Lieutenant Potanchikov, a friend of your father’s— you can’t remember him, Rodya—who ran out in the same way in a high fever and 405 of 967 Crime and Punishment fell into the well in the court-yard and they couldn’t pull him out till next day. Of course, we exaggerated things. We were on the point of rushing to find Pyotr Petrovitch to ask him to help…. Because we were alone, utterly alone,’ she said plaintively and stopped short, suddenly, recollecting it was still somewhat dangerous to speak of Pyotr Petrovitch, although ‘we are quite happy again.’ ‘Yes, yes…. Of course it’s very annoying….’ Raskolnikov muttered in reply, but with such a preoccupied and inattentive air that Dounia gazed at him in perplexity. ‘What else was it I wanted to say?’ He went on trying to recollect. ‘Oh, yes; mother, and you too, Dounia, please don’t think that I didn’t mean to come and see you to-day and was waiting for you to come first.’ ‘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?’ ‘I’ve 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 … I’ve only just dressed.’ 406 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Blood! What blood?’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna asked in alarm. ‘Oh, nothing—don’t 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. ‘That’s true,’ Raskolnikov answered with special carefulness. ‘I remember everything even to the slightest detail, and yet—why I did that and went there and said that, I can’t 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— it’s like a dream.’ ‘Perhaps it’s 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. 407 of 967 Crime and Punishment A normal man, it is true, hardly exists. Among dozens— perhaps hundreds of thousands—hardly 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. She’s a widow now, in consumption, a poor creature … three little children, starving … nothing in the house … there’s a daughter, too … perhaps you’d have given it yourself if you’d 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 n’êtes pas contents . ’ He laughed, ‘That’s right, isn’t it, Dounia?’ ‘No, it’s not,’ answered Dounia firmly. 408 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Bah! you, too, have ideals,’ he muttered, looking at her almost with hatred, and smiling sarcastically. ‘I ought to have considered that…. Well, that’s praiseworthy, and it’s better for you … and if you reach a line you won’t overstep, you will be unhappy … and if you overstep it, maybe you will be still unhappier…. But all that’s 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. ‘That’s enough, Rodya, I am sure that everything you do is very good,’ said his mother, delighted. ‘Don’t be too sure,’ he answered, twisting his mouth into a smile. A silence followed. There was a certain constraint in all this conversation, and in the silence, and in the reconciliation, and in the forgiveness, and all were feeling it. ‘It is as though they were afraid of me,’ Raskolnikov was thinking to himself, looking askance at his mother and sister. Pulcheria Alexandrovna was indeed growing more timid the longer she kept silent. ‘Yet in their absence I seemed to love them so much,’ flashed through his mind. 409 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Do you know, Rodya, Marfa Petrovna is dead,’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna suddenly blurted out. ‘What Marfa Petrovna?’ ‘Oh, mercy on us—Marfa Petrovna Svidrigaïlov. I wrote you so much about her.’ ‘A-a-h! Yes, I remember…. So she’s dead! Oh, really?’ he roused himself suddenly, as if waking up. ‘What did she die of?’ ‘Only imagine, quite suddenly,’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna answered hurriedly, encouraged by his curiosity. ‘On the very day I was sending you that letter! Would you believe it, that awful man seems to have been the cause of her death. They say he beat her dreadfully.’ ‘Why, were they on such bad terms?’ he asked, addressing his sister. ‘Not at all. Quite the contrary indeed. With her, he was always very patient, considerate even. In fact, all those seven years of their married life he gave way to her, too much so indeed, in many cases. All of a sudden he seems to have lost patience.’ ‘Then he could not have been so awful if he controlled himself for seven years? You seem to be defending him, Dounia?’ 410 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. ‘No, no, he’s an awful man! I can imagine nothing more awful!’ Dounia answered, almost with a shudder, knitting her brows, and sinking into thought. ‘That had happened in the morning,’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna went on hurriedly. ‘And directly afterwards she ordered the horses to be harnessed to drive to the town immediately after dinner. She always used to drive to the town in such cases. She ate a very good dinner, I am told….’ ‘After the beating?’ ‘That was always her … habit; and immediately after dinner, so as not to be late in starting, she went to the bath-house…. You see, she was undergoing some treatment with baths. They have a cold spring there, and she used to bathe in it regularly every day, and no sooner had she got into the water when she suddenly had a stroke!’ ‘I should think so,’ said Zossimov. ‘And did he beat her badly?’ ‘What does that matter!’ put in Dounia. ‘H’m! But I don’t know why you want to tell us such gossip, mother,’ said Raskolnikov irritably, as it were in spite of himself. 411 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Ah, my dear, I don’t know what to talk about,’ broke from Pulcheria Alexandrovna. ‘Why, are you all afraid of me?’ he asked, with a constrained smile. ‘That’s certainly true,’ said Dounia, looking directly and sternly at her brother. ‘Mother was crossing herself with terror as she came up the stairs.’ His face worked, as though in convulsion. ‘Ach, what are you saying, Dounia! Don’t be angry, please, Rodya…. Why did you say that, Dounia?’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna began, overwhelmed—‘You see, coming here, I was dreaming all the way, in the train, how we should meet, how we should talk over everything together…. And I was so happy, I did not notice the journey! But what am I saying? I am happy now…. You should not, Dounia…. I am happy now—simply in seeing you, Rodya….’ ‘Hush, mother,’ he muttered in confusion, not looking at her, but pressing her hand. ‘We shall have time to speak freely of everything!’ As he said this, he was suddenly overwhelmed with confusion and turned pale. Again that awful sensation he had known of late passed with deadly chill over his soul. Again it became suddenly plain and perceptible to him 412 of 967 Crime and Punishment that he had just told a fearful lie—that he would never now be able to speak freely of everything—that he would never again be able to speak of anything to anyone. The anguish of this thought was such that for a moment he almost forgot himself. He got up from his seat, and not looking at anyone walked towards the door. ‘What are you about?’ cried Razumihin, clutching him by the arm. He sat down again, and began looking about him, in silence. They were all looking at him in perplexity. ‘But what are you all so dull for?’ he shouted, suddenly and quite unexpectedly. ‘Do say something! What’s the use of sitting like this? Come, do speak. Let us talk…. We meet together and sit in silence…. Come, anything!’ ‘Thank God; I was afraid the same thing as yesterday was beginning again,’ said Pulcheria Alexandrovna, crossing herself. ‘What is the matter, Rodya?’ asked Avdotya Romanovna, distrustfully. ‘Oh, nothing! I remembered something,’ he answered, and suddenly laughed. ‘Well, if you remembered something; that’s all right! … I was beginning to think …’ muttered Zossimov, getting up from the sofa. ‘It is time for me to be off. I will look in 413 of 967 Crime and Punishment again perhaps … if I can …’ He made his bows, and went out. ‘What an excellent man!’ observed Pulcheria Alexandrovna. ‘Yes, excellent, splendid, well-educated, intelligent,’ Raskolnikov began, suddenly speaking with surprising rapidity, and a liveliness he had not shown till then. ‘I can’t remember where I met him before my illness…. I believe I have met him somewhere—— … And this is a good man, too,’ he nodded at Razumihin. ‘Do you like him, Dounia?’ he asked her; and suddenly, for some unknown reason, laughed. ‘Very much,’ answered Dounia. ‘Foo!—what a pig you are!’ Razumihin protested, blushing in terrible confusion, and he got up from his chair. Pulcheria Alexandrovna smiled faintly, but Raskolnikov laughed aloud. ‘Where are you off to?’ ‘I must go.’ ‘You need not at all. Stay. Zossimov has gone, so you must. Don’t go. What’s the time? Is it twelve o’clock? What a pretty watch you have got, Dounia. But why are you all silent again? I do all the talking.’ 414 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘It was a present from Marfa Petrovna,’ answered Dounia. ‘And a very expensive one!’ added Pulcheria Alexandrovna. ‘A-ah! What a big one! Hardly like a lady’s.’ ‘I like that sort,’ said Dounia. ‘So it is not a present from her fiancé ’ thought Razumihin, and was unreasonably delighted. ‘I thought it was Luzhin’s present,’ observed Raskolnikov. ‘No, he has not made Dounia any presents yet.’ ‘A-ah! And do you remember, mother, I was in love and wanted to get married?’ he said suddenly, looking at his mother, who was disconcerted by the sudden change of subject and the way he spoke of it. ‘Oh, yes, my dear.’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna exchanged glances with Dounia and Razumihin. ‘H’m, yes. What shall I tell you? I don’t remember much indeed. She was such a sickly girl,’ he went on, growing dreamy and looking down again. ‘Quite an invalid. She was fond of giving alms to the poor, and was always dreaming of a nunnery, and once she burst into tears when she began talking to me about it. Yes, yes, I 415 of 967 Crime and Punishment remember. I remember very well. She was an ugly little thing. I really don’t know what drew me to her then—I think it was because she was always ill. If she had been lame or hunchback, I believe I should have liked her better still,’ he smiled dreamily. ‘Yes, it was a sort of spring delirium.’ ‘No, it was not only spring delirium,’ said Dounia, with warm feeling. He fixed a strained intent look on his sister, but did not hear or did not understand her words. Then, completely lost in thought, he got up, went up to his mother, kissed her, went back to his place and sat down. ‘You love her even now?’ said Pulcheria Alexandrovna, touched. ‘Her? Now? Oh, yes…. You ask about her? No … that’s all now, as it were, in another world … and so long ago. And indeed everything happening here seems somehow far away.’ He looked attentively at them. ‘You, now … I seem to be looking at you from a thousand miles away … but, goodness knows why we are talking of that! And what’s the use of asking about it?’ he added with annoyance, and biting his nails, fell into dreamy silence again. 416 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘What a wretched lodging you have, Rodya! It’s like a tomb,’ said Pulcheria Alexandrovna, suddenly breaking the oppressive silence. ‘I am sure it’s quite half through your lodging you have become so melancholy.’ ‘My lodging,’ he answered, listlessly. ‘Yes, the lodging had a great deal to do with it…. I thought that, too…. If only you knew, though, what a strange thing you said just now, mother,’ he said, laughing strangely. A little more, and their companionship, this mother and this sister, with him after three years’ absence, this intimate tone of conversation, in face of the utter impossibility of really speaking about anything, would have been beyond his power of endurance. But there was one urgent matter which must be settled one way or the other that day—so he had decided when he woke. Now he was glad to remember it, as a means of escape. ‘Listen, Dounia,’ he began, gravely and drily, ‘of course I beg your pardon for yesterday, but I consider it my duty to tell you again that I do not withdraw from my chief point. It is me or Luzhin. If I am a scoundrel, you must not be. One is enough. If you marry Luzhin, I cease at once to look on you as a sister.’ ‘Rodya, Rodya! It is the same as yesterday again,’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna cried, mournfully. ‘And why do 417 of 967 Crime and Punishment you call yourself a scoundrel? I can’t bear it. You said the same yesterday.’ ‘Brother,’ Dounia answered firmly and with the same dryness. ‘In all this there is a mistake on your part. I thought it over at night, and found out the mistake. It is all because you seem to fancy I am sacrificing myself to someone and for someone. That is not the case at all. I am simply marrying for my own sake, because things are hard for me. Though, of course, I shall be glad if I succeed in being useful to my family. But that is not the chief motive for my decision….’ ‘She is lying,’ he thought to himself, biting his nails vindictively. ‘Proud creature! She won’t admit she wants to do it out of charity! Too haughty! Oh, base characters! They even love as though they hate…. Oh, how I … hate them all!’ ‘In fact,’ continued Dounia, ‘I am marrying Pyotr Petrovitch because of two evils I choose the less. I intend to do honestly all he expects of me, so I am not deceiving him…. Why did you smile just now?’ She, too, flushed, and there was a gleam of anger in her eyes. ‘All?’ he asked, with a malignant grin. ‘Within certain limits. Both the manner and form of Pyotr Petrovitch’s courtship showed me at once what he 418 of 967 Crime and Punishment wanted. He may, of course, think too well of himself, but I hope he esteems me, too…. Why are you laughing again?’ ‘And why are you blushing again? You are lying, sister. You are intentionally lying, simply from feminine obstinacy, simply to hold your own against me…. You cannot respect Luzhin. I have seen him and talked with him. So you are selling yourself for money, and so in any case you are acting basely, and I am glad at least that you can blush for it.’ ‘It is not true. I am not lying,’ cried Dounia, losing her composure. ‘I would not marry him if I were not convinced that he esteems me and thinks highly of me. I would not marry him if I were not firmly convinced that I can respect him. Fortunately, I can have convincing proof of it this very day … and such a marriage is not a vileness, as you say! And even if you were right, if I really had determined on a vile action, is it not merciless on your part to speak to me like that? Why do you demand of me a heroism that perhaps you have not either? It is despotism; it is tyranny. If I ruin anyone, it is only myself…. I am not committing a murder. Why do you look at me like that? Why are you so pale? Rodya, darling, what’s the matter?’ 419 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Good heavens! You have made him faint,’ cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. ‘No, no, nonsense! It’s nothing. A little giddiness—not fainting. You have fainting on the brain. H’m, yes, what was I saying? Oh, yes. In what way will you get convincing proof to-day that you can respect him, and that he … esteems you, as you said. I think you said today?’ ‘Mother, show Rodya Pyotr Petrovitch’s letter,’ said Dounia. With trembling hands, Pulcheria Alexandrovna gave him the letter. He took it with great interest, but, before opening it, he suddenly looked with a sort of wonder at Dounia. ‘It is strange,’ he said, slowly, as though struck by a new idea. ‘What am I making such a fuss for? What is it all about? Marry whom you like!’ He said this as though to himself, but said it aloud, and looked for some time at his sister, as though puzzled. He opened the letter at last, still with the same look of strange wonder on his face. Then, slowly and attentively, he began reading, and read it through twice. Pulcheria Alexandrovna showed marked anxiety, and all indeed expected something particular. 420 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘What surprises me,’ he began, after a short pause, handing the letter to his mother, but not addressing anyone in particular, ‘is that he is a business man, a lawyer, and his conversation is pretentious indeed, and yet he writes such an uneducated letter.’ They all started. They had expected something quite different. ‘But they all write like that, you know,’ Razumihin observed, abruptly. ‘Have you read it?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘We showed him, Rodya. We … consulted him just now,’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna began, embarrassed. ‘That’s just the jargon of the courts,’ Razumihin put in. ‘Legal documents are written like that to this day.’ ‘Legal? Yes, it’s just legal—business language—not so very uneducated, and not quite educated—business language!’ ‘Pyotr Petrovitch makes no secret of the fact that he had a cheap education, he is proud indeed of having made his own way,’ Avdotya Romanovna observed, somewhat offended by her brother’s tone. ‘Well, if he’s proud of it, he has reason, I don’t deny it. You seem to be offended, sister, at my making only such a 421 of 967 Crime and Punishment frivolous criticism on the letter, and to think that I speak of such trifling matters on purpose to annoy you. It is quite the contrary, an observation apropos of the style occurred to me that is by no means irrelevant as things stand. There is one expression, ‘blame yourselves’ put in very significantly and plainly, and there is besides a threat that he will go away at once if I am present. That threat to go away is equivalent to a threat to abandon you both if you are disobedient, and to abandon you now after summoning you to Petersburg. Well, what do you think? Can one resent such an expression from Luzhin, as we should if he (he pointed to Razumihin) had written it, or Zossimov, or one of us?’ ‘N-no,’ answered Dounia, with more animation. ‘I saw clearly that it was too naïvely expressed, and that perhaps he simply has no skill in writing … that is a true criticism, brother. I did not expect, indeed …’ ‘It is expressed in legal style, and sounds coarser than perhaps he intended. But I must disillusion you a little. There is one expression in the letter, one slander about me, and rather a contemptible one. I gave the money last night to the widow, a woman in consumption, crushed with trouble, and not ‘on the pretext of the funeral,’ but simply to pay for the funeral, and not to the daughter—a 422 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. young woman, as he writes, of notorious behaviour (whom I saw last night for the first time in my life)—but to the widow. In all this I see a too hasty desire to slander me and to raise dissension between us. It is expressed again in legal jargon, that is to say, with a too obvious display of the aim, and with a very naïve eagerness. He is a man of intelligence, but to act sensibly, intelligence is not enough. It all shows the man and … I don’t think he has a great esteem for you. I tell you this simply to warn you, because I sincerely wish for your good …’ Dounia did not reply. Her resolution had been taken. She was only awaiting the evening. ‘Then what is your decision, Rodya?’ asked Pulcheria Alexandrovna, who was more uneasy than ever at the sudden, new businesslike tone of his talk. ‘What decision?’ ‘You see Pyotr Petrovitch writes that you are not to be with us this evening, and that he will go away if you come. So will you … come?’ ‘That, of course, is not for me to decide, but for you first, if you are not offended by such a request; and secondly, by Dounia, if she, too, is not offended. I will do what you think best,’ he added, drily. 423 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Dounia has already decided, and I fully agree with her,’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna hastened to declare. ‘I decided to ask you, Rodya, to urge you not to fail to be with us at this interview,’ said Dounia. ‘Will you come?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘I will ask you, too, to be with us at eight o’clock,’ she said, addressing Razumihin. ‘Mother, I am inviting him, too.’ ‘Quite right, Dounia. Well, since you have decided,’ added Pulcheria Alexandrovna, ‘so be it. I shall feel easier myself. I do not like concealment and deception. Better let us have the whole truth…. Pyotr Petrovitch may be angry or not, now!’ 424 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter IV At that moment the door was softly opened, and a young girl walked into the room, looking timidly about her. Everyone turned towards her with surprise and curiosity. At first sight, Raskolnikov did not recognise her. It was Sofya Semyonovna Marmeladov. He had seen her yesterday for the first time, but at such a moment, in such surroundings and in such a dress, that his memory retained a very different image of her. Now she was a modestly and poorly-dressed young girl, very young, indeed, almost like a child, with a modest and refined manner, with a candid but somewhat frightened-looking face. She was wearing a very plain indoor dress, and had on a shabby old-fashioned hat, but she still carried a parasol. Unexpectedly finding the room full of people, she was not so much embarrassed as completely overwhelmed with shyness, like a little child. She was even about to retreat. ‘Oh … it’s you!’ said Raskolnikov, extremely astonished, and he, too, was confused. He at once recollected that his mother and sister knew through Luzhin’s letter of ‘some young woman of notorious behaviour.’ He had only just been protesting against Luzhin’s calumny and declaring that he 425 of 967 Crime and Punishment had seen the girl last night for the first time, and suddenly she had walked in. He remembered, too, that he had not protested against the expression ‘of notorious behaviour.’ All this passed vaguely and fleetingly through his brain, but looking at her more intently, he saw that the humiliated creature was so humiliated that he felt suddenly sorry for her. When she made a movement to retreat in terror, it sent a pang to his heart. ‘I did not expect you,’ he said, hurriedly, with a look that made her stop. ‘Please sit down. You come, no doubt, from Katerina Ivanovna. Allow me—not there. Sit here….’ At Sonia’s entrance, Razumihin, who had been sitting on one of Raskolnikov’s three chairs, close to the door, got up to allow her to enter. Raskolnikov had at first shown her the place on the sofa where Zossimov had been sitting, but feeling that the sofa which served him as a bed, was too familiar a place, he hurriedly motioned her to Razumihin’s chair. ‘You sit here,’ he said to Razumihin, putting him on the sofa. Sonia sat down, almost shaking with terror, and looked timidly at the two ladies. It was evidently almost inconceivable to herself that she could sit down beside 426 of 967 Crime and Punishment them. At the thought of it, she was so frightened that she hurriedly got up again, and in utter confusion addressed Raskolnikov. ‘I … I … have come for one minute. Forgive me for disturbing you,’ she began falteringly. ‘I come from Katerina Ivanovna, and she had no one to send. Katerina Ivanovna told me to beg you … to be at the service … in the morning … at Mitrofanievsky … and then … to us … to her … to do her the honour … she told me to beg you …’ Sonia stammered and ceased speaking. ‘I will try, certainly, most certainly,’ answered Raskolnikov. He, too, stood up, and he, too, faltered and could not finish his sentence. ‘Please sit down,’ he said, suddenly. ‘I want to talk to you. You are perhaps in a hurry, but please, be so kind, spare me two minutes,’ and he drew up a chair for her. Sonia sat down again, and again timidly she took a hurried, frightened look at the two ladies, and dropped her eyes. Raskolnikov’s pale face flushed, a shudder passed over him, his eyes glowed. ‘Mother,’ he said, firmly and insistently, ‘this is Sofya Semyonovna Marmeladov, the daughter of that unfortunate Mr. Marmeladov, who was run over yesterday before my eyes, and of whom I was just telling you.’ 427 of 967 Crime and Punishment Pulcheria Alexandrovna glanced at Sonia, and slightly screwed up her eyes. In spite of her embarrassment before Rodya’s urgent and challenging look, she could not deny herself that satisfaction. Dounia gazed gravely and intently into the poor girl’s face, and scrutinised her with perplexity. Sonia, hearing herself introduced, tried to raise her eyes again, but was more embarrassed than ever. ‘I wanted to ask you,’ said Raskolnikov, hastily, ‘how things were arranged yesterday. You were not worried by the police, for instance?’ ‘No, that was all right … it was too evident, the cause of death … they did not worry us … only the lodgers are angry.’ ‘Why?’ ‘At the body’s remaining so long. You see it is hot now. So that, to-day, they will carry it to the cemetery, into the chapel, until to-morrow. At first Katerina Ivanovna was unwilling, but now she sees herself that it’s necessary …’ ‘To-day, then?’ ‘She begs you to do us the honour to be in the church to-morrow for the service, and then to be present at the funeral lunch.’ ‘She is giving a funeral lunch?’ 428 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Yes … just a little…. She told me to thank you very much for helping us yesterday. But for you, we should have had nothing for the funeral.’ All at once her lips and chin began trembling, but, with an effort, she controlled herself, looking down again. During the conversation, Raskolnikov watched her carefully. She had a thin, very thin, pale little face, rather irregular and angular, with a sharp little nose and chin. She could not have been called pretty, but her blue eyes were so clear, and when they lighted up, there was such a kindliness and simplicity in her expression that one could not help being attracted. Her face, and her whole figure indeed, had another peculiar characteristic. In spite of her eighteen years, she looked almost a little girl—almost a child. And in some of her gestures, this childishness seemed almost absurd. ‘But has Katerina Ivanovna been able to manage with such small means? Does she even mean to have a funeral lunch?’ Raskolnikov asked, persistently keeping up the conversation. ‘The coffin will be plain, of course … and everything will be plain, so it won’t cost much. Katerina Ivanovna and I have reckoned it all out, so that there will be enough left … and Katerina Ivanovna was very anxious it should 429 of 967 Crime and Punishment be so. You know one can’t … it’s a comfort to her … she is like that, you know….’ ‘I understand, I understand … of course … why do you look at my room like that? My mother has just said it is like a tomb.’ ‘You gave us everything yesterday,’ Sonia said suddenly, in reply, in a loud rapid whisper; and again she looked down in confusion. Her lips and chin were trembling once more. She had been struck at once by Raskolnikov’s poor surroundings, and now these words broke out spontaneously. A silence followed. There was a light in Dounia’s eyes, and even Pulcheria Alexandrovna looked kindly at Sonia. ‘Rodya,’ she said, getting up, ‘we shall have dinner together, of course. Come, Dounia…. And you, Rodya, had better go for a little walk, and then rest and lie down before you come to see us…. I am afraid we have exhausted you….’ ‘Yes, yes, I’ll come,’ he answered, getting up fussily. ‘But I have something to see to.’ ‘But surely you will have dinner together?’ cried Razumihin, looking in surprise at Raskolnikov. ‘What do you mean?’ 430 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Yes, yes, I am coming … of course, of course! And you stay a minute. You do not want him just now, do you, mother? Or perhaps I am taking him from you?’ ‘Oh, no, no. And will you, Dmitri Prokofitch, do us the favour of dining with us?’ ‘Please do,’ added Dounia. Razumihin bowed, positively radiant. For one moment, they were all strangely embarrassed. ‘Good-bye, Rodya, that is till we meet. I do not like saying good-bye. Good-bye, Nastasya. Ah, I have said good-bye again.’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna meant to greet Sonia, too; but it somehow failed to come off, and she went in a flutter out of the room. But Avdotya Romanovna seemed to await her turn, and following her mother out, gave Sonia an attentive, courteous bow. Sonia, in confusion, gave a hurried, frightened curtsy. There was a look of poignant discomfort in her face, as though Avdotya Romanovna’s courtesy and attention were oppressive and painful to her. ‘Dounia, good-bye,’ called Raskolnikov, in the passage. ‘Give me your hand.’ ‘Why, I did give it to you. Have you forgotten?’ said Dounia, turning warmly and awkwardly to him. 431 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Never mind, give it to me again.’ And he squeezed her fingers warmly. Dounia smiled, flushed, pulled her hand away, and went off quite happy. ‘Come, that’s capital,’ he said to Sonia, going back and looking brightly at her. ‘God give peace to the dead, the living have still to live. That is right, isn’t it?’ Sonia looked surprised at the sudden brightness of his face. He looked at her for some moments in silence. The whole history of the dead father floated before his memory in those moments….   *****   ‘I tell you again, mother, he is still very ill. Don’t you see it? Perhaps worrying about us upset him. We must be patient, and much, much can be forgiven.’ ‘Well, you were not very patient!’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna caught her up, hotly and jealously. ‘Do you 432 of 967 Crime and Punishment know, Dounia, I was looking at you two. You are the very portrait of him, and not so much in face as in soul. You are both melancholy, both morose and hot- tempered, both haughty and both generous…. Surely he can’t be an egoist, Dounia. Eh? When I think of what is in store for us this evening, my heart sinks!’ ‘Don’t be uneasy, mother. What must be, will be.’ ‘Dounia, only think what a position we are in! What if Pyotr Petrovitch breaks it off?’ poor Pulcheria Alexandrovna blurted out, incautiously. ‘He won’t be worth much if he does,’ answered Dounia, sharply and contemptuously. ‘We did well to come away,’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna hurriedly broke in. ‘He was in a hurry about some business or other. If he gets out and has a breath of air … it is fearfully close in his room…. But where is one to get a breath of air here? The very streets here feel like shut-up rooms. Good heavens! what a town! … stay … this side … they will crush you—carrying something. Why, it is a piano they have got, I declare … how they push! … I am very much afraid of that young woman, too.’ ‘What young woman, mother? ‘Why, that Sofya Semyonovna, who was there just now.’ 433 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Why?’ ‘I have a presentiment, Dounia. Well, you may believe it or not, but as soon as she came in, that very minute, I felt that she was the chief cause of the trouble….’ ‘Nothing of the sort!’ cried Dounia, in vexation. ‘What nonsense, with your presentiments, mother! He only made her acquaintance the evening before, and he did not know her when she came in.’ ‘Well, you will see…. She worries me; but you will see, you will see! I was so frightened. She was gazing at me with those eyes. I could scarcely sit still in my chair when he began introducing her, do you remember? It seems so strange, but Pyotr Petrovitch writes like that about her, and he introduces her to us—to you! So he must think a great deal of her.’ ‘People will write anything. We were talked about and written about, too. Have you forgotten? I am sure that she is a good girl, and that it is all nonsense.’ ‘God grant it may be!’ ‘And Pyotr Petrovitch is a contemptible slanderer,’ Dounia snapped out, suddenly. Pulcheria Alexandrovna was crushed; the conversation was not resumed. 434 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version.   *****   Raskolnikov, drawing Razumihin to the window. ‘Then I will tell Katerina Ivanovna that you are coming,’ Sonia said hurriedly, preparing to depart. ‘One minute, Sofya Semyonovna. We have no secrets. You are not in our way. I want to have another word or two with you. Listen!’ he turned suddenly to Razumihin again. ‘You know that … what’s his name … Porfiry Petrovitch?’ ‘I should think so! He is a relation. Why?’ added the latter, with interest. ‘Is not he managing that case … you know, about that murder? … You were speaking about it yesterday.’ ‘Yes … well?’ Razumihin’s eyes opened wide. ‘He was inquiring for people who had pawned things, and I have some pledges there, too—trifles—a ring my sister gave me as a keepsake when I left home, and my father’s silver watch—they are only worth five or six roubles altogether … but I value them. So what am I to do now? I do not want to lose the things, especially the watch. I was quaking just now, for fear mother would ask to look at it, when we spoke of Dounia’s watch. It is the 435 of 967 Crime and Punishment only thing of father’s left us. She would be ill if it were lost. You know what women are. So tell me what to do. I know I ought to have given notice at the police station, but would it not be better to go straight to Porfiry? Eh? What do you think? The matter might be settled more quickly. You see, mother may ask for it before dinner.’ ‘Certainly not to the police station. Certainly to Porfiry,’ Razumihin shouted in extraordinary excitement. ‘Well, how glad I am. Let us go at once. It is a couple of steps. We shall be sure to find him.’ ‘Very well, let us go.’ ‘And he will be very, very glad to make your acquaintance. I have often talked to him of you at different times. I was speaking of you yesterday. Let us go. So you knew the old woman? So that’s it! It is all turning out splendidly…. Oh, yes, Sofya Ivanovna …’ ‘Sofya Semyonovna,’ corrected Raskolnikov. ‘Sofya Semyonovna, this is my friend Razumihin, and he is a good man.’ ‘If you have to go now,’ Sonia was beginning, not looking at Razumihin at all, and still more embarrassed. ‘Let us go,’ decided Raskolnikov. ‘I will come to you to-day, Sofya Semyonovna. Only tell me where you live.’ 436 of 967 Crime and Punishment He was not exactly ill at ease, but seemed hurried, and avoided her eyes. Sonia gave her address, and flushed as she did so. They all went out together. ‘Don’t you lock up?’ asked Razumihin, following him on to the stairs. ‘Never,’ answered Raskolnikov. ‘I have been meaning to buy a lock for these two years. People are happy who have no need of locks,’ he said, laughing, to Sonia. They stood still in the gateway. ‘Do you go to the right, Sofya Semyonovna? How did you find me, by the way?’ he added, as though he wanted to say something quite different. He wanted to look at her soft clear eyes, but this was not easy. ‘Why, you gave your address to Polenka yesterday.’ ‘Polenka? Oh, yes; Polenka, that is the little girl. She is your sister? Did I give her the address?’ ‘Why, had you forgotten?’ ‘No, I remember.’ ‘I had heard my father speak of you … only I did not know your name, and he did not know it. And now I came … and as I had learnt your name, I asked to-day, ‘Where does Mr. Raskolnikov live?’ I did not know you had only a room too…. Good-bye, I will tell Katerina Ivanovna.’ 437 of 967 Crime and Punishment She was extremely glad to escape at last; she went away looking down, hurrying to get out of sight as soon as possible, to walk the twenty steps to the turning on the right and to be at last alone, and then moving rapidly along, looking at no one, noticing nothing, to think, to remember, to meditate on every word, every detail. Never, never had she felt anything like this. Dimly and unconsciously a whole new world was opening before her. She remembered suddenly that Raskolnikov meant to come to her that day, perhaps at once! ‘Only not to-day, please, not to-day!’ she kept muttering with a sinking heart, as though entreating someone, like a frightened child. ‘Mercy! to me … to that room … he will see … oh, dear!’ She was not capable at that instant of noticing an unknown gentleman who was watching her and following at her heels. He had accompanied her from the gateway. At the moment when Razumihin, Raskolnikov, and she stood still at parting on the pavement, this gentleman, who was just passing, started on hearing Sonia’s words: ‘and I asked where Mr. Raskolnikov lived?’ He turned a rapid but attentive look upon all three, especially upon Raskolnikov, to whom Sonia was speaking; then looked back and noted the house. All this was done in an instant 438 of 967 Crime and Punishment as he passed, and trying not to betray his interest, he walked on more slowly as though waiting for something. He was waiting for Sonia; he saw that they were parting, and that Sonia was going home. ‘Home? Where? I’ve seen that face somewhere,’ he thought. ‘I must find out.’ At the turning he crossed over, looked round, and saw Sonia coming the same way, noticing nothing. She turned the corner. He followed her on the other side. After about fifty paces he crossed over again, overtook her and kept two or three yards behind her. He was a man about fifty, rather tall and thickly set, with broad high shoulders which made him look as though he stooped a little. He wore good and fashionable clothes, and looked like a gentleman of position. He carried a handsome cane, which he tapped on the pavement at each step; his gloves were spotless. He had a broad, rather pleasant face with high cheek-bones and a fresh colour, not often seen in Petersburg. His flaxen hair was still abundant, and only touched here and there with grey, and his thick square beard was even lighter than his hair. His eyes were blue and had a cold and thoughtful look; his lips were crimson. He was a remarkedly well-preserved man and looked much younger than his years. 439 of 967 Crime and Punishment When Sonia came out on the canal bank, they were the only two persons on the pavement. He observed her dreaminess and preoccupation. On reaching the house where she lodged, Sonia turned in at the gate; he followed her, seeming rather surprised. In the courtyard she turned to the right corner. ‘Bah!’ muttered the unknown gentleman, and mounted the stairs behind her. Only then Sonia noticed him. She reached the third storey, turned down the passage, and rang at No. 9. On the door was inscribed in chalk, ‘Kapernaumov, Tailor.’ ‘Bah!’ the stranger repeated again, wondering at the strange coincidence, and he rang next door, at No. 8. The doors were two or three yards apart. ‘You lodge at Kapernaumov’s,’ he said, looking at Sonia and laughing. ‘He altered a waistcoat for me yesterday. I am staying close here at Madame Resslich’s. How odd!’ Sonia looked at him attentively. ‘We are neighbours,’ he went on gaily. ‘I only came to town the day before yesterday. Good-bye for the present.’ Sonia made no reply; the door opened and she slipped in. She felt for some reason ashamed and uneasy.   *****   Crime and Punishment On the way to Porfiry’s, Razumihin was obviously excited. ‘That’s capital, brother,’ he repeated several times, ‘and I am glad! I am glad!’ ‘What are you glad about?’ Raskolnikov thought to himself. ‘I didn’t know that you pledged things at the old woman’s, too. And … was it long ago? I mean, was it long since you were there?’ ‘What a simple-hearted fool he is!’ ‘When was it?’ Raskolnikov stopped still to recollect. ‘Two or three days before her death it must have been. But I am not going to redeem the things now,’ he put in with a sort of hurried and conspicuous solicitude about the things. ‘I’ve not more than a silver rouble left … after last night’s accursed delirium!’ He laid special emphasis on the delirium. ‘Yes, yes,’ Razumihin hastened to agree—with what was not clear. ‘Then that’s why you … were stuck … partly … you know in your delirium you were continually mentioning some rings or chains! Yes, yes … that’s clear, it’s all clear now.’ ‘Hullo! How that idea must have got about among them. Here this man will go to the stake for me, and I find 441 of 967 Crime and Punishment him delighted at having it cleared up why I spoke of rings in my delirium! What a hold the idea must have on all of them!’ ‘Shall we find him?’ he asked suddenly. ‘Oh, yes,’ Razumihin answered quickly. ‘He is a nice fellow, you will see, brother. Rather clumsy, that is to say, he is a man of polished manners, but I mean clumsy in a different sense. He is an intelligent fellow, very much so indeed, but he has his own range of ideas…. He is incredulous, sceptical, cynical … he likes to impose on people, or rather to make fun of them. His is the old, circumstantial method…. But he understands his work … thoroughly…. Last year he cleared up a case of murder in which the police had hardly a clue. He is very, very anxious to make your acquaintance!’ ‘On what grounds is he so anxious?’ ‘Oh, it’s not exactly … you see, since you’ve been ill I happen to have mentioned you several times…. So, when he heard about you … about your being a law student and not able to finish your studies, he said, ‘What a pity!’ And so I concluded … from everything together, not only that; yesterday Zametov … you know, Rodya, I talked some nonsense on the way home to you yesterday, when I was 442 of 967 Crime and Punishment drunk … I am afraid, brother, of your exaggerating it, you see.’ ‘What? That they think I am a madman? Maybe they are right,’ he said with a constrained smile. ‘Yes, yes…. That is, pooh, no! … But all that I said (and there was something else too) it was all nonsense, drunken nonsense.’ ‘But why are you apologising? I am so sick of it all!’ Raskolnikov cried with exaggerated irritability. It was partly assumed, however. ‘I know, I know, I understand. Believe me, I understand. One’s ashamed to speak of it.’ ‘If you are ashamed, then don’t speak of it.’ Both were silent. Razumihin was more than ecstatic and Raskolnikov perceived it with repulsion. He was alarmed, too, by what Razumihin had just said about Porfiry. ‘I shall have to pull a long face with him too,’ he thought, with a beating heart, and he turned white, ‘and do it naturally, too. But the most natural thing would be to do nothing at all. Carefully do nothing at all! No, carefully would not be natural again…. Oh, well, we shall see how it turns out…. We shall see … directly. Is it a 443 of 967 Crime and Punishment good thing to go or not? The butterfly flies to the light. My heart is beating, that’s what’s bad!’ ‘In this grey house,’ said Razumihin. ‘The most important thing, does Porfiry know that I was at the old hag’s flat yesterday … and asked about the blood? I must find that out instantly, as soon as I go in, find out from his face; otherwise … I’ll find out, if it’s my ruin.’ ‘I say, brother,’ he said suddenly, addressing Razumihin, with a sly smile, ‘I have been noticing all day that you seem to be curiously excited. Isn’t it so?’ ‘Excited? Not a bit of it,’ said Razumihin, stung to the quick. ‘Yes, brother, I assure you it’s noticeable. Why, you sat on your chair in a way you never do sit, on the edge somehow, and you seemed to be writhing all the time. You kept jumping up for nothing. One moment you were angry, and the next your face looked like a sweetmeat. You even blushed; especially when you were invited to dinner, you blushed awfully.’ ‘Nothing of the sort, nonsense! What do you mean?’ ‘But why are you wriggling out of it, like a schoolboy? By Jove, there he’s blushing again.’ ‘What a pig you are!’ 444 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘But why are you so shamefaced about it? Romeo! Stay, I’ll tell of you to-day. Ha-ha-ha! I’ll make mother laugh, and someone else, too …’ ‘Listen, listen, listen, this is serious…. What next, you fiend!’ Razumihin was utterly overwhelmed, turning cold with horror. ‘What will you tell them? Come, brother … foo! what a pig you are!’ ‘You are like a summer rose. And if only you knew how it suits you; a Romeo over six foot high! And how you’ve washed to-day—you cleaned your nails, I declare. Eh? That’s something unheard of! Why, I do believe you’ve got pomatum on your hair! Bend down.’ ‘Pig!’ Raskolnikov laughed as though he could not restrain himself. So laughing, they entered Porfiry Petrovitch’s flat. This is what Raskolnikov wanted: from within they could be heard laughing as they came in, still guffawing in the passage. ‘Not a word here or I’ll … brain you!’ Razumihin whispered furiously, seizing Raskolnikov by the shoulder. 445 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter V Raskolnikov was already entering the room. He came in looking as though he had the utmost difficulty not to burst out laughing again. Behind him Razumihin strode in gawky and awkward, shamefaced and red as a peony, with an utterly crestfallen and ferocious expression. His face and whole figure really were ridiculous at that moment and amply justified Raskolnikov’s laughter. Raskolnikov, not waiting for an introduction, bowed to Porfiry Petrovitch, who stood in the middle of the room looking inquiringly at them. He held out his hand and shook hands, still apparently making desperate efforts to subdue his mirth and utter a few words to introduce himself. But he had no sooner succeeded in assuming a serious air and muttering something when he suddenly glanced again as though accidentally at Razumihin, and could no longer control himself: his stifled laughter broke out the more irresistibly the more he tried to restrain it. The extraordinary ferocity with which Razumihin received this ‘spontaneous’ mirth gave the whole scene the appearance of most genuine fun and naturalness. Razumihin strengthened this impression as though on purpose. 446 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. ‘Fool! You fiend,’ he roared, waving his arm which at once struck a little round table with an empty tea-glass on it. Everything was sent flying and crashing. ‘But why break chairs, gentlemen? You know it’s a loss to the Crown,’ Porfiry Petrovitch quoted gaily. Raskolnikov was still laughing, with his hand in Porfiry Petrovitch’s, but anxious not to overdo it, awaited the right moment to put a natural end to it. Razumihin, completely put to confusion by upsetting the table and smashing the glass, gazed gloomily at the fragments, cursed and turned sharply to the window where he stood looking out with his back to the company with a fiercely scowling countenance, seeing nothing. Porfiry Petrovitch laughed and was ready to go on laughing, but obviously looked for explanations. Zametov had been sitting in the corner, but he rose at the visitors’ entrance and was standing in expectation with a smile on his lips, though he looked with surprise and even it seemed incredulity at the whole scene and at Raskolnikov with a certain embarrassment. Zametov’s unexpected presence struck Raskolnikov unpleasantly. ‘I’ve got to think of that,’ he thought. ‘Excuse me, please,’ he began, affecting extreme embarrassment. ‘Raskolnikov.’ 447 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Not at all, very pleasant to see you … and how pleasantly you’ve come in…. Why, won’t he even say good-morning?’ Porfiry Petrovitch nodded at Razumihin. ‘Upon my honour I don’t know why he is in such a rage with me. I only told him as we came along that he was like Romeo … and proved it. And that was all, I think!’ ‘Pig!’ ejaculated Razumihin, without turning round. ‘There must have been very grave grounds for it, if he is so furious at the word,’ Porfiry laughed. ‘Oh, you sharp lawyer! … Damn you all!’ snapped Razumihin, and suddenly bursting out laughing himself, he went up to Porfiry with a more cheerful face as though nothing had happened. ‘That’ll do! We are all fools. To come to business. This is my friend Rodion Romanovitch Raskolnikov; in the first place he has heard of you and wants to make your acquaintance, and secondly, he has a little matter of business with you. Bah! Zametov, what brought you here? Have you met before? Have you known each other long?’ ‘What does this mean?’ thought Raskolnikov uneasily. Zametov seemed taken aback, but not very much so. ‘Why, it was at your rooms we met yesterday,’ he said easily. 448 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Then I have been spared the trouble. All last week he was begging me to introduce him to you. Porfiry and you have sniffed each other out without me. Where is your tobacco?’ Porfiry Petrovitch was wearing a dressing-gown, very clean linen, and trodden-down slippers. He was a man of about five and thirty, short, stout even to corpulence, and clean shaven. He wore his hair cut short and had a large round head, particularly prominent at the back. His soft, round, rather snub-nosed face was of a sickly yellowish colour, but had a vigorous and rather ironical expression. It would have been good-natured except for a look in the eyes, which shone with a watery, mawkish light under almost white, blinking eyelashes. The expression of those eyes was strangely out of keeping with his somewhat womanish figure, and gave it something far more serious than could be guessed at first sight. As soon as Porfiry Petrovitch heard that his visitor had a little matter of business with him, he begged him to sit down on the sofa and sat down himself on the other end, waiting for him to explain his business, with that careful and over-serious attention which is at once oppressive and embarrassing, especially to a stranger, and especially if what you are discussing is in your opinion of far too little 449 of 967 Crime and Punishment importance for such exceptional solemnity. But in brief and coherent phrases Raskolnikov explained his business clearly and exactly, and was so well satisfied with himself that he even succeeded in taking a good look at Porfiry. Porfiry Petrovitch did not once take his eyes off him. Razumihin, sitting opposite at the same table, listened warmly and impatiently, looking from one to the other every moment with rather excessive interest. ‘Fool,’ Raskolnikov swore to himself. ‘You have to give information to the police,’ Porfiry replied, with a most businesslike air, ‘that having learnt of this incident, that is of the murder, you beg to inform the lawyer in charge of the case that such and such things belong to you, and that you desire to redeem them … or … but they will write to you.’ ‘That’s just the point, that at the present moment,’ Raskolnikov tried his utmost to feign embarrassment, ‘I am not quite in funds … and even this trifling sum is beyond me … I only wanted, you see, for the present to declare that the things are mine, and that when I have money….’ ‘That’s no matter,’ answered Porfiry Petrovitch, receiving his explanation of his pecuniary position coldly, ‘but you can, if you prefer, write straight to me, to say, 450 of 967 Crime and Punishment that having been informed of the matter, and claiming such and such as your property, you beg …’ ‘On an ordinary sheet of paper?’ Raskolnikov interrupted eagerly, again interested in the financial side of the question. ‘Oh, the most ordinary,’ and suddenly Porfiry Petrovitch looked with obvious irony at him, screwing up his eyes and, as it were, winking at him. But perhaps it was Raskolnikov’s fancy, for it all lasted but a moment. There was certainly something of the sort, Raskolnikov could have sworn he winked at him, goodness knows why. ‘He knows,’ flashed through his mind like lightning. ‘Forgive my troubling you about such trifles,’ he went on, a little disconcerted, ‘the things are only worth five roubles, but I prize them particularly for the sake of those from whom they came to me, and I must confess that I was alarmed when I heard …’ ‘That’s why you were so much struck when I mentioned to Zossimov that Porfiry was inquiring for everyone who had pledges!’ Razumihin put in with obvious intention. 451 of 967 Crime and Punishment This was really unbearable. Raskolnikov could not help glancing at him with a flash of vindictive anger in his black eyes, but immediately recollected himself. ‘You seem to be jeering at me, brother?’ he said to him, with a well- feigned irritability. ‘I dare say I do seem to you absurdly anxious about such trash; but you mustn’t think me selfish or grasping for that, and these two things may be anything but trash in my eyes. I told you just now that the silver watch, though it’s not worth a cent, is the only thing left us of my father’s. You may laugh at me, but my mother is here,’ he turned suddenly to Porfiry, ‘and if she knew,’ he turned again hurriedly to Razumihin, carefully making his voice tremble, ‘that the watch was lost, she would be in despair! You know what women are!’ ‘Not a bit of it! I didn’t mean that at all! Quite the contrary!’ shouted Razumihin distressed. ‘Was it right? Was it natural? Did I overdo it?’ Raskolnikov asked himself in a tremor. ‘Why did I say that about women?’ ‘Oh, your mother is with you?’ Porfiry Petrovitch inquired. ‘Yes.’ ‘When did she come?’ 452 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Last night.’ Porfiry paused as though reflecting. ‘Your things would not in any case be lost,’ he went on calmly and coldly. ‘I have been expecting you here for some time.’ And as though that was a matter of no importance, he carefully offered the ash-tray to Razumihin, who was ruthlessly scattering cigarette ash over the carpet. Raskolnikov shuddered, but Porfiry did not seem to be looking at him, and was still concerned with Razumihin’s cigarette. ‘What? Expecting him? Why, did you know that he had pledges there ?’ cried Razumihin. Porfiry Petrovitch addressed himself to Raskolnikov. ‘Your things, the ring and the watch, were wrapped up together, and on the paper your name was legibly written in pencil, together with the date on which you left them with her …’ ‘How observant you are!’ Raskolnikov smiled awkwardly, doing his very utmost to look him straight in the face, but he failed, and suddenly added: ‘I say that because I suppose there were a great many pledges … that it must be difficult to remember them 453 of 967 Crime and Punishment all…. But you remember them all so clearly, and … and …’ ‘Stupid! Feeble!’ he thought. ‘Why did I add that?’ ‘But we know all who had pledges, and you are the only one who hasn’t come forward,’ Porfiry answered with hardly perceptible irony. ‘I haven’t been quite well.’ ‘I heard that too. I heard, indeed, that you were in great distress about something. You look pale still.’ ‘I am not pale at all…. No, I am quite well,’ Raskolnikov snapped out rudely and angrily, completely changing his tone. His anger was mounting, he could not repress it. ‘And in my anger I shall betray myself,’ flashed through his mind again. ‘Why are they torturing me?’ ‘Not quite well!’ Razumihin caught him up. ‘What next! He was unconscious and delirious all yesterday. Would you believe, Porfiry, as soon as our backs were turned, he dressed, though he could hardly stand, and gave us the slip and went off on a spree somewhere till midnight, delirious all the time! Would you believe it! Extraordinary!’ ‘Really delirious? You don’t say so!’ Porfiry shook his head in a womanish way. 454 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Nonsense! Don’t you believe it! But you don’t believe it anyway,’ Raskolnikov let slip in his anger. But Porfiry Petrovitch did not seem to catch those strange words. ‘But how could you have gone out if you hadn’t been delirious?’ Razumihin got hot suddenly. ‘What did you go out for? What was the object of it? And why on the sly? Were you in your senses when you did it? Now that all danger is over I can speak plainly.’ ‘I was awfully sick of them yesterday.’ Raskolnikov addressed Porfiry suddenly with a smile of insolent defiance, ‘I ran away from them to take lodgings where they wouldn’t find me, and took a lot of money with me. Mr. Zametov there saw it. I say, Mr. Zametov, was I sensible or delirious yesterday; settle our dispute.’ He could have strangled Zametov at that moment, so hateful were his expression and his silence to him. ‘In my opinion you talked sensibly and even artfully, but you were extremely irritable,’ Zametov pronounced dryly. ‘And Nikodim Fomitch was telling me to-day,’ put in Porfiry Petrovitch, ‘that he met you very late last night in the lodging of a man who had been run over.’ ‘And there,’ said Razumihin, ‘weren’t you mad then? You gave your last penny to the widow for the funeral. If 455 of 967 Crime and Punishment you wanted to help, give fifteen or twenty even, but keep three roubles for yourself at least, but he flung away all the twenty-five at once!’ ‘Maybe I found a treasure somewhere and you know nothing of it? So that’s why I was liberal yesterday…. Mr. Zametov knows I’ve found a treasure! Excuse us, please, for disturbing you for half an hour with such trivialities,’ he said, turning to Porfiry Petrovitch, with trembling lips. ‘We are boring you, aren’t we?’ ‘Oh no, quite the contrary, quite the contrary! If only you knew how you interest me! It’s interesting to look on and listen … and I am really glad you have come forward at last.’ ‘But you might give us some tea! My throat’s dry,’ cried Razumihin. ‘Capital idea! Perhaps we will all keep you company. Wouldn’t you like … something more essential before tea?’ ‘Get along with you!’ Porfiry Petrovitch went out to order tea. Raskolnikov’s thoughts were in a whirl. He was in terrible exasperation. ‘The worst of it is they don’t disguise it; they don’t care to stand on ceremony! And how if you didn’t know me at 456 of 967 Crime and Punishment all, did you come to talk to Nikodim Fomitch about me? So they don’t care to hide that they are tracking me like a pack of dogs. They simply spit in my face.’ He was shaking with rage. ‘Come, strike me openly, don’t play with me like a cat with a mouse. It’s hardly civil, Porfiry Petrovitch, but perhaps I won’t allow it! I shall get up and throw the whole truth in your ugly faces, and you’ll see how I despise you.’ He could hardly breathe. ‘And what if it’s only my fancy? What if I am mistaken, and through inexperience I get angry and don’t keep up my nasty part? Perhaps it’s all unintentional. All their phrases are the usual ones, but there is something about them…. It all might be said, but there is something. Why did he say bluntly, ‘With her’? Why did Zametov add that I spoke artfully? Why do they speak in that tone? Yes, the tone…. Razumihin is sitting here, why does he see nothing? That innocent blockhead never does see anything! Feverish again! Did Porfiry wink at me just now? Of course it’s nonsense! What could he wink for? Are they trying to upset my nerves or are they teasing me? Either it’s ill fancy or they know! Even Zametov is rude…. Is Zametov rude? Zametov has changed his mind. I foresaw he would change his mind! He is at home here, while it’s my first visit. Porfiry does not consider him a visitor; sits with his 457 of 967 Crime and Punishment back to him. They’re as thick as thieves, no doubt, over me! Not a doubt they were talking about me before we came. Do they know about the flat? If only they’d make haste! When I said that I ran away to take a flat he let it pass…. I put that in cleverly about a flat, it may be of use afterwards…. Delirious, indeed … ha-ha-ha! He knows all about last night! He didn’t know of my mother’s arrival! The hag had written the date on in pencil! You are wrong, you won’t catch me! There are no facts … it’s all supposition! You produce facts! The flat even isn’t a fact but delirium. I know what to say to them…. Do they know about the flat? I won’t go without finding out. What did I come for? But my being angry now, maybe is a fact! Fool, how irritable I am! Perhaps that’s right; to play the invalid…. He is feeling me. He will try to catch me. Why did I come?’ All this flashed like lightning through his mind. Porfiry Petrovitch returned quickly. He became suddenly more jovial. ‘Your party yesterday, brother, has left my head rather…. And I am out of sorts altogether,’ he began in quite a different tone, laughing to Razumihin. ‘Was it interesting? I left you yesterday at the most interesting point. Who got the best of it?’ 458 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. ‘Oh, no one, of course. They got on to everlasting questions, floated off into space.’ ‘Only fancy, Rodya, what we got on to yesterday. Whether there is such a thing as crime. I told you that we talked our heads off.’ ‘What is there strange? It’s an everyday social question,’ Raskolnikov answered casually. ‘The question wasn’t put quite like that,’ observed Porfiry. ‘Not quite, that’s true,’ Razumihin agreed at once, getting warm and hurried as usual. ‘Listen, Rodion, and tell us your opinion, I want to hear it. I was fighting tooth and nail with them and wanted you to help me. I told them you were coming…. It began with the socialist doctrine. You know their doctrine; crime is a protest against the abnormality of the social organisation and nothing more, and nothing more; no other causes admitted! …’ ‘You are wrong there,’ cried Porfiry Petrovitch; he was noticeably animated and kept laughing as he looked at Razumihin, which made him more excited than ever. ‘Nothing is admitted,’ Razumihin interrupted with heat. 459 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘I am not wrong. I’ll show you their pamphlets. Everything with them is ‘the influence of environment,’ and nothing else. Their favourite phrase! From which it follows that, if society is normally organised, all crime will cease at once, since there will be nothing to protest against and all men will become righteous in one instant. Human nature is not taken into account, it is excluded, it’s not supposed to exist! They don’t recognise that humanity, developing by a historical living process, will become at last a normal society, but they believe that a social system that has come out of some mathematical brain is going to organise all humanity at once and make it just and sinless in an instant, quicker than any living process! That’s why they instinctively dislike history, ‘nothing but ugliness and stupidity in it,’ and they explain it all as stupidity! That’s why they so dislike the living process of life; they don’t want a living soul ! The living soul demands life, the soul won’t obey the rules of mechanics, the soul is an object of suspicion, the soul is retrograde! But what they want though it smells of death and can be made of India-rubber, at least is not alive, has no will, is servile and won’t revolt! And it comes in the end to their reducing everything to the building of walls and the planning of rooms and passages in a phalanstery! The phalanstery is ready, indeed, 460 of 967 Crime and Punishment but your human nature is not ready for the phalanstery—it wants life, it hasn’t completed its vital process, it’s too soon for the graveyard! You can’t skip over nature by logic. Logic presupposes three possibilities, but there are millions! Cut away a million, and reduce it all to the question of comfort! That’s the easiest solution of the problem! It’s seductively clear and you musn’t think about it. That’s the great thing, you mustn’t think! The whole secret of life in two pages of print!’ ‘Now he is off, beating the drum! Catch hold of him, do!’ laughed Porfiry. ‘Can you imagine,’ he turned to Raskolnikov, ‘six people holding forth like that last night, in one room, with punch as a preliminary! No, brother, you are wrong, environment accounts for a great deal in crime; I can assure you of that.’ ‘Oh, I know it does, but just tell me: a man of forty violates a child of ten; was it environment drove him to it?’ ‘Well, strictly speaking, it did,’ Porfiry observed with noteworthy gravity; ‘a crime of that nature may be very well ascribed to the influence of environment.’ Razumihin was almost in a frenzy. ‘Oh, if you like,’ he roared. ‘I’ll prove to you that your white eyelashes may very well be ascribed to the Church of Ivan the Great’s 461 of 967 Crime and Punishment being two hundred and fifty feet high, and I will prove it clearly, exactly, progressively, and even with a Liberal tendency! I undertake to! Will you bet on it?’ ‘Done! Let’s hear, please, how he will prove it!’ ‘He is always humbugging, confound him,’ cried Razumihin, jumping up and gesticulating. ‘What’s the use of talking to you? He does all that on purpose; you don’t know him, Rodion! He took their side yesterday, simply to make fools of them. And the things he said yesterday! And they were delighted! He can keep it up for a fortnight together. Last year he persuaded us that he was going into a monastery: he stuck to it for two months. Not long ago he took it into his head to declare he was going to get married, that he had everything ready for the wedding. He ordered new clothes indeed. We all began to congratulate him. There was no bride, nothing, all pure fantasy!’ ‘Ah, you are wrong! I got the clothes before. It was the new clothes in fact that made me think of taking you in.’ ‘Are you such a good dissembler?’ Raskolnikov asked carelessly. ‘You wouldn’t have supposed it, eh? Wait a bit, I shall take you in, too. Ha-ha-ha! No, I’ll tell you the truth. All these questions about crime, environment, children, recall to my mind an article of yours which interested me at the 462 of 967 Crime and Punishment time. ‘On Crime’ … or something of the sort, I forget the title, I read it with pleasure two months ago in the Periodical Review . ’ ‘My article? In the Periodical Review ?’ Raskolnikov asked in astonishment. ‘I certainly did write an article upon a book six months ago when I left the university, but I sent it to the Weekly Review . ’ ‘But it came out in the Periodical . ’ ‘And the Weekly Review ceased to exist, so that’s why it wasn’t printed at the time.’ ‘That’s true; but when it ceased to exist, the Weekly Review was amalgamated with the Periodical and so your article appeared two months ago in the latter. Didn’t you know?’ Raskolnikov had not known. ‘Why, you might get some money out of them for the article! What a strange person you are! You lead such a solitary life that you know nothing of matters that concern you directly. It’s a fact, I assure you.’ ‘Bravo, Rodya! I knew nothing about it either!’ cried Razumihin. ‘I’ll run to-day to the reading-room and ask for the number. Two months ago? What was the date? It doesn’t matter though, I will find it. Think of not telling us!’ 463 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘How did you find out that the article was mine? It’s only signed with an initial.’ ‘I only learnt it by chance, the other day. Through the editor; I know him…. I was very much interested.’ ‘I analysed, if I remember, the psychology of a criminal before and after the crime.’ ‘Yes, and you maintained that the perpetration of a crime is always accompanied by illness. Very, very original, but … it was not that part of your article that interested me so much, but an idea at the end of the article which I regret to say you merely suggested without working it out clearly. There is, if you recollect, a suggestion that there are certain persons who can … that is, not precisely are able to, but have a perfect right to commit breaches of morality and crimes, and that the law is not for them.’ Raskolnikov smiled at the exaggerated and intentional distortion of his idea. ‘What? What do you mean? A right to crime? But not because of the influence of environment?’ Razumihin inquired with some alarm even. ‘No, not exactly because of it,’ answered Porfiry. ‘In his article all men are divided into ‘ordinary’ and ‘extraordinary.’ Ordinary men have to live in submission, 464 of 967 Crime and Punishment have no right to transgress the law, because, don’t you see, they are ordinary. But extraordinary men have a right to commit any crime and to transgress the law in any way, just because they are extraordinary. That was your idea, if I am not mistaken?’ ‘What do you mean? That can’t be right?’ Razumihin muttered in bewilderment. Raskolnikov smiled again. He saw the point at once, and knew where they wanted to drive him. He decided to take up the challenge. ‘That wasn’t quite my contention,’ he began simply and modestly. ‘Yet I admit that you have stated it almost correctly; perhaps, if you like, perfectly so.’ (It almost gave him pleasure to admit this.) ‘The only difference is that I don’t contend that extraordinary people are always bound to commit breaches of morals, as you call it. In fact, I doubt whether such an argument could be published. I simply hinted that an ‘extraordinary’ man has the right … that is not an official right, but an inner right to decide in his own conscience to overstep … certain obstacles, and only in case it is essential for the practical fulfilment of his idea (sometimes, perhaps, of benefit to the whole of humanity). You say that my article isn’t definite; I am ready to make it as clear as I can. Perhaps I am right in 465 of 967 Crime and Punishment thinking you want me to; very well. I maintain that if the discoveries of Kepler and Newton could not have been made known except by sacrificing the lives of one, a dozen, a hundred, or more men, Newton would have had the right, would indeed have been in duty bound … to eliminate the dozen or the hundred men for the sake of making his discoveries known to the whole of humanity. But it does not follow from that that Newton had a right to murder people right and left and to steal every day in the market. Then, I remember, I maintain in my article that all … well, legislators and leaders of men, such as Lycurgus, Solon, Mahomet, Napoleon, and so on, were all without exception criminals, from the very fact that, making a new law, they transgressed the ancient one, handed down from their ancestors and held sacred by the people, and they did not stop short at bloodshed either, if that bloodshed—often of innocent persons fighting bravely in defence of ancient law—were of use to their cause. It’s remarkable, in fact, that the majority, indeed, of these benefactors and leaders of humanity were guilty of terrible carnage. In short, I maintain that all great men or even men a little out of the common, that is to say capable of giving some new word, must from their very nature be criminals—more or less, of course. Otherwise it’s hard for 466 of 967 Crime and Punishment them to get out of the common rut; and to remain in the common rut is what they can’t submit to, from their very nature again, and to my mind they ought not, indeed, to submit to it. You see that there is nothing particularly new in all that. The same thing has been printed and read a thousand times before. As for my division of people into ordinary and extraordinary, I acknowledge that it’s somewhat arbitrary, but I don’t insist upon exact numbers. I only believe in my leading idea that men are in general divided by a law of nature into two categories, inferior (ordinary), that is, so to say, material that serves only to reproduce its kind, and men who have the gift or the talent to utter a new word . There are, of course, innumerable sub- divisions, but the distinguishing features of both categories are fairly well marked. The first category, generally speaking, are men conservative in temperament and law-abiding; they live under control and love to be controlled. To my thinking it is their duty to be controlled, because that’s their vocation, and there is nothing humiliating in it for them. The second category all transgress the law; they are destroyers or disposed to destruction according to their capacities. The crimes of these men are of course relative and varied; for the most part they seek in very varied ways the destruction of the 467 of 967 Crime and Punishment present for the sake of the better. But if such a one is forced for the sake of his idea to step over a corpse or wade through blood, he can, I maintain, find within himself, in his conscience, a sanction for wading through blood—that depends on the idea and its dimensions, note that. It’s only in that sense I speak of their right to crime in my article (you remember it began with the legal question). There’s no need for such anxiety, however; the masses will scarcely ever admit this right, they punish them or hang them (more or less), and in doing so fulfil quite justly their conservative vocation. But the same masses set these criminals on a pedestal in the next generation and worship them (more or less). The first category is always the man of the present, the second the man of the future. The first preserve the world and people it, the second move the world and lead it to its goal. Each class has an equal right to exist. In fact, all have equal rights with me—and vive la guerre éternelle —till the New Jerusalem, of course!’ ‘Then you believe in the New Jerusalem, do you?’ ‘I do,’ Raskolnikov answered firmly; as he said these words and during the whole preceding tirade he kept his eyes on one spot on the carpet. 468 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘And … and do you believe in God? Excuse my curiosity.’ ‘I do,’ repeated Raskolnikov, raising his eyes to Porfiry. ‘And … do you believe in Lazarus’ rising from the dead?’ ‘I … I do. Why do you ask all this?’ ‘You believe it literally?’ ‘Literally.’ ‘You don’t say so…. I asked from curiosity. Excuse me. But let us go back to the question; they are not always executed. Some, on the contrary …’ ‘Triumph in their lifetime? Oh, yes, some attain their ends in this life, and then …’ ‘They begin executing other people?’ ‘If it’s necessary; indeed, for the most part they do. Your remark is very witty.’ ‘Thank you. But tell me this: how do you distinguish those extraordinary people from the ordinary ones? Are there signs at their birth? I feel there ought to be more exactitude, more external definition. Excuse the natural anxiety of a practical law-abiding citizen, but couldn’t they adopt a special uniform, for instance, couldn’t they wear something, be branded in some way? For you know if confusion arises and a member of one category imagines 469 of 967 Crime and Punishment that he belongs to the other, begins to ‘eliminate obstacles’ as you so happily expressed it, then …’ ‘Oh, that very often happens! That remark is wittier than the other.’ ‘Thank you.’ ‘No reason to; but take note that the mistake can only arise in the first category, that is among the ordinary people (as I perhaps unfortunately called them). In spite of their predisposition to obedience very many of them, through a playfulness of nature, sometimes vouchsafed even to the cow, like to imagine themselves advanced people, ‘destroyers,’ and to push themselves into the ‘new movement,’ and this quite sincerely. Meanwhile the really new people are very often unobserved by them, or even despised as reactionaries of grovelling tendencies. But I don’t think there is any considerable danger here, and you really need not be uneasy for they never go very far. Of course, they might have a thrashing sometimes for letting their fancy run away with them and to teach them their place, but no more; in fact, even this isn’t necessary as they castigate themselves, for they are very conscientious: some perform this service for one another and others chastise themselves with their own hands…. They will impose various public acts of penitence upon themselves with a 470 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. beautiful and edifying effect; in fact you’ve nothing to be uneasy about…. It’s a law of nature.’ ‘Well, you have certainly set my mind more at rest on that score; but there’s another thing worries me. Tell me, please, are there many people who have the right to kill others, these extraordinary people? I am ready to bow down to them, of course, but you must admit it’s alarming if there are a great many of them, eh?’ ‘Oh, you needn’t worry about that either,’ Raskolnikov went on in the same tone. ‘People with new ideas, people with the faintest capacity for saying something new are extremely few in number, extraordinarily so in fact. One thing only is clear, that the appearance of all these grades and sub-divisions of men must follow with unfailing regularity some law of nature. That law, of course, is unknown at present, but I am convinced that it exists, and one day may become known. The vast mass of mankind is mere material, and only exists in order by some great effort, by some mysterious process, by means of some crossing of races and stocks, to bring into the world at last perhaps one man out of a thousand with a spark of independence. One in ten thousand perhaps—I speak roughly, approximately—is born with some independence, and with still greater independence 471 of 967 Crime and Punishment one in a hundred thousand. The man of genius is one of millions, and the great geniuses, the crown of humanity, appear on earth perhaps one in many thousand millions. In fact I have not peeped into the retort in which all this takes place. But there certainly is and must be a definite law, it cannot be a matter of chance.’ ‘Why, are you both joking?’ Razumihin cried at last. ‘There you sit, making fun of one another. Are you serious, Rodya?’ Raskolnikov raised his pale and almost mournful face and made no reply. And the unconcealed, persistent, nervous, and discourteous sarcasm of Porfiry seemed strange to Razumihin beside that quiet and mournful face. ‘Well, brother, if you are really serious … You are right, of course, in saying that it’s not new, that it’s like what we’ve read and heard a thousand times already; but what is really original in all this, and is exclusively your own, to my horror, is that you sanction bloodshed in the name of conscience and, excuse my saying so, with such fanaticism…. That, I take it, is the point of your article. But that sanction of bloodshed by conscience is to my mind … more terrible than the official, legal sanction of bloodshed….’ ‘You are quite right, it is more terrible,’ Porfiry agreed. 472 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Yes, you must have exaggerated! There is some mistake, I shall read it. You can’t think that! I shall read it.’ ‘All that is not in the article, there’s only a hint of it,’ said Raskolnikov. ‘Yes, yes.’ Porfiry couldn’t sit still. ‘Your attitude to crime is pretty clear to me now, but … excuse me for my impertinence (I am really ashamed to be worrying you like this), you see, you’ve removed my anxiety as to the two grades getting mixed, but … there are various practical possibilities that make me uneasy! What if some man or youth imagines that he is a Lycurgus or Mahomet—a future one of course—and suppose he begins to remove all obstacles…. He has some great enterprise before him and needs money for it … and tries to get it … do you see?’ Zametov gave a sudden guffaw in his corner. Raskolnikov did not even raise his eyes to him. ‘I must admit,’ he went on calmly, ‘that such cases certainly must arise. The vain and foolish are particularly apt to fall into that snare; young people especially.’ ‘Yes, you see. Well then?’ ‘What then?’ Raskolnikov smiled in reply; ‘that’s not my fault. So it is and so it always will be. He said just now (he nodded at Razumihin) that I sanction bloodshed. Society is too well protected by prisons, banishment, 473 of 967 Crime and Punishment criminal investigators, penal servitude. There’s no need to be uneasy. You have but to catch the thief.’ ‘And what if we do catch him?’ ‘Then he gets what he deserves.’ ‘You are certainly logical. But what of his conscience?’ ‘Why do you care about that?’ ‘Simply from humanity.’ ‘If he has a conscience he will suffer for his mistake. That will be his punishment—as well as the prison.’ ‘But the real geniuses,’ asked Razumihin frowning, ‘those who have the right to murder? Oughtn’t they to suffer at all even for the blood they’ve shed?’ ‘Why the word ought ? It’s not a matter of permission or prohibition. He will suffer if he is sorry for his victim. Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth,’ he added dreamily, not in the tone of the conversation. He raised his eyes, looked earnestly at them all, smiled, and took his cap. He was too quiet by comparison with his manner at his entrance, and he felt this. Everyone got up. ‘Well, you may abuse me, be angry with me if you like,’ Porfiry Petrovitch began again, ‘but I can’t resist. 474 of 967 Crime and Punishment Allow me one little question (I know I am troubling you). There is just one little notion I want to express, simply that I may not forget it.’ ‘Very good, tell me your little notion,’ Raskolnikov stood waiting, pale and grave before him. ‘Well, you see … I really don’t know how to express it properly…. It’s a playful, psychological idea…. When you were writing your article, surely you couldn’t have helped, he-he! fancying yourself … just a little, an ‘extraordinary’ man, uttering a new word in your sense…. That’s so, isn’t it?’ ‘Quite possibly,’ Raskolnikov answered contemptuously. Razumihin made a movement. ‘And, if so, could you bring yourself in case of worldly difficulties and hardship or for some service to humanity— to overstep obstacles? … For instance, to rob and murder?’ And again he winked with his left eye, and laughed noiselessly just as before. ‘If I did I certainly should not tell you,’ Raskolnikov answered with defiant and haughty contempt. ‘No, I was only interested on account of your article, from a literary point of view …’ 475 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Foo! how obvious and insolent that is!’ Raskolnikov thought with repulsion. ‘Allow me to observe,’ he answered dryly, ‘that I don’t consider myself a Mahomet or a Napoleon, nor any personage of that kind, and not being one of them I cannot tell you how I should act.’ ‘Oh, come, don’t we all think ourselves Napoleons now in Russia?’ Porfiry Petrovitch said with alarming familiarity. Something peculiar betrayed itself in the very intonation of his voice. ‘Perhaps it was one of these future Napoleons who did for Alyona Ivanovna last week?’ Zametov blurted out from the corner. Raskolnikov did not speak, but looked firmly and intently at Porfiry. Razumihin was scowling gloomily. He seemed before this to be noticing something. He looked angrily around. There was a minute of gloomy silence. Raskolnikov turned to go. ‘Are you going already?’ Porfiry said amiably, holding out his hand with excessive politeness. ‘Very, very glad of your acquaintance. As for your request, have no uneasiness, write just as I told you, or, better still, come to me there yourself in a day or two … to-morrow, indeed. I 476 of 967 Crime and Punishment shall be there at eleven o’clock for certain. We’ll arrange it all; we’ll have a talk. As one of the last to be there you might perhaps be able to tell us something,’ he added with a most good-natured expression. ‘You want to cross-examine me officially in due form?’ Raskolnikov asked sharply. ‘Oh, why? That’s not necessary for the present. You misunderstand me. I lose no opportunity, you see, and … I’ve talked with all who had pledges…. I obtained evidence from some of them, and you are the last…. Yes, by the way,’ he cried, seemingly suddenly delighted, ‘I just remember, what was I thinking of?’ he turned to Razumihin, ‘you were talking my ears off about that Nikolay … of course, I know, I know very well,’ he turned to Raskolnikov, ‘that the fellow is innocent, but what is one to do? We had to trouble Dmitri too…. This is the point, this is all: when you went up the stairs it was past seven, wasn’t it?’ ‘Yes,’ answered Raskolnikov, with an unpleasant sensation at the very moment he spoke that he need not have said it. ‘Then when you went upstairs between seven and eight, didn’t you see in a flat that stood open on a second storey, do you remember? two workmen or at least one of 477 of 967 Crime and Punishment them? They were painting there, didn’t you notice them? It’s very, very important for them.’ ‘Painters? No, I didn’t see them,’ Raskolnikov answered slowly, as though ransacking his memory, while at the same instant he was racking every nerve, almost swooning with anxiety to conjecture as quickly as possible where the trap lay and not to overlook anything. ‘No, I didn’t see them, and I don’t think I noticed a flat like that open…. But on the fourth storey’ (he had mastered the trap now and was triumphant) ‘I remember now that someone was moving out of the flat opposite Alyona Ivanovna’s…. I remember … I remember it clearly. Some porters were carrying out a sofa and they squeezed me against the wall. But painters … no, I don’t remember that there were any painters, and I don’t think that there was a flat open anywhere, no, there wasn’t.’ ‘What do you mean?’ Razumihin shouted suddenly, as though he had reflected and realised. ‘Why, it was on the day of the murder the painters were at work, and he was there three days before? What are you asking?’ ‘Foo! I have muddled it!’ Porfiry slapped himself on the forehead. ‘Deuce take it! This business is turning my brain!’ he addressed Raskolnikov somewhat apologetically. ‘It would be such a great thing for us to find out whether 478 of 967 Crime and Punishment anyone had seen them between seven and eight at the flat, so I fancied you could perhaps have told us something…. I quite muddled it.’ ‘Then you should be more careful,’ Razumihin observed grimly. The last words were uttered in the passage. Porfiry Petrovitch saw them to the door with excessive politeness. They went out into the street gloomy and sullen, and for some steps they did not say a word. Raskolnikov drew a deep breath. 479 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter VI ‘I don’t believe it, I can’t believe it!’ repeated Razumihin, trying in perplexity to refute Raskolnikov’s arguments. They were by now approaching Bakaleyev’s lodgings, where Pulcheria Alexandrovna and Dounia had been expecting them a long while. Razumihin kept stopping on the way in the heat of discussion, confused and excited by the very fact that they were for the first time speaking openly about it . ‘Don’t believe it, then!’ answered Raskolnikov, with a cold, careless smile. ‘You were noticing nothing as usual, but I was weighing every word.’ ‘You are suspicious. That is why you weighed their words … h’m … certainly, I agree, Porfiry’s tone was rather strange, and still more that wretch Zametov! … You are right, there was something about him—but why? Why?’ ‘He has changed his mind since last night.’ ‘Quite the contrary! If they had that brainless idea, they would do their utmost to hide it, and conceal their cards, 480 of 967 Crime and Punishment so as to catch you afterwards…. But it was all impudent and careless.’ ‘If they had had facts—I mean, real facts—or at least grounds for suspicion, then they would certainly have tried to hide their game, in the hope of getting more (they would have made a search long ago besides). But they have no facts, not one. It is all mirage—all ambiguous. Simply a floating idea. So they try to throw me out by impudence. And perhaps, he was irritated at having no facts, and blurted it out in his vexation—or perhaps he has some plan … he seems an intelligent man. Perhaps he wanted to frighten me by pretending to know. They have a psychology of their own, brother. But it is loathsome explaining it all. Stop!’ ‘And it’s insulting, insulting! I understand you. But … since we have spoken openly now (and it is an excellent thing that we have at last—I am glad) I will own now frankly that I noticed it in them long ago, this idea. Of course the merest hint only—an insinuation—but why an insinuation even? How dare they? What foundation have they? If only you knew how furious I have been. Think only! Simply because a poor student, unhinged by poverty and hypochondria, on the eve of a severe delirious illness (note that), suspicious, vain, proud, who has not seen a 481 of 967 Crime and Punishment soul to speak to for six months, in rags and in boots without soles, has to face some wretched policemen and put up with their insolence; and the unexpected debt thrust under his nose, the I.O.U. presented by Tchebarov, the new paint, thirty degrees Reaumur and a stifling atmosphere, a crowd of people, the talk about the murder of a person where he had been just before, and all that on an empty stomach—he might well have a fainting fit! And that, that is what they found it all on! Damn them! I understand how annoying it is, but in your place, Rodya, I would laugh at them, or better still, spit in their ugly faces, and spit a dozen times in all directions. I’d hit out in all directions, neatly too, and so I’d put an end to it. Damn them! Don’t be downhearted. It’s a shame!’ ‘He really has put it well, though,’ Raskolnikov thought. ‘Damn them? But the cross-examination again, to-morrow?’ he said with bitterness. ‘Must I really enter into explanations with them? I feel vexed as it is, that I condescended to speak to Zametov yesterday in the restaurant….’ ‘Damn it! I will go myself to Porfiry. I will squeeze it out of him, as one of the family: he must let me know the ins and outs of it all! And as for Zametov …’ 482 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. ‘At last he sees through him!’ thought Raskolnikov. ‘Stay!’ cried Razumihin, seizing him by the shoulder again. ‘Stay! you were wrong. I have thought it out. You are wrong! How was that a trap? You say that the question about the workmen was a trap. But if you had done that could you have said you had seen them painting the flat … and the workmen? On the contrary, you would have seen nothing, even if you had seen it. Who would own it against himself?’ ‘If I had done that thing I should certainly have said that I had seen the workmen and the flat,’ Raskolnikov answered, with reluctance and obvious disgust. ‘But why speak against yourself?’ ‘Because only peasants, or the most inexperienced novices deny everything flatly at examinations. If a man is ever so little developed and experienced, he will certainly try to admit all the external facts that can’t be avoided, but will seek other explanations of them, will introduce some special, unexpected turn, that will give them another significance and put them in another light. Porfiry might well reckon that I should be sure to answer so, and say I had seen them to give an air of truth, and then make some explanation.’ 483 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘But he would have told you at once that the workmen could not have been there two days before, and that therefore you must have been there on the day of the murder at eight o’clock. And so he would have caught you over a detail.’ ‘Yes, that is what he was reckoning on, that I should not have time to reflect, and should be in a hurry to make the most likely answer, and so would forget that the workmen could not have been there two days before.’ ‘But how could you forget it?’ ‘Nothing easier. It is in just such stupid things clever people are most easily caught. The more cunning a man is, the less he suspects that he will be caught in a simple thing. The more cunning a man is, the simpler the trap he must be caught in. Porfiry is not such a fool as you think….’ ‘He is a knave then, if that is so!’ Raskolnikov could not help laughing. But at the very moment, he was struck by the strangeness of his own frankness, and the eagerness with which he had made this explanation, though he had kept up all the preceding conversation with gloomy repulsion, obviously with a motive, from necessity. 484 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘I am getting a relish for certain aspects!’ he thought to himself. But almost at the same instant he became suddenly uneasy, as though an unexpected and alarming idea had occurred to him. His uneasiness kept on increasing. They had just reached the entrance to Bakaleyev’s. ‘Go in alone!’ said Raskolnikov suddenly. ‘I will be back directly.’ ‘Where are you going? Why, we are just here.’ ‘I can’t help it…. I will come in half an hour. Tell them.’ ‘Say what you like, I will come with you.’ ‘You, too, want to torture me!’ he screamed, with such bitter irritation, such despair in his eyes that Razumihin’s hands dropped. He stood for some time on the steps, looking gloomily at Raskolnikov striding rapidly away in the direction of his lodging. At last, gritting his teeth and clenching his fist, he swore he would squeeze Porfiry like a lemon that very day, and went up the stairs to reassure Pulcheria Alexandrovna, who was by now alarmed at their long absence. When Raskolnikov got home, his hair was soaked with sweat and he was breathing heavily. He went rapidly up the stairs, walked into his unlocked room and at once 485 of 967 Crime and Punishment fastened the latch. Then in senseless terror he rushed to the corner, to that hole under the paper where he had put the things; put his hand in, and for some minutes felt carefully in the hole, in every crack and fold of the paper. Finding nothing, he got up and drew a deep breath. As he was reaching the steps of Bakaleyev’s, he suddenly fancied that something, a chain, a stud or even a bit of paper in which they had been wrapped with the old woman’s handwriting on it, might somehow have slipped out and been lost in some crack, and then might suddenly turn up as unexpected, conclusive evidence against him. He stood as though lost in thought, and a strange, humiliated, half senseless smile strayed on his lips. He took his cap at last and went quietly out of the room. His ideas were all tangled. He went dreamily through the gateway. ‘Here he is himself,’ shouted a loud voice. He raised his head. The porter was standing at the door of his little room and was pointing him out to a short man who looked like an artisan, wearing a long coat and a waistcoat, and looking at a distance remarkably like a woman. He stooped, and his head in a greasy cap hung forward. From his wrinkled flabby face he looked over fifty; his little eyes 486 of 967 Crime and Punishment were lost in fat and they looked out grimly, sternly and discontentedly. ‘What is it?’ Raskolnikov asked, going up to the porter. The man stole a look at him from under his brows and he looked at him attentively, deliberately; then he turned slowly and went out of the gate into the street without saying a word. ‘What is it?’ cried Raskolnikov. ‘Why, he there was asking whether a student lived here, mentioned your name and whom you lodged with. I saw you coming and pointed you out and he went away. It’s funny.’ The porter too seemed rather puzzled, but not much so, and after wondering for a moment he turned and went back to his room. Raskolnikov ran after the stranger, and at once caught sight of him walking along the other side of the street with the same even, deliberate step with his eyes fixed on the ground, as though in meditation. He soon overtook him, but for some time walked behind him. At last, moving on to a level with him, he looked at his face. The man noticed him at once, looked at him quickly, but dropped his eyes again; and so they walked for a minute side by side without uttering a word. 487 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘You were inquiring for me … of the porter?’ Raskolnikov said at last, but in a curiously quiet voice. The man made no answer; he didn’t even look at him. Again they were both silent. ‘Why do you … come and ask for me … and say nothing…. What’s the meaning of it?’ Raskolnikov’s voice broke and he seemed unable to articulate the words clearly. The man raised his eyes this time and turned a gloomy sinister look at Raskolnikov. ‘Murderer!’ he said suddenly in a quiet but clear and distinct voice. Raskolnikov went on walking beside him. His legs felt suddenly weak, a cold shiver ran down his spine, and his heart seemed to stand still for a moment, then suddenly began throbbing as though it were set free. So they walked for about a hundred paces, side by side in silence. The man did not look at him. ‘What do you mean … what is…. Who is a murderer?’ muttered Raskolnikov hardly audibly. ‘ You are a murderer,’ the man answered still more articulately and emphatically, with a smile of triumphant hatred, and again he looked straight into Raskolnikov’s pale face and stricken eyes. 488 of 967 Crime and Punishment They had just reached the cross-roads. The man turned to the left without looking behind him. Raskolnikov remained standing, gazing after him. He saw him turn round fifty paces away and look back at him still standing there. Raskolnikov could not see clearly, but he fancied that he was again smiling the same smile of cold hatred and triumph. With slow faltering steps, with shaking knees, Raskolnikov made his way back to his little garret, feeling chilled all over. He took off his cap and put it on the table, and for ten minutes he stood without moving. Then he sank exhausted on the sofa and with a weak moan of pain he stretched himself on it. So he lay for half an hour. He thought of nothing. Some thoughts or fragments of thoughts, some images without order or coherence floated before his mind—faces of people he had seen in his childhood or met somewhere once, whom he would never have recalled, the belfry of the church at V., the billiard table in a restaurant and some officers playing billiards, the smell of cigars in some underground tobacco shop, a tavern room, a back staircase quite dark, all sloppy with dirty water and strewn with egg-shells, and the Sunday bells floating in from somewhere…. The images followed one another, whirling like a hurricane. Some of 489 of 967 Crime and Punishment them he liked and tried to clutch at, but they faded and all the while there was an oppression within him, but it was not overwhelming, sometimes it was even pleasant…. The slight shivering still persisted, but that too was an almost pleasant sensation. He heard the hurried footsteps of Razumihin; he closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. Razumihin opened the door and stood for some time in the doorway as though hesitating, then he stepped softly into the room and went cautiously to the sofa. Raskolnikov heard Nastasya’s whisper: ‘Don’t disturb him! Let him sleep. He can have his dinner later.’ ‘Quite so,’ answered Razumihin. Both withdrew carefully and closed the door. Another half-hour passed. Raskolnikov opened his eyes, turned on his back again, clasping his hands behind his head. ‘Who is he? Who is that man who sprang out of the earth? Where was he, what did he see? He has seen it all, that’s clear. Where was he then? And from where did he see? Why has he only now sprung out of the earth? And how could he see? Is it possible? Hm …’ continued Raskolnikov, turning cold and shivering, ‘and the jewel case Nikolay found behind the door—was that possible? A 490 of 967 Crime and Punishment clue? You miss an infinitesimal line and you can build it into a pyramid of evidence! A fly flew by and saw it! Is it possible?’ He felt with sudden loathing how weak, how physically weak he had become. ‘I ought to have known it,’ he thought with a bitter smile. ‘And how dared I, knowing myself, knowing how I should be, take up an axe and shed blood! I ought to have known beforehand…. Ah, but I did know!’ he whispered in despair. At times he came to a standstill at some thought. ‘No, those men are not made so. The real Master to whom all is permitted storms Toulon, makes a massacre in Paris, forgets an army in Egypt, wastes half a million men in the Moscow expedition and gets off with a jest at Vilna. And altars are set up to him after his death, and so all is permitted. No, such people, it seems, are not of flesh but of bronze!’ One sudden irrelevant idea almost made him laugh. Napoleon, the pyramids, Waterloo, and a wretched skinny old woman, a pawnbroker with a red trunk under her bed—it’s a nice hash for Porfiry Petrovitch to digest! How can they digest it! It’s too inartistic. ‘A Napoleon creep under an old woman’s bed! Ugh, how loathsome!’ At moments he felt he was raving. He sank into a state of feverish excitement. ‘The old woman is of no 491 of 967 Crime and Punishment consequence,’ he thought, hotly and incoherently. ‘The old woman was a mistake perhaps, but she is not what matters! The old woman was only an illness…. I was in a hurry to overstep…. I didn’t kill a human being, but a principle! I killed the principle, but I didn’t overstep, I stopped on this side…. I was only capable of killing. And it seems I wasn’t even capable of that … Principle? Why was that fool Razumihin abusing the socialists? They are industrious, commercial people; ‘the happiness of all’ is their case. No, life is only given to me once and I shall never have it again; I don’t want to wait for ‘the happiness of all.’ I want to live myself, or else better not live at all. I simply couldn’t pass by my mother starving, keeping my rouble in my pocket while I waited for the ‘happiness of all.’ I am putting my little brick into the happiness of all and so my heart is at peace. Ha-ha! Why have you let me slip? I only live once, I too want…. Ech, I am an æsthetic louse and nothing more,’ he added suddenly, laughing like a madman. ‘Yes, I am certainly a louse,’ he went on, clutching at the idea, gloating over it and playing with it with vindictive pleasure. ‘In the first place, because I can reason that I am one, and secondly, because for a month past I have been troubling benevolent Providence, calling it to witness that not for my own fleshly lusts did I 492 of 967 Crime and Punishment undertake it, but with a grand and noble object— ha-ha! Thirdly, because I aimed at carrying it out as justly as possible, weighing, measuring and calculating. Of all the lice I picked out the most useless one and proposed to take from her only as much as I needed for the first step, no more nor less (so the rest would have gone to a monastery, according to her will, ha-ha!). And what shows that I am utterly a louse,’ he added, grinding his teeth, ‘is that I am perhaps viler and more loathsome than the louse I killed, and I felt beforehand that I should tell myself so after killing her. Can anything be compared with the horror of that? The vulgarity! The abjectness! I understand the ‘prophet’ with his sabre, on his steed: Allah commands and ‘trembling’ creation must obey! The ‘prophet’ is right, he is right when he sets a battery across the street and blows up the innocent and the guilty without deigning to explain! It’s for you to obey, trembling creation, and not to have desires for that’s not for you! … I shall never, never forgive the old woman!’ His hair was soaked with sweat, his quivering lips were parched, his eyes were fixed on the ceiling. ‘Mother, sister—how I loved them! Why do I hate them now? Yes, I hate them, I feel a physical hatred for them, I can’t bear them near me…. I went up to my 493 of 967 Crime and Punishment mother and kissed her, I remember…. To embrace her and think if she only knew … shall I tell her then? That’s just what I might do…. She must be the same as I am,’ he added, straining himself to think, as it were struggling with delirium. ‘Ah, how I hate the old woman now! I feel I should kill her again if she came to life! Poor Lizaveta! Why did she come in? … It’s strange though, why is it I scarcely ever think of her, as though I hadn’t killed her? Lizaveta! Sonia! Poor gentle things, with gentle eyes…. Dear women! Why don’t they weep? Why don’t they moan? They give up everything … their eyes are soft and gentle…. Sonia, Sonia! Gentle Sonia!’ He lost consciousness; it seemed strange to him that he didn’t remember how he got into the street. It was late evening. The twilight had fallen and the full moon was shining more and more brightly; but there was a peculiar breathlessness in the air. There were crowds of people in the street; workmen and business people were making their way home; other people had come out for a walk; there was a smell of mortar, dust and stagnant water. Raskolnikov walked along, mournful and anxious; he was distinctly aware of having come out with a purpose, of having to do something in a hurry, but what it was he had forgotten. Suddenly he stood still and saw a man standing 494 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. on the other side of the street, beckoning to him. He crossed over to him, but at once the man turned and walked away with his head hanging, as though he had made no sign to him. ‘Stay, did he really beckon?’ Raskolnikov wondered, but he tried to overtake him. When he was within ten paces he recognised him and was frightened; it was the same man with stooping shoulders in the long coat. Raskolnikov followed him at a distance; his heart was beating; they went down a turning; the man still did not look round. ‘Does he know I am following him?’ thought Raskolnikov. The man went into the gateway of a big house. Raskolnikov hastened to the gate and looked in to see whether he would look round and sign to him. In the court-yard the man did turn round and again seemed to beckon him. Raskolnikov at once followed him into the yard, but the man was gone. He must have gone up the first staircase. Raskolnikov rushed after him. He heard slow measured steps two flights above. The staircase seemed strangely familiar. He reached the window on the first floor; the moon shone through the panes with a melancholy and mysterious light; then he reached the second floor. Bah! this is the flat where the painters were at work … but how was it he did not recognise it at once? The steps of the man above had died away. ‘So he must 495 of 967 Crime and Punishment have stopped or hidden somewhere.’ He reached the third storey, should he go on? There was a stillness that was dreadful…. But he went on. The sound of his own footsteps scared and frightened him. How dark it was! The man must be hiding in some corner here. Ah! the flat was standing wide open, he hesitated and went in. It was very dark and empty in the passage, as though everything had been removed; he crept on tiptoe into the parlour which was flooded with moonlight. Everything there was as before, the chairs, the looking-glass, the yellow sofa and the pictures in the frames. A huge, round, copper-red moon looked in at the windows. ‘It’s the moon that makes it so still, weaving some mystery,’ thought Raskolnikov. He stood and waited, waited a long while, and the more silent the moonlight, the more violently his heart beat, till it was painful. And still the same hush. Suddenly he heard a momentary sharp crack like the snapping of a splinter and all was still again. A fly flew up suddenly and struck the window pane with a plaintive buzz. At that moment he noticed in the corner between the window and the little cupboard something like a cloak hanging on the wall. ‘Why is that cloak here?’ he thought, ‘it wasn’t there before….’ He went up to it quietly and felt that there was someone hiding behind it. He 496 of 967 Crime and Punishment cautiously moved the cloak and saw, sitting on a chair in the corner, the old woman bent double so that he couldn’t see her face; but it was she. He stood over her. ‘She is afraid,’ he thought. He stealthily took the axe from the noose and struck her one blow, then another on the skull. But strange to say she did not stir, as though she were made of wood. He was frightened, bent down nearer and tried to look at her; but she, too, bent her head lower. He bent right down to the ground and peeped up into her face from below, he peeped and turned cold with horror: the old woman was sitting and laughing, shaking with noiseless laughter, doing her utmost that he should not hear it. Suddenly he fancied that the door from the bedroom was opened a little and that there was laughter and whispering within. He was overcome with frenzy and he began hitting the old woman on the head with all his force, but at every blow of the axe the laughter and whispering from the bedroom grew louder and the old woman was simply shaking with mirth. He was rushing away, but the passage was full of people, the doors of the flats stood open and on the landing, on the stairs and everywhere below there were people, rows of heads, all looking, but huddled together in silence and expectation. Something gripped his heart, his legs were rooted to the 497 of 967 Crime and Punishment spot, they would not move…. He tried to scream and woke up. He drew a deep breath—but his dream seemed strangely to persist: his door was flung open and a man whom he had never seen stood in the doorway watching him intently. Raskolnikov had hardly opened his eyes and he instantly closed them again. He lay on his back without stirring. ‘Is it still a dream?’ he wondered and again raised his eyelids hardly perceptibly; the stranger was standing in the same place, still watching him. He stepped cautiously into the room, carefully closing the door after him, went up to the table, paused a moment, still keeping his eyes on Raskolnikov, and noiselessly seated himself on the chair by the sofa; he put his hat on the floor beside him and leaned his hands on his cane and his chin on his hands. It was evident that he was prepared to wait indefinitely. As far as Raskolnikov could make out from his stolen glances, he was a man no longer young, stout, with a full, fair, almost whitish beard. Ten minutes passed. It was still light, but beginning to get dusk. There was complete stillness in the room. Not a sound came from the stairs. Only a big fly buzzed and 498 of 967 Crime and Punishment fluttered against the window pane. It was unbearable at last. Raskolnikov suddenly got up and sat on the sofa. ‘Come, tell me what you want.’ ‘I knew you were not asleep, but only pretending,’ the stranger answered oddly, laughing calmly. ‘Arkady Ivanovitch Svidrigaïlov, allow me to introduce myself….’ 499 of 967 Crime and Punishment PART IV 500 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter I ‘Can this be still a dream?’ Raskolnikov thought once more. He looked carefully and suspiciously at the unexpected visitor. ‘Svidrigaïlov! What nonsense! It can’t be!’ he said at last aloud in bewilderment. His visitor did not seem at all surprised at this exclamation. ‘I’ve come to you for two reasons. In the first place, I wanted to make your personal acquaintance, as I have already heard a great deal about you that is interesting and flattering; secondly, I cherish the hope that you may not refuse to assist me in a matter directly concerning the welfare of your sister, Avdotya Romanovna. For without your support she might not let me come near her now, for she is prejudiced against me, but with your assistance I reckon on …’ ‘You reckon wrongly,’ interrupted Raskolnikov. ‘They only arrived yesterday, may I ask you?’ Raskolnikov made no reply. ‘It was yesterday, I know. I only arrived myself the day before. Well, let me tell you this, Rodion Romanovitch, I 501 of 967 Crime and Punishment don’t consider it necessary to justify myself, but kindly tell me what was there particularly criminal on my part in all this business, speaking without prejudice, with common sense?’ Raskolnikov continued to look at him in silence. ‘That in my own house I persecuted a defenceless girl and ‘insulted her with my infamous proposals’—is that it? (I am anticipating you.) But you’ve only to assume that I, too, am a man et nihil humanum … in a word, that I am capable of being attracted and falling in love (which does not depend on our will), then everything can be explained in the most natural manner. The question is, am I a monster, or am I myself a victim? And what if I am a victim? In proposing to the object of my passion to elope with me to America or Switzerland, I may have cherished the deepest respect for her and may have thought that I was promoting our mutual happiness! Reason is the slave of passion, you know; why, probably, I was doing more harm to myself than anyone!’ ‘But that’s not the point,’ Raskolnikov interrupted with disgust. ‘It’s simply that whether you are right or wrong, we dislike you. We don’t want to have anything to do with you. We show you the door. Go out!’ Svidrigaïlov broke into a sudden laugh. 502 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘But you’re … but there’s no getting round you,’ he said, laughing in the frankest way. ‘I hoped to get round you, but you took up the right line at once!’ ‘But you are trying to get round me still!’ ‘What of it? What of it?’ cried Svidrigaïlov, laughing openly. ‘But this is what the French call bonne guerre and the most innocent form of deception! … But still you have interrupted me; one way or another, I repeat again: there would never have been any unpleasantness except for what happened in the garden. Marfa Petrovna …’ ‘You have got rid of Marfa Petrovna, too, so they say?’ Raskolnikov interrupted rudely. ‘Oh, you’ve heard that, too, then? You’d be sure to, though…. But as for your question, I really don’t know what to say, though my own conscience is quite at rest on that score. Don’t suppose that I am in any apprehension about it. All was regular and in order; the medical inquiry diagnosed apoplexy due to bathing immediately after a heavy dinner and a bottle of wine, and indeed it could have proved nothing else. But I’ll tell you what I have been thinking to myself of late, on my way here in the train, especially: didn’t I contribute to all that … calamity, morally, in a way, by irritation or something of the sort. 503 of 967 Crime and Punishment But I came to the conclusion that that, too, was quite out of the question.’ Raskolnikov laughed. ‘I wonder you trouble yourself about it!’ ‘But what are you laughing at? Only consider, I struck her just twice with a switch—there were no marks even … don’t regard me as a cynic, please; I am perfectly aware how atrocious it was of me and all that; but I know for certain, too, that Marfa Petrovna was very likely pleased at my, so to say, warmth. The story of your sister had been wrung out to the last drop; for the last three days Marfa Petrovna had been forced to sit at home; she had nothing to show herself with in the town. Besides, she had bored them so with that letter (you heard about her reading the letter). And all of a sudden those two switches fell from heaven! Her first act was to order the carriage to be got out…. Not to speak of the fact that there are cases when women are very, very glad to be insulted in spite of all their show of indignation. There are instances of it with everyone; human beings in general, indeed, greatly love to be insulted, have you noticed that? But it’s particularly so with women. One might even say it’s their only amusement.’ 504 of 967 Crime and Punishment At one time Raskolnikov thought of getting up and walking out and so finishing the interview. But some curiosity and even a sort of prudence made him linger for a moment. ‘You are fond of fighting?’ he asked carelessly. ‘No, not very,’ Svidrigaïlov answered, calmly. ‘And Marfa Petrovna and I scarcely ever fought. We lived very harmoniously, and she was always pleased with me. I only used the whip twice in all our seven years (not counting a third occasion of a very ambiguous character). The first time, two months after our marriage, immediately after we arrived in the country, and the last time was that of which we are speaking. Did you suppose I was such a monster, such a reactionary, such a slave driver? Ha, ha! By the way, do you remember, Rodion Romanovitch, how a few years ago, in those days of beneficent publicity, a nobleman, I’ve forgotten his name, was put to shame everywhere, in all the papers, for having thrashed a German woman in the railway train. You remember? It was in those days, that very year I believe, the ‘disgraceful action of the Age ’ took place (you know, ‘The Egyptian Nights,’ that public reading, you remember? The dark eyes, you know! Ah, the golden days of our youth, where are they?). Well, as for the gentleman who thrashed the 505 of 967 Crime and Punishment German, I feel no sympathy with him, because after all what need is there for sympathy? But I must say that there are sometimes such provoking ‘Germans’ that I don’t believe there is a progressive who could quite answer for himself. No one looked at the subject from that point of view then, but that’s the truly humane point of view, I assure you.’ After saying this, Svidrigaïlov broke into a sudden laugh again. Raskolnikov saw clearly that this was a man with a firm purpose in his mind and able to keep it to himself. ‘I expect you’ve not talked to anyone for some days?’ he asked. ‘Scarcely anyone. I suppose you are wondering at my being such an adaptable man?’ ‘No, I am only wondering at your being too adaptable a man.’ ‘Because I am not offended at the rudeness of your questions? Is that it? But why take offence? As you asked, so I answered,’ he replied, with a surprising expression of simplicity. ‘You know, there’s hardly anything I take interest in,’ he went on, as it were dreamily, ‘especially now, I’ve nothing to do…. You are quite at liberty to imagine though that I am making up to you with a motive, particularly as I told you I want to see your sister 506 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. about something. But I’ll confess frankly, I am very much bored. The last three days especially, so I am delighted to see you…. Don’t be angry, Rodion Romanovitch, but you seem to be somehow awfully strange yourself. Say what you like, there’s something wrong with you, and now, too … not this very minute, I mean, but now, generally…. Well, well, I won’t, I won’t, don’t scowl! I am not such a bear, you know, as you think.’ Raskolnikov looked gloomily at him. ‘You are not a bear, perhaps, at all,’ he said. ‘I fancy indeed that you are a man of very good breeding, or at least know how on occasion to behave like one.’ ‘I am not particularly interested in anyone’s opinion,’ Svidrigaïlov answered, dryly and even with a shade of haughtiness, ‘and therefore why not be vulgar at times when vulgarity is such a convenient cloak for our climate … and especially if one has a natural propensity that way,’ he added, laughing again. ‘But I’ve heard you have many friends here. You are, as they say, ‘not without connections.’ What can you want with me, then, unless you’ve some special object?’ ‘That’s true that I have friends here,’ Svidrigaïlov admitted, not replying to the chief point. ‘I’ve met some already. I’ve been lounging about for the last three days, 507 of 967 Crime and Punishment and I’ve seen them, or they’ve seen me. That’s a matter of course. I am well dressed and reckoned not a poor man; the emancipation of the serfs hasn’t affected me; my property consists chiefly of forests and water meadows. The revenue has not fallen off; but … I am not going to see them, I was sick of them long ago. I’ve been here three days and have called on no one…. What a town it is! How has it come into existence among us, tell me that? A town of officials and students of all sorts. Yes, there’s a great deal I didn’t notice when I was here eight years ago, kicking up my heels…. My only hope now is in anatomy, by Jove, it is!’ ‘Anatomy?’ ‘But as for these clubs, Dussauts, parades, or progress, indeed, maybe —well, all that can go on without me,’ he went on, again without noticing the question. ‘Besides, who wants to be a card-sharper?’ ‘Why, have you been a card-sharper then?’ ‘How could I help being? There was a regular set of us, men of the best society, eight years ago; we had a fine time. And all men of breeding, you know, poets, men of property. And indeed as a rule in our Russian society the best manners are found among those who’ve been thrashed, have you noticed that? I’ve deteriorated in the 508 of 967 Crime and Punishment country. But I did get into prison for debt, through a low Greek who came from Nezhin. Then Marfa Petrovna turned up; she bargained with him and bought me off for thirty thousand silver pieces (I owed seventy thousand). We were united in lawful wedlock and she bore me off into the country like a treasure. You know she was five years older than I. She was very fond of me. For seven years I never left the country. And, take note, that all my life she held a document over me, the IOU for thirty thousand roubles, so if I were to elect to be restive about anything I should be trapped at once! And she would have done it! Women find nothing incompatible in that.’ ‘If it hadn’t been for that, would you have given her the slip?’ ‘I don’t know what to say. It was scarcely the document restrained me. I didn’t want to go anywhere else. Marfa Petrovna herself invited me to go abroad, seeing I was bored, but I’ve been abroad before, and always felt sick there. For no reason, but the sunrise, the bay of Naples, the sea—you look at them and it makes you sad. What’s most revolting is that one is really sad! No, it’s better at home. Here at least one blames others for everything and excuses oneself. I should have gone perhaps on an expedition to the North Pole, because j’ai le 509 of 967 Crime and Punishment vin mauvais and hate drinking, and there’s nothing left but wine. I have tried it. But, I say, I’ve been told Berg is going up in a great balloon next Sunday from the Yusupov Garden and will take up passengers at a fee. Is it true?’ ‘Why, would you go up?’ ‘I … No, oh, no,’ muttered Svidrigaïlov really seeming to be deep in thought. ‘What does he mean? Is he in earnest?’ Raskolnikov wondered. ‘No, the document didn’t restrain me,’ Svidrigaïlov went on, meditatively. ‘It was my own doing, not leaving the country, and nearly a year ago Marfa Petrovna gave me back the document on my name- day and made me a present of a considerable sum of money, too. She had a fortune, you know. ‘You see how I trust you, Arkady Ivanovitch’— that was actually her expression. You don’t believe she used it? But do you know I managed the estate quite decently, they know me in the neighbourhood. I ordered books, too. Marfa Petrovna at first approved, but afterwards she was afraid of my over-studying.’ ‘You seem to be missing Marfa Petrovna very much?’ ‘Missing her? Perhaps. Really, perhaps I am. And, by the way, do you believe in ghosts?’ 510 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘What ghosts?’ ‘Why, ordinary ghosts.’ ‘Do you believe in them?’ ‘Perhaps not, pour vous plaire …. I wouldn’t say no exactly.’ ‘Do you see them, then?’ Svidrigaïlov looked at him rather oddly. ‘Marfa Petrovna is pleased to visit me,’ he said, twisting his mouth into a strange smile. ‘How do you mean ‘she is pleased to visit you’?’ ‘She has been three times. I saw her first on the very day of the funeral, an hour after she was buried. It was the day before I left to come here. The second time was the day before yesterday, at daybreak, on the journey at the station of Malaya Vishera, and the third time was two hours ago in the room where I am staying. I was alone.’ ‘Were you awake?’ ‘Quite awake. I was wide awake every time. She comes, speaks to me for a minute and goes out at the door—always at the door. I can almost hear her.’ ‘What made me think that something of the sort must be happening to you?’ Raskolnikov said suddenly. At the same moment he was surprised at having said it. He was much excited. 511 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘What! Did you think so?’ Svidrigaïlov asked in astonishment. ‘Did you really? Didn’t I say that there was something in common between us, eh?’ ‘You never said so!’ Raskolnikov cried sharply and with heat. ‘Didn’t I?’ ‘No!’ ‘I thought I did. When I came in and saw you lying with your eyes shut, pretending, I said to myself at once, ‘Here’s the man.’’ ‘What do you mean by ‘the man?’ What are you talking about?’ cried Raskolnikov. ‘What do I mean? I really don’t know….’ Svidrigaïlov muttered ingenuously, as though he, too, were puzzled. For a minute they were silent. They stared in each other’s faces. ‘That’s all nonsense!’ Raskolnikov shouted with vexation. ‘What does she say when she comes to you?’ ‘She! Would you believe it, she talks of the silliest trifles and—man is a strange creature—it makes me angry. The first time she came in (I was tired you know: the funeral service, the funeral ceremony, the lunch afterwards. At last I was left alone in my study. I lighted a cigar and began to think), she came in at the door. ‘You’ve been so busy to-512 of 967 Crime and Punishment day, Arkady Ivanovitch, you have forgotten to wind the dining- room clock,’ she said. All those seven years I’ve wound that clock every week, and if I forgot it she would always remind me. The next day I set off on my way here. I got out at the station at daybreak; I’d been asleep, tired out, with my eyes half open, I was drinking some coffee. I looked up and there was suddenly Marfa Petrovna sitting beside me with a pack of cards in her hands. ‘Shall I tell your fortune for the journey, Arkady Ivanovitch?’ She was a great hand at telling fortunes. I shall never forgive myself for not asking her to. I ran away in a fright, and, besides, the bell rang. I was sitting to-day, feeling very heavy after a miserable dinner from a cookshop; I was sitting smoking, all of a sudden Marfa Petrovna again. She came in very smart in a new green silk dress with a long train. ‘Good day, Arkady Ivanovitch! How do you like my dress? Aniska can’t make like this.’ (Aniska was a dressmaker in the country, one of our former serf girls who had been trained in Moscow, a pretty wench.) She stood turning round before me. I looked at the dress, and then I looked carefully, very carefully, at her face. ‘I wonder you trouble to come to me about such trifles, Marfa Petrovna.’ ‘Good gracious, you won’t let one disturb you about anything!’ To tease her I said, ‘I want to get married, Marfa 513 of 967 Crime and Punishment Petrovna.’ ‘That’s just like you, Arkady Ivanovitch; it does you very little credit to come looking for a bride when you’ve hardly buried your wife. And if you could make a good choice, at least, but I know it won’t be for your happiness or hers, you will only be a laughing-stock to all good people.’ Then she went out and her train seemed to rustle. Isn’t it nonsense, eh?’ ‘But perhaps you are telling lies?’ Raskolnikov put in. ‘I rarely lie,’ answered Svidrigaïlov thoughtfully, apparently not noticing the rudeness of the question. ‘And in the past, have you ever seen ghosts before?’ ‘Y-yes, I have seen them, but only once in my life, six years ago. I had a serf, Filka; just after his burial I called out forgetting ‘Filka, my pipe!’ He came in and went to the cupboard where my pipes were. I sat still and thought ‘he is doing it out of revenge,’ because we had a violent quarrel just before his death. ‘How dare you come in with a hole in your elbow?’ I said. ‘Go away, you scamp!’ He turned and went out, and never came again. I didn’t tell Marfa Petrovna at the time. I wanted to have a service sung for him, but I was ashamed.’ ‘You should go to a doctor.’ ‘I know I am not well, without your telling me, though I don’t know what’s wrong; I believe I am five 514 of 967 Crime and Punishment times as strong as you are. I didn’t ask you whether you believe that ghosts are seen, but whether you believe that they exist.’ ‘No, I won’t believe it!’ Raskolnikov cried, with positive anger. ‘What do people generally say?’ muttered Svidrigaïlov, as though speaking to himself, looking aside and bowing his head. ‘They say, ‘You are ill, so what appears to you is only unreal fantasy.’ But that’s not strictly logical. I agree that ghosts only appear to the sick, but that only proves that they are unable to appear except to the sick, not that they don’t exist.’ ‘Nothing of the sort,’ Raskolnikov insisted irritably. ‘No? You don’t think so?’ Svidrigaïlov went on, looking at him deliberately. ‘But what do you say to this argument (help me with it): ghosts are, as it were, shreds and fragments of other worlds, the beginning of them. A man in health has, of course, no reason to see them, because he is above all a man of this earth and is bound for the sake of completeness and order to live only in this life. But as soon as one is ill, as soon as the normal earthly order of the organism is broken, one begins to realise the possibility of another world; and the more seriously ill one is, the closer becomes one’s contact with that other world, 515 of 967 Crime and Punishment so that as soon as the man dies he steps straight into that world. I thought of that long ago. If you believe in a future life, you could believe in that, too.’ ‘I don’t believe in a future life,’ said Raskolnikov. Svidrigaïlov sat lost in thought. ‘And what if there are only spiders there, or something of that sort,’ he said suddenly. ‘He is a madman,’ thought Raskolnikov. ‘We always imagine eternity as something beyond our conception, something vast, vast! But why must it be vast? Instead of all that, what if it’s one little room, like a bath house in the country, black and grimy and spiders in every corner, and that’s all eternity is? I sometimes fancy it like that.’ ‘Can it be you can imagine nothing juster and more comforting than that?’ Raskolnikov cried, with a feeling of anguish. ‘Juster? And how can we tell, perhaps that is just, and do you know it’s what I would certainly have made it,’ answered Svidrigaïlov, with a vague smile. This horrible answer sent a cold chill through Raskolnikov. Svidrigaïlov raised his head, looked at him, and suddenly began laughing. 516 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Only think,’ he cried, ‘half an hour ago we had never seen each other, we regarded each other as enemies; there is a matter unsettled between us; we’ve thrown it aside, and away we’ve gone into the abstract! Wasn’t I right in saying that we were birds of a feather?’ ‘Kindly allow me,’ Raskolnikov went on irritably, ‘to ask you to explain why you have honoured me with your visit … and … and I am in a hurry, I have no time to waste. I want to go out.’ ‘By all means, by all means. Your sister, Avdotya Romanovna, is going to be married to Mr. Luzhin, Pyotr Petrovitch?’ ‘Can you refrain from any question about my sister and from mentioning her name? I can’t understand how you dare utter her name in my presence, if you really are Svidrigaïlov.’ ‘Why, but I’ve come here to speak about her; how can I avoid mentioning her?’ ‘Very good, speak, but make haste.’ ‘I am sure that you must have formed your own opinion of this Mr. Luzhin, who is a connection of mine through my wife, if you have only seen him for half an hour, or heard any facts about him. He is no match for Avdotya Romanovna. I believe Avdotya Romanovna is 517 of 967 Crime and Punishment sacrificing herself generously and imprudently for the sake of … for the sake of her family. I fancied from all I had heard of you that you would be very glad if the match could be broken off without the sacrifice of worldly advantages. Now I know you personally, I am convinced of it.’ ‘All this is very naïve … excuse me, I should have said impudent on your part,’ said Raskolnikov. ‘You mean to say that I am seeking my own ends. Don’t be uneasy, Rodion Romanovitch, if I were working for my own advantage, I would not have spoken out so directly. I am not quite a fool. I will confess something psychologically curious about that: just now, defending my love for Avdotya Romanovna, I said I was myself the victim. Well, let me tell you that I’ve no feeling of love now, not the slightest, so that I wonder myself indeed, for I really did feel something …’ ‘Through idleness and depravity,’ Raskolnikov put in. ‘I certainly am idle and depraved, but your sister has such qualities that even I could not help being impressed by them. But that’s all nonsense, as I see myself now.’ ‘Have you seen that long?’ ‘I began to be aware of it before, but was only perfectly sure of it the day before yesterday, almost at the moment I 518 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. arrived in Petersburg. I still fancied in Moscow, though, that I was coming to try to get Avdotya Romanovna’s hand and to cut out Mr. Luzhin.’ ‘Excuse me for interrupting you; kindly be brief, and come to the object of your visit. I am in a hurry, I want to go out …’ ‘With the greatest pleasure. On arriving here and determining on a certain … journey, I should like to make some necessary preliminary arrangements. I left my children with an aunt; they are well provided for; and they have no need of me personally. And a nice father I should make, too! I have taken nothing but what Marfa Petrovna gave me a year ago. That’s enough for me. Excuse me, I am just coming to the point. Before the journey which may come off, I want to settle Mr. Luzhin, too. It’s not that I detest him so much, but it was through him I quarrelled with Marfa Petrovna when I learned that she had dished up this marriage. I want now to see Avdotya Romanovna through your mediation, and if you like in your presence, to explain to her that in the first place she will never gain anything but harm from Mr. Luzhin. Then, begging her pardon for all past unpleasantness, to make her a present of ten thousand roubles and so assist the rupture with Mr. Luzhin, a rupture to which I believe 519 of 967 Crime and Punishment she is herself not disinclined, if she could see the way to it.’ ‘You are certainly mad,’ cried Raskolnikov not so much angered as astonished. ‘How dare you talk like that!’ ‘I knew you would scream at me; but in the first place, though I am not rich, this ten thousand roubles is perfectly free; I have absolutely no need for it. If Avdotya Romanovna does not accept it, I shall waste it in some more foolish way. That’s the first thing. Secondly, my conscience is perfectly easy; I make the offer with no ulterior motive. You may not believe it, but in the end Avdotya Romanovna and you will know. The point is, that I did actually cause your sister, whom I greatly respect, some trouble and unpleasantness, and so, sincerely regretting it, I want—not to compensate, not to repay her for the unpleasantness, but simply to do something to her advantage, to show that I am not, after all, privileged to do nothing but harm. If there were a millionth fraction of self-interest in my offer, I should not have made it so openly; and I should not have offered her ten thousand only, when five weeks ago I offered her more, Besides, I may, perhaps, very soon marry a young lady, and that alone ought to prevent suspicion of any design on Avdotya Romanovna. In conclusion, let me say that in 520 of 967 Crime and Punishment marrying Mr. Luzhin, she is taking money just the same, only from another man. Don’t be angry, Rodion Romanovitch, think it over coolly and quietly.’ Svidrigaïlov himself was exceedingly cool and quiet as he was saying this. ‘I beg you to say no more,’ said Raskolnikov. ‘In any case this is unpardonable impertinence.’ ‘Not in the least. Then a man may do nothing but harm to his neighbour in this world, and is prevented from doing the tiniest bit of good by trivial conventional formalities. That’s absurd. If I died, for instance, and left that sum to your sister in my will, surely she wouldn’t refuse it?’ ‘Very likely she would.’ ‘Oh, no, indeed. However, if you refuse it, so be it, though ten thousand roubles is a capital thing to have on occasion. In any case I beg you to repeat what I have said to Avdotya Romanovna.’ ‘No, I won’t.’ ‘In that case, Rodion Romanovitch, I shall be obliged to try and see her myself and worry her by doing so.’ ‘And if I do tell her, will you not try to see her?’ ‘I don’t know really what to say. I should like very much to see her once more.’ 521 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Don’t hope for it.’ ‘I’m sorry. But you don’t know me. Perhaps we may become better friends.’ ‘You think we may become friends?’ ‘And why not?’ Svidrigaïlov said, smiling. He stood up and took his hat. ‘I didn’t quite intend to disturb you and I came here without reckoning on it … though I was very much struck by your face this morning.’ ‘Where did you see me this morning?’ Raskolnikov asked uneasily. ‘I saw you by chance…. I kept fancying there is something about you like me…. But don’t be uneasy. I am not intrusive; I used to get on all right with card-sharpers, and I never bored Prince Svirbey, a great personage who is a distant relation of mine, and I could write about Raphael’s Madonna in Madam Prilukov’s album, and I never left Marfa Petrovna’s side for seven years, and I used to stay the night at Viazemsky’s house in the Hay Market in the old days, and I may go up in a balloon with Berg, perhaps.’ ‘Oh, all right. Are you starting soon on your travels, may I ask?’ ‘What travels?’ ‘Why, on that ‘journey’; you spoke of it yourself.’ 522 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘A journey? Oh, yes. I did speak of a journey. Well, that’s a wide subject…. if only you knew what you are asking,’ he added, and gave a sudden, loud, short laugh. ‘Perhaps I’ll get married instead of the journey. They’re making a match for me.’ ‘Here?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘How have you had time for that?’ ‘But I am very anxious to see Avdotya Romanovna once. I earnestly beg it. Well, good-bye for the present. Oh, yes. I have forgotten something. Tell your sister, Rodion Romanovitch, that Marfa Petrovna remembered her in her will and left her three thousand roubles. That’s absolutely certain. Marfa Petrovna arranged it a week before her death, and it was done in my presence. Avdotya Romanovna will be able to receive the money in two or three weeks.’ ‘Are you telling the truth?’ ‘Yes, tell her. Well, your servant. I am staying very near you.’ As he went out, Svidrigaïlov ran up against Razumihin in the doorway. 523 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter II It was nearly eight o’clock. The two young men hurried to Bakaleyev’s, to arrive before Luzhin. ‘Why, who was that?’ asked Razumihin, as soon as they were in the street. ‘It was Svidrigaïlov, that landowner in whose house my sister was insulted when she was their governess. Through his persecuting her with his attentions, she was turned out by his wife, Marfa Petrovna. This Marfa Petrovna begged Dounia’s forgiveness afterwards, and she’s just died suddenly. It was of her we were talking this morning. I don’t know why I’m afraid of that man. He came here at once after his wife’s funeral. He is very strange, and is determined on doing something…. We must guard Dounia from him … that’s what I wanted to tell you, do you hear?’ ‘Guard her! What can he do to harm Avdotya Romanovna? Thank you, Rodya, for speaking to me like that…. We will, we will guard her. Where does he live?’ ‘I don’t know.’ ‘Why didn’t you ask? What a pity! I’ll find out, though.’ 524 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Did you see him?’ asked Raskolnikov after a pause. ‘Yes, I noticed him, I noticed him well.’ ‘You did really see him? You saw him clearly?’ Raskolnikov insisted. ‘Yes, I remember him perfectly, I should know him in a thousand; I have a good memory for faces.’ They were silent again. ‘Hm! … that’s all right,’ muttered Raskolnikov. ‘Do you know, I fancied … I keep thinking that it may have been an hallucination.’ ‘What do you mean? I don’t understand you.’ ‘Well, you all say,’ Raskolnikov went on, twisting his mouth into a smile, ‘that I am mad. I thought just now that perhaps I really am mad, and have only seen a phantom.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Why, who can tell? Perhaps I am really mad, and perhaps everything that happened all these days may be only imagination.’ ‘Ach, Rodya, you have been upset again! … But what did he say, what did he come for?’ Raskolnikov did not answer. Razumihin thought a minute. 525 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Now let me tell you my story,’ he began, ‘I came to you, you were asleep. Then we had dinner and then I went to Porfiry’s, Zametov was still with him. I tried to begin, but it was no use. I couldn’t speak in the right way. They don’t seem to understand and can’t understand, but are not a bit ashamed. I drew Porfiry to the window, and began talking to him, but it was still no use. He looked away and I looked away. At last I shook my fist in his ugly face, and told him as a cousin I’d brain him. He merely looked at me, I cursed and came away. That was all. It was very stupid. To Zametov I didn’t say a word. But, you see, I thought I’d made a mess of it, but as I went downstairs a brilliant idea struck me: why should we trouble? Of course if you were in any danger or anything, but why need you care? You needn’t care a hang for them. We shall have a laugh at them afterwards, and if I were in your place I’d mystify them more than ever. How ashamed they’ll be afterwards! Hang them! We can thrash them afterwards, but let’s laugh at them now!’ ‘To be sure,’ answered Raskolnikov. ‘But what will you say to-morrow?’ he thought to himself. Strange to say, till that moment it had never occurred to him to wonder what Razumihin would think when he knew. As he thought it, Raskolnikov looked at him. Razumihin’s 526 of 967 Crime and Punishment account of his visit to Porfiry had very little interest for him, so much had come and gone since then. In the corridor they came upon Luzhin; he had arrived punctually at eight, and was looking for the number, so that all three went in together without greeting or looking at one another. The young men walked in first, while Pyotr Petrovitch, for good manners, lingered a little in the passage, taking off his coat. Pulcheria Alexandrovna came forward at once to greet him in the doorway, Dounia was welcoming her brother. Pyotr Petrovitch walked in and quite amiably, though with redoubled dignity, bowed to the ladies. He looked, however, as though he were a little put out and could not yet recover himself. Pulcheria Alexandrovna, who seemed also a little embarrassed, hastened to make them all sit down at the round table where a samovar was boiling. Dounia and Luzhin were facing one another on opposite sides of the table. Razumihin and Raskolnikov were facing Pulcheria Alexandrovna, Razumihin was next to Luzhin and Raskolnikov was beside his sister. A moment’s silence followed. Pyotr Petrovitch deliberately drew out a cambric handkerchief reeking of scent and blew his nose with an air of a benevolent man who felt himself slighted, and was firmly resolved to insist 527 of 967 Crime and Punishment on an explanation. In the passage the idea had occurred to him to keep on his overcoat and walk away, and so give the two ladies a sharp and emphatic lesson and make them feel the gravity of the position. But he could not bring himself to do this. Besides, he could not endure uncertainty, and he wanted an explanation: if his request had been so openly disobeyed, there was something behind it, and in that case it was better to find it out beforehand; it rested with him to punish them and there would always be time for that. ‘I trust you had a favourable journey,’ he inquired officially of Pulcheria Alexandrovna. ‘Oh, very, Pyotr Petrovitch.’ ‘I am gratified to hear it. And Avdotya Romanovna is not over-fatigued either?’ ‘I am young and strong, I don’t get tired, but it was a great strain for mother,’ answered Dounia. ‘That’s unavoidable! our national railways are of terrible length. ‘Mother Russia,’ as they say, is a vast country…. In spite of all my desire to do so, I was unable to meet you yesterday. But I trust all passed off without inconvenience?’ ‘Oh, no, Pyotr Petrovitch, it was all terribly disheartening,’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna hastened to declare 528 of 967 Crime and Punishment with peculiar intonation, ‘and if Dmitri Prokofitch had not been sent us, I really believe by God Himself, we should have been utterly lost. Here, he is! Dmitri Prokofitch Razumihin,’ she added, introducing him to Luzhin. ‘I had the pleasure … yesterday,’ muttered Pyotr Petrovitch with a hostile glance sidelong at Razumihin; then he scowled and was silent. Pyotr Petrovitch belonged to that class of persons, on the surface very polite in society, who make a great point of punctiliousness, but who, directly they are crossed in anything, are completely disconcerted, and become more like sacks of flour than elegant and lively men of society. Again all was silent; Raskolnikov was obstinately mute, Avdotya Romanovna was unwilling to open the conversation too soon. Razumihin had nothing to say, so Pulcheria Alexandrovna was anxious again. ‘Marfa Petrovna is dead, have you heard?’ she began having recourse to her leading item of conversation. ‘To be sure, I heard so. I was immediately informed, and I have come to make you acquainted with the fact that Arkady Ivanovitch Svidrigaïlov set off in haste for Petersburg immediately after his wife’s funeral. So at least I have excellent authority for believing.’ 529 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘To Petersburg? here?’ Dounia asked in alarm and looked at her mother. ‘Yes, indeed, and doubtless not without some design, having in view the rapidity of his departure, and all the circumstances preceding it.’ ‘Good heavens! won’t he leave Dounia in peace even here?’ cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. ‘I imagine that neither you nor Avdotya Romanovna have any grounds for uneasiness, unless, of course, you are yourselves desirous of getting into communication with him. For my part I am on my guard, and am now discovering where he is lodging.’ ‘Oh, Pyotr Petrovitch, you would not believe what a fright you have given me,’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna went on: ‘I’ve only seen him twice, but I thought him terrible, terrible! I am convinced that he was the cause of Marfa Petrovna’s death.’ ‘It’s impossible to be certain about that. I have precise information. I do not dispute that he may have contributed to accelerate the course of events by the moral influence, so to say, of the affront; but as to the general conduct and moral characteristics of that personage, I am in agreement with you. I do not know whether he is well off now, and precisely what Marfa Petrovna left him; this 530 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. will be known to me within a very short period; but no doubt here in Petersburg, if he has any pecuniary resources, he will relapse at once into his old ways. He is the most depraved, and abjectly vicious specimen of that class of men. I have considerable reason to believe that Marfa Petrovna, who was so unfortunate as to fall in love with him and to pay his debts eight years ago, was of service to him also in another way. Solely by her exertions and sacrifices, a criminal charge, involving an element of fantastic and homicidal brutality for which he might well have been sentenced to Siberia, was hushed up. That’s the sort of man he is, if you care to know.’ ‘Good heavens!’ cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. Raskolnikov listened attentively. ‘Are you speaking the truth when you say that you have good evidence of this?’ Dounia asked sternly and emphatically. ‘I only repeat what I was told in secret by Marfa Petrovna. I must observe that from the legal point of view the case was far from clear. There was, and I believe still is, living here a woman called Resslich, a foreigner, who lent small sums of money at interest, and did other commissions, and with this woman Svidrigaïlov had for a long while close and mysterious relations. She had a 531 of 967 Crime and Punishment relation, a niece I believe, living with her, a deaf and dumb girl of fifteen, or perhaps not more than fourteen. Resslich hated this girl, and grudged her every crust; she used to beat her mercilessly. One day the girl was found hanging in the garret. At the inquest the verdict was suicide. After the usual proceedings the matter ended, but, later on, information was given that the child had been … cruelly outraged by Svidrigaïlov. It is true, this was not clearly established, the information was given by another German woman of loose character whose word could not be trusted; no statement was actually made to the police, thanks to Marfa Petrovna’s money and exertions; it did not get beyond gossip. And yet the story is a very significant one. You heard, no doubt, Avdotya Romanovna, when you were with them the story of the servant Philip who died of ill treatment he received six years ago, before the abolition of serfdom.’ ‘I heard, on the contrary, that this Philip hanged himself.’ ‘Quite so, but what drove him, or rather perhaps disposed him, to suicide was the systematic persecution and severity of Mr. Svidrigaïlov.’ ‘I don’t know that,’ answered Dounia, dryly. ‘I only heard a queer story that Philip was a sort of 532 of 967 Crime and Punishment hypochondriac, a sort of domestic philosopher, the servants used to say, ‘he read himself silly,’ and that he hanged himself partly on account of Mr. Svidrigaïlov’s mockery of him and not his blows. When I was there he behaved well to the servants, and they were actually fond of him, though they certainly did blame him for Philip’s death.’ ‘I perceive, Avdotya Romanovna, that you seem disposed to undertake his defence all of a sudden,’ Luzhin observed, twisting his lips into an ambiguous smile, ‘there’s no doubt that he is an astute man, and insinuating where ladies are concerned, of which Marfa Petrovna, who has died so strangely, is a terrible instance. My only desire has been to be of service to you and your mother with my advice, in view of the renewed efforts which may certainly be anticipated from him. For my part it’s my firm conviction, that he will end in a debtor’s prison again. Marfa Petrovna had not the slightest intention of settling anything substantial on him, having regard for his children’s interests, and, if she left him anything, it would only be the merest sufficiency, something insignificant and ephemeral, which would not last a year for a man of his habits.’ 533 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Pyotr Petrovitch, I beg you,’ said Dounia, ‘say no more of Mr. Svidrigaïlov. It makes me miserable.’ ‘He has just been to see me,’ said Raskolnikov, breaking his silence for the first time. There were exclamations from all, and they all turned to him. Even Pyotr Petrovitch was roused. ‘An hour and a half ago, he came in when I was asleep, waked me, and introduced himself,’ Raskolnikov continued. ‘He was fairly cheerful and at ease, and quite hopes that we shall become friends. He is particularly anxious, by the way, Dounia, for an interview with you, at which he asked me to assist. He has a proposition to make to you, and he told me about it. He told me, too, that a week before her death Marfa Petrovna left you three thousand roubles in her will, Dounia, and that you can receive the money very shortly.’ ‘Thank God!’ cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna, crossing herself. ‘Pray for her soul, Dounia!’ ‘It’s a fact!’ broke from Luzhin. ‘Tell us, what more?’ Dounia urged Raskolnikov. ‘Then he said that he wasn’t rich and all the estate was left to his children who are now with an aunt, then that he was staying somewhere not far from me, but where, I don’t know, I didn’t ask….’ 534 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘But what, what does he want to propose to Dounia?’ cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna in a fright. ‘Did he tell you?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘What was it?’ ‘I’ll tell you afterwards.’ Raskolnikov ceased speaking and turned his attention to his tea. Pyotr Petrovitch looked at his watch. ‘I am compelled to keep a business engagement, and so I shall not be in your way,’ he added with an air of some pique and he began getting up. ‘Don’t go, Pyotr Petrovitch,’ said Dounia, ‘you intended to spend the evening. Besides, you wrote yourself that you wanted to have an explanation with mother.’ ‘Precisely so, Avdotya Romanovna,’ Pyotr Petrovitch answered impressively, sitting down again, but still holding his hat. ‘I certainly desired an explanation with you and your honoured mother upon a very important point indeed. But as your brother cannot speak openly in my presence of some proposals of Mr. Svidrigaïlov, I, too, do not desire and am not able to speak openly … in the presence of others … of certain matters of the greatest 535 of 967 Crime and Punishment gravity. Moreover, my most weighty and urgent request has been disregarded….’ Assuming an aggrieved air, Luzhin relapsed into dignified silence. ‘Your request that my brother should not be present at our meeting was disregarded solely at my instance,’ said Dounia. ‘You wrote that you had been insulted by my brother; I think that this must be explained at once, and you must be reconciled. And if Rodya really has insulted you, then he should and will apologise.’ Pyotr Petrovitch took a stronger line. ‘There are insults, Avdotya Romanovna, which no goodwill can make us forget. There is a line in everything which it is dangerous to overstep; and when it has been overstepped, there is no return.’ ‘That wasn’t what I was speaking of exactly, Pyotr Petrovitch,’ Dounia interrupted with some impatience. ‘Please understand that our whole future depends now on whether all this is explained and set right as soon as possible. I tell you frankly at the start that I cannot look at it in any other light, and if you have the least regard for me, all this business must be ended to-day, however hard that may be. I repeat that if my brother is to blame he will ask your forgiveness.’ 536 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘I am surprised at your putting the question like that,’ said Luzhin, getting more and more irritated. ‘Esteeming, and so to say, adoring you, I may at the same time, very well indeed, be able to dislike some member of your family. Though I lay claim to the happiness of your hand, I cannot accept duties incompatible with …’ ‘Ah, don’t be so ready to take offence, Pyotr Petrovitch,’ Dounia interrupted with feeling, ‘and be the sensible and generous man I have always considered, and wish to consider, you to be. I’ve given you a great promise, I am your betrothed. Trust me in this matter and, believe me, I shall be capable of judging impartially. My assuming the part of judge is as much a surprise for my brother as for you. When I insisted on his coming to our interview to-day after your letter, I told him nothing of what I meant to do. Understand that, if you are not reconciled, I must choose between you—it must be either you or he. That is how the question rests on your side and on his. I don’t want to be mistaken in my choice, and I must not be. For your sake I must break off with my brother, for my brother’s sake I must break off with you. I can find out for certain now whether he is a brother to me, and I want to know it; and of you, whether I am dear 537 of 967 Crime and Punishment to you, whether you esteem me, whether you are the husband for me.’ ‘Avdotya Romanovna,’ Luzhin declared huffily, ‘your words are of too much consequence to me; I will say more, they are offensive in view of the position I have the honour to occupy in relation to you. To say nothing of your strange and offensive setting me on a level with an impertinent boy, you admit the possibility of breaking your promise to me. You say ‘you or he,’ showing thereby of how little consequence I am in your eyes … I cannot let this pass considering the relationship and … the obligations existing between us.’ ‘What!’ cried Dounia, flushing. ‘I set your interest beside all that has hitherto been most precious in my life, what has made up the whole of my life, and here you are offended at my making too little account of you.’ Raskolnikov smiled sarcastically, Razumihin fidgeted, but Pyotr Petrovitch did not accept the reproof; on the contrary, at every word he became more persistent and irritable, as though he relished it. ‘Love for the future partner of your life, for your husband, ought to outweigh your love for your brother,’ he pronounced sententiously, ‘and in any case I cannot be put on the same level…. Although I said so emphatically 538 of 967 Crime and Punishment that I would not speak openly in your brother’s presence, nevertheless, I intend now to ask your honoured mother for a necessary explanation on a point of great importance closely affecting my dignity. Your son,’ he turned to Pulcheria Alexandrovna, ‘yesterday in the presence of Mr. Razsudkin (or … I think that’s it? excuse me I have forgotten your surname,’ he bowed politely to Razumihin) ‘insulted me by misrepresenting the idea I expressed to you in a private conversation, drinking coffee, that is, that marriage with a poor girl who has had experience of trouble is more advantageous from the conjugal point of view than with one who has lived in luxury, since it is more profitable for the moral character. Your son intentionally exaggerated the significance of my words and made them ridiculous, accusing me of malicious intentions, and, as far as I could see, relied upon your correspondence with him. I shall consider myself happy, Pulcheria Alexandrovna, if it is possible for you to convince me of an opposite conclusion, and thereby considerately reassure me. Kindly let me know in what terms precisely you repeated my words in your letter to Rodion Romanovitch.’ 539 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘I don’t remember,’ faltered Pulcheria Alexandrovna. ‘I repeated them as I understood them. I don’t know how Rodya repeated them to you, perhaps he exaggerated.’ ‘He could not have exaggerated them, except at your instigation.’ ‘Pyotr Petrovitch,’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna declared with dignity, ‘the proof that Dounia and I did not take your words in a very bad sense is the fact that we are here.’ ‘Good, mother,’ said Dounia approvingly. ‘Then this is my fault again,’ said Luzhin, aggrieved. ‘Well, Pyotr Petrovitch, you keep blaming Rodion, but you yourself have just written what was false about him,’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna added, gaining courage. ‘I don’t remember writing anything false.’ ‘You wrote,’ Raskolnikov said sharply, not turning to Luzhin, ‘that I gave money yesterday not to the widow of the man who was killed, as was the fact, but to his daughter (whom I had never seen till yesterday). You wrote this to make dissension between me and my family, and for that object added coarse expressions about the conduct of a girl whom you don’t know. All that is mean slander.’ 540 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Excuse me, sir,’ said Luzhin, quivering with fury. ‘I enlarged upon your qualities and conduct in my letter solely in response to your sister’s and mother’s inquiries, how I found you, and what impression you made on me. As for what you’ve alluded to in my letter, be so good as to point out one word of falsehood, show, that is, that you didn’t throw away your money, and that there are not worthless persons in that family, however unfortunate.’ ‘To my thinking, you, with all your virtues, are not worth the little finger of that unfortunate girl at whom you throw stones.’ ‘Would you go so far then as to let her associate with your mother and sister?’ ‘I have done so already, if you care to know. I made her sit down to-day with mother and Dounia.’ ‘Rodya!’ cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. Dounia crimsoned, Razumihin knitted his brows. Luzhin smiled with lofty sarcasm. ‘You may see for yourself, Avdotya Romanovna,’ he said, ‘whether it is possible for us to agree. I hope now that this question is at an end, once and for all. I will withdraw, that I may not hinder the pleasures of family intimacy, and the discussion of secrets.’ He got up from his chair and took his hat. ‘But in withdrawing, I venture 541 of 967 Crime and Punishment to request that for the future I may be spared similar meetings, and, so to say, compromises. I appeal particularly to you, honoured Pulcheria Alexandrovna, on this subject, the more as my letter was addressed to you and to no one else.’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna was a little offended. ‘You seem to think we are completely under your authority, Pyotr Petrovitch. Dounia has told you the reason your desire was disregarded, she had the best intentions. And indeed you write as though you were laying commands upon me. Are we to consider every desire of yours as a command? Let me tell you on the contrary that you ought to show particular delicacy and consideration for us now, because we have thrown up everything, and have come here relying on you, and so we are in any case in a sense in your hands.’ ‘That is not quite true, Pulcheria Alexandrovna, especially at the present moment, when the news has come of Marfa Petrovna’s legacy, which seems indeed very apropos, judging from the new tone you take to me,’ he added sarcastically. ‘Judging from that remark, we may certainly presume that you were reckoning on our helplessness,’ Dounia observed irritably. 542 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. ‘But now in any case I cannot reckon on it, and I particularly desire not to hinder your discussion of the secret proposals of Arkady Ivanovitch Svidrigaïlov, which he has entrusted to your brother and which have, I perceive, a great and possibly a very agreeable interest for you.’ ‘Good heavens!’ cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. Razumihin could not sit still on his chair. ‘Aren’t you ashamed now, sister?’ asked Raskolnikov. ‘I am ashamed, Rodya,’ said Dounia. ‘Pyotr Petrovitch, go away,’ she turned to him, white with anger. Pyotr Petrovitch had apparently not at all expected such a conclusion. He had too much confidence in himself, in his power and in the helplessness of his victims. He could not believe it even now. He turned pale, and his lips quivered. ‘Avdotya Romanovna, if I go out of this door now, after such a dismissal, then, you may reckon on it, I will never come back. Consider what you are doing. My word is not to be shaken.’ ‘What insolence!’ cried Dounia, springing up from her seat. ‘I don’t want you to come back again.’ ‘What! So that’s how it stands!’ cried Luzhin, utterly unable to the last moment to believe in the rupture and so 543 of 967 Crime and Punishment completely thrown out of his reckoning now. ‘So that’s how it stands! But do you know, Avdotya Romanovna, that I might protest?’ ‘What right have you to speak to her like that?’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna intervened hotly. ‘And what can you protest about? What rights have you? Am I to give my Dounia to a man like you? Go away, leave us altogether! We are to blame for having agreed to a wrong action, and I above all….’ ‘But you have bound me, Pulcheria Alexandrovna,’ Luzhin stormed in a frenzy, ‘by your promise, and now you deny it and … besides … I have been led on account of that into expenses….’ This last complaint was so characteristic of Pyotr Petrovitch, that Raskolnikov, pale with anger and with the effort of restraining it, could not help breaking into laughter. But Pulcheria Alexandrovna was furious. ‘Expenses? What expenses? Are you speaking of our trunk? But the conductor brought it for nothing for you. Mercy on us, we have bound you! What are you thinking about, Pyotr Petrovitch, it was you bound us, hand and foot, not we!’ 544 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Enough, mother, no more please,’ Avdotya Romanovna implored. ‘Pyotr Petrovitch, do be kind and go!’ ‘I am going, but one last word,’ he said, quite unable to control himself. ‘Your mamma seems to have entirely forgotten that I made up my mind to take you, so to speak, after the gossip of the town had spread all over the district in regard to your reputation. Disregarding public opinion for your sake and reinstating your reputation, I certainly might very well reckon on a fitting return, and might indeed look for gratitude on your part. And my eyes have only now been opened! I see myself that I may have acted very, very recklessly in disregarding the universal verdict….’ ‘Does the fellow want his head smashed?’ cried Razumihin, jumping up. ‘You are a mean and spiteful man!’ cried Dounia. ‘Not a word! Not a movement!’ cried Raskolnikov, holding Razumihin back; then going close up to Luzhin, ‘Kindly leave the room!’ he said quietly and distinctly, ‘and not a word more or …’ Pyotr Petrovitch gazed at him for some seconds with a pale face that worked with anger, then he turned, went out, and rarely has any man carried away in his heart such 545 of 967 Crime and Punishment vindictive hatred as he felt against Raskolnikov. Him, and him alone, he blamed for everything. It is noteworthy that as he went downstairs he still imagined that his case was perhaps not utterly lost, and that, so far as the ladies were concerned, all might ‘very well indeed’ be set right again. 546 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter III The fact was that up to the last moment he had never expected such an ending; he had been overbearing to the last degree, never dreaming that two destitute and defenceless women could escape from his control. This conviction was strengthened by his vanity and conceit, a conceit to the point of fatuity. Pyotr Petrovitch, who had made his way up from insignificance, was morbidly given to self-admiration, had the highest opinion of his intelligence and capacities, and sometimes even gloated in solitude over his image in the glass. But what he loved and valued above all was the money he had amassed by his labour, and by all sorts of devices: that money made him the equal of all who had been his superiors. When he had bitterly reminded Dounia that he had decided to take her in spite of evil report, Pyotr Petrovitch had spoken with perfect sincerity and had, indeed, felt genuinely indignant at such ‘black ingratitude.’ And yet, when he made Dounia his offer, he was fully aware of the groundlessness of all the gossip. The story had been everywhere contradicted by Marfa Petrovna, and was by then disbelieved by all the townspeople, who were warm 547 of 967 Crime and Punishment in Dounia’a defence. And he would not have denied that he knew all that at the time. Yet he still thought highly of his own resolution in lifting Dounia to his level and regarded it as something heroic. In speaking of it to Dounia, he had let out the secret feeling he cherished and admired, and he could not understand that others should fail to admire it too. He had called on Raskolnikov with the feelings of a benefactor who is about to reap the fruits of his good deeds and to hear agreeable flattery. And as he went downstairs now, he considered himself most undeservedly injured and unrecognised. Dounia was simply essential to him; to do without her was unthinkable. For many years he had had voluptuous dreams of marriage, but he had gone on waiting and amassing money. He brooded with relish, in profound secret, over the image of a girl—virtuous, poor (she must be poor), very young, very pretty, of good birth and education, very timid, one who had suffered much, and was completely humbled before him, one who would all her life look on him as her saviour, worship him, admire him and only him. How many scenes, how many amorous episodes he had imagined on this seductive and playful theme, when his work was over! And, behold, the dream of so many years was all but realised; the beauty and 548 of 967 Crime and Punishment education of Avdotya Romanovna had impressed him; her helpless position had been a great allurement; in her he had found even more than he dreamed of. Here was a girl of pride, character, virtue, of education and breeding superior to his own (he felt that), and this creature would be slavishly grateful all her life for his heroic condescension, and would humble herself in the dust before him, and he would have absolute, unbounded power over her! … Not long before, he had, too, after long reflection and hesitation, made an important change in his career and was now entering on a wider circle of business. With this change his cherished dreams of rising into a higher class of society seemed likely to be realised…. He was, in fact, determined to try his fortune in Petersburg. He knew that women could do a very great deal. The fascination of a charming, virtuous, highly educated woman might make his way easier, might do wonders in attracting people to him, throwing an aureole round him, and now everything was in ruins! This sudden horrible rupture affected him like a clap of thunder; it was like a hideous joke, an absurdity. He had only been a tiny bit masterful, had not even time to speak out, had simply made a joke, been carried away —and it had ended so seriously. And, of course, too, he did love Dounia in his 549 of 967 Crime and Punishment own way; he already possessed her in his dreams—and all at once! No! The next day, the very next day, it must all be set right, smoothed over, settled. Above all he must crush that conceited milksop who was the cause of it all. With a sick feeling he could not help recalling Razumihin too, but, he soon reassured himself on that score; as though a fellow like that could be put on a level with him! The man he really dreaded in earnest was Svidrigaïlov…. He had, in short, a great deal to attend to….   *****   ‘God has delivered us! God has delivered us!’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna muttered, but half consciously, as though scarcely able to realise what had happened. They were all relieved, and in five minutes they were laughing. Only now and then Dounia turned white and frowned, remembering what had passed. Pulcheria 550 of 967 Crime and Punishment Alexandrovna was surprised to find that she, too, was glad: she had only that morning thought rupture with Luzhin a terrible misfortune. Razumihin was delighted. He did not yet dare to express his joy fully, but he was in a fever of excitement as though a ton-weight had fallen off his heart. Now he had the right to devote his life to them, to serve them…. Anything might happen now! But he felt afraid to think of further possibilities and dared not let his imagination range. But Raskolnikov sat still in the same place, almost sullen and indifferent. Though he had been the most insistent on getting rid of Luzhin, he seemed now the least concerned at what had happened. Dounia could not help thinking that he was still angry with her, and Pulcheria Alexandrovna watched him timidly. ‘What did Svidrigaïlov say to you?’ said Dounia, approaching him. ‘Yes, yes!’ cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. Raskolnikov raised his head. ‘He wants to make you a present of ten thousand roubles and he desires to see you once in my presence.’ ‘See her! On no account!’ cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. ‘And how dare he offer her money!’ Then Raskolnikov repeated (rather dryly) his conversation with Svidrigaïlov, omitting his account of the 551 of 967 Crime and Punishment ghostly visitations of Marfa Petrovna, wishing to avoid all unnecessary talk. ‘What answer did you give him?’ asked Dounia. ‘At first I said I would not take any message to you. Then he said that he would do his utmost to obtain an interview with you without my help. He assured me that his passion for you was a passing infatuation, now he has no feeling for you. He doesn’t want you to marry Luzhin…. His talk was altogether rather muddled.’ ‘How do you explain him to yourself, Rodya? How did he strike you?’ ‘I must confess I don’t quite understand him. He offers you ten thousand, and yet says he is not well off. He says he is going away, and in ten minutes he forgets he has said it. Then he says is he going to be married and has already fixed on the girl…. No doubt he has a motive, and probably a bad one. But it’s odd that he should be so clumsy about it if he had any designs against you…. Of course, I refused this money on your account, once for all. Altogether, I thought him very strange…. One might almost think he was mad. But I may be mistaken; that may only be the part he assumes. The death of Marfa Petrovna seems to have made a great impression on him.’ 552 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘God rest her soul,’ exclaimed Pulcheria Alexandrovna. ‘I shall always, always pray for her! Where should we be now, Dounia, without this three thousand! It’s as though it had fallen from heaven! Why, Rodya, this morning we had only three roubles in our pocket and Dounia and I were just planning to pawn her watch, so as to avoid borrowing from that man until he offered help.’ Dounia seemed strangely impressed by Svidrigaïlov’s offer. She still stood meditating. ‘He has got some terrible plan,’ she said in a half whisper to herself, almost shuddering. Raskolnikov noticed this disproportionate terror. ‘I fancy I shall have to see him more than once again,’ he said to Dounia. ‘We will watch him! I will track him out!’ cried Razumihin, vigorously. ‘I won’t lose sight of him. Rodya has given me leave. He said to me himself just now. ‘Take care of my sister.’ Will you give me leave, too, Avdotya Romanovna?’ Dounia smiled and held out her hand, but the look of anxiety did not leave her face. Pulcheria Alexandrovna gazed at her timidly, but the three thousand roubles had obviously a soothing effect on her. 553 of 967 Crime and Punishment A quarter of an hour later, they were all engaged in a lively conversation. Even Raskolnikov listened attentively for some time, though he did not talk. Razumihin was the speaker. ‘And why, why should you go away?’ he flowed on ecstatically. ‘And what are you to do in a little town? The great thing is, you are all here together and you need one another—you do need one another, believe me. For a time, anyway…. Take me into partnership, and I assure you we’ll plan a capital enterprise. Listen! I’ll explain it all in detail to you, the whole project! It all flashed into my head this morning, before anything had happened … I tell you what; I have an uncle, I must introduce him to you (a most accommodating and respectable old man). This uncle has got a capital of a thousand roubles, and he lives on his pension and has no need of that money. For the last two years he has been bothering me to borrow it from him and pay him six per cent. interest. I know what that means; he simply wants to help me. Last year I had no need of it, but this year I resolved to borrow it as soon as he arrived. Then you lend me another thousand of your three and we have enough for a start, so we’ll go into partnership, and what are we going to do?’ 554 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. Then Razumihin began to unfold his project, and he explained at length that almost all our publishers and booksellers know nothing at all of what they are selling, and for that reason they are usually bad publishers, and that any decent publications pay as a rule and give a profit, sometimes a considerable one. Razumihin had, indeed, been dreaming of setting up as a publisher. For the last two years he had been working in publishers’ offices, and knew three European languages well, though he had told Raskolnikov six days before that he was ‘schwach’ in German with an object of persuading him to take half his translation and half the payment for it. He had told a lie then, and Raskolnikov knew he was lying. ‘Why, why should we let our chance slip when we have one of the chief means of success—money of our own!’ cried Razumihin warmly. ‘Of course there will be a lot of work, but we will work, you, Avdotya Romanovna, I, Rodion…. You get a splendid profit on some books nowadays! And the great point of the business is that we shall know just what wants translating, and we shall be translating, publishing, learning all at once. I can be of use because I have experience. For nearly two years I’ve been scuttling about among the publishers, and now I know every detail of their business. You need not be a saint to 555 of 967 Crime and Punishment make pots, believe me! And why, why should we let our chance slip! Why, I know—and I kept the secret—two or three books which one might get a hundred roubles simply for thinking of translating and publishing. Indeed, and I would not take five hundred for the very idea of one of them. And what do you think? If I were to tell a publisher, I dare say he’d hesitate—they are such blockheads! And as for the business side, printing, paper, selling, you trust to me, I know my way about. We’ll begin in a small way and go on to a large. In any case it will get us our living and we shall get back our capital.’ Dounia’s eyes shone. ‘I like what you are saying, Dmitri Prokofitch!’ she said. ‘I know nothing about it, of course,’ put in Pulcheria Alexandrovna, ‘it may be a good idea, but again God knows. It’s new and untried. Of course, we must remain here at least for a time.’ She looked at Rodya. ‘What do you think, brother?’ said Dounia. ‘I think he’s got a very good idea,’ he answered. ‘Of course, it’s too soon to dream of a publishing firm, but we certainly might bring out five or six books and be sure of success. I know of one book myself which would be sure to go well. And as for his being able to manage it, there’s 556 of 967 Crime and Punishment no doubt about that either. He knows the business…. But we can talk it over later….’ ‘Hurrah!’ cried Razumihin. ‘Now, stay, there’s a flat here in this house, belonging to the same owner. It’s a special flat apart, not communicating with these lodgings. It’s furnished, rent moderate, three rooms. Suppose you take them to begin with. I’ll pawn your watch to-morrow and bring you the money, and everything can be arranged then. You can all three live together, and Rodya will be with you. But where are you off to, Rodya?’ ‘What, Rodya, you are going already?’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna asked in dismay. ‘At such a minute?’ cried Razumihin. Dounia looked at her brother with incredulous wonder. He held his cap in his hand, he was preparing to leave them. ‘One would think you were burying me or saying good-bye for ever,’ he said somewhat oddly. He attempted to smile, but it did not turn out a smile. ‘But who knows, perhaps it is the last time we shall see each other …’ he let slip accidentally. It was what he was thinking, and it somehow was uttered aloud. ‘What is the matter with you?’ cried his mother. 557 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Where are you going, Rodya?’ asked Dounia rather strangely. ‘Oh, I’m quite obliged to …’ he answered vaguely, as though hesitating what he would say. But there was a look of sharp determination in his white face. ‘I meant to say … as I was coming here … I meant to tell you, mother, and you, Dounia, that it would be better for us to part for a time. I feel ill, I am not at peace…. I will come afterwards, I will come of myself … when it’s possible. I remember you and love you…. Leave me, leave me alone. I decided this even before … I’m absolutely resolved on it. Whatever may come to me, whether I come to ruin or not, I want to be alone. Forget me altogether, it’s better. Don’t inquire about me. When I can, I’ll come of myself or … I’ll send for you. Perhaps it will all come back, but now if you love me, give me up … else I shall begin to hate you, I feel it…. Good-bye!’ ‘Good God!’ cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. Both his mother and his sister were terribly alarmed. Razumihin was also. ‘Rodya, Rodya, be reconciled with us! Let us be as before!’ cried his poor mother. He turned slowly to the door and slowly went out of the room. Dounia overtook him. 558 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Brother, what are you doing to mother?’ she whispered, her eyes flashing with indignation. He looked dully at her. ‘No matter, I shall come…. I’m coming,’ he muttered in an undertone, as though not fully conscious of what he was saying, and he went out of the room. ‘Wicked, heartless egoist!’ cried Dounia. ‘He is insane, but not heartless. He is mad! Don’t you see it? You’re heartless after that!’ Razumihin whispered in her ear, squeezing her hand tightly. ‘I shall be back directly,’ he shouted to the horror- stricken mother, and he ran out of the room. Raskolnikov was waiting for him at the end of the passage. ‘I knew you would run after me,’ he said. ‘Go back to them—be with them … be with them to-morrow and always…. I … perhaps I shall come … if I can. Good-bye.’ And without holding out his hand he walked away. ‘But where are you going? What are you doing? What’s the matter with you? How can you go on like this?’ Razumihin muttered, at his wits’ end. Raskolnikov stopped once more. 559 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Once for all, never ask me about anything. I have nothing to tell you. Don’t come to see me. Maybe I’ll come here…. Leave me, but don’t leave them. Do you understand me?’ It was dark in the corridor, they were standing near the lamp. For a minute they were looking at one another in silence. Razumihin remembered that minute all his life. Raskolnikov’s burning and intent eyes grew more penetrating every moment, piercing into his soul, into his consciousness. Suddenly Razumihin started. Something strange, as it were, passed between them…. Some idea, some hint, as it were, slipped, something awful, hideous, and suddenly understood on both sides…. Razumihin turned pale. ‘Do you understand now?’ said Raskolnikov, his face twitching nervously. ‘Go back, go to them,’ he said suddenly, and turning quickly, he went out of the house. I will not attempt to describe how Razumihin went back to the ladies, how he soothed them, how he protested that Rodya needed rest in his illness, protested that Rodya was sure to come, that he would come every day, that he was very, very much upset, that he must not be irritated, that he, Razumihin, would watch over him, would get him a doctor, the best doctor, a consultation…. 560 of 967 Crime and Punishment In fact from that evening Razumihin took his place with them as a son and a brother. 561 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter IV Raskolnikov went straight to the house on the canal bank where Sonia lived. It was an old green house of three storeys. He found the porter and obtained from him vague directions as to the whereabouts of Kapernaumov, the tailor. Having found in the corner of the courtyard the entrance to the dark and narrow staircase, he mounted to the second floor and came out into a gallery that ran round the whole second storey over the yard. While he was wandering in the darkness, uncertain where to turn for Kapernaumov’s door, a door opened three paces from him; he mechanically took hold of it. ‘Who is there?’ a woman’s voice asked uneasily. ‘It’s I … come to see you,’ answered Raskolnikov and he walked into the tiny entry. On a broken chair stood a candle in a battered copper candlestick. ‘It’s you! Good heavens!’ cried Sonia weakly, and she stood rooted to the spot. ‘Which is your room? This way?’ and Raskolnikov, trying not to look at her, hastened in. 562 of 967 Crime and Punishment A minute later Sonia, too, came in with the candle, set down the candlestick and, completely disconcerted, stood before him inexpressibly agitated and apparently frightened by his unexpected visit. The colour rushed suddenly to her pale face and tears came into her eyes … She felt sick and ashamed and happy, too…. Raskolnikov turned away quickly and sat on a chair by the table. He scanned the room in a rapid glance. It was a large but exceedingly low-pitched room, the only one let by the Kapernaumovs, to whose rooms a closed door led in the wall on the left. In the opposite side on the right hand wall was another door, always kept locked. That led to the next flat, which formed a separate lodging. Sonia’s room looked like a barn; it was a very irregular quadrangle and this gave it a grotesque appearance. A wall with three windows looking out on to the canal ran aslant so that one corner formed a very acute angle, and it was difficult to see in it without very strong light. The other corner was disproportionately obtuse. There was scarcely any furniture in the big room: in the corner on the right was a bedstead, beside it, nearest the door, a chair. A plain, deal table covered by a blue cloth stood against the same wall, close to the door into the other flat. Two rush-bottom chairs stood by the table. On 563 of 967 Crime and Punishment the opposite wall near the acute angle stood a small plain wooden chest of drawers looking, as it were, lost in a desert. That was all there was in the room. The yellow, scratched and shabby wall- paper was black in the corners. It must have been damp and full of fumes in the winter. There was every sign of poverty; even the bedstead had no curtain. Sonia looked in silence at her visitor, who was so attentively and unceremoniously scrutinising her room, and even began at last to tremble with terror, as though she was standing before her judge and the arbiter of her destinies. ‘I am late…. It’s eleven, isn’t it?’ he asked, still not lifting his eyes. ‘Yes,’ muttered Sonia, ‘oh yes, it is,’ she added, hastily, as though in that lay her means of escape. ‘My landlady’s clock has just struck … I heard it myself….’ ‘I’ve come to you for the last time,’ Raskolnikov went on gloomily, although this was the first time. ‘I may perhaps not see you again …’ ‘Are you … going away?’ ‘I don’t know … to-morrow….’ ‘Then you are not coming to Katerina Ivanovna to-morrow?’ Sonia’s voice shook. 564 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘I don’t know. I shall know to-morrow morning…. Never mind that: I’ve come to say one word….’ He raised his brooding eyes to her and suddenly noticed that he was sitting down while she was all the while standing before him. ‘Why are you standing? Sit down,’ he said in a changed voice, gentle and friendly. She sat down. He looked kindly and almost compassionately at her. ‘How thin you are! What a hand! Quite transparent, like a dead hand.’ He took her hand. Sonia smiled faintly. ‘I have always been like that,’ she said. ‘Even when you lived at home?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Of course, you were,’ he added abruptly and the expression of his face and the sound of his voice changed again suddenly. He looked round him once more. ‘You rent this room from the Kapernaumovs?’ ‘Yes….’ ‘They live there, through that door?’ ‘Yes…. They have another room like this.’ ‘All in one room?’ 565 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Yes.’ ‘I should be afraid in your room at night,’ he observed gloomily. ‘They are very good people, very kind,’ answered Sonia, who still seemed bewildered, ‘and all the furniture, everything … everything is theirs. And they are very kind and the children, too, often come to see me.’ ‘They all stammer, don’t they?’ ‘Yes…. He stammers and he’s lame. And his wife, too…. It’s not exactly that she stammers, but she can’t speak plainly. She is a very kind woman. And he used to be a house serf. And there are seven children … and it’s only the eldest one that stammers and the others are simply ill … but they don’t stammer…. But where did you hear about them?’ she added with some surprise. ‘Your father told me, then. He told me all about you…. And how you went out at six o’clock and came back at nine and how Katerina Ivanovna knelt down by your bed.’ Sonia was confused. ‘I fancied I saw him to-day,’ she whispered hesitatingly. ‘Whom?’ ‘Father. I was walking in the street, out there at the corner, about ten o’clock and he seemed to be walking in 566 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. front. It looked just like him. I wanted to go to Katerina Ivanovna….’ ‘You were walking in the streets?’ ‘Yes,’ Sonia whispered abruptly, again overcome with confusion and looking down. ‘Katerina Ivanovna used to beat you, I dare say?’ ‘Oh no, what are you saying? No!’ Sonia looked at him almost with dismay. ‘You love her, then?’ ‘Love her? Of course!’ said Sonia with plaintive emphasis, and she clasped her hands in distress. ‘Ah, you don’t…. If you only knew! You see, she is quite like a child…. Her mind is quite unhinged, you see … from sorrow. And how clever she used to be … how generous … how kind! Ah, you don’t understand, you don’t understand!’ Sonia said this as though in despair, wringing her hands in excitement and distress. Her pale cheeks flushed, there was a look of anguish in her eyes. It was clear that she was stirred to the very depths, that she was longing to speak, to champion, to express something. A sort of insatiable compassion, if one may so express it, was reflected in every feature of her face. 567 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Beat me! how can you? Good heavens, beat me! And if she did beat me, what then? What of it? You know nothing, nothing about it…. She is so unhappy … ah, how unhappy! And ill…. She is seeking righteousness, she is pure. She has such faith that there must be righteousness everywhere and she expects it…. And if you were to torture her, she wouldn’t do wrong. She doesn’t see that it’s impossible for people to be righteous and she is angry at it. Like a child, like a child. She is good!’ ‘And what will happen to you?’ Sonia looked at him inquiringly. ‘They are left on your hands, you see. They were all on your hands before, though…. And your father came to you to beg for drink. Well, how will it be now?’ ‘I don’t know,’ Sonia articulated mournfully. ‘Will they stay there?’ ‘I don’t know…. They are in debt for the lodging, but the landlady, I hear, said to-day that she wanted to get rid of them, and Katerina Ivanovna says that she won’t stay another minute.’ ‘How is it she is so bold? She relies upon you?’ ‘Oh, no, don’t talk like that…. We are one, we live like one.’ Sonia was agitated again and even angry, as though a canary or some other little bird were to be angry. 568 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘And what could she do? What, what could she do?’ she persisted, getting hot and excited. ‘And how she cried today! Her mind is unhinged, haven’t you noticed it? At one minute she is worrying like a child that everything should be right to-morrow, the lunch and all that…. Then she is wringing her hands, spitting blood, weeping, and all at once she will begin knocking her head against the wall, in despair. Then she will be comforted again. She builds all her hopes on you; she says that you will help her now and that she will borrow a little money somewhere and go to her native town with me and set up a boarding school for the daughters of gentlemen and take me to superintend it, and we will begin a new splendid life. And she kisses and hugs me, comforts me, and you know she has such faith, such faith in her fancies! One can’t contradict her. And all the day long she has been washing, cleaning, mending. She dragged the wash tub into the room with her feeble hands and sank on the bed, gasping for breath. We went this morning to the shops to buy shoes for Polenka and Lida for theirs are quite worn out. Only the money we’d reckoned wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. And she picked out such dear little boots, for she has taste, you don’t know. And there in the shop she burst out crying 569 of 967 Crime and Punishment before the shopmen because she hadn’t enough…. Ah, it was sad to see her….’ ‘Well, after that I can understand your living like this,’ Raskolnikov said with a bitter smile. ‘And aren’t you sorry for them? Aren’t you sorry?’ Sonia flew at him again. ‘Why, I know, you gave your last penny yourself, though you’d seen nothing of it, and if you’d seen everything, oh dear! And how often, how often I’ve brought her to tears! Only last week! Yes, I! Only a week before his death. I was cruel! And how often I’ve done it! Ah, I’ve been wretched at the thought of it all day!’ Sonia wrung her hands as she spoke at the pain of remembering it. ‘You were cruel?’ ‘Yes, I—I. I went to see them,’ she went on, weeping, ‘and father said, ‘read me something, Sonia, my head aches, read to me, here’s a book.’ He had a book he had got from Andrey Semyonovitch Lebeziatnikov, he lives there, he always used to get hold of such funny books. And I said, ‘I can’t stay,’ as I didn’t want to read, and I’d gone in chiefly to show Katerina Ivanovna some collars. Lizaveta, the pedlar, sold me some collars and cuffs cheap, pretty, new, embroidered ones. Katerina Ivanovna liked 570 of 967 Crime and Punishment them very much; she put them on and looked at herself in the glass and was delighted with them. ‘Make me a present of them, Sonia,’ she said, ‘please do.’ ‘ Please do ’ she said, she wanted them so much. And when could she wear them? They just reminded her of her old happy days. She looked at herself in the glass, admired herself, and she has no clothes at all, no things of her own, hasn’t had all these years! And she never asks anyone for anything; she is proud, she’d sooner give away everything. And these she asked for, she liked them so much. And I was sorry to give them. ‘What use are they to you, Katerina Ivanovna?’ I said. I spoke like that to her, I ought not to have said that! She gave me such a look. And she was so grieved, so grieved at my refusing her. And it was so sad to see…. And she was not grieved for the collars, but for my refusing, I saw that. Ah, if only I could bring it all back, change it, take back those words! Ah, if I … but it’s nothing to you!’ ‘Did you know Lizaveta, the pedlar?’ ‘Yes…. Did you know her?’ Sonia asked with some surprise. ‘Katerina Ivanovna is in consumption, rapid consumption; she will soon die,’ said Raskolnikov after a pause, without answering her question. 571 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Oh, no, no, no!’ And Sonia unconsciously clutched both his hands, as though imploring that she should not. ‘But it will be better if she does die.’ ‘No, not better, not at all better!’ Sonia unconsciously repeated in dismay. ‘And the children? What can you do except take them to live with you?’ ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ cried Sonia, almost in despair, and she put her hands to her head. It was evident that that idea had very often occurred to her before and he had only roused it again. ‘And, what, if even now, while Katerina Ivanovna is alive, you get ill and are taken to the hospital, what will happen then?’ he persisted pitilessly. ‘How can you? That cannot be!’ And Sonia’s face worked with awful terror. ‘Cannot be?’ Raskolnikov went on with a harsh smile. ‘You are not insured against it, are you? What will happen to them then? They will be in the street, all of them, she will cough and beg and knock her head against some wall, as she did to-day, and the children will cry…. Then she will fall down, be taken to the police station and to the hospital, she will die, and the children …’ 572 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Oh, no…. God will not let it be!’ broke at last from Sonia’s overburdened bosom. She listened, looking imploringly at him, clasping her hands in dumb entreaty, as though it all depended upon him. Raskolnikov got up and began to walk about the room. A minute passed. Sonia was standing with her hands and her head hanging in terrible dejection. ‘And can’t you save? Put by for a rainy day?’ he asked, stopping suddenly before her. ‘No,’ whispered Sonia. ‘Of course not. Have you tried?’ he added almost ironically. ‘Yes.’ ‘And it didn’t come off! Of course not! No need to ask.’ And again he paced the room. Another minute passed. ‘You don’t get money every day?’ Sonia was more confused than ever and colour rushed into her face again. ‘No,’ she whispered with a painful effort. ‘It will be the same with Polenka, no doubt,’ he said suddenly. 573 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘No, no! It can’t be, no!’ Sonia cried aloud in desperation, as though she had been stabbed. ‘God would not allow anything so awful!’ ‘He lets others come to it.’ ‘No, no! God will protect her, God!’ she repeated beside herself. ‘But, perhaps, there is no God at all,’ Raskolnikov answered with a sort of malignance, laughed and looked at her. Sonia’s face suddenly changed; a tremor passed over it. She looked at him with unutterable reproach, tried to say something, but could not speak and broke into bitter, bitter sobs, hiding her face in her hands. ‘You say Katerina Ivanovna’s mind is unhinged; your own mind is unhinged,’ he said after a brief silence. Five minutes passed. He still paced up and down the room in silence, not looking at her. At last he went up to her; his eyes glittered. He put his two hands on her shoulders and looked straight into her tearful face. His eyes were hard, feverish and piercing, his lips were twitching. All at once he bent down quickly and dropping to the ground, kissed her foot. Sonia drew back from him as from a madman. And certainly he looked like a madman. 574 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘What are you doing to me?’ she muttered, turning pale, and a sudden anguish clutched at her heart. He stood up at once. ‘I did not bow down to you, I bowed down to all the suffering of humanity,’ he said wildly and walked away to the window. ‘Listen,’ he added, turning to her a minute later. ‘I said just now to an insolent man that he was not worth your little finger … and that I did my sister honour making her sit beside you.’ ‘Ach, you said that to them! And in her presence?’ cried Sonia, frightened. ‘Sit down with me! An honour! Why, I’m … dishonourable…. Ah, why did you say that?’ ‘It was not because of your dishonour and your sin I said that of you, but because of your great suffering. But you are a great sinner, that’s true,’ he added almost solemnly, ‘and your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing . Isn’t that fearful? Isn’t it fearful that you are living in this filth which you loathe so, and at the same time you know yourself (you’ve only to open your eyes) that you are not helping anyone by it, not saving anyone from anything? Tell me,’ he went on almost in a frenzy, ‘how this shame and degradation can exist in you side by side with other, opposite, holy feelings? It 575 of 967 Crime and Punishment would be better, a thousand times better and wiser to leap into the water and end it all!’ ‘But what would become of them?’ Sonia asked faintly, gazing at him with eyes of anguish, but not seeming surprised at his suggestion. Raskolnikov looked strangely at her. He read it all in her face; so she must have had that thought already, perhaps many times, and earnestly she had thought out in her despair how to end it and so earnestly, that now she scarcely wondered at his suggestion. She had not even noticed the cruelty of his words. (The significance of his reproaches and his peculiar attitude to her shame she had, of course, not noticed either, and that, too, was clear to him.) But he saw how monstrously the thought of her disgraceful, shameful position was torturing her and had long tortured her. ‘What, what,’ he thought, ‘could hitherto have hindered her from putting an end to it?’ Only then he realised what those poor little orphan children and that pitiful half-crazy Katerina Ivanovna, knocking her head against the wall in her consumption, meant for Sonia. But, nevertheless, it was clear to him again that with her character and the amount of education she had after all received, she could not in any case remain so. He was still 576 of 967 Crime and Punishment confronted by the question, how could she have remained so long in that position without going out of her mind, since she could not bring herself to jump into the water? Of course he knew that Sonia’s position was an exceptional case, though unhappily not unique and not infrequent, indeed; but that very exceptionalness, her tinge of education, her previous life might, one would have thought, have killed her at the first step on that revolting path. What held her up—surely not depravity? All that infamy had obviously only touched her mechanically, not one drop of real depravity had penetrated to her heart; he saw that. He saw through her as she stood before him…. ‘There are three ways before her,’ he thought, ‘the canal, the madhouse, or … at last to sink into depravity which obscures the mind and turns the heart to stone.’ The last idea was the most revolting, but he was a sceptic, he was young, abstract, and therefore cruel, and so he could not help believing that the last end was the most likely. ‘But can that be true?’ he cried to himself. ‘Can that creature who has still preserved the purity of her spirit be consciously drawn at last into that sink of filth and iniquity? Can the process already have begun? Can it be that she has only been able to bear it till now, because vice 577 of 967 Crime and Punishment has begun to be less loathsome to her? No, no, that cannot be!’ he cried, as Sonia had just before. ‘No, what has kept her from the canal till now is the idea of sin and they, the children…. And if she has not gone out of her mind … but who says she has not gone out of her mind? Is she in her senses? Can one talk, can one reason as she does? How can she sit on the edge of the abyss of loathsomeness into which she is slipping and refuse to listen when she is told of danger? Does she expect a miracle? No doubt she does. Doesn’t that all mean madness?’ He stayed obstinately at that thought. He liked that explanation indeed better than any other. He began looking more intently at her. ‘So you pray to God a great deal, Sonia?’ he asked her. Sonia did not speak; he stood beside her waiting for an answer. ‘What should I be without God?’ she whispered rapidly, forcibly, glancing at him with suddenly flashing eyes, and squeezing his hand. ‘Ah, so that is it!’ he thought. ‘And what does God do for you?’ he asked, probing her further. Sonia was silent a long while, as though she could not answer. Her weak chest kept heaving with emotion. 578 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. ‘Be silent! Don’t ask! You don’t deserve!’ she cried suddenly, looking sternly and wrathfully at him. ‘That’s it, that’s it,’ he repeated to himself. ‘He does everything,’ she whispered quickly, looking down again. ‘That’s the way out! That’s the explanation,’ he decided, scrutinising her with eager curiosity, with a new, strange, almost morbid feeling. He gazed at that pale, thin, irregular, angular little face, those soft blue eyes, which could flash with such fire, such stern energy, that little body still shaking with indignation and anger—and it all seemed to him more and more strange, almost impossible. ‘She is a religious maniac!’ he repeated to himself. There was a book lying on the chest of drawers. He had noticed it every time he paced up and down the room. Now he took it up and looked at it. It was the New Testament in the Russian translation. It was bound in leather, old and worn. ‘Where did you get that?’ he called to her across the room. She was still standing in the same place, three steps from the table. ‘It was brought me,’ she answered, as it were unwillingly, not looking at him. 579 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Who brought it?’ ‘Lizaveta, I asked her for it.’ ‘Lizaveta! strange!’ he thought. Everything about Sonia seemed to him stranger and more wonderful every moment. He carried the book to the candle and began to turn over the pages. ‘Where is the story of Lazarus?’ he asked suddenly. Sonia looked obstinately at the ground and would not answer. She was standing sideways to the table. ‘Where is the raising of Lazarus? Find it for me, Sonia.’ She stole a glance at him. ‘You are not looking in the right place…. It’s in the fourth gospel,’ she whispered sternly, without looking at him. ‘Find it and read it to me,’ he said. He sat down with his elbow on the table, leaned his head on his hand and looked away sullenly, prepared to listen. ‘In three weeks’ time they’ll welcome me in the madhouse! I shall be there if I am not in a worse place,’ he muttered to himself. Sonia heard Raskolnikov’s request distrustfully and moved hesitatingly to the table. She took the book however. 580 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Haven’t you read it?’ she asked, looking up at him across the table. Her voice became sterner and sterner. ‘Long ago…. When I was at school. Read!’ ‘And haven’t you heard it in church?’ ‘I … haven’t been. Do you often go?’ ‘N-no,’ whispered Sonia. Raskolnikov smiled. ‘I understand…. And you won’t go to your father’s funeral to-morrow?’ ‘Yes, I shall. I was at church last week, too … I had a requiem service.’ ‘For whom?’ ‘For Lizaveta. She was killed with an axe.’ His nerves were more and more strained. His head began to go round. ‘Were you friends with Lizaveta?’ ‘Yes…. She was good … she used to come … not often … she couldn’t…. We used to read together and … talk. She will see God.’ The last phrase sounded strange in his ears. And here was something new again: the mysterious meetings with Lizaveta and both of them— religious maniacs. 581 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘I shall be a religious maniac myself soon! It’s infectious!’ ‘Read!’ he cried irritably and insistently. Sonia still hesitated. Her heart was throbbing. She hardly dared to read to him. He looked almost with exasperation at the ‘unhappy lunatic.’ ‘What for? You don’t believe? …’ she whispered softly and as it were breathlessly. ‘Read! I want you to,’ he persisted. ‘You used to read to Lizaveta.’ Sonia opened the book and found the place. Her hands were shaking, her voice failed her. Twice she tried to begin and could not bring out the first syllable. ‘Now a certain man was sick named Lazarus of Bethany …’ she forced herself at last to read, but at the third word her voice broke like an overstrained string. There was a catch in her breath. Raskolnikov saw in part why Sonia could not bring herself to read to him and the more he saw this, the more roughly and irritably he insisted on her doing so. He understood only too well how painful it was for her to betray and unveil all that was her own . He understood that these feelings really were her secret treasure which she had kept perhaps for years, perhaps from childhood, while she 582 of 967 Crime and Punishment lived with an unhappy father and a distracted stepmother crazed by grief, in the midst of starving children and unseemly abuse and reproaches. But at the same time he knew now and 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. 583 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘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, 584 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘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. 585 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘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.’ 586 of 967 Crime and Punishment 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!’ 587 of 967 Crime and Punishment 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. 588 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘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 to be done? Break what must be broken, once for all, that’s all, and take the suffering on oneself. What, you don’t understand? You’ll understand later…. Freedom and power, and above all, power! Over all trembling creation and all the ant-heap! … That’s the goal, remember that! That’s my farewell message. Perhaps it’s the last time I shall speak to you. If I don’t come to-morrow, you’ll hear of it all, and then remember these 589 of 967 Crime and Punishment words. And some day later on, in years to come, you’ll understand perhaps what they meant. If I come to-morrow, I’ll tell you who killed Lizaveta…. Good-bye.’ Sonia started with terror. ‘Why, do you know who killed her?’ she asked, chilled with horror, looking wildly at him. ‘I know and will tell … you, only you. I have chosen you out. I’m not coming to you to ask forgiveness, but simply to tell you. I chose you out long ago to hear this, when your father talked of you and when Lizaveta was alive, I thought of it. Good-bye, don’t shake hands. To-morrow!’ He went out. Sonia gazed at him as at a madman. But she herself was like one insane and felt it. Her head was going round. ‘Good heavens, how does he know who killed Lizaveta? What did those words mean? It’s awful!’ But at the same time the idea did not enter her head, not for a moment! ‘Oh, he must be terribly unhappy! … He has abandoned his mother and sister…. What for? What has happened? And what had he in his mind? What did he say to her? He had kissed her foot and said … said (yes, he had said it clearly) that he could not live without her…. Oh, merciful heavens!’ 590 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. Sonia spent the whole night feverish and delirious. She jumped up from time to time, wept and wrung her hands, then sank again into feverish sleep and dreamt of Polenka, Katerina Ivanovna and Lizaveta, of reading the gospel and him … him with pale face, with burning eyes … kissing her feet, weeping. On the other side of the door on the right, which divided Sonia’s room from Madame Resslich’s flat, was a room which had long stood empty. A card was fixed on the gate and a notice stuck in the windows over the canal advertising it to let. Sonia had long been accustomed to the room’s being uninhabited. But all that time Mr. Svidrigaïlov had been standing, listening at the door of the empty room. When Raskolnikov went out he stood still, thought a moment, went on tiptoe to his own room which adjoined the empty one, brought a chair and noiselessly carried it to the door that led to Sonia’s room. The conversation had struck him as interesting and remarkable, and he had greatly enjoyed it—so much so that he brought a chair that he might not in the future, to-morrow, for instance, have to endure the inconvenience of standing a whole hour, but might listen in comfort. 591 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter V When next morning at eleven o’clock punctually Raskolnikov went into the department of the investigation of criminal causes and sent his name in to Porfiry Petrovitch, he was surprised at being kept waiting so long: it was at least ten minutes before he was summoned. He had expected that they would pounce upon him. But he stood in the waiting- room, and people, who apparently had nothing to do with him, were continually passing to and fro before him. In the next room which looked like an office, several clerks were sitting writing and obviously they had no notion who or what Raskolnikov might be. He looked uneasily and suspiciously about him to see whether there was not some guard, some mysterious watch being kept on him to prevent his escape. But there was nothing of the sort: he saw only the faces of clerks absorbed in petty details, then other people, no one seemed to have any concern with him. He might go where he liked for them. The conviction grew stronger in him that if that enigmatic man of yesterday, that phantom sprung out of the earth, had seen everything, they would not have let him stand and wait like that. And would they 592 of 967 Crime and Punishment have waited till he elected to appear at eleven? Either the man had not yet given information, or … or simply he knew nothing, had seen nothing (and how could he have seen anything?) and so all that had happened to him the day before was again a phantom exaggerated by his sick and overstrained imagination. This conjecture had begun to grow strong the day before, in the midst of all his alarm and despair. Thinking it all over now and preparing for a fresh conflict, he was suddenly aware that he was trembling—and he felt a rush of indignation at the thought that he was trembling with fear at facing that hateful Porfiry Petrovitch. What he dreaded above all was meeting that man again; he hated him with an intense, unmitigated hatred and was afraid his hatred might betray him. His indignation was such that he ceased trembling at once; he made ready to go in with a cold and arrogant bearing and vowed to himself to keep as silent as possible, to watch and listen and for once at least to control his overstrained nerves. At that moment he was summoned to Porfiry Petrovitch. He found Porfiry Petrovitch alone in his study. His study was a room neither large nor small, furnished with a large writing-table, that stood before a sofa, upholstered in checked material, a bureau, a bookcase in the corner and 593 of 967 Crime and Punishment several chairs—all government furniture, of polished yellow wood. In the further wall there was a closed door, beyond it there were no doubt other rooms. On Raskolnikov’s entrance Porfiry Petrovitch had at once closed the door by which he had come in and they remained alone. He met his visitor with an apparently genial and good-tempered air, and it was only after a few minutes that Raskolnikov saw signs of a certain awkwardness in him, as though he had been thrown out of his reckoning or caught in something very secret. ‘Ah, my dear fellow! Here you are … in our domain’ … began Porfiry, holding out both hands to him. ‘Come, sit down, old man … or perhaps you don’t like to be called ‘my dear fellow’ and ‘old man!’—/tout court? Please don’t think it too familiar…. Here, on the sofa.’ Raskolnikov sat down, keeping his eyes fixed on him. ‘In our domain,’ the apologies for familiarity, the French phrase tout court were all characteristic signs. ‘He held out both hands to me, but he did not give me one—he drew it back in time,’ struck him suspiciously. Both were watching each other, but when their eyes met, quick as lightning they looked away. ‘I brought you this paper … about the watch. Here it is. Is it all right or shall I copy it again?’ 594 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘What? A paper? Yes, yes, don’t be uneasy, it’s all right,’ Porfiry Petrovitch said as though in haste, and after he had said it he took the paper and looked at it. ‘Yes, it’s all right. Nothing more is needed,’ he declared with the same rapidity and he laid the paper on the table. A minute later when he was talking of something else he took it from the table and put it on his bureau. ‘I believe you said yesterday you would like to question me … formally … about my acquaintance with the murdered woman?’ Raskolnikov was beginning again. ‘Why did I put in ‘I believe’’ passed through his mind in a flash. ‘Why am I so uneasy at having put in that ‘ I believe ’?’ came in a second flash. And he suddenly felt that his uneasiness at the mere contact with Porfiry, at the first words, at the first looks, had grown in an instant to monstrous proportions, and that this was fearfully dangerous. His nerves were quivering, his emotion was increasing. ‘It’s bad, it’s bad! I shall say too much again.’ ‘Yes, yes, yes! There’s no hurry, there’s no hurry,’ muttered Porfiry Petrovitch, moving to and fro about the table without any apparent aim, as it were making dashes towards the window, the bureau and the table, at one moment avoiding Raskolnikov’s suspicious glance, then again standing still and looking him straight in the face. 595 of 967 Crime and Punishment His fat round little figure looked very strange, like a ball rolling from one side to the other and rebounding back. ‘We’ve plenty of time. Do you smoke? have you your own? Here, a cigarette!’ he went on, offering his visitor a cigarette. ‘You know I am receiving you here, but my own quarters are through there, you know, my government quarters. But I am living outside for the time, I had to have some repairs done here. It’s almost finished now…. Government quarters, you know, are a capital thing. Eh, what do you think?’ ‘Yes, a capital thing,’ answered Raskolnikov, looking at him almost ironically. ‘A capital thing, a capital thing,’ repeated Porfiry Petrovitch, as though he had just thought of something quite different. ‘Yes, a capital thing,’ he almost shouted at last, suddenly staring at Raskolnikov and stopping short two steps from him. This stupid repetition was too incongruous in its ineptitude with the serious, brooding and enigmatic glance he turned upon his visitor. But this stirred Raskolnikov’s spleen more than ever and he could not resist an ironical and rather incautious challenge. 596 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Tell me, please,’ he asked suddenly, looking almost insolently at him and taking a kind of pleasure in his own insolence. ‘I believe it’s a sort of legal rule, a sort of legal tradition—for all investigating lawyers—to begin their attack from afar, with a trivial, or at least an irrelevant subject, so as to encourage, or rather, to divert the man they are cross-examining, to disarm his caution and then all at once to give him an unexpected knock-down blow with some fatal question. Isn’t that so? It’s a sacred tradition, mentioned, I fancy, in all the manuals of the art?’ ‘Yes, yes…. Why, do you imagine that was why I spoke about government quarters … eh?’ And as he said this Porfiry Petrovitch screwed up his eyes and winked; a good-humoured, crafty look passed over his face. The wrinkles on his forehead were smoothed out, his eyes contracted, his features broadened and he suddenly went off into a nervous prolonged laugh, shaking all over and looking Raskolnikov straight in the face. The latter forced himself to laugh, too, but when Porfiry, seeing that he was laughing, broke into such a guffaw that he turned almost crimson, Raskolnikov’s repulsion overcame all precaution; he left off laughing, scowled and stared with hatred at Porfiry, keeping his eyes fixed on him while his intentionally prolonged laughter 597 of 967 Crime and Punishment lasted. There was lack of precaution on both sides, however, for Porfiry Petrovitch seemed to be laughing in his visitor’s face and to be very little disturbed at the annoyance with which the visitor received it. The latter fact was very significant in Raskolnikov’s eyes: he saw that Porfiry Petrovitch had not been embarrassed just before either, but that he, Raskolnikov, had perhaps fallen into a trap; that there must be something, some motive here unknown to him; that, perhaps, everything was in readiness and in another moment would break upon him … He went straight to the point at once, rose from his seat and took his cap. ‘Porfiry Petrovitch,’ he began resolutely, though with considerable irritation, ‘yesterday you expressed a desire that I should come to you for some inquiries’ (he laid special stress on the word ‘inquiries’). ‘I have come and if you have anything to ask me, ask it, and if not, allow me to withdraw. I have no time to spare…. I have to be at the funeral of that man who was run over, of whom you … know also,’ he added, feeling angry at once at having made this addition and more irritated at his anger. ‘I am sick of it all, do you hear? and have long been. It’s partly what made me ill. In short,’ he shouted, feeling that the 598 of 967 Crime and Punishment phrase about his illness was still more out of place, ‘in short, kindly examine me or let me go, at once. And if you must examine me, do so in the proper form! I will not allow you to do so otherwise, and so meanwhile, good-bye, as we have evidently nothing to keep us now.’ ‘Good heavens! What do you mean? What shall I question you about?’ cackled Porfiry Petrovitch with a change of tone, instantly leaving off laughing. ‘Please don’t disturb yourself,’ he began fidgeting from place to place and fussily making Raskolnikov sit down. ‘There’s no hurry, there’s no hurry, it’s all nonsense. Oh, no, I’m very glad you’ve come to see me at last … I look upon you simply as a visitor. And as for my confounded laughter, please excuse it, Rodion Romanovitch. Rodion Romanovitch? That is your name? … It’s my nerves, you tickled me so with your witty observation; I assure you, sometimes I shake with laughter like an india-rubber ball for half an hour at a time…. I’m often afraid of an attack of paralysis. Do sit down. Please do, or I shall think you are angry …’ Raskolnikov did not speak; he listened, watching him, still frowning angrily. He did sit down, but still held his cap. 599 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘I must tell you one thing about myself, my dear Rodion Romanovitch,’ Porfiry Petrovitch continued, moving about the room and again avoiding his visitor’s eyes. ‘You see, I’m a bachelor, a man of no consequence and not used to society; besides, I have nothing before me, I’m set, I’m running to seed and … and have you noticed, Rodion Romanovitch, that in our Petersburg circles, if two clever men meet who are not intimate, but respect each other, like you and me, it takes them half an hour before they can find a subject for conversation—they are dumb, they sit opposite each other and feel awkward. Everyone has subjects of conversation, ladies for instance … people in high society always have their subjects of conversation, c’est de rigueur but people of the middle sort like us, thinking people that is, are always tongue-tied and awkward. What is the reason of it? Whether it is the lack of public interest, or whether it is we are so honest we don’t want to deceive one another, I don’t know. What do you think? Do put down your cap, it looks as if you were just going, it makes me uncomfortable … I am so delighted …’ Raskolnikov put down his cap and continued listening in silence with a serious frowning face to the vague and 600 of 967 Crime and Punishment empty chatter of Porfiry Petrovitch. ‘Does he really want to distract my attention with his silly babble?’ ‘I can’t offer you coffee here; but why not spend five minutes with a friend?’ Porfiry pattered on, ‘and you know all these official duties … please don’t mind my running up and down, excuse it, my dear fellow, I am very much afraid of offending you, but exercise is absolutely indispensable for me. I’m always sitting and so glad to be moving about for five minutes … I suffer from my sedentary life … I always intend to join a gymnasium; they say that officials of all ranks, even Privy Councillors, may be seen skipping gaily there; there you have it, modern science … yes, yes…. But as for my duties here, inquiries and all such formalities … you mentioned inquiries yourself just now … I assure you these interrogations are sometimes more embarrassing for the interrogator than for the interrogated…. You made the observation yourself just now very aptly and wittily.’ (Raskolnikov had made no observation of the kind.) ‘One gets into a muddle! A regular muddle! One keeps harping on the same note, like a drum! There is to be a reform and we shall be called by a different name, at least, he-he-he! And as for our legal tradition, as you so wittily called it, I thoroughly agree with you. Every prisoner on trial, even 601 of 967 Crime and Punishment the rudest peasant, knows that they begin by disarming him with irrelevant questions (as you so happily put it) and then deal him a knock-down blow, he-he-he!—your felicitous comparison, he-he! So you really imagined that I meant by ‘government quarters’ … he-he! You are an ironical person. Come. I won’t go on! Ah, by the way, yes! One word leads to another. You spoke of formality just now, apropos of the inquiry, you know. But what’s the use of formality? In many cases it’s nonsense. Sometimes one has a friendly chat and gets a good deal more out of it. One can always fall back on formality, allow me to assure you. And after all, what does it amount to? An examining lawyer cannot be bounded by formality at every step. The work of investigation is, so to speak, a free art in its own way, he-he-he!’ Porfiry Petrovitch took breath a moment. He had simply babbled on uttering empty phrases, letting slip a few enigmatic words and again reverting to incoherence. He was almost running about the room, moving his fat little legs quicker and quicker, looking at the ground, with his right hand behind his back, while with his left making gesticulations that were extraordinarily incongruous with his words. Raskolnikov suddenly noticed that as he ran 602 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. about the room he seemed twice to stop for a moment near the door, as though he were listening. ‘Is he expecting anything?’ ‘You are certainly quite right about it,’ Porfiry began gaily, looking with extraordinary simplicity at Raskolnikov (which startled him and instantly put him on his guard); ‘certainly quite right in laughing so wittily at our legal forms, he-he! Some of these elaborate psychological methods are exceedingly ridiculous and perhaps useless, if one adheres too closely to the forms. Yes … I am talking of forms again. Well, if I recognise, or more strictly speaking, if I suspect someone or other to be a criminal in any case entrusted to me … you’re reading for the law, of course, Rodion Romanovitch?’ ‘Yes, I was …’ ‘Well, then it is a precedent for you for the future— though don’t suppose I should venture to instruct you after the articles you publish about crime! No, I simply make bold to state it by way of fact, if I took this man or that for a criminal, why, I ask, should I worry him prematurely, even though I had evidence against him? In one case I may be bound, for instance, to arrest a man at once, but another may be in quite a different position, you know, so why shouldn’t I let him walk about the town a 603 of 967 Crime and Punishment bit? he-he-he! But I see you don’t quite understand, so I’ll give you a clearer example. If I put him in prison too soon, I may very likely give him, so to speak, moral support, he-he! You’re laughing?’ Raskolnikov had no idea of laughing. He was sitting with compressed lips, his feverish eyes fixed on Porfiry Petrovitch’s. ‘Yet that is the case, with some types especially, for men are so different. You say ‘evidence’. Well, there may be evidence. But evidence, you know, can generally be taken two ways. I am an examining lawyer and a weak man, I confess it. I should like to make a proof, so to say, mathematically clear. I should like to make a chain of evidence such as twice two are four, it ought to be a direct, irrefutable proof! And if I shut him up too soon— even though I might be convinced he was the man, I should very likely be depriving myself of the means of getting further evidence against him. And how? By giving him, so to speak, a definite position, I shall put him out of suspense and set his mind at rest, so that he will retreat into his shell. They say that at Sevastopol, soon after Alma, the clever people were in a terrible fright that the enemy would attack openly and take Sevastopol at once. But when they saw that the enemy preferred a regular siege, 604 of 967 Crime and Punishment they were delighted, I am told and reassured, for the thing would drag on for two months at least. You’re laughing, you don’t believe me again? Of course, you’re right, too. You’re right, you’re right. These are special cases, I admit. But you must observe this, my dear Rodion Romanovitch, the general case, the case for which all legal forms and rules are intended, for which they are calculated and laid down in books, does not exist at all, for the reason that every case, every crime, for instance, so soon as it actually occurs, at once becomes a thoroughly special case and sometimes a case unlike any that’s gone before. Very comic cases of that sort sometimes occur. If I leave one man quite alone, if I don’t touch him and don’t worry him, but let him know or at least suspect every moment that I know all about it and am watching him day and night, and if he is in continual suspicion and terror, he’ll be bound to lose his head. He’ll come of himself, or maybe do something which will make it as plain as twice two are four—it’s delightful. It may be so with a simple peasant, but with one of our sort, an intelligent man cultivated on a certain side, it’s a dead certainty. For, my dear fellow, it’s a very important matter to know on what side a man is cultivated. And then there are nerves, there are nerves, you have overlooked them! Why, they are all 605 of 967 Crime and Punishment sick, nervous and irritable! … And then how they all suffer from spleen! That I assure you is a regular gold-mine for us. And it’s no anxiety to me, his running about the town free! Let him, let him walk about for a bit! I know well enough that I’ve caught him and that he won’t escape me. Where could he escape to, he-he? Abroad, perhaps? A Pole will escape abroad, but not here, especially as I am watching and have taken measures. Will he escape into the depths of the country perhaps? But you know, peasants live there, real rude Russian peasants. A modern cultivated man would prefer prison to living with such strangers as our peasants. He-he! But that’s all nonsense, and on the surface. It’s not merely that he has nowhere to run to, he is psychologically unable to escape me, he-he! What an expression! Through a law of nature he can’t escape me if he had anywhere to go. Have you seen a butterfly round a candle? That’s how he will keep circling and circling round me. Freedom will lose its attractions. He’ll begin to brood, he’ll weave a tangle round himself, he’ll worry himself to death! What’s more he will provide me with a mathematical proof—if I only give him long enough interval…. And he’ll keep circling round me, getting nearer and nearer and then—flop! He’ll fly straight into 606 of 967 Crime and Punishment my mouth and I’ll swallow him, and that will be very amusing, he-he-he! You don’t believe me?’ Raskolnikov made no reply; he sat pale and motionless, still gazing with the same intensity into Porfiry’s face. ‘It’s a lesson,’ he thought, turning cold. ‘This is beyond the cat playing with a mouse, like yesterday. He can’t be showing off his power with no motive … prompting me; he is far too clever for that … he must have another object. What is it? It’s all nonsense, my friend, you are pretending, to scare me! You’ve no proofs and the man I saw had no real existence. You simply want to make me lose my head, to work me up beforehand and so to crush me. But you are wrong, you won’t do it! But why give me such a hint? Is he reckoning on my shattered nerves? No, my friend, you are wrong, you won’t do it even though you have some trap for me … let us see what you have in store for me.’ And he braced himself to face a terrible and unknown ordeal. At times he longed to fall on Porfiry and strangle him. This anger was what he dreaded from the beginning. He felt that his parched lips were flecked with foam, his heart was throbbing. But he was still determined not to speak till the right moment. He realised that this was the best policy in his position, because instead of saying too 607 of 967 Crime and Punishment much he would be irritating his enemy by his silence and provoking him into speaking too freely. Anyhow, this was what he hoped for. ‘No, I see you don’t believe me, you think I am playing a harmless joke on you,’ Porfiry began again, getting more and more lively, chuckling at every instant and again pacing round the room. ‘And to be sure you’re right: God has given me a figure that can awaken none but comic ideas in other people; a buffoon; but let me tell you, and I repeat it, excuse an old man, my dear Rodion Romanovitch, you are a man still young, so to say, in your first youth and so you put intellect above everything, like all young people. Playful wit and abstract arguments fascinate you and that’s for all the world like the old Austrian Hof-kriegsrath as far as I can judge of military matters, that is: on paper they’d beaten Napoleon and taken him prisoner, and there in their study they worked it all out in the cleverest fashion, but look you, General Mack surrendered with all his army, he-he-he! I see, I see, Rodion Romanovitch, you are laughing at a civilian like me, taking examples out of military history! But I can’t help it, it’s my weakness. I am fond of military science. And I’m ever so fond of reading all military histories. I’ve certainly missed my proper career. I ought to have been in 608 of 967 Crime and Punishment the army, upon my word I ought. I shouldn’t have been a Napoleon, but I might have been a major, he-he! Well, I’ll tell you the whole truth, my dear fellow, about this special case I mean: actual fact and a man’s temperament, my dear sir, are weighty matters and it’s astonishing how they sometimes deceive the sharpest calculation! I—listen to an old man—am speaking seriously, Rodion Romanovitch’ (as he said this Porfiry Petrovitch, who was scarcely five-and-thirty, actually seemed to have grown old; even his voice changed and he seemed to shrink together) ‘Moreover, I’m a candid man … am I a candid man or not? What do you say? I fancy I really am: I tell you these things for nothing and don’t even expect a reward for it, he-he! Well, to proceed, wit in my opinion is a splendid thing, it is, so to say, an adornment of nature and a consolation of life, and what tricks it can play! So that it sometimes is hard for a poor examining lawyer to know where he is, especially when he’s liable to be carried away by his own fancy, too, for you know he is a man after all! But the poor fellow is saved by the criminal’s temperament, worse luck for him! But young people carried away by their own wit don’t think of that ‘when they overstep all obstacles,’ as you wittily and cleverly expressed it yesterday. He will lie—that is, the man who is 609 of 967 Crime and Punishment a special case the incognito, and he will lie well, in the cleverest fashion; you might think he would triumph and enjoy the fruits of his wit, but at the most interesting, the most flagrant moment he will faint. Of course there may be illness and a stuffy room as well, but anyway! Anyway he’s given us the idea! He lied incomparably, but he didn’t reckon on his temperament. That’s what betrays him! Another time he will be carried away by his playful wit into making fun of the man who suspects him, he will turn pale as it were on purpose to mislead, but his paleness will be too natural too much like the real thing, again he has given us an idea! Though his questioner may be deceived at first, he will think differently next day if he is not a fool, and, of course, it is like that at every step! He puts himself forward where he is not wanted, speaks continually when he ought to keep silent, brings in all sorts of allegorical allusions, he-he! Comes and asks why didn’t you take me long ago? he-he-he! And that can happen, you know, with the cleverest man, the psychologist, the literary man. The temperament reflects everything like a mirror! Gaze into it and admire what you see! But why are you so pale, Rodion Romanovitch? Is the room stuffy? Shall I open the window?’ 610 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Oh, don’t trouble, please,’ cried Raskolnikov and he suddenly broke into a laugh. ‘Please don’t trouble.’ Porfiry stood facing him, paused a moment and suddenly he too laughed. Raskolnikov got up from the sofa, abruptly checking his hysterical laughter. ‘Porfiry Petrovitch,’ he began, speaking loudly and distinctly, though his legs trembled and he could scarcely stand. ‘I see clearly at last that you actually suspect me of murdering that old woman and her sister Lizaveta. Let me tell you for my part that I am sick of this. If you find that you have a right to prosecute me legally, to arrest me, then prosecute me, arrest me. But I will not let myself be jeered at to my face and worried …’ His lips trembled, his eyes glowed with fury and he could not restrain his voice. ‘I won’t allow it!’ he shouted, bringing his fist down on the table. ‘Do you hear that, Porfiry Petrovitch? I won’t allow it.’ ‘Good heavens! What does it mean?’ cried Porfiry Petrovitch, apparently quite frightened. ‘Rodion Romanovitch, my dear fellow, what is the matter with you?’ ‘I won’t allow it,’ Raskolnikov shouted again. 611 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Hush, my dear man! They’ll hear and come in. Just think, what could we say to them?’ Porfiry Petrovitch whispered in horror, bringing his face close to Raskolnikov’s. ‘I won’t allow it, I won’t allow it,’ Raskolnikov repeated mechanically, but he too spoke in a sudden whisper. Porfiry turned quickly and ran to open the window. ‘Some fresh air! And you must have some water, my dear fellow. You’re ill!’ and he was running to the door to call for some when he found a decanter of water in the corner. ‘Come, drink a little,’ he whispered, rushing up to him with the decanter. ‘It will be sure to do you good.’ Porfiry Petrovitch’s alarm and sympathy were so natural that Raskolnikov was silent and began looking at him with wild curiosity. He did not take the water, however. ‘Rodion Romanovitch, my dear fellow, you’ll drive yourself out of your mind, I assure you, ach, ach! Have some water, do drink a little.’ He forced him to take the glass. Raskolnikov raised it mechanically to his lips, but set it on the table again with disgust. ‘Yes, you’ve had a little attack! You’ll bring back your illness again, my dear fellow,’ Porfiry Petrovitch cackled 612 of 967 Crime and Punishment with friendly sympathy, though he still looked rather disconcerted. ‘Good heavens, you must take more care of yourself! Dmitri Prokofitch was here, came to see me yesterday—I know, I know, I’ve a nasty, ironical temper, but what they made of it! … Good heavens, he came yesterday after you’d been. We dined and he talked and talked away, and I could only throw up my hands in despair! Did he come from you? But do sit down, for mercy’s sake, sit down!’ ‘No, not from me, but I knew he went to you and why he went,’ Raskolnikov answered sharply. ‘You knew?’ ‘I knew. What of it?’ ‘Why this, Rodion Romanovitch, that I know more than that about you; I know about everything. I know how you went to take a flat at night when it was dark and how you rang the bell and asked about the blood, so that the workmen and the porter did not know what to make of it. Yes, I understand your state of mind at that time … but you’ll drive yourself mad like that, upon my word! You’ll lose your head! You’re full of generous indignation at the wrongs you’ve received, first from destiny, and then from the police officers, and so you rush from one thing to another to force them to speak out and make an end of it 613 of 967 Crime and Punishment all, because you are sick of all this suspicion and foolishness. That’s so, isn’t it? I have guessed how you feel, haven’t I? Only in that way you’ll lose your head and Razumihin’s, too; he’s too good a man for such a position, you must know that. You are ill and he is good and your illness is infectious for him … I’ll tell you about it when you are more yourself…. But do sit down, for goodness’ sake. Please rest, you look shocking, do sit down.’ Raskolnikov sat down; he no longer shivered, he was hot all over. In amazement he listened with strained attention to Porfiry Petrovitch who still seemed frightened as he looked after him with friendly solicitude. But he did not believe a word he said, though he felt a strange inclination to believe. Porfiry’s unexpected words about the flat had utterly overwhelmed him. ‘How can it be, he knows about the flat then,’ he thought suddenly, ‘and he tells it me himself!’ ‘Yes, in our legal practice there was a case almost exactly similar, a case of morbid psychology,’ Porfiry went on quickly. ‘A man confessed to murder and how he kept it up! It was a regular hallucination; he brought forward facts, he imposed upon everyone and why? He had been partly, but only partly, unintentionally the cause of a murder and when he knew that he had given the 614 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. murderers the opportunity, he sank into dejection, it got on his mind and turned his brain, he began imagining things and he persuaded himself that he was the murderer. But at last the High Court of Appeal went into it and the poor fellow was acquitted and put under proper care. Thanks to the Court of Appeal! Tut-tut-tut! Why, my dear fellow, you may drive yourself into delirium if you have the impulse to work upon your nerves, to go ringing bells at night and asking about blood! I’ve studied all this morbid psychology in my practice. A man is sometimes tempted to jump out of a window or from a belfry. Just the same with bell-ringing…. It’s all illness, Rodion Romanovitch! You have begun to neglect your illness. You should consult an experienced doctor, what’s the good of that fat fellow? You are lightheaded! You were delirious when you did all this!’ For a moment Raskolnikov felt everything going round. ‘Is it possible, is it possible,’ flashed through his mind, ‘that he is still lying? He can’t be, he can’t be.’ He rejected that idea, feeling to what a degree of fury it might drive him, feeling that that fury might drive him mad. 615 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘I was not delirious. I knew what I was doing,’ he cried, straining every faculty to penetrate Porfiry’s game, ‘I was quite myself, do you hear?’ ‘Yes, I hear and understand. You said yesterday you were not delirious, you were particularly emphatic about it! I understand all you can tell me! A-ach! … Listen, Rodion Romanovitch, my dear fellow. If you were actually a criminal, or were somehow mixed up in this damnable business, would you insist that you were not delirious but in full possession of your faculties? And so emphatically and persistently? Would it be possible? Quite impossible, to my thinking. If you had anything on your conscience, you certainly ought to insist that you were delirious. That’s so, isn’t it?’ There was a note of slyness in this inquiry. Raskolnikov drew back on the sofa as Porfiry bent over him and stared in silent perplexity at him. ‘Another thing about Razumihin—you certainly ought to have said that he came of his own accord, to have concealed your part in it! But you don’t conceal it! You lay stress on his coming at your instigation.’ Raskolnikov had not done so. A chill went down his back. 616 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘You keep telling lies,’ he said slowly and weakly, twisting his lips into a sickly smile, ‘you are trying again to show that you know all my game, that you know all I shall say beforehand,’ he said, conscious himself that he was not weighing his words as he ought. ‘You want to frighten me … or you are simply laughing at me …’ He still stared at him as he said this and again there was a light of intense hatred in his eyes. ‘You keep lying,’ he said. ‘You know perfectly well that the best policy for the criminal is to tell the truth as nearly as possible … to conceal as little as possible. I don’t believe you!’ ‘What a wily person you are!’ Porfiry tittered, ‘there’s no catching you; you’ve a perfect monomania. So you don’t believe me? But still you do believe me, you believe a quarter; I’ll soon make you believe the whole, because I have a sincere liking for you and genuinely wish you good.’ Raskolnikov’s lips trembled. ‘Yes, I do,’ went on Porfiry, touching Raskolnikov’s arm genially, ‘you must take care of your illness. Besides, your mother and sister are here now; you must think of them. You must soothe and comfort them and you do nothing but frighten them …’ 617 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘What has that to do with you? How do you know it? What concern is it of yours? You are keeping watch on me and want to let me know it?’ ‘Good heavens! Why, I learnt it all from you yourself! You don’t notice that in your excitement you tell me and others everything. From Razumihin, too, I learnt a number of interesting details yesterday. No, you interrupted me, but I must tell you that, for all your wit, your suspiciousness makes you lose the common-sense view of things. To return to bell-ringing, for instance. I, an examining lawyer, have betrayed a precious thing like that, a real fact (for it is a fact worth having), and you see nothing in it! Why, if I had the slightest suspicion of you, should I have acted like that? No, I should first have disarmed your suspicions and not let you see I knew of that fact, should have diverted your attention and suddenly have dealt you a knock-down blow (your expression) saying: ‘And what were you doing, sir, pray, at ten or nearly eleven at the murdered woman’s flat and why did you ring the bell and why did you ask about blood? And why did you invite the porters to go with you to the police station, to the lieutenant?’ That’s how I ought to have acted if I had a grain of suspicion of you. I ought to have taken your evidence in due form, searched your 618 of 967 Crime and Punishment lodging and perhaps have arrested you, too … so I have no suspicion of you, since I have not done that! But you can’t look at it normally and you see nothing, I say again.’ Raskolnikov started so that Porfiry Petrovitch could not fail to perceive it. ‘You are lying all the while,’ he cried, ‘I don’t know your object, but you are lying. You did not speak like that just now and I cannot be mistaken!’ ‘I am lying?’ Porfiry repeated, apparently incensed, but preserving a good-humoured and ironical face, as though he were not in the least concerned at Raskolnikov’s opinion of him. ‘I am lying … but how did I treat you just now, I, the examining lawyer? Prompting you and giving you every means for your defence; illness, I said, delirium, injury, melancholy and the police officers and all the rest of it? Ah! He-he-he! Though, indeed, all those psychological means of defence are not very reliable and cut both ways: illness, delirium, I don’t remember—that’s all right, but why, my good sir, in your illness and in your delirium were you haunted by just those delusions and not by any others? There may have been others, eh? He-he-he!’ Raskolnikov looked haughtily and contemptuously at him. 619 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Briefly,’ he said loudly and imperiously, rising to his feet and in so doing pushing Porfiry back a little, ‘briefly, I want to know, do you acknowledge me perfectly free from suspicion or not? Tell me, Porfiry Petrovitch, tell me once for all and make haste!’ ‘What a business I’m having with you!’ cried Porfiry with a perfectly good-humoured, sly and composed face. ‘And why do you want to know, why do you want to know so much, since they haven’t begun to worry you? Why, you are like a child asking for matches! And why are you so uneasy? Why do you force yourself upon us, eh? He-he-he!’ ‘I repeat,’ Raskolnikov cried furiously, ‘that I can’t put up with it!’ ‘With what? Uncertainty?’ interrupted Porfiry. ‘Don’t jeer at me! I won’t have it! I tell you I won’t have it. I can’t and I won’t, do you hear, do you hear?’ he shouted, bringing his fist down on the table again. ‘Hush! Hush! They’ll overhear! I warn you seriously, take care of yourself. I am not joking,’ Porfiry whispered, but this time there was not the look of old womanish good nature and alarm in his face. Now he was peremptory, stern, frowning and for once laying aside all mystification. 620 of 967 Crime and Punishment But this was only for an instant. Raskolnikov, bewildered, suddenly fell into actual frenzy, but, strange to say, he again obeyed the command to speak quietly, though he was in a perfect paroxysm of fury. ‘I will not allow myself to be tortured,’ he whispered, instantly recognising with hatred that he could not help obeying the command and driven to even greater fury by the thought. ‘Arrest me, search me, but kindly act in due form and don’t play with me! Don’t dare!’ ‘Don’t worry about the form,’ Porfiry interrupted with the same sly smile, as it were, gloating with enjoyment over Raskolnikov. ‘I invited you to see me quite in a friendly way.’ ‘I don’t want your friendship and I spit on it! Do you hear? And, here, I take my cap and go. What will you say now if you mean to arrest me?’ He took up his cap and went to the door. ‘And won’t you see my little surprise?’ chuckled Porfiry, again taking him by the arm and stopping him at the door. He seemed to become more playful and good- humoured which maddened Raskolnikov. ‘What surprise?’ he asked, standing still and looking at Porfiry in alarm. 621 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘My little surprise, it’s sitting there behind the door, he-he-he!’ (He pointed to the locked door.) ‘I locked him in that he should not escape.’ ‘What is it? Where? What? …’ Raskolnikov walked to the door and would have opened it, but it was locked. ‘It’s locked, here is the key!’ And he brought a key out of his pocket. ‘You are lying,’ roared Raskolnikov without restraint, ‘you lie, you damned punchinello!’ and he rushed at Porfiry who retreated to the other door, not at all alarmed. ‘I understand it all! You are lying and mocking so that I may betray myself to you …’ ‘Why, you could not betray yourself any further, my dear Rodion Romanovitch. You are in a passion. Don’t shout, I shall call the clerks.’ ‘You are lying! Call the clerks! You knew I was ill and tried to work me into a frenzy to make me betray myself, that was your object! Produce your facts! I understand it all. You’ve no evidence, you have only wretched rubbishly suspicions like Zametov’s! You knew my character, you wanted to drive me to fury and then to knock me down with priests and deputies…. Are you 622 of 967 Crime and Punishment waiting for them? eh! What are you waiting for? Where are they? Produce them?’ ‘Why deputies, my good man? What things people will imagine! And to do so would not be acting in form as you say, you don’t know the business, my dear fellow…. And there’s no escaping form, as you see,’ Porfiry muttered, listening at the door through which a noise could be heard. ‘Ah, they’re coming,’ cried Raskolnikov. ‘You’ve sent for them! You expected them! Well, produce them all: your deputies, your witnesses, what you like! … I am ready!’ But at this moment a strange incident occurred, something so unexpected that neither Raskolnikov nor Porfiry Petrovitch could have looked for such a conclusion to their interview. 623 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter VI When he remembered the scene afterwards, this is how Raskolnikov saw it. The noise behind the door increased, and suddenly the door was opened a little. ‘What is it?’ cried Porfiry Petrovitch, annoyed. ‘Why, I gave orders …’ For an instant there was no answer, but it was evident that there were several persons at the door, and that they were apparently pushing somebody back. ‘What is it?’ Porfiry Petrovitch repeated, uneasily. ‘The prisoner Nikolay has been brought,’ someone answered. ‘He is not wanted! Take him away! Let him wait! What’s he doing here? How irregular!’ cried Porfiry, rushing to the door. ‘But he …’ began the same voice, and suddenly ceased. Two seconds, not more, were spent in actual struggle, then someone gave a violent shove, and then a man, very pale, strode into the room. This man’s appearance was at first sight very strange. He stared straight before him, as though seeing nothing. 624 of 967 Crime and Punishment There was a determined gleam in his eyes; at the same time there was a deathly pallor in his face, as though he were being led to the scaffold. His white lips were faintly twitching. He was dressed like a workman and was of medium height, very young, slim, his hair cut in round crop, with thin spare features. The man whom he had thrust back followed him into the room and succeeded in seizing him by the shoulder; he was a warder; but Nikolay pulled his arm away. Several persons crowded inquisitively into the doorway. Some of them tried to get in. All this took place almost instantaneously. ‘Go away, it’s too soon! Wait till you are sent for! … Why have you brought him so soon?’ Porfiry Petrovitch muttered, extremely annoyed, and as it were thrown out of his reckoning. But Nikolay suddenly knelt down. ‘What’s the matter?’ cried Porfiry, surprised. ‘I am guilty! Mine is the sin! I am the murderer,’ Nikolay articulated suddenly, rather breathless, but speaking fairly loudly. 625 of 967 Crime and Punishment For ten seconds there was silence as though all had been struck dumb; even the warder stepped back, mechanically retreated to the door, and stood immovable. ‘What is it?’ cried Porfiry Petrovitch, recovering from his momentary stupefaction. ‘I … am the murderer,’ repeated Nikolay, after a brief pause. ‘What … you … what … whom did you kill?’ Porfiry Petrovitch was obviously bewildered. Nikolay again was silent for a moment. ‘Alyona Ivanovna and her sister Lizaveta Ivanovna, I … killed … with an axe. Darkness came over me,’ he added suddenly, and was again silent. He still remained on his knees. Porfiry Petrovitch stood for some moments as though meditating, but suddenly roused himself and waved back the uninvited spectators. They instantly vanished and closed the door. Then he looked towards Raskolnikov, who was standing in the corner, staring wildly at Nikolay and moved towards him, but stopped short, looked from Nikolay to Raskolnikov and then again at Nikolay, and seeming unable to restrain himself darted at the latter. 626 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. ‘You’re in too great a hurry,’ he shouted at him, almost angrily. ‘I didn’t ask you what came over you…. Speak, did you kill them?’ ‘I am the murderer…. I want to give evidence,’ Nikolay pronounced. ‘Ach! What did you kill them with?’ ‘An axe. I had it ready.’ ‘Ach, he is in a hurry! Alone?’ Nikolay did not understand the question. ‘Did you do it alone?’ ‘Yes, alone. And Mitka is not guilty and had no share in it.’ ‘Don’t be in a hurry about Mitka! A-ach! How was it you ran downstairs like that at the time? The porters met you both!’ ‘It was to put them off the scent … I ran after Mitka,’ Nikolay replied hurriedly, as though he had prepared the answer. ‘I knew it!’ cried Porfiry, with vexation. ‘It’s not his own tale he is telling,’ he muttered as though to himself, and suddenly his eyes rested on Raskolnikov again. He was apparently so taken up with Nikolay that for a moment he had forgotten Raskolnikov. He was a little taken aback. 627 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘My dear Rodion Romanovitch, excuse me!’ he flew up to him, ‘this won’t do; I’m afraid you must go … it’s no good your staying … I will … you see, what a surprise! … Good-bye!’ And taking him by the arm, he showed him to the door. ‘I suppose you didn’t expect it?’ said Raskolnikov who, though he had not yet fully grasped the situation, had regained his courage. ‘You did not expect it either, my friend. See how your hand is trembling! He-he!’ ‘You’re trembling, too, Porfiry Petrovitch!’ ‘Yes, I am; I didn’t expect it.’ They were already at the door; Porfiry was impatient for Raskolnikov to be gone. ‘And your little surprise, aren’t you going to show it to me?’ Raskolnikov said, sarcastically. ‘Why, his teeth are chattering as he asks, he-he! You are an ironical person! Come, till we meet!’ ‘I believe we can say good-bye !’ ‘That’s in God’s hands,’ muttered Porfiry, with an unnatural smile. As he walked through the office, Raskolnikov noticed that many people were looking at him. Among them he 628 of 967 Crime and Punishment saw the two porters from the house, whom he had invited that night to the police station. They stood there waiting. But he was no sooner on the stairs than he heard the voice of Porfiry Petrovitch behind him. Turning round, he saw the latter running after him, out of breath. ‘One word, Rodion Romanovitch; as to all the rest, it’s in God’s hands, but as a matter of form there are some questions I shall have to ask you … so we shall meet again, shan’t we?’ And Porfiry stood still, facing him with a smile. ‘Shan’t we?’ he added again. He seemed to want to say something more, but could not speak out. ‘You must forgive me, Porfiry Petrovitch, for what has just passed … I lost my temper,’ began Raskolnikov, who had so far regained his courage that he felt irresistibly inclined to display his coolness. ‘Don’t mention it, don’t mention it,’ Porfiry replied, almost gleefully. ‘I myself, too … I have a wicked temper, I admit it! But we shall meet again. If it’s God’s will, we may see a great deal of one another.’ ‘And will get to know each other through and through?’ added Raskolnikov. 629 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Yes; know each other through and through,’ assented Porfiry Petrovitch, and he screwed up his eyes, looking earnestly at Raskolnikov. ‘Now you’re going to a birthday party?’ ‘To a funeral.’ ‘Of course, the funeral! Take care of yourself, and get well.’ ‘I don’t know what to wish you,’ said Raskolnikov, who had begun to descend the stairs, but looked back again. ‘I should like to wish you success, but your office is such a comical one.’ ‘Why comical?’ Porfiry Petrovitch had turned to go, but he seemed to prick up his ears at this. ‘Why, how you must have been torturing and harassing that poor Nikolay psychologically, after your fashion, till he confessed! You must have been at him day and night, proving to him that he was the murderer, and now that he has confessed, you’ll begin vivisecting him again. ‘You are lying,’ you’ll say. ‘You are not the murderer! You can’t be! It’s not your own tale you are telling!’ You must admit it’s a comical business!’ ‘He-he-he! You noticed then that I said to Nikolay just now that it was not his own tale he was telling?’ ‘How could I help noticing it!’ 630 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘He-he! You are quick-witted. You notice everything! You’ve really a playful mind! And you always fasten on the comic side … he-he! They say that was the marked characteristic of Gogol, among the writers.’ ‘Yes, of Gogol.’ ‘Yes, of Gogol…. I shall look forward to meeting you.’ ‘So shall I.’ Raskolnikov walked straight home. He was so muddled and bewildered that on getting home he sat for a quarter of an hour on the sofa, trying to collect his thoughts. He did not attempt to think about Nikolay; he was stupefied; he felt that his confession was something inexplicable, amazing—something beyond his understanding. But Nikolay’s confession was an actual fact. The consequences of this fact were clear to him at once, its falsehood could not fail to be discovered, and then they would be after him again. Till then, at least, he was free and must do something for himself, for the danger was imminent. But how imminent? His position gradually became clear to him. Remembering, sketchily, the main outlines of his recent scene with Porfiry, he could not help shuddering again with horror. Of course, he did not yet know all Porfiry’s aims, he could not see into all his calculations. But he had already partly shown his hand, 631 of 967 Crime and Punishment and no one knew better than Raskolnikov how terrible Porfiry’s ‘lead’ had been for him. A little more and he might have given himself away completely, circumstantially. Knowing his nervous temperament and from the first glance seeing through him, Porfiry, though playing a bold game, was bound to win. There’s no denying that Raskolnikov had compromised himself seriously, but no facts had come to light as yet; there was nothing positive. But was he taking a true view of the position? Wasn’t he mistaken? What had Porfiry been trying to get at? Had he really some surprise prepared for him? And what was it? Had he really been expecting something or not? How would they have parted if it had not been for the unexpected appearance of Nikolay? Porfiry had shown almost all his cards—of course, he had risked something in showing them—and if he had really had anything up his sleeve (Raskolnikov reflected), he would have shown that, too. What was that ‘surprise’? Was it a joke? Had it meant anything? Could it have concealed anything like a fact, a piece of positive evidence? His yesterday’s visitor? What had become of him? Where was he to-day? If Porfiry really had any evidence, it must be connected with him…. 632 of 967 Crime and Punishment He sat on the sofa with his elbows on his knees and his face hidden in his hands. He was still shivering nervously. At last he got up, took his cap, thought a minute, and went to the door. He had a sort of presentiment that for to-day, at least, he might consider himself out of danger. He had a sudden sense almost of joy; he wanted to make haste to Katerina Ivanovna’s. He would be too late for the funeral, of course, but he would be in time for the memorial dinner, and there at once he would see Sonia. He stood still, thought a moment, and a suffering smile came for a moment on to his lips. ‘To-day! To-day,’ he repeated to himself. ‘Yes, to-day! So it must be….’ But as he was about to open the door, it began opening of itself. He started and moved back. The door opened gently and slowly, and there suddenly appeared a figure— yesterday’s visitor from underground . The man stood in the doorway, looked at Raskolnikov without speaking, and took a step forward into the room. He was exactly the same as yesterday; the same figure, the same dress, but there was a great change in his face; he looked dejected and sighed deeply. If he had only put his 633 of 967 Crime and Punishment hand up to his cheek and leaned his head on one side he would have looked exactly like a peasant woman. ‘What do you want?’ asked Raskolnikov, numb with terror. The man was still silent, but suddenly he bowed down almost to the ground, touching it with his finger. ‘What is it?’ cried Raskolnikov. ‘I have sinned,’ the man articulated softly. ‘How?’ ‘By evil thoughts.’ They looked at one another. ‘I was vexed. When you came, perhaps in drink, and bade the porters go to the police station and asked about the blood, I was vexed that they let you go and took you for drunken. I was so vexed that I lost my sleep. And remembering the address we came here yesterday and asked for you….’ ‘Who came?’ Raskolnikov interrupted, instantly beginning to recollect. ‘I did, I’ve wronged you.’ ‘Then you come from that house?’ ‘I was standing at the gate with them … don’t you remember? We have carried on our trade in that house for years past. We cure and prepare hides, we take work home … most of all I was vexed….’ 634 of 967 Crime and Punishment And the whole scene of the day before yesterday in the gateway came clearly before Raskolnikov’s mind; he recollected that there had been several people there besides the porters, women among them. He remembered one voice had suggested taking him straight to the police-station. He could not recall the face of the speaker, and even now he did not recognise it, but he remembered that he had turned round and made him some answer…. So this was the solution of yesterday’s horror. The most awful thought was that he had been actually almost lost, had almost done for himself on account of such a trivial circumstance. So this man could tell nothing except his asking about the flat and the blood stains. So Porfiry, too, had nothing but that delirium no facts but this psychology which cuts both ways nothing positive. So if no more facts come to light (and they must not, they must not!) then … then what can they do to him? How can they convict him, even if they arrest him? And Porfiry then had only just heard about the flat and had not known about it before. ‘Was it you who told Porfiry … that I’d been there?’ he cried, struck by a sudden idea. ‘What Porfiry?’ ‘The head of the detective department?’ 635 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Yes. The porters did not go there, but I went.’ ‘To-day?’ ‘I got there two minutes before you. And I heard, I heard it all, how he worried you.’ ‘Where? What? When?’ ‘Why, in the next room. I was sitting there all the time.’ ‘What? Why, then you were the surprise? But how could it happen? Upon my word!’ ‘I saw that the porters did not want to do what I said,’ began the man; ‘for it’s too late, said they, and maybe he’ll be angry that we did not come at the time. I was vexed and I lost my sleep, and I began making inquiries. And finding out yesterday where to go, I went to-day. The first time I went he wasn’t there, when I came an hour later he couldn’t see me. I went the third time, and they showed me in. I informed him of everything, just as it happened, and he began skipping about the room and punching himself on the chest. ‘What do you scoundrels mean by it? If I’d known about it I should have arrested him!’ Then he ran out, called somebody and began talking to him in the corner, then he turned to me, scolding and questioning me. He scolded me a great deal; and I told him everything, and I told him that you didn’t dare to say a 636 of 967 Crime and Punishment word in answer to me yesterday and that you didn’t recognise me. And he fell to running about again and kept hitting himself on the chest, and getting angry and running about, and when you were announced he told me to go into the next room. ‘Sit there a bit,’ he said. ‘Don’t move, whatever you may hear.’ And he set a chair there for me and locked me in. ‘Perhaps,’ he said, ‘I may call you.’ And when Nikolay’d been brought he let me out as soon as you were gone. ‘I shall send for you again and question you,’ he said.’ ‘And did he question Nikolay while you were there?’ ‘He got rid of me as he did of you, before he spoke to Nikolay.’ The man stood still, and again suddenly bowed down, touching the ground with his finger. ‘Forgive me for my evil thoughts, and my slander.’ ‘May God forgive you,’ answered Raskolnikov. And as he said this, the man bowed down again, but not to the ground, turned slowly and went out of the room. ‘It all cuts both ways, now it all cuts both ways,’ repeated Raskolnikov, and he went out more confident than ever. 637 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Now we’ll make a fight for it,’ he said, with a malicious smile, as he went down the stairs. His malice was aimed at himself; with shame and contempt he recollected his ‘cowardice.’ 638 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. PART V 639 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter I The morning that followed the fateful interview with Dounia and her mother brought sobering influences to bear on Pyotr Petrovitch. Intensely unpleasant as it was, he was forced little by little to accept as a fact beyond recall what had seemed to him only the day before fantastic and incredible. The black snake of wounded vanity had been gnawing at his heart all night. When he got out of bed, Pyotr Petrovitch immediately looked in the looking-glass. He was afraid that he had jaundice. However his health seemed unimpaired so far, and looking at his noble, clear-skinned countenance which had grown fattish of late, Pyotr Petrovitch for an instant was positively comforted in the conviction that he would find another bride and, perhaps, even a better one. But coming back to the sense of his present position, he turned aside and spat vigorously, which excited a sarcastic smile in Andrey Semyonovitch Lebeziatnikov, the young friend with whom he was staying. That smile Pyotr Petrovitch noticed, and at once set it down against his young friend’s account. He had set down a good many points against him of late. His anger was redoubled when he reflected that he ought not to have told Andrey Semyonovitch about the result of 640 of 967 Crime and Punishment yesterday’s interview. That was the second mistake he had made in temper, through impulsiveness and irritability…. Moreover, all that morning one unpleasantness followed another. He even found a hitch awaiting him in his legal case in the senate. He was particularly irritated by the owner of the flat which had been taken in view of his approaching marriage and was being redecorated at his own expense; the owner, a rich German tradesman, would not entertain the idea of breaking the contract which had just been signed and insisted on the full forfeit money, though Pyotr Petrovitch would be giving him back the flat practically redecorated. In the same way the upholsterers refused to return a single rouble of the instalment paid for the furniture purchased but not yet removed to the flat. ‘Am I to get married simply for the sake of the furniture?’ Pyotr Petrovitch ground his teeth and at the same time once more he had a gleam of desperate hope. ‘Can all that be really so irrevocably over? Is it no use to make another effort?’ The thought of Dounia sent a voluptuous pang through his heart. He endured anguish at that moment, and if it had been possible to slay Raskolnikov instantly by wishing it, Pyotr Petrovitch would promptly have uttered the wish. 641 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘It was my mistake, too, not to have given them money,’ he thought, as he returned dejectedly to Lebeziatnikov’s room, ‘and why on earth was I such a Jew? It was false economy! I meant to keep them without a penny so that they should turn to me as their providence, and look at them! foo! If I’d spent some fifteen hundred roubles on them for the trousseau and presents, on knick-knacks, dressing-cases, jewellery, materials, and all that sort of trash from Knopp’s and the English shop, my position would have been better and … stronger! They could not have refused me so easily! They are the sort of people that would feel bound to return money and presents if they broke it off; and they would find it hard to do it! And their conscience would prick them: how can we dismiss a man who has hitherto been so generous and delicate?…. H’m! I’ve made a blunder.’ And grinding his teeth again, Pyotr Petrovitch called himself a fool— but not aloud, of course. He returned home, twice as irritated and angry as before. The preparations for the funeral dinner at Katerina Ivanovna’s excited his curiosity as he passed. He had heard about it the day before; he fancied, indeed, that he had been invited, but absorbed in his own cares he had paid no attention. Inquiring of Madame Lippevechsel who was 642 of 967 Crime and Punishment busy laying the table while Katerina Ivanovna was away at the cemetery, he heard that the entertainment was to be a great affair, that all the lodgers had been invited, among them some who had not known the dead man, that even Andrey Semyonovitch Lebeziatnikov was invited in spite of his previous quarrel with Katerina Ivanovna, that he, Pyotr Petrovitch, was not only invited, but was eagerly expected as he was the most important of the lodgers. Amalia Ivanovna herself had been invited with great ceremony in spite of the recent unpleasantness, and so she was very busy with preparations and was taking a positive pleasure in them; she was moreover dressed up to the nines, all in new black silk, and she was proud of it. All this suggested an idea to Pyotr Petrovitch and he went into his room, or rather Lebeziatnikov’s, somewhat thoughtful. He had learnt that Raskolnikov was to be one of the guests. Andrey Semyonovitch had been at home all the morning. The attitude of Pyotr Petrovitch to this gentleman was strange, though perhaps natural. Pyotr Petrovitch had despised and hated him from the day he came to stay with him and at the same time he seemed somewhat afraid of him. He had not come to stay with him on his arrival in Petersburg simply from parsimony, 643 of 967 Crime and Punishment though that had been perhaps his chief object. He had heard of Andrey Semyonovitch, who had once been his ward, as a leading young progressive who was taking an important part in certain interesting circles, the doings of which were a legend in the provinces. It had impressed Pyotr Petrovitch. These powerful omniscient circles who despised everyone and showed everyone up had long inspired in him a peculiar but quite vague alarm. He had not, of course, been able to form even an approximate notion of what they meant. He, like everyone, had heard that there were, especially in Petersburg, progressives of some sort, nihilists and so on, and, like many people, he exaggerated and distorted the significance of those words to an absurd degree. What for many years past he had feared more than anything was being shown up and this was the chief ground for his continual uneasiness at the thought of transferring his business to Petersburg. He was afraid of this as little children are sometimes panic-stricken. Some years before, when he was just entering on his own career, he had come upon two cases in which rather important personages in the province, patrons of his, had been cruelly shown up. One instance had ended in great scandal for the person attacked and the other had very nearly ended in serious trouble. For this reason Pyotr 644 of 967 Crime and Punishment Petrovitch intended to go into the subject as soon as he reached Petersburg and, if necessary, to anticipate contingencies by seeking the favour of ‘our younger generation.’ He relied on Andrey Semyonovitch for this and before his visit to Raskolnikov he had succeeded in picking up some current phrases. He soon discovered that Andrey Semyonovitch was a commonplace simpleton, but that by no means reassured Pyotr Petrovitch. Even if he had been certain that all the progressives were fools like him, it would not have allayed his uneasiness. All the doctrines, the ideas, the systems, with which Andrey Semyonovitch pestered him had no interest for him. He had his own object—he simply wanted to find out at once what was happening here . Had these people any power or not? Had he anything to fear from them? Would they expose any enterprise of his? And what precisely was now the object of their attacks? Could he somehow make up to them and get round them if they really were powerful? Was this the thing to do or not? Couldn’t he gain something through them? In fact hundreds of questions presented themselves. Andrey Semyonovitch was an anæmic, scrofulous little man, with strangely flaxen mutton-chop whiskers of which he was very proud. He was a clerk and had almost 645 of 967 Crime and Punishment always something wrong with his eyes. He was rather soft-hearted, but self-confident and sometimes extremely conceited in speech, which had an absurd effect, incongruous with his little figure. He was one of the lodgers most respected by Amalia Ivanovna, for he did not get drunk and paid regularly for his lodgings. Andrey Semyonovitch really was rather stupid; he attached himself to the cause of progress and ‘our younger generation’ from enthusiasm. He was one of the numerous and varied legion of dullards, of half-animate abortions, conceited, half-educated coxcombs, who attach themselves to the idea most in fashion only to vulgarise it and who caricature every cause they serve, however sincerely. Though Lebeziatnikov was so good-natured, he, too, was beginning to dislike Pyotr Petrovitch. This happened on both sides unconsciously. However simple Andrey Semyonovitch might be, he began to see that Pyotr Petrovitch was duping him and secretly despising him, and that ‘he was not the right sort of man.’ He had tried expounding to him the system of Fourier and the Darwinian theory, but of late Pyotr Petrovitch began to listen too sarcastically and even to be rude. The fact was he had begun instinctively to guess that Lebeziatnikov was not merely a commonplace simpleton, but, perhaps, a liar, 646 of 967 Crime and Punishment too, and that he had no connections of any consequence even in his own circle, but had simply picked things up third-hand; and that very likely he did not even know much about his own work of propaganda, for he was in too great a muddle. A fine person he would be to show anyone up! It must be noted, by the way, that Pyotr Petrovitch had during those ten days eagerly accepted the strangest praise from Andrey Semyonovitch; he had not protested, for instance, when Andrey Semyonovitch belauded him for being ready to contribute to the establishment of the new ‘commune,’ or to abstain from christening his future children, or to acquiesce if Dounia were to take a lover a month after marriage, and so on. Pyotr Petrovitch so enjoyed hearing his own praises that he did not disdain even such virtues when they were attributed to him. Pyotr Petrovitch had had occasion that morning to realise some five- per-cent bonds and now he sat down to the table and counted over bundles of notes. Andrey Semyonovitch who hardly ever had any money walked about the room pretending to himself to look at all those bank notes with indifference and even contempt. Nothing would have convinced Pyotr Petrovitch that Andrey Semyonovitch could really look on the money unmoved, 647 of 967 Crime and Punishment and the latter, on his side, kept thinking bitterly that Pyotr Petrovitch was capable of entertaining such an idea about him and was, perhaps, glad of the opportunity of teasing his young friend by reminding him of his inferiority and the great difference between them. He found him incredibly inattentive and irritable, though he, Andrey Semyonovitch, began enlarging on his favourite subject, the foundation of a new special ‘commune.’ The brief remarks that dropped from Pyotr Petrovitch between the clicking of the beads on the reckoning frame betrayed unmistakable and discourteous irony. But the ‘humane’ Andrey Semyonovitch ascribed Pyotr Petrovitch’s ill-humour to his recent breach with Dounia and he was burning with impatience to discourse on that theme. He had something progressive to say on the subject which might console his worthy friend and ‘could not fail’ to promote his development. ‘There is some sort of festivity being prepared at that … at the widow’s, isn’t there?’ Pyotr Petrovitch asked suddenly, interrupting Andrey Semyonovitch at the most interesting passage. ‘Why, don’t you know? Why, I was telling you last night what I think about all such ceremonies. And she 648 of 967 Crime and Punishment invited you too, I heard. You were talking to her yesterday …’ ‘I should never have expected that beggarly fool would have spent on this feast all the money she got from that other fool, Raskolnikov. I was surprised just now as I came through at the preparations there, the wines! Several people are invited. It’s beyond everything!’ continued Pyotr Petrovitch, who seemed to have some object in pursuing the conversation. ‘What? You say I am asked too? When was that? I don’t remember. But I shan’t go. Why should I? I only said a word to her in passing yesterday of the possibility of her obtaining a year’s salary as a destitute widow of a government clerk. I suppose she has invited me on that account, hasn’t she? He-he-he!’ ‘I don’t intend to go either,’ said Lebeziatnikov. ‘I should think not, after giving her a thrashing! You might well hesitate, he-he!’ ‘Who thrashed? Whom?’ cried Lebeziatnikov, flustered and blushing. ‘Why, you thrashed Katerina Ivanovna a month ago. I heard so yesterday … so that’s what your convictions amount to … and the woman question, too, wasn’t quite sound, he-he-he!’ and Pyotr Petrovitch, as though comforted, went back to clicking his beads. 649 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘It’s all slander and nonsense!’ cried Lebeziatnikov, who was always afraid of allusions to the subject. ‘It was not like that at all, it was quite different. You’ve heard it wrong; it’s a libel. I was simply defending myself. She rushed at me first with her nails, she pulled out all my whiskers…. It’s permissable for anyone, I should hope, to defend himself and I never allow anyone to use violence to me on principle, for it’s an act of despotism. What was I to do? I simply pushed her back.’ ‘He-he-he!’ Luzhin went on laughing maliciously. ‘You keep on like that because you are out of humour yourself…. But that’s nonsense and it has nothing, nothing whatever to do with the woman question! You don’t understand; I used to think, indeed, that if women are equal to men in all respects, even in strength (as is maintained now) there ought to be equality in that, too. Of course, I reflected afterwards that such a question ought not really to arise, for there ought not to be fighting and in the future society fighting is unthinkable … and that it would be a queer thing to seek for equality in fighting. I am not so stupid … though, of course, there is fighting … there won’t be later, but at present there is … confound it! How muddled one gets with you! It’s not on that account that I am not going. I am not going on 650 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. principle, not to take part in the revolting convention of memorial dinners, that’s why! Though, of course, one might go to laugh at it…. I am sorry there won’t be any priests at it. I should certainly go if there were.’ ‘Then you would sit down at another man’s table and insult it and those who invited you. Eh?’ ‘Certainly not insult, but protest. I should do it with a good object. I might indirectly assist the cause of enlightenment and propaganda. It’s a duty of every man to work for enlightenment and propaganda and the more harshly, perhaps, the better. I might drop a seed, an idea…. And something might grow up from that seed. How should I be insulting them? They might be offended at first, but afterwards they’d see I’d done them a service. You know, Terebyeva (who is in the community now) was blamed because when she left her family and … devoted … herself, she wrote to her father and mother that she wouldn’t go on living conventionally and was entering on a free marriage and it was said that that was too harsh, that she might have spared them and have written more kindly. I think that’s all nonsense and there’s no need of softness; on the contrary, what’s wanted is protest. Varents had been married seven years, she abandoned her two children, she told her husband straight 651 of 967 Crime and Punishment out in a letter: ‘I have realised that I cannot be happy with you. I can never forgive you that you have deceived me by concealing from me that there is another organisation of society by means of the communities. I have only lately learned it from a great-hearted man to whom I have given myself and with whom I am establishing a community. I speak plainly because I consider it dishonest to deceive you. Do as you think best. Do not hope to get me back, you are too late. I hope you will be happy.’ That’s how letters like that ought to be written!’ ‘Is that Terebyeva the one you said had made a third free marriage?’ ‘No, it’s only the second, really! But what if it were the fourth, what if it were the fifteenth, that’s all nonsense! And if ever I regretted the death of my father and mother, it is now, and I sometimes think if my parents were living what a protest I would have aimed at them! I would have done something on purpose … I would have shown them! I would have astonished them! I am really sorry there is no one!’ ‘To surprise! He-he! Well, be that as you will,’ Pyotr Petrovitch interrupted, ‘but tell me this; do you know the dead man’s daughter, the delicate-looking little thing? It’s true what they say about her, isn’t it?’ 652 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘What of it? I think, that is, it is my own personal conviction that this is the normal condition of women. Why not? I mean, distinguons . In our present society it is not altogether normal, because it is compulsory, but in the future society it will be perfectly normal, because it will be voluntary. Even as it is, she was quite right: she was suffering and that was her asset, so to speak, her capital which she had a perfect right to dispose of. Of course, in the future society there will be no need of assets, but her part will have another significance, rational and in harmony with her environment. As to Sofya Semyonovna personally, I regard her action as a vigorous protest against the organisation of society, and I respect her deeply for it; I rejoice indeed when I look at her!’ ‘I was told that you got her turned out of these lodgings.’ Lebeziatnikov was enraged. ‘That’s another slander,’ he yelled. ‘It was not so at all! That was all Katerina Ivanovna’s invention, for she did not understand! And I never made love to Sofya Semyonovna! I was simply developing her, entirely disinterestedly, trying to rouse her to protest…. All I wanted was her protest and Sofya Semyonovna could not have remained here anyway!’ 653 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Have you asked her to join your community?’ ‘You keep on laughing and very inappropriately, allow me to tell you. You don’t understand! There is no such rôle in a community. The community is established that there should be no such rôles. In a community, such a rôle is essentially transformed and what is stupid here is sensible there, what, under present conditions, is unnatural becomes perfectly natural in the community. It all depends on the environment. It’s all the environment and man himself is nothing. And I am on good terms with Sofya Semyonovna to this day, which is a proof that she never regarded me as having wronged her. I am trying now to attract her to the community, but on quite, quite a different footing. What are you laughing at? We are trying to establish a community of our own, a special one, on a broader basis. We have gone further in our convictions. We reject more! And meanwhile I’m still developing Sofya Semyonovna. She has a beautiful, beautiful character!’ ‘And you take advantage of her fine character, eh? He-he!’ ‘No, no! Oh, no! On the contrary.’ ‘Oh, on the contrary! He-he-he! A queer thing to say!’ 654 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Believe me! Why should I disguise it? In fact, I feel it strange myself how timid, chaste and modern she is with me!’ ‘And you, of course, are developing her … he-he! trying to prove to her that all that modesty is nonsense?’ ‘Not at all, not at all! How coarsely, how stupidly— excuse me saying so—you misunderstand the word development! Good heavens, how … crude you still are! We are striving for the freedom of women and you have only one idea in your head…. Setting aside the general question of chastity and feminine modesty as useless in themselves and indeed prejudices, I fully accept her chastity with me, because that’s for her to decide. Of course if she were to tell me herself that she wanted me, I should think myself very lucky, because I like the girl very much; but as it is, no one has ever treated her more courteously than I, with more respect for her dignity … I wait in hopes, that’s all!’ ‘You had much better make her a present of something. I bet you never thought of that.’ ‘You don’t understand, as I’ve told you already! Of course, she is in such a position, but it’s another question. Quite another question! You simply despise her. Seeing a fact which you mistakenly consider deserving of contempt, 655 of 967 Crime and Punishment you refuse to take a humane view of a fellow creature. You don’t know what a character she is! I am only sorry that of late she has quite given up reading and borrowing books. I used to lend them to her. I am sorry, too, that with all the energy and resolution in protesting—which she has already shown once—she has little self-reliance, little, so to say, independence, so as to break free from certain prejudices and certain foolish ideas. Yet she thoroughly understands some questions, for instance about kissing of hands, that is, that it’s an insult to a woman for a man to kiss her hand, because it’s a sign of inequality. We had a debate about it and I described it to her. She listened attentively to an account of the workmen’s associations in France, too. Now I am explaining the question of coming into the room in the future society.’ ‘And what’s that, pray?’ ‘We had a debate lately on the question: Has a member of the community the right to enter another member’s room, whether man or woman, at any time … and we decided that he has!’ ‘It might be at an inconvenient moment, he-he!’ Lebeziatnikov was really angry. ‘You are always thinking of something unpleasant,’ he cried with aversion. ‘Tfoo! How vexed I am that when I 656 of 967 Crime and Punishment was expounding our system, I referred prematurely to the question of personal privacy! It’s always a stumbling-block to people like you, they turn it into ridicule before they understand it. And how proud they are of it, too! Tfoo! I’ve often maintained that that question should not be approached by a novice till he has a firm faith in the system. And tell me, please, what do you find so shameful even in cesspools? I should be the first to be ready to clean out any cesspool you like. And it’s not a question of self-sacrifice, it’s simply work, honourable, useful work which is as good as any other and much better than the work of a Raphael and a Pushkin, because it is more useful.’ ‘And more honourable, more honourable, he-he-he!’ ‘What do you mean by ‘more honourable’? I don’t understand such expressions to describe human activity. ‘More honourable,’ ‘nobler’— all those are old-fashioned prejudices which I reject. Everything which is of use to mankind is honourable. I only understand one word: useful ! You can snigger as much as you like, but that’s so!’ Pyotr Petrovitch laughed heartily. He had finished counting the money and was putting it away. But some of the notes he left on the table. The ‘cesspool question’ had already been a subject of dispute between them. What was absurd was that it made Lebeziatnikov really angry, while 657 of 967 Crime and Punishment it amused Luzhin and at that moment he particularly wanted to anger his young friend. ‘It’s your ill-luck yesterday that makes you so ill-humoured and annoying,’ blurted out Lebeziatnikov, who in spite of his ‘independence’ and his ‘protests’ did not venture to oppose Pyotr Petrovitch and still behaved to him with some of the respect habitual in earlier years. ‘You’d better tell me this,’ Pyotr Petrovitch interrupted with haughty displeasure, ‘can you … or rather are you really friendly enough with that young person to ask her to step in here for a minute? I think they’ve all come back from the cemetery … I heard the sound of steps … I want to see her, that young person.’ ‘What for?’ Lebeziatnikov asked with surprise. ‘Oh, I want to. I am leaving here to-day or to-morrow and therefore I wanted to speak to her about … However, you may be present during the interview. It’s better you should be, indeed. For there’s no knowing what you might imagine.’ ‘I shan’t imagine anything. I only asked and, if you’ve anything to say to her, nothing is easier than to call her in. I’ll go directly and you may be sure I won’t be in your way.’ 658 of 967 Crime and Punishment Five minutes later Lebeziatnikov came in with Sonia. She came in very much surprised and overcome with shyness as usual. She was always shy in such circumstances and was always afraid of new people, she had been as a child and was even more so now…. Pyotr Petrovitch met her ‘politely and affably,’ but with a certain shade of bantering familiarity which in his opinion was suitable for a man of his respectability and weight in dealing with a creature so young and so interesting as she. He hastened to ‘reassure’ her and made her sit down facing him at the table. Sonia sat down, looked about her—at Lebeziatnikov, at the notes lying on the table and then again at Pyotr Petrovitch and her eyes remained riveted on him. Lebeziatnikov was moving to the door. Pyotr Petrovitch signed to Sonia to remain seated and stopped Lebeziatnikov. ‘Is Raskolnikov in there? Has he come?’ he asked him in a whisper. ‘Raskolnikov? Yes. Why? Yes, he is there. I saw him just come in…. Why?’ ‘Well, I particularly beg you to remain here with us and not to leave me alone with this … young woman. I only want a few words with her, but God knows what 659 of 967 Crime and Punishment they may make of it. I shouldn’t like Raskolnikov to repeat anything…. You understand what I mean?’ ‘I understand!’ Lebeziatnikov saw the point. ‘Yes, you are right…. Of course, I am convinced personally that you have no reason to be uneasy, but … still, you are right. Certainly I’ll stay. I’ll stand here at the window and not be in your way … I think you are right …’ Pyotr Petrovitch returned to the sofa, sat down opposite Sonia, looked attentively at her and assumed an extremely dignified, even severe expression, as much as to say, ‘don’t you make any mistake, madam.’ Sonia was overwhelmed with embarrassment. ‘In the first place, Sofya Semyonovna, will you make my excuses to your respected mamma…. That’s right, isn’t it? Katerina Ivanovna stands in the place of a mother to you?’ Pyotr Petrovitch began with great dignity, though affably. It was evident that his intentions were friendly. ‘Quite so, yes; the place of a mother,’ Sonia answered, timidly and hurriedly. ‘Then will you make my apologies to her? Through inevitable circumstances I am forced to be absent and shall not be at the dinner in spite of your mamma’s kind invitation.’ 660 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Yes … I’ll tell her … at once.’ And Sonia hastily jumped up from her seat. ‘Wait, that’s not all,’ Pyotr Petrovitch detained her, smiling at her simplicity and ignorance of good manners, ‘and you know me little, my dear Sofya Semyonovna, if you suppose I would have ventured to trouble a person like you for a matter of so little consequence affecting myself only. I have another object.’ Sonia sat down hurriedly. Her eyes rested again for an instant on the grey-and-rainbow-coloured notes that remained on the table, but she quickly looked away and fixed her eyes on Pyotr Petrovitch. She felt it horribly indecorous, especially for her to look at another person’s money. She stared at the gold eye-glass which Pyotr Petrovitch held in his left hand and at the massive and extremely handsome ring with a yellow stone on his middle finger. But suddenly she looked away and, not knowing where to turn, ended by staring Pyotr Petrovitch again straight in the face. After a pause of still greater dignity he continued. ‘I chanced yesterday in passing to exchange a couple of words with Katerina Ivanovna, poor woman. That was sufficient to enable me to ascertain that she is in a position—preternatural, if one may so express it.’ 661 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Yes … preternatural …’ Sonia hurriedly assented. ‘Or it would be simpler and more comprehensible to say, ill.’ ‘Yes, simpler and more comprehen … yes, ill.’ ‘Quite so. So then from a feeling of humanity and so to speak compassion, I should be glad to be of service to her in any way, foreseeing her unfortunate position. I believe the whole of this poverty-stricken family depends now entirely on you?’ ‘Allow me to ask,’ Sonia rose to her feet, ‘did you say something to her yesterday of the possibility of a pension? Because she told me you had undertaken to get her one. Was that true?’ ‘Not in the slightest, and indeed it’s an absurdity! I merely hinted at her obtaining temporary assistance as the widow of an official who had died in the service—if only she has patronage … but apparently your late parent had not served his full term and had not indeed been in the service at all of late. In fact, if there could be any hope, it would be very ephemeral, because there would be no claim for assistance in that case, far from it…. And she is dreaming of a pension already, he-he-he! … A go-ahead lady!’ 662 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. ‘Yes, she is. For she is credulous and good-hearted, and she believes everything from the goodness of her heart and … and … and she is like that … yes … You must excuse her,’ said Sonia, and again she got up to go. ‘But you haven’t heard what I have to say.’ ‘No, I haven’t heard,’ muttered Sonia. ‘Then sit down.’ She was terribly confused; she sat down again a third time. ‘Seeing her position with her unfortunate little ones, I should be glad, as I have said before, so far as lies in my power, to be of service, that is, so far as is in my power, not more. One might for instance get up a subscription for her, or a lottery, something of the sort, such as is always arranged in such cases by friends or even outsiders desirous of assisting people. It was of that I intended to speak to you; it might be done.’ ‘Yes, yes … God will repay you for it,’ faltered Sonia, gazing intently at Pyotr Petrovitch. ‘It might be, but we will talk of it later. We might begin it to-day, we will talk it over this evening and lay the foundation so to speak. Come to me at seven o’clock. Mr. Lebeziatnikov, I hope, will assist us. But there is one circumstance of which I ought to warn you beforehand and for which I venture to trouble you, Sofya 663 of 967 Crime and Punishment Semyonovna, to come here. In my opinion money cannot be, indeed it’s unsafe to put it into Katerina Ivanovna’s own hands. The dinner to-day is a proof of that. Though she has not, so to speak, a crust of bread for to-morrow and … well, boots or shoes, or anything; she has bought to-day Jamaica rum, and even, I believe, Madeira and … and coffee. I saw it as I passed through. To-morrow it will all fall upon you again, they won’t have a crust of bread. It’s absurd, really, and so, to my thinking, a subscription ought to be raised so that the unhappy widow should not know of the money, but only you, for instance. Am I right?’ ‘I don’t know … this is only to-day, once in her life…. She was so anxious to do honour, to celebrate the memory…. And she is very sensible … but just as you think and I shall be very, very … they will all be … and God will reward … and the orphans …’ Sonia burst into tears. ‘Very well, then, keep it in mind; and now will you accept for the benefit of your relation the small sum that I am able to spare, from me personally. I am very anxious that my name should not be mentioned in connection with it. Here … having so to speak anxieties of my own, I cannot do more …’ 664 of 967 Crime and Punishment And Pyotr Petrovitch held out to Sonia a ten-rouble note carefully unfolded. Sonia took it, flushed crimson, jumped up, muttered something and began taking leave. Pyotr Petrovitch accompanied her ceremoniously to the door. She got out of the room at last, agitated and distressed, and returned to Katerina Ivanovna, overwhelmed with confusion. All this time Lebeziatnikov had stood at the window or walked about the room, anxious not to interrupt the conversation; when Sonia had gone he walked up to Pyotr Petrovitch and solemnly held out his hand. ‘I heard and saw everything,’ he said, laying stress on the last verb. ‘That is honourable, I mean to say, it’s humane! You wanted to avoid gratitude, I saw! And although I cannot, I confess, in principle sympathise with private charity, for it not only fails to eradicate the evil but even promotes it, yet I must admit that I saw your action with pleasure—yes, yes, I like it.’ ‘That’s all nonsense,’ muttered Pyotr Petrovitch, somewhat disconcerted, looking carefully at Lebeziatnikov. ‘No, it’s not nonsense! A man who has suffered distress and annoyance as you did yesterday and who yet can sympathise with the misery of others, such a man … even 665 of 967 Crime and Punishment though he is making a social mistake—is still deserving of respect! I did not expect it indeed of you, Pyotr Petrovitch, especially as according to your ideas … oh, what a drawback your ideas are to you! How distressed you are for instance by your ill-luck yesterday,’ cried the simple-hearted Lebeziatnikov, who felt a return of affection for Pyotr Petrovitch. ‘And, what do you want with marriage, with legal marriage, my dear, noble Pyotr Petrovitch? Why do you cling to this legality of marriage? Well, you may beat me if you like, but I am glad, positively glad it hasn’t come off, that you are free, that you are not quite lost for humanity…. you see, I’ve spoken my mind!’ ‘Because I don’t want in your free marriage to be made a fool of and to bring up another man’s children, that’s why I want legal marriage,’ Luzhin replied in order to make some answer. He seemed preoccupied by something. ‘Children? You referred to children,’ Lebeziatnikov started off like a warhorse at the trumpet call. ‘Children are a social question and a question of first importance, I agree; but the question of children has another solution. Some refuse to have children altogether, because they suggest the institution of the family. We’ll speak of 666 of 967 Crime and Punishment children later, but now as to the question of honour, I confess that’s my weak point. That horrid, military, Pushkin expression is unthinkable in the dictionary of the future. What does it mean indeed? It’s nonsense, there will be no deception in a free marriage! That is only the natural consequence of a legal marriage, so to say, its corrective, a protest. So that indeed it’s not humiliating … and if I ever, to suppose an absurdity, were to be legally married, I should be positively glad of it. I should say to my wife: ‘My dear, hitherto I have loved you, now I respect you, for you’ve shown you can protest!’ You laugh! That’s because you are of incapable of getting away from prejudices. Confound it all! I understand now where the unpleasantness is of being deceived in a legal marriage, but it’s simply a despicable consequence of a despicable position in which both are humiliated. When the deception is open, as in a free marriage, then it does not exist, it’s unthinkable. Your wife will only prove how she respects you by considering you incapable of opposing her happiness and avenging yourself on her for her new husband. Damn it all! I sometimes dream if I were to be married, pfoo! I mean if I were to marry, legally or not, it’s just the same, I should present my wife with a lover if she had not found one for herself. ‘My dear,’ I should say, 667 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘I love you, but even more than that I desire you to respect me. See!’ Am I not right?’ Pyotr Petrovitch sniggered as he listened, but without much merriment. He hardly heard it indeed. He was preoccupied with something else and even Lebeziatnikov at last noticed it. Pyotr Petrovitch seemed excited and rubbed his hands. Lebeziatnikov remembered all this and reflected upon it afterwards. 668 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter II It would be difficult to explain exactly what could have originated the idea of that senseless dinner in Katerina Ivanovna’s disordered brain. Nearly ten of the twenty roubles, given by Raskolnikov for Marmeladov’s funeral, were wasted upon it. Possibly Katerina Ivanovna felt obliged to honour the memory of the deceased ‘suitably,’ that all the lodgers, and still more Amalia Ivanovna, might know ‘that he was in no way their inferior, and perhaps very much their superior,’ and that no one had the right ‘to turn up his nose at him.’ Perhaps the chief element was that peculiar ‘poor man’s pride,’ which compels many poor people to spend their last savings on some traditional social ceremony, simply in order to do ‘like other people,’ and not to ‘be looked down upon.’ It is very probable, too, that Katerina Ivanovna longed on this occasion, at the moment when she seemed to be abandoned by everyone, to show those ‘wretched contemptible lodgers’ that she knew ‘how to do things, how to entertain’ and that she had been brought up ‘in a genteel, she might almost say aristocratic colonel’s family’ and had not been meant for sweeping floors and washing the children’s rags at night. 669 of 967 Crime and Punishment Even the poorest and most broken-spirited people are sometimes liable to these paroxysms of pride and vanity which take the form of an irresistible nervous craving. And Katerina Ivanovna was not broken-spirited; she might have been killed by circumstance, but her spirit could not have been broken, that is, she could not have been intimidated, her will could not be crushed. Moreover Sonia had said with good reason that her mind was unhinged. She could not be said to be insane, but for a year past she had been so harassed that her mind might well be overstrained. The later stages of consumption are apt, doctors tell us, to affect the intellect. There was no great variety of wines, nor was there Madeira; but wine there was. There was vodka, rum and Lisbon wine, all of the poorest quality but in sufficient quantity. Besides the traditional rice and honey, there were three or four dishes, one of which consisted of pancakes, all prepared in Amalia Ivanovna’s kitchen. Two samovars were boiling, that tea and punch might be offered after dinner. Katerina Ivanovna had herself seen to purchasing the provisions, with the help of one of the lodgers, an unfortunate little Pole who had somehow been stranded at Madame Lippevechsel’s. He promptly put himself at Katerina Ivanovna’s disposal and had been all 670 of 967 Crime and Punishment that morning and all the day before running about as fast as his legs could carry him, and very anxious that everyone should be aware of it. For every trifle he ran to Katerina Ivanovna, even hunting her out at the bazaar, at every instant called her ‘ Pani . ’ She was heartily sick of him before the end, though she had declared at first that she could not have got on without this ‘serviceable and magnanimous man.’ It was one of Katerina Ivanovna’s characteristics to paint everyone she met in the most glowing colours. Her praises were so exaggerated as sometimes to be embarrassing; she would invent various circumstances to the credit of her new acquaintance and quite genuinely believe in their reality. Then all of a sudden she would be disillusioned and would rudely and contemptuously repulse the person she had only a few hours before been literally adoring. She was naturally of a gay, lively and peace-loving disposition, but from continual failures and misfortunes she had come to desire so keenly that all should live in peace and joy and should not dare to break the peace, that the slightest jar, the smallest disaster reduced her almost to frenzy, and she would pass in an instant from the brightest hopes and fancies to cursing her fate and raving, and knocking her head against the wall. 671 of 967 Crime and Punishment Amalia Ivanovna, too, suddenly acquired extraordinary importance in Katerina Ivanovna’s eyes and was treated by her with extraordinary respect, probably only because Amalia Ivanovna had thrown herself heart and soul into the preparations. She had undertaken to lay the table, to provide the linen, crockery, etc., and to cook the dishes in her kitchen, and Katerina Ivanovna had left it all in her hands and gone herself to the cemetery. Everything had been well done. Even the table-cloth was nearly clean; the crockery, knives, forks and glasses were, of course, of all shapes and patterns, lent by different lodgers, but the table was properly laid at the time fixed, and Amalia Ivanovna, feeling she had done her work well, had put on a black silk dress and a cap with new mourning ribbons and met the returning party with some pride. This pride, though justifiable, displeased Katerina Ivanovna for some reason: ‘as though the table could not have been laid except by Amalia Ivanovna!’ She disliked the cap with new ribbons, too. ‘Could she be stuck up, the stupid German, because she was mistress of the house, and had consented as a favour to help her poor lodgers! As a favour! Fancy that! Katerina Ivanovna’s father who had been a colonel and almost a governor had sometimes had the table set for forty persons, and then anyone like Amalia Ivanovna, or 672 of 967 Crime and Punishment rather Ludwigovna, would not have been allowed into the kitchen.’ Katerina Ivanovna, however, put off expressing her feelings for the time and contented herself with treating her coldly, though she decided inwardly that she would certainly have to put Amalia Ivanovna down and set her in her proper place, for goodness only knew what she was fancying herself. Katerina Ivanovna was irritated too by the fact that hardly any of the lodgers invited had come to the funeral, except the Pole who had just managed to run into the cemetery, while to the memorial dinner the poorest and most insignificant of them had turned up, the wretched creatures, many of them not quite sober. The older and more respectable of them all, as if by common consent, stayed away. Pyotr Petrovitch Luzhin, for instance, who might be said to be the most respectable of all the lodgers, did not appear, though Katerina Ivanovna had the evening before told all the world, that is Amalia Ivanovna, Polenka, Sonia and the Pole, that he was the most generous, noble-hearted man with a large property and vast connections, who had been a friend of her first husband’s, and a guest in her father’s house, and that he had promised to use all his influence to secure her a considerable pension. It must be noted that when Katerina 673 of 967 Crime and Punishment Ivanovna exalted anyone’s connections and fortune, it was without any ulterior motive, quite disinterestedly, for the mere pleasure of adding to the consequence of the person praised. Probably ‘taking his cue’ from Luzhin, ‘that contemptible wretch Lebeziatnikov had not turned up either. What did he fancy himself? He was only asked out of kindness and because he was sharing the same room with Pyotr Petrovitch and was a friend of his, so that it would have been awkward not to invite him.’ Among those who failed to appear were ‘the genteel lady and her old- maidish daughter,’ who had only been lodgers in the house for the last fortnight, but had several times complained of the noise and uproar in Katerina Ivanovna’s room, especially when Marmeladov had come back drunk. Katerina Ivanovna heard this from Amalia Ivanovna who, quarrelling with Katerina Ivanovna, and threatening to turn the whole family out of doors, had shouted at her that they ‘were not worth the foot’ of the honourable lodgers whom they were disturbing. Katerina Ivanovna determined now to invite this lady and her daughter, ‘whose foot she was not worth,’ and who had turned away haughtily when she casually met them, so that they might know that ‘she was more noble in her thoughts and feelings and did not harbour malice,’ and 674 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. might see that she was not accustomed to her way of living. She had proposed to make this clear to them at dinner with allusions to her late father’s governorship, and also at the same time to hint that it was exceedingly stupid of them to turn away on meeting her. The fat colonel-major (he was really a discharged officer of low rank) was also absent, but it appeared that he had been ‘not himself’ for the last two days. The party consisted of the Pole, a wretched looking clerk with a spotty face and a greasy coat, who had not a word to say for himself, and smelt abominably, a deaf and almost blind old man who had once been in the post office and who had been from immemorial ages maintained by someone at Amalia Ivanovna’s. A retired clerk of the commissariat department came, too; he was drunk, had a loud and most unseemly laugh and only fancy—was without a waistcoat! One of the visitors sat straight down to the table without even greeting Katerina Ivanovna. Finally one person having no suit appeared in his dressing-gown, but this was too much, and the efforts of Amalia Ivanovna and the Pole succeeded in removing him. The Pole brought with him, however, two other Poles who did not live at Amalia Ivanovna’s and whom no one had seen here before. All this irritated 675 of 967 Crime and Punishment Katerina Ivanovna intensely. ‘For whom had they made all these preparations then?’ To make room for the visitors the children had not even been laid for at the table; but the two little ones were sitting on a bench in the furthest corner with their dinner laid on a box, while Polenka as a big girl had to look after them, feed them, and keep their noses wiped like well-bred children’s. Katerina Ivanovna, in fact, could hardly help meeting her guests with increased dignity, and even haughtiness. She stared at some of them with special severity, and loftily invited them to take their seats. Rushing to the conclusion that Amalia Ivanovna must be responsible for those who were absent, she began treating her with extreme nonchalance, which the latter promptly observed and resented. Such a beginning was no good omen for the end. All were seated at last. Raskolnikov came in almost at the moment of their return from the cemetery. Katerina Ivanovna was greatly delighted to see him, in the first place, because he was the one ‘educated visitor, and, as everyone knew, was in two years to take a professorship in the university,’ and secondly because he immediately and respectfully apologised for having been unable to be at the funeral. She positively pounced upon him, and made him sit on her 676 of 967 Crime and Punishment left hand (Amalia Ivanovna was on her right). In spite of her continual anxiety that the dishes should be passed round correctly and that everyone should taste them, in spite of the agonising cough which interrupted her every minute and seemed to have grown worse during the last few days, she hastened to pour out in a half whisper to Raskolnikov all her suppressed feelings and her just indignation at the failure of the dinner, interspersing her remarks with lively and uncontrollable laughter at the expense of her visitors and especially of her landlady. ‘It’s all that cuckoo’s fault! You know whom I mean? Her, her!’ Katerina Ivanovna nodded towards the landlady. ‘Look at her, she’s making round eyes, she feels that we are talking about her and can’t understand. Pfoo, the owl! Ha-ha! (Cough-cough-cough.) And what does she put on that cap for? (Cough-cough-cough.) Have you noticed that she wants everyone to consider that she is patronising me and doing me an honour by being here? I asked her like a sensible woman to invite people, especially those who knew my late husband, and look at the set of fools she has brought! The sweeps! Look at that one with the spotty face. And those wretched Poles, ha-ha-ha! (Cough-cough-cough.) Not one of them has ever poked his nose in here, I’ve never set eyes on them. What have they 677 of 967 Crime and Punishment come here for, I ask you? There they sit in a row. Hey, pan !’ she cried suddenly to one of them, ‘have you tasted the pancakes? Take some more! Have some beer! Won’t you have some vodka? Look, he’s jumped up and is making his bows, they must be quite starved, poor things. Never mind, let them eat! They don’t make a noise, anyway, though I’m really afraid for our landlady’s silver spoons … Amalia Ivanovna!’ she addressed her suddenly, almost aloud, ‘if your spoons should happen to be stolen, I won’t be responsible, I warn you! Ha-ha-ha!’ She laughed turning to Raskolnikov, and again nodding towards the landlady, in high glee at her sally. ‘She didn’t understand, she didn’t understand again! Look how she sits with her mouth open! An owl, a real owl! An owl in new ribbons, ha-ha-ha!’ Here her laugh turned again to an insufferable fit of coughing that lasted five minutes. Drops of perspiration stood out on her forehead and her handkerchief was stained with blood. She showed Raskolnikov the blood in silence, and as soon as she could get her breath began whispering to him again with extreme animation and a hectic flush on her cheeks. ‘Do you know, I gave her the most delicate instructions, so to speak, for inviting that lady and her 678 of 967 Crime and Punishment daughter, you understand of whom I am speaking? It needed the utmost delicacy, the greatest nicety, but she has managed things so that that fool, that conceited baggage, that provincial nonentity, simply because she is the widow of a major, and has come to try and get a pension and to fray out her skirts in the government offices, because at fifty she paints her face (everybody knows it) … a creature like that did not think fit to come, and has not even answered the invitation, which the most ordinary good manners required! I can’t understand why Pyotr Petrovitch has not come? But where’s Sonia? Where has she gone? Ah, there she is at last! what is it, Sonia, where have you been? It’s odd that even at your father’s funeral you should be so unpunctual. Rodion Romanovitch, make room for her beside you. That’s your place, Sonia … take what you like. Have some of the cold entrée with jelly, that’s the best. They’ll bring the pancakes directly. Have they given the children some? Polenka, have you got everything? (Cough-cough-cough.) That’s all right. Be a good girl, Lida, and, Kolya, don’t fidget with your feet; sit like a little gentleman. What are you saying, Sonia?’ Sonia hastened to give her Pyotr Petrovitch’s apologies, trying to speak loud enough for everyone to hear and carefully choosing the most respectful phrases which she 679 of 967 Crime and Punishment attributed to Pyotr Petrovitch. She added that Pyotr Petrovitch had particularly told her to say that, as soon as he possibly could, he would come immediately to discuss business alone with her and to consider what could be done for her, etc., etc. Sonia knew that this would comfort Katerina Ivanovna, would flatter her and gratify her pride. She sat down beside Raskolnikov; she made him a hurried bow, glancing curiously at him. But for the rest of the time she seemed to avoid looking at him or speaking to him. She seemed absent-minded, though she kept looking at Katerina Ivanovna, trying to please her. Neither she nor Katerina Ivanovna had been able to get mourning; Sonia was wearing dark brown, and Katerina Ivanovna had on her only dress, a dark striped cotton one. The message from Pyotr Petrovitch was very successful. Listening to Sonia with dignity, Katerina Ivanovna inquired with equal dignity how Pyotr Petrovitch was, then at once whispered almost aloud to Raskolnikov that it certainly would have been strange for a man of Pyotr Petrovitch’s position and standing to find himself in such ‘extraordinary company,’ in spite of his devotion to her family and his old friendship with her father. 680 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘That’s why I am so grateful to you, Rodion Romanovitch, that you have not disdained my hospitality, even in such surroundings,’ she added almost aloud. ‘But I am sure that it was only your special affection for my poor husband that has made you keep your promise.’ Then once more with pride and dignity she scanned her visitors, and suddenly inquired aloud across the table of the deaf man: ‘Wouldn’t he have some more meat, and had he been given some wine?’ The old man made no answer and for a long while could not understand what he was asked, though his neighbours amused themselves by poking and shaking him. He simply gazed about him with his mouth open, which only increased the general mirth. ‘What an imbecile! Look, look! Why was he brought? But as to Pyotr Petrovitch, I always had confidence in him,’ Katerina Ivanovna continued, ‘and, of course, he is not like …’ with an extremely stern face she addressed Amalia Ivanovna so sharply and loudly that the latter was quite disconcerted, ‘not like your dressed up draggletails whom my father would not have taken as cooks into his kitchen, and my late husband would have done them honour if he had invited them in the goodness of his heart.’ 681 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Yes, he was fond of drink, he was fond of it, he did drink!’ cried the commissariat clerk, gulping down his twelfth glass of vodka. ‘My late husband certainly had that weakness, and everyone knows it,’ Katerina Ivanovna attacked him at once, ‘but he was a kind and honourable man, who loved and respected his family. The worst of it was his good nature made him trust all sorts of disreputable people, and he drank with fellows who were not worth the sole of his shoe. Would you believe it, Rodion Romanovitch, they found a gingerbread cock in his pocket; he was dead drunk, but he did not forget the children!’ ‘A cock? Did you say a cock?’ shouted the commissariat clerk. Katerina Ivanovna did not vouchsafe a reply. She sighed, lost in thought. ‘No doubt you think, like everyone, that I was too severe with him,’ she went on, addressing Raskolnikov. ‘But that’s not so! He respected me, he respected me very much! He was a kind-hearted man! And how sorry I was for him sometimes! He would sit in a corner and look at me, I used to feel so sorry for him, I used to want to be kind to him and then would think to myself: ‘Be kind to 682 of 967 Crime and Punishment him and he will drink again,’ it was only by severity that you could keep him within bounds.’ ‘Yes, he used to get his hair pulled pretty often,’ roared the commissariat clerk again, swallowing another glass of vodka. ‘Some fools would be the better for a good drubbing, as well as having their hair pulled. I am not talking of my late husband now!’ Katerina Ivanovna snapped at him. The flush on her cheeks grew more and more marked, her chest heaved. In another minute she would have been ready to make a scene. Many of the visitors were sniggering, evidently delighted. They began poking the commissariat clerk and whispering something to him. They were evidently trying to egg him on. ‘Allow me to ask what are you alluding to,’ began the clerk, ‘that is to say, whose … about whom … did you say just now … But I don’t care! That’s nonsense! Widow! I forgive you…. Pass!’ And he took another drink of vodka. Raskolnikov sat in silence, listening with disgust. He only ate from politeness, just tasting the food that Katerina Ivanovna was continually putting on his plate, to avoid hurting her feelings. He watched Sonia intently. But Sonia became more and more anxious and distressed; she, too, 683 of 967 Crime and Punishment foresaw that the dinner would not end peaceably, and saw with terror Katerina Ivanovna’s growing irritation. She knew that she, Sonia, was the chief reason for the ‘genteel’ ladies’ contemptuous treatment of Katerina Ivanovna’s invitation. She had heard from Amalia Ivanovna that the mother was positively offended at the invitation and had asked the question: ‘How could she let her daughter sit down beside that young person ?’ Sonia had a feeling that Katerina Ivanovna had already heard this and an insult to Sonia meant more to Katerina Ivanovna than an insult to herself, her children, or her father, Sonia knew that Katerina Ivanovna would not be satisfied now, ‘till she had shown those draggletails that they were both …’ To make matters worse someone passed Sonia, from the other end of the table, a plate with two hearts pierced with an arrow, cut out of black bread. Katerina Ivanovna flushed crimson and at once said aloud across the table that the man who sent it was ‘a drunken ass!’ Amalia Ivanovna was foreseeing something amiss, and at the same time deeply wounded by Katerina Ivanovna’s haughtiness, and to restore the good-humour of the company and raise herself in their esteem she began, apropos of nothing, telling a story about an acquaintance of hers ‘Karl from the chemist’s,’ who was driving one 684 of 967 Crime and Punishment night in a cab, and that ‘the cabman wanted him to kill, and Karl very much begged him not to kill, and wept and clasped hands, and frightened and from fear pierced his heart.’ Though Katerina Ivanovna smiled, she observed at once that Amalia Ivanovna ought not to tell anecdotes in Russian; the latter was still more offended, and she retorted that her ‘ Vater aus Berlin was a very important man, and always went with his hands in pockets.’ Katerina Ivanovna could not restrain herself and laughed so much that Amalia Ivanovna lost patience and could scarcely control herself. ‘Listen to the owl!’ Katerina Ivanovna whispered at once, her good- humour almost restored, ‘she meant to say he kept his hands in his pockets, but she said he put his hands in people’s pockets. (Cough- cough.) And have you noticed, Rodion Romanovitch, that all these Petersburg foreigners, the Germans especially, are all stupider than we! Can you fancy anyone of us telling how ‘Karl from the chemist’s’ ‘pierced his heart from fear’ and that the idiot, instead of punishing the cabman, ‘clasped his hands and wept, and much begged.’ Ah, the fool! And you know she fancies it’s very touching and does not suspect how stupid she is! To my thinking that drunken commissariat clerk is a great deal cleverer, anyway one can 685 of 967 Crime and Punishment see that he has addled his brains with drink, but you know, these foreigners are always so well behaved and serious…. Look how she sits glaring! She is angry, ha-ha! (Cough-cough-cough.)’ Regaining her good-humour, Katerina Ivanovna began at once telling Raskolnikov that when she had obtained her pension, she intended to open a school for the daughters of gentlemen in her native town T——. This was the first time she had spoken to him of the project, and she launched out into the most alluring details. It suddenly appeared that Katerina Ivanovna had in her hands the very certificate of honour of which Marmeladov had spoken to Raskolnikov in the tavern, when he told him that Katerina Ivanovna, his wife, had danced the shawl dance before the governor and other great personages on leaving school. This certificate of honour was obviously intended now to prove Katerina Ivanovna’s right to open a boarding-school; but she had armed herself with it chiefly with the object of overwhelming ‘those two stuck-up draggletails’ if they came to the dinner, and proving incontestably that Katerina Ivanovna was of the most noble, ‘she might even say aristocratic family, a colonel’s daughter and was far superior to certain adventuresses who have been so much to the fore of late.’ 686 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. The certificate of honour immediately passed into the hands of the drunken guests, and Katerina Ivanovna did not try to retain it, for it actually contained the statement en toutes lettres that her father was of the rank of a major, and also a companion of an order, so that she really was almost the daughter of a colonel. Warming up, Katerina Ivanovna proceeded to enlarge on the peaceful and happy life they would lead in T——, on the gymnasium teachers whom she would engage to give lessons in her boarding-school, one a most respectable old Frenchman, one Mangot, who had taught Katerina Ivanovna herself in old days and was still living in T——, and would no doubt teach in her school on moderate terms. Next she spoke of Sonia who would go with her to T—— and help her in all her plans. At this someone at the further end of the table gave a sudden guffaw. Though Katerina Ivanovna tried to appear to be disdainfully unaware of it, she raised her voice and began at once speaking with conviction of Sonia’s undoubted ability to assist her, of ‘her gentleness, patience, devotion, generosity and good education,’ tapping Sonia on the cheek and kissing her warmly twice. Sonia flushed crimson, and Katerina Ivanovna suddenly burst into tears, immediately observing that she was ‘nervous and silly, that 687 of 967 Crime and Punishment she was too much upset, that it was time to finish, and as the dinner was over, it was time to hand round the tea.’ At that moment, Amalia Ivanovna, deeply aggrieved at taking no part in the conversation, and not being listened to, made one last effort, and with secret misgivings ventured on an exceedingly deep and weighty observation, that ‘in the future boarding-school she would have to pay particular attention to die Wäsche and that there certainly must be a good dame to look after the linen, and secondly that the young ladies must not novels at night read.’ Katerina Ivanovna, who certainly was upset and very tired, as well as heartily sick of the dinner, at once cut short Amalia Ivanovna, saying ‘she knew nothing about it and was talking nonsense, that it was the business of the laundry maid, and not of the directress of a high- class boarding-school to look after die Wäsche and as for novel-reading, that was simply rudeness, and she begged her to be silent.’ Amalia Ivanovna fired up and getting angry observed that she only ‘meant her good,’ and that ‘she had meant her very good,’ and that ‘it was long since she had paid her gold for the lodgings.’ Katerina Ivanovna at once ‘set her down,’ saying that it was a lie to say she wished her good, because only 688 of 967 Crime and Punishment yesterday when her dead husband was lying on the table, she had worried her about the lodgings. To this Amalia Ivanovna very appropriately observed that she had invited those ladies, but ‘those ladies had not come, because those ladies are ladies and cannot come to a lady who is not a lady.’ Katerina Ivanovna at once pointed out to her, that as she was a slut she could not judge what made one really a lady. Amalia Ivanovna at once declared that her ‘ Vater aus Berlin was a very, very important man, and both hands in pockets went, and always used to say: ‘Poof! poof!’’ and she leapt up from the table to represent her father, sticking her hands in her pockets, puffing her cheeks, and uttering vague sounds resembling ‘poof! poof!’ amid loud laughter from all the lodgers, who purposely encouraged Amalia Ivanovna, hoping for a fight. But this was too much for Katerina Ivanovna, and she at once declared, so that all could hear, that Amalia Ivanovna probably never had a father, but was simply a drunken Petersburg Finn, and had certainly once been a cook and probably something worse. Amalia Ivanovna turned as red as a lobster and squealed that perhaps Katerina Ivanovna never had a father, ‘but she had a Vater aus Berlin and that he wore a long coat and always said poof-poof-poof!’ 689 of 967 Crime and Punishment Katerina Ivanovna observed contemptuously that all knew what her family was and that on that very certificate of honour it was stated in print that her father was a colonel, while Amalia Ivanovna’s father—if she really had one—was probably some Finnish milkman, but that probably she never had a father at all, since it was still uncertain whether her name was Amalia Ivanovna or Amalia Ludwigovna. At this Amalia Ivanovna, lashed to fury, struck the table with her fist, and shrieked that she was Amalia Ivanovna, and not Ludwigovna, ‘that her Vater was named Johann and that he was a burgomeister, and that Katerina Ivanovna’s Vater was quite never a burgomeister.’ Katerina Ivanovna rose from her chair, and with a stern and apparently calm voice (though she was pale and her chest was heaving) observed that ‘if she dared for one moment to set her contemptible wretch of a father on a level with her papa, she, Katerina Ivanovna, would tear her cap off her head and trample it under foot.’ Amalia Ivanovna ran about the room, shouting at the top of her voice, that she was mistress of the house and that Katerina Ivanovna should leave the lodgings that minute; then she rushed for some reason to collect the silver spoons from the table. There was a great outcry and uproar, the children began 690 of 967 Crime and Punishment crying. Sonia ran to restrain Katerina Ivanovna, but when Amalia Ivanovna shouted something about ‘the yellow ticket,’ Katerina Ivanovna pushed Sonia away, and rushed at the landlady to carry out her threat. At that minute the door opened, and Pyotr Petrovitch Luzhin appeared on the threshold. He stood scanning the party with severe and vigilant eyes. Katerina Ivanovna rushed to him. 691 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter III ‘Pyotr Petrovitch,’ she cried, ‘protect me … you at least! Make this foolish woman understand that she can’t behave like this to a lady in misfortune … that there is a law for such things…. I’ll go to the governor-general himself…. She shall answer for it…. Remembering my father’s hospitality protect these orphans.’ ‘Allow me, madam…. Allow me.’ Pyotr Petrovitch waved her off. ‘Your papa as you are well aware I had not the honour of knowing’ (someone laughed aloud) ‘and I do not intend to take part in your everlasting squabbles with Amalia Ivanovna…. I have come here to speak of my own affairs … and I want to have a word with your stepdaughter, Sofya … Ivanovna, I think it is? Allow me to pass.’ Pyotr Petrovitch, edging by her, went to the opposite corner where Sonia was. Katerina Ivanovna remained standing where she was, as though thunderstruck. She could not understand how Pyotr Petrovitch could deny having enjoyed her father’s hospitility. Though she had invented it herself, she believed in it firmly by this time. She was struck too by 692 of 967 Crime and Punishment the businesslike, dry and even contemptuous menacing tone of Pyotr Petrovitch. All the clamour gradually died away at his entrance. Not only was this ‘serious business man’ strikingly incongruous with the rest of the party, but it was evident, too, that he had come upon some matter of consequence, that some exceptional cause must have brought him and that therefore something was going to happen. Raskolnikov, standing beside Sonia, moved aside to let him pass; Pyotr Petrovitch did not seem to notice him. A minute later Lebeziatnikov, too, appeared in the doorway; he did not come in, but stood still, listening with marked interest, almost wonder, and seemed for a time perplexed. ‘Excuse me for possibly interrupting you, but it’s a matter of some importance,’ Pyotr Petrovitch observed, addressing the company generally. ‘I am glad indeed to find other persons present. Amalia Ivanovna, I humbly beg you as mistress of the house to pay careful attention to what I have to say to Sofya Ivanovna. Sofya Ivanovna,’ he went on, addressing Sonia, who was very much surprised and already alarmed, ‘immediately after your visit I found that a hundred-rouble note was missing from my table, in the room of my friend Mr. Lebeziatnikov. If in any way whatever you know and will tell us where it is now, I 693 of 967 Crime and Punishment assure you on my word of honour and call all present to witness that the matter shall end there. In the opposite case I shall be compelled to have recourse to very serious measures and then … you must blame yourself.’ Complete silence reigned in the room. Even the crying children were still. Sonia stood deadly pale, staring at Luzhin and unable to say a word. She seemed not to understand. Some seconds passed. ‘Well, how is it to be then?’ asked Luzhin, looking intently at her. ‘I don’t know…. I know nothing about it,’ Sonia articulated faintly at last. ‘No, you know nothing?’ Luzhin repeated and again he paused for some seconds. ‘Think a moment, mademoiselle,’ he began severely, but still, as it were, admonishing her. ‘Reflect, I am prepared to give you time for consideration. Kindly observe this: if I were not so entirely convinced I should not, you may be sure, with my experience venture to accuse you so directly. Seeing that for such direct accusation before witnesses, if false or even mistaken, I should myself in a certain sense be made responsible, I am aware of that. This morning I changed for my own purposes several five-per-cent securities for the sum of approximately three thousand roubles. The 694 of 967 Crime and Punishment account is noted down in my pocket-book. On my return home I proceeded to count the money—as Mr. Lebeziatnikov will bear witness—and after counting two thousand three hundred roubles I put the rest in my pocket-book in my coat pocket. About five hundred roubles remained on the table and among them three notes of a hundred roubles each. At that moment you entered (at my invitation)—and all the time you were present you were exceedingly embarrassed; so that three times you jumped up in the middle of the conversation and tried to make off. Mr. Lebeziatnikov can bear witness to this. You yourself, mademoiselle, probably will not refuse to confirm my statement that I invited you through Mr. Lebeziatnikov, solely in order to discuss with you the hopeless and destitute position of your relative, Katerina Ivanovna (whose dinner I was unable to attend), and the advisability of getting up something of the nature of a subscription, lottery or the like, for her benefit. You thanked me and even shed tears. I describe all this as it took place, primarily to recall it to your mind and secondly to show you that not the slightest detail has escaped my recollection. Then I took a ten- rouble note from the table and handed it to you by way of first instalment on my part for the benefit of your relative. Mr. 695 of 967 Crime and Punishment Lebeziatnikov saw all this. Then I accompanied you to the door—you being still in the same state of embarrassment—after which, being left alone with Mr. Lebeziatnikov I talked to him for ten minutes— then Mr. Lebeziatnikov went out and I returned to the table with the money lying on it, intending to count it and to put it aside, as I proposed doing before. To my surprise one hundred-rouble note had disappeared. Kindly consider the position. Mr. Lebeziatnikov I cannot suspect. I am ashamed to allude to such a supposition. I cannot have made a mistake in my reckoning, for the minute before your entrance I had finished my accounts and found the total correct. You will admit that recollecting your embarrassment, your eagerness to get away and the fact that you kept your hands for some time on the table, and taking into consideration your social position and the habits associated with it, I was, so to say, with horror and positively against my will, compelled to entertain a suspicion—a cruel, but justifiable suspicion! I will add further and repeat that in spite of my positive conviction, I realise that I run a certain risk in making this accusation, but as you see, I could not let it pass. I have taken action and I will tell you why: solely, madam, solely, owing to your black ingratitude! Why! I invite you for the benefit 696 of 967 Crime and Punishment of your destitute relative, I present you with my donation of ten roubles and you, on the spot, repay me for all that with such an action. It is too bad! You need a lesson. Reflect! Moreover, like a true friend I beg you— and you could have no better friend at this moment—think what you are doing, otherwise I shall be immovable! Well, what do you say?’ ‘I have taken nothing,’ Sonia whispered in terror, ‘you gave me ten roubles, here it is, take it.’ Sonia pulled her handkerchief out of her pocket, untied a corner of it, took out the ten-rouble note and gave it to Luzhin. ‘And the hundred roubles you do not confess to taking?’ he insisted reproachfully, not taking the note. Sonia looked about her. All were looking at her with such awful, stern, ironical, hostile eyes. She looked at Raskolnikov … he stood against the wall, with his arms crossed, looking at her with glowing eyes. ‘Good God!’ broke from Sonia. ‘Amalia Ivanovna, we shall have to send word to the police and therefore I humbly beg you meanwhile to send for the house porter,’ Luzhin said softly and even kindly. ‘ Gott der Barmherzige ! I knew she was the thief,’ cried Amalia Ivanovna, throwing up her hands. 697 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘You knew it?’ Luzhin caught her up, ‘then I suppose you had some reason before this for thinking so. I beg you, worthy Amalia Ivanovna, to remember your words which have been uttered before witnesses.’ There was a buzz of loud conversation on all sides. All were in movement. ‘What!’ cried Katerina Ivanovna, suddenly realising the position, and she rushed at Luzhin. ‘What! You accuse her of stealing? Sonia? Ah, the wretches, the wretches!’ And running to Sonia she flung her wasted arms round her and held her as in a vise. ‘Sonia! how dared you take ten roubles from him? Foolish girl! Give it to me! Give me the ten roubles at once—here! And snatching the note from Sonia, Katerina Ivanovna crumpled it up and flung it straight into Luzhin’s face. It hit him in the eye and fell on the ground. Amalia Ivanovna hastened to pick it up. Pyotr Petrovitch lost his temper. ‘Hold that mad woman!’ he shouted. At that moment several other persons, besides Lebeziatnikov, appeared in the doorway, among them the two ladies. 698 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. ‘What! Mad? Am I mad? Idiot!’ shrieked Katerina Ivanovna. ‘You are an idiot yourself, pettifogging lawyer, base man! Sonia, Sonia take his money! Sonia a thief! Why, she’d give away her last penny!’ and Katerina Ivanovna broke into hysterical laughter. ‘Did you ever see such an idiot?’ she turned from side to side. ‘And you too?’ she suddenly saw the landlady, ‘and you too, sausage eater, you declare that she is a thief, you trashy Prussian hen’s leg in a crinoline! She hasn’t been out of this room: she came straight from you, you wretch, and sat down beside me, everyone saw her. She sat here, by Rodion Romanovitch. Search her! Since she’s not left the room, the money would have to be on her! Search her, search her! But if you don’t find it, then excuse me, my dear fellow, you’ll answer for it! I’ll go to our Sovereign, to our Sovereign, to our gracious Tsar himself, and throw myself at his feet, to-day, this minute! I am alone in the world! They would let me in! Do you think they wouldn’t? You’re wrong, I will get in! I will get in! You reckoned on her meekness! You relied upon that! But I am not so submissive, let me tell you! You’ve gone too far yourself. Search her, search her!’ And Katerina Ivanovna in a frenzy shook Luzhin and dragged him towards Sonia. 699 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘I am ready, I’ll be responsible … but calm yourself, madam, calm yourself. I see that you are not so submissive! … Well, well, but as to that …’ Luzhin muttered, ‘that ought to be before the police … though indeed there are witnesses enough as it is…. I am ready…. But in any case it’s difficult for a man … on account of her sex…. But with the help of Amalia Ivanovna … though, of course, it’s not the way to do things…. How is it to be done?’ ‘As you will! Let anyone who likes search her!’ cried Katerina Ivanovna. ‘Sonia, turn out your pockets! See! Look, monster, the pocket is empty, here was her handkerchief! Here is the other pocket, look! D’you see, d’you see?’ And Katerina Ivanovna turned—or rather snatched— both pockets inside out. But from the right pocket a piece of paper flew out and describing a parabola in the air fell at Luzhin’s feet. Everyone saw it, several cried out. Pyotr Petrovitch stooped down, picked up the paper in two fingers, lifted it where all could see it and opened it. It was a hundred-rouble note folded in eight. Pyotr Petrovitch held up the note showing it to everyone. ‘Thief! Out of my lodging. Police, police!’ yelled Amalia Ivanovna. ‘They must to Siberia be sent! Away!’ 700 of 967 Crime and Punishment Exclamations arose on all sides. Raskolnikov was silent, keeping his eyes fixed on Sonia, except for an occasional rapid glance at Luzhin. Sonia stood still, as though unconscious. She was hardly able to feel surprise. Suddenly the colour rushed to her cheeks; she uttered a cry and hid her face in her hands. ‘No, it wasn’t I! I didn’t take it! I know nothing about it,’ she cried with a heartrending wail, and she ran to Katerina Ivanovna, who clasped her tightly in her arms, as though she would shelter her from all the world. ‘Sonia! Sonia! I don’t believe it! You see, I don’t believe it!’ she cried in the face of the obvious fact, swaying her to and fro in her arms like a baby, kissing her face continually, then snatching at her hands and kissing them, too, ‘you took it! How stupid these people are! Oh dear! You are fools, fools,’ she cried, addressing the whole room, ‘you don’t know, you don’t know what a heart she has, what a girl she is! She take it, she? She’d sell her last rag, she’d go barefoot to help you if you needed it, that’s what she is! She has the yellow passport because my children were starving, she sold herself for us! Ah, husband, husband! Do you see? Do you see? What a memorial dinner for you! Merciful heavens! Defend her, why are you all standing still? Rodion Romanovitch, why 701 of 967 Crime and Punishment don’t you stand up for her? Do you believe it, too? You are not worth her little finger, all of you together! Good God! Defend her now, at least!’ The wail of the poor, consumptive, helpless woman seemed to produce a great effect on her audience. The agonised, wasted, consumptive face, the parched blood-stained lips, the hoarse voice, the tears unrestrained as a child’s, the trustful, childish and yet despairing prayer for help were so piteous that everyone seemed to feel for her. Pyotr Petrovitch at any rate was at once moved to compassion . ‘Madam, madam, this incident does not reflect upon you!’ he cried impressively, ‘no one would take upon himself to accuse you of being an instigator or even an accomplice in it, especially as you have proved her guilt by turning out her pockets, showing that you had no previous idea of it. I am most ready, most ready to show compassion, if poverty, so to speak, drove Sofya Semyonovna to it, but why did you refuse to confess, mademoiselle? Were you afraid of the disgrace? The first step? You lost your head, perhaps? One can quite understand it…. But how could you have lowered yourself to such an action? Gentlemen,’ he addressed the whole company, ‘gentlemen! Compassionate and, so to 702 of 967 Crime and Punishment say, commiserating these people, I am ready to overlook it even now in spite of the personal insult lavished upon me! And may this disgrace be a lesson to you for the future,’ he said, addressing Sonia, ‘and I will carry the matter no further. Enough!’ Pyotr Petrovitch stole a glance at Raskolnikov. Their eyes met, and the fire in Raskolnikov’s seemed ready to reduce him to ashes. Meanwhile Katerina Ivanovna apparently heard nothing. She was kissing and hugging Sonia like a madwoman. The children, too, were embracing Sonia on all sides, and Polenka—though she did not fully understand what was wrong—was drowned in tears and shaking with sobs, as she hid her pretty little face, swollen with weeping, on Sonia’s shoulder. ‘How vile!’ a loud voice cried suddenly in the doorway. Pyotr Petrovitch looked round quickly. ‘What vileness!’ Lebeziatnikov repeated, staring him straight in the face. Pyotr Petrovitch gave a positive start—all noticed it and recalled it afterwards. Lebeziatnikov strode into the room. ‘And you dared to call me as witness?’ he said, going up to Pyotr Petrovitch. 703 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘What do you mean? What are you talking about?’ muttered Luzhin. ‘I mean that you … are a slanderer, that’s what my words mean!’ Lebeziatnikov said hotly, looking sternly at him with his short- sighted eyes. He was extremely angry. Raskolnikov gazed intently at him, as though seizing and weighing each word. Again there was a silence. Pyotr Petrovitch indeed seemed almost dumbfounded for the first moment. ‘If you mean that for me, …’ he began, stammering. ‘But what’s the matter with you? Are you out of your mind?’ ‘I’m in my mind, but you are a scoundrel! Ah, how vile! I have heard everything. I kept waiting on purpose to understand it, for I must own even now it is not quite logical…. What you have done it all for I can’t understand.’ ‘Why, what have I done then? Give over talking in your nonsensical riddles! Or maybe you are drunk!’ ‘You may be a drunkard, perhaps, vile man, but I am not! I never touch vodka, for it’s against my convictions. Would you believe it, he, he himself, with his own hands gave Sofya Semyonovna that hundred-rouble note—I saw 704 of 967 Crime and Punishment it, I was a witness, I’ll take my oath! He did it, he!’ repeated Lebeziatnikov, addressing all. ‘Are you crazy, milksop?’ squealed Luzhin. ‘She is herself before you —she herself here declared just now before everyone that I gave her only ten roubles. How could I have given it to her?’ ‘I saw it, I saw it,’ Lebeziatnikov repeated, ‘and though it is against my principles, I am ready this very minute to take any oath you like before the court, for I saw how you slipped it in her pocket. Only like a fool I thought you did it out of kindness! When you were saying good-bye to her at the door, while you held her hand in one hand, with the other, the left, you slipped the note into her pocket. I saw it, I saw it!’ Luzhin turned pale. ‘What lies!’ he cried impudently, ‘why, how could you, standing by the window, see the note? You fancied it with your short-sighted eyes. You are raving!’ ‘No, I didn’t fancy it. And though I was standing some way off, I saw it all. And though it certainly would be hard to distinguish a note from the window—that’s true— I knew for certain that it was a hundred-rouble note, because, when you were going to give Sofya Semyonovna ten roubles, you took up from the table a hundred-rouble 705 of 967 Crime and Punishment note (I saw it because I was standing near then, and an idea struck me at once, so that I did not forget you had it in your hand). You folded it and kept it in your hand all the time. I didn’t think of it again until, when you were getting up, you changed it from your right hand to your left and nearly dropped it! I noticed it because the same idea struck me again, that you meant to do her a kindness without my seeing. You can fancy how I watched you and I saw how you succeeded in slipping it into her pocket. I saw it, I saw it, I’ll take my oath.’ Lebeziatnikov was almost breathless. Exclamations arose on all hands chiefly expressive of wonder, but some were menacing in tone. They all crowded round Pyotr Petrovitch. Katerina Ivanovna flew to Lebeziatnikov. ‘I was mistaken in you! Protect her! You are the only one to take her part! She is an orphan. God has sent you!’ Katerina Ivanovna, hardly knowing what she was doing, sank on her knees before him. ‘A pack of nonsense!’ yelled Luzhin, roused to fury, ‘it’s all nonsense you’ve been talking! ‘An idea struck you, you didn’t think, you noticed’—what does it amount to? So I gave it to her on the sly on purpose? What for? With what object? What have I to do with this …?’ 706 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘What for? That’s what I can’t understand, but that what I am telling you is the fact, that’s certain! So far from my being mistaken, you infamous criminal man, I remember how, on account of it, a question occurred to me at once, just when I was thanking you and pressing your hand. What made you put it secretly in her pocket? Why you did it secretly, I mean? Could it be simply to conceal it from me, knowing that my convictions are opposed to yours and that I do not approve of private benevolence, which effects no radical cure? Well, I decided that you really were ashamed of giving such a large sum before me. Perhaps, too, I thought, he wants to give her a surprise, when she finds a whole hundred-rouble note in her pocket. (For I know, some benevolent people are very fond of decking out their charitable actions in that way.) Then the idea struck me, too, that you wanted to test her, to see whether, when she found it, she would come to thank you. Then, too, that you wanted to avoid thanks and that, as the saying is, your right hand should not know … something of that sort, in fact. I thought of so many possibilities that I put off considering it, but still thought it indelicate to show you that I knew your secret. But another idea struck me again that Sofya Semyonovna might easily lose the money 707 of 967 Crime and Punishment before she noticed it, that was why I decided to come in here to call her out of the room and to tell her that you put a hundred roubles in her pocket. But on my way I went first to Madame Kobilatnikov’s to take them the ‘General Treatise on the Positive Method’ and especially to recommend Piderit’s article (and also Wagner’s); then I come on here and what a state of things I find! Now could I, could I, have all these ideas and reflections if I had not seen you put the hundred-rouble note in her pocket?’ When Lebeziatnikov finished his long-winded harangue with the logical deduction at the end, he was quite tired, and the perspiration streamed from his face. He could not, alas, even express himself correctly in Russian, though he knew no other language, so that he was quite exhausted, almost emaciated after this heroic exploit. But his speech produced a powerful effect. He had spoken with such vehemence, with such conviction that everyone obviously believed him. Pyotr Petrovitch felt that things were going badly with him. ‘What is it to do with me if silly ideas did occur to you?’ he shouted, ‘that’s no evidence. You may have dreamt it, that’s all! And I tell you, you are lying, sir. You are lying and slandering from some spite against me, 708 of 967 Crime and Punishment simply from pique, because I did not agree with your free-thinking, godless, social propositions!’ But this retort did not benefit Pyotr Petrovitch. Murmurs of disapproval were heard on all sides. ‘Ah, that’s your line now, is it!’ cried Lebeziatnikov, ‘that’s nonsense! Call the police and I’ll take my oath! There’s only one thing I can’t understand: what made him risk such a contemptible action. Oh, pitiful, despicable man!’ ‘I can explain why he risked such an action, and if necessary, I, too, will swear to it,’ Raskolnikov said at last in a firm voice, and he stepped forward. He appeared to be firm and composed. Everyone felt clearly, from the very look of him that he really knew about it and that the mystery would be solved. ‘Now I can explain it all to myself,’ said Raskolnikov, addressing Lebeziatnikov. ‘From the very beginning of the business, I suspected that there was some scoundrelly intrigue at the bottom of it. I began to suspect it from some special circumstances known to me only, which I will explain at once to everyone: they account for everything. Your valuable evidence has finally made everything clear to me. I beg all, all to listen. This gentleman (he pointed to Luzhin) was recently engaged to 709 of 967 Crime and Punishment be married to a young lady—my sister, Avdotya Romanovna Raskolnikov. But coming to Petersburg he quarrelled with me, the day before yesterday, at our first meeting and I drove him out of my room —I have two witnesses to prove it. He is a very spiteful man…. The day before yesterday I did not know that he was staying here, in your room, and that consequently on the very day we quarrelled—the day before yesterday—he saw me give Katerina Ivanovna some money for the funeral, as a friend of the late Mr. Marmeladov. He at once wrote a note to my mother and informed her that I had given away all my money, not to Katerina Ivanovna but to Sofya Semyonovna, and referred in a most contemptible way to the … character of Sofya Semyonovna, that is, hinted at the character of my attitude to Sofya Semyonovna. All this you understand was with the object of dividing me from my mother and sister, by insinuating that I was squandering on unworthy objects the money which they had sent me and which was all they had. Yesterday evening, before my mother and sister and in his presence, I declared that I had given the money to Katerina Ivanovna for the funeral and not to Sofya Semyonovna and that I had no acquaintance with Sofya Semyonovna and had never seen her before, indeed. At the same time I 710 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. added that he, Pyotr Petrovitch Luzhin, with all his virtues, was not worth Sofya Semyonovna’s little finger, though he spoke so ill of her. To his question—would I let Sofya Semyonovna sit down beside my sister, I answered that I had already done so that day. Irritated that my mother and sister were unwilling to quarrel with me at his insinuations, he gradually began being unpardonably rude to them. A final rupture took place and he was turned out of the house. All this happened yesterday evening. Now I beg your special attention: consider: if he had now succeeded in proving that Sofya Semyonovna was a thief, he would have shown to my mother and sister that he was almost right in his suspicions, that he had reason to be angry at my putting my sister on a level with Sofya Semyonovna, that, in attacking me, he was protecting and preserving the honour of my sister, his betrothed. In fact he might even, through all this, have been able to estrange me from my family, and no doubt he hoped to be restored to favour with them; to say nothing of revenging himself on me personally, for he has grounds for supposing that the honour and happiness of Sofya Semyonovna are very precious to me. That was what he was working for! That’s how I understand it. That’s the whole reason for it and there can be no other!’ 711 of 967 Crime and Punishment It was like this, or somewhat like this, that Raskolnikov wound up his speech which was followed very attentively, though often interrupted by exclamations from his audience. But in spite of interruptions he spoke clearly, calmly, exactly, firmly. His decisive voice, his tone of conviction and his stern face made a great impression on everyone. ‘Yes, yes, that’s it,’ Lebeziatnikov assented gleefully, ‘that must be it, for he asked me, as soon as Sofya Semyonovna came into our room, whether you were here, whether I had seen you among Katerina Ivanovna’s guests. He called me aside to the window and asked me in secret. It was essential for him that you should be here! That’s it, that’s it!’ Luzhin smiled contemptuously and did not speak. But he was very pale. He seemed to be deliberating on some means of escape. Perhaps he would have been glad to give up everything and get away, but at the moment this was scarcely possible. It would have implied admitting the truth of the accusations brought against him. Moreover, the company, which had already been excited by drink, was now too much stirred to allow it. The commissariat clerk, though indeed he had not grasped the whole position, was shouting louder than anyone and was 712 of 967 Crime and Punishment making some suggestions very unpleasant to Luzhin. But not all those present were drunk; lodgers came in from all the rooms. The three Poles were tremendously excited and were continually shouting at him: ‘The pan is a lajdak !’ and muttering threats in Polish. Sonia had been listening with strained attention, though she too seemed unable to grasp it all; she seemed as though she had just returned to consciousness. She did not take her eyes off Raskolnikov, feeling that all her safety lay in him. Katerina Ivanovna breathed hard and painfully and seemed fearfully exhausted. Amalia Ivanovna stood looking more stupid than anyone, with her mouth wide open, unable to make out what had happened. She only saw that Pyotr Petrovitch had somehow come to grief. Raskolnikov was attempting to speak again, but they did not let him. Everyone was crowding round Luzhin with threats and shouts of abuse. But Pyotr Petrovitch was not intimidated. Seeing that his accusation of Sonia had completely failed, he had recourse to insolence: ‘Allow me, gentlemen, allow me! Don’t squeeze, let me pass!’ he said, making his way through the crowd. ‘And no threats, if you please! I assure you it will be useless, you will gain nothing by it. On the contrary, you’ll have to answer, gentlemen, for violently obstructing 713 of 967 Crime and Punishment the course of justice. The thief has been more than unmasked, and I shall prosecute. Our judges are not so blind and … not so drunk, and will not believe the testimony of two notorious infidels, agitators, and atheists, who accuse me from motives of personal revenge which they are foolish enough to admit…. Yes, allow me to pass!’ ‘Don’t let me find a trace of you in my room! Kindly leave at once, and everything is at an end between us! When I think of the trouble I’ve been taking, the way I’ve been expounding … all this fortnight!’ ‘I told you myself to-day that I was going, when you tried to keep me; now I will simply add that you are a fool. I advise you to see a doctor for your brains and your short sight. Let me pass, gentlemen!’ He forced his way through. But the commissariat clerk was unwilling to let him off so easily: he picked up a glass from the table, brandished it in the air and flung it at Pyotr Petrovitch; but the glass flew straight at Amalia Ivanovna. She screamed, and the clerk, overbalancing, fell heavily under the table. Pyotr Petrovitch made his way to his room and half an hour later had left the house. Sonia, timid by nature, had felt before that day that she could be ill- treated more easily than anyone, and that she could be 714 of 967 Crime and Punishment wronged with impunity. Yet till that moment she had fancied that she might escape misfortune by care, gentleness and submissiveness before everyone. Her disappointment was too great. She could, of course, bear with patience and almost without murmur anything, even this. But for the first minute she felt it too bitter. In spite of her triumph and her justification—when her first terror and stupefaction had passed and she could understand it all clearly—the feeling of her helplessness and of the wrong done to her made her heart throb with anguish and she was overcome with hysterical weeping. At last, unable to bear any more, she rushed out of the room and ran home, almost immediately after Luzhin’s departure. When amidst loud laughter the glass flew at Amalia Ivanovna, it was more than the landlady could endure. With a shriek she rushed like a fury at Katerina Ivanovna, considering her to blame for everything. ‘Out of my lodgings! At once! Quick march!’ And with these words she began snatching up everything she could lay her hands on that belonged to Katerina Ivanovna, and throwing it on the floor. Katerina Ivanovna, pale, almost fainting, and gasping for breath, jumped up from the bed where she had sunk in exhaustion and darted at Amalia Ivanovna. But the battle 715 of 967 Crime and Punishment was too unequal: the landlady waved her away like a feather. ‘What! As though that godless calumny was not enough—this vile creature attacks me! What! On the day of my husband’s funeral I am turned out of my lodging! After eating my bread and salt she turns me into the street, with my orphans! Where am I to go?’ wailed the poor woman, sobbing and gasping. ‘Good God!’ she cried with flashing eyes, ‘is there no justice upon earth? Whom should you protect if not us orphans? We shall see! There is law and justice on earth, there is, I will find it! Wait a bit, godless creature! Polenka, stay with the children, I’ll come back. Wait for me, if you have to wait in the street. We will see whether there is justice on earth!’ And throwing over her head that green shawl which Marmeladov had mentioned to Raskolnikov, Katerina Ivanovna squeezed her way through the disorderly and drunken crowd of lodgers who still filled the room, and, wailing and tearful, she ran into the street—with a vague intention of going at once somewhere to find justice. Polenka with the two little ones in her arms crouched, terrified, on the trunk in the corner of the room, where she waited trembling for her mother to come back. Amalia Ivanovna raged about the room, shrieking, lamenting and 716 of 967 Crime and Punishment throwing everything she came across on the floor. The lodgers talked incoherently, some commented to the best of their ability on what had happened, others quarrelled and swore at one another, while others struck up a song…. ‘Now it’s time for me to go,’ thought Raskolnikov. ‘Well, Sofya Semyonovna, we shall see what you’ll say now!’ And he set off in the direction of Sonia’s lodgings. 717 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter IV Raskolnikov had been a vigorous and active champion of Sonia against Luzhin, although he had such a load of horror and anguish in his own heart. But having gone through so much in the morning, he found a sort of relief in a change of sensations, apart from the strong personal feeling which impelled him to defend Sonia. He was agitated too, especially at some moments, by the thought of his approaching interview with Sonia: he had to tell her who had killed Lizaveta. He knew the terrible suffering it would be to him and, as it were, brushed away the thought of it. So when he cried as he left Katerina Ivanovna’s, ‘Well, Sofya Semyonovna, we shall see what you’ll say now!’ he was still superficially excited, still vigorous and defiant from his triumph over Luzhin. But, strange to say, by the time he reached Sonia’s lodging, he felt a sudden impotence and fear. He stood still in hesitation at the door, asking himself the strange question: ‘Must he tell her who killed Lizaveta?’ It was a strange question because he felt at the very time not only that he could not help telling her, but also that he could not put off the telling. He did not yet know why it must be so, he 718 of 967 Crime and Punishment only felt it, and the agonising sense of his impotence before the inevitable almost crushed him. To cut short his hesitation and suffering, he quickly opened the door and looked at Sonia from the doorway. She was sitting with her elbows on the table and her face in her hands, but seeing Raskolnikov she got up at once and came to meet him as though she were expecting him. ‘What would have become of me but for you?’ she said quickly, meeting him in the middle of the room. Evidently she was in haste to say this to him. It was what she had been waiting for. Raskolnikov went to the table and sat down on the chair from which she had only just risen. She stood facing him, two steps away, just as she had done the day before. ‘Well, Sonia?’ he said, and felt that his voice was trembling, ‘it was all due to ‘your social position and the habits associated with it.’ Did you understand that just now?’ Her face showed her distress. ‘Only don’t talk to me as you did yesterday,’ she interrupted him. ‘Please don’t begin it. There is misery enough without that.’ She made haste to smile, afraid that he might not like the reproach. 719 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘I was silly to come away from there. What is happening there now? I wanted to go back directly, but I kept thinking that … you would come.’ He told her that Amalia Ivanovna was turning them out of their lodging and that Katerina Ivanovna had run off somewhere ‘to seek justice.’ ‘My God!’ cried Sonia, ‘let’s go at once….’ And she snatched up her cape. ‘It’s everlastingly the same thing!’ said Raskolnikov, irritably. ‘You’ve no thought except for them! Stay a little with me.’ ‘But … Katerina Ivanovna?’ ‘You won’t lose Katerina Ivanovna, you may be sure, she’ll come to you herself since she has run out,’ he added peevishly. ‘If she doesn’t find you here, you’ll be blamed for it….’ Sonia sat down in painful suspense. Raskolnikov was silent, gazing at the floor and deliberating. ‘This time Luzhin did not want to prosecute you,’ he began, not looking at Sonia, ‘but if he had wanted to, if it had suited his plans, he would have sent you to prison if it had not been for Lebeziatnikov and me. Ah?’ ‘Yes,’ she assented in a faint voice. ‘Yes,’ she repeated, preoccupied and distressed. 720 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘But I might easily not have been there. And it was quite an accident Lebeziatnikov’s turning up.’ Sonia was silent. ‘And if you’d gone to prison, what then? Do you remember what I said yesterday?’ Again she did not answer. He waited. ‘I thought you would cry out again ‘don’t speak of it, leave off.’’ Raskolnikov gave a laugh, but rather a forced one. ‘What, silence again?’ he asked a minute later. ‘We must talk about something, you know. It would be interesting for me to know how you would decide a certain ‘problem’ as Lebeziatnikov would say.’ (He was beginning to lose the thread.) ‘No, really, I am serious. Imagine, Sonia, that you had known all Luzhin’s intentions beforehand. Known, that is, for a fact, that they would be the ruin of Katerina Ivanovna and the children and yourself thrown in—since you don’t count yourself for anything—Polenka too … for she’ll go the same way. Well, if suddenly it all depended on your decision whether he or they should go on living, that is whether Luzhin should go on living and doing wicked things, or Katerina Ivanovna should die? How would you decide which of them was to die? I ask you?’ 721 of 967 Crime and Punishment Sonia looked uneasily at him. There was something peculiar in this hesitating question, which seemed approaching something in a roundabout way. ‘I felt that you were going to ask some question like that,’ she said, looking inquisitively at him. ‘I dare say you did. But how is it to be answered?’ ‘Why do you ask about what could not happen?’ said Sonia reluctantly. ‘Then it would be better for Luzhin to go on living and doing wicked things? You haven’t dared to decide even that!’ ‘But I can’t know the Divine Providence…. And why do you ask what can’t be answered? What’s the use of such foolish questions? How could it happen that it should depend on my decision—who has made me a judge to decide who is to live and who is not to live?’ ‘Oh, if the Divine Providence is to be mixed up in it, there is no doing anything,’ Raskolnikov grumbled morosely. ‘You’d better say straight out what you want!’ Sonia cried in distress. ‘You are leading up to something again…. Can you have come simply to torture me?’ She could not control herself and began crying bitterly. He looked at her in gloomy misery. Five minutes passed. 722 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. ‘Of course you’re right, Sonia,’ he said softly at last. He was suddenly changed. His tone of assumed arrogance and helpless defiance was gone. Even his voice was suddenly weak. ‘I told you yesterday that I was not coming to ask forgiveness and almost the first thing I’ve said is to ask forgiveness…. I said that about Luzhin and Providence for my own sake. I was asking forgiveness, Sonia….’ He tried to smile, but there was something helpless and incomplete in his pale smile. He bowed his head and hid his face in his hands. And suddenly a strange, surprising sensation of a sort of bitter hatred for Sonia passed through his heart. As it were wondering and frightened of this sensation, he raised his head and looked intently at her; but he met her uneasy and painfully anxious eyes fixed on him; there was love in them; his hatred vanished like a phantom. It was not the real feeling; he had taken the one feeling for the other. It only meant that that minute had come. He hid his face in his hands again and bowed his head. Suddenly he turned pale, got up from his chair, looked at Sonia, and without uttering a word sat down mechanically on her bed. His sensations that moment were terribly like the moment when he had stood over the old woman with the 723 of 967 Crime and Punishment axe in his hand and felt that ‘he must not lose another minute.’ ‘What’s the matter?’ asked Sonia, dreadfully frightened. He could not utter a word. This was not at all, not at all the way he had intended to ‘tell’ and he did not understand what was happening to him now. She went up to him, softly, sat down on the bed beside him and waited, not taking her eyes off him. Her heart throbbed and sank. It was unendurable; he turned his deadly pale face to her. His lips worked, helplessly struggling to utter something. A pang of terror passed through Sonia’s heart. ‘What’s the matter?’ she repeated, drawing a little away from him. ‘Nothing, Sonia, don’t be frightened…. It’s nonsense. It really is nonsense, if you think of it,’ he muttered, like a man in delirium. ‘Why have I come to torture you?’ he added suddenly, looking at her. ‘Why, really? I keep asking myself that question, Sonia….’ He had perhaps been asking himself that question a quarter of an hour before, but now he spoke helplessly, hardly knowing what he said and feeling a continual tremor all over. ‘Oh, how you are suffering!’ she muttered in distress, looking intently at him. 724 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘It’s all nonsense…. Listen, Sonia.’ He suddenly smiled, a pale helpless smile for two seconds. ‘You remember what I meant to tell you yesterday?’ Sonia waited uneasily. ‘I said as I went away that perhaps I was saying good-bye for ever, but that if I came to-day I would tell you who … who killed Lizaveta.’ She began trembling all over. ‘Well, here I’ve come to tell you.’ ‘Then you really meant it yesterday?’ she whispered with difficulty. ‘How do you know?’ she asked quickly, as though suddenly regaining her reason. Sonia’s face grew paler and paler, and she breathed painfully. ‘I know.’ She paused a minute. ‘Have they found him?’ she asked timidly. ‘No.’ ‘Then how do you know about it ?’ she asked again, hardly audibly and again after a minute’s pause. He turned to her and looked very intently at her. ‘Guess,’ he said, with the same distorted helpless smile. A shudder passed over her. 725 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘But you … why do you frighten me like this?’ she said, smiling like a child. ‘I must be a great friend of his … since I know,’ Raskolnikov went on, still gazing into her face, as though he could not turn his eyes away. ‘He … did not mean to kill that Lizaveta … he … killed her accidentally…. He meant to kill the old woman when she was alone and he went there … and then Lizaveta came in … he killed her too.’ Another awful moment passed. Both still gazed at one another. ‘You can’t guess, then?’ he asked suddenly, feeling as though he were flinging himself down from a steeple. ‘N-no …’ whispered Sonia. ‘Take a good look.’ As soon as he had said this again, the same familiar sensation froze his heart. He looked at her and all at once seemed to see in her face the face of Lizaveta. He remembered clearly the expression in Lizaveta’s face, when he approached her with the axe and she stepped back to the wall, putting out her hand, with childish terror in her face, looking as little children do when they begin to be frightened of something, looking intently and uneasily at what frightens them, shrinking back and 726 of 967 Crime and Punishment holding out their little hands on the point of crying. Almost the same thing happened now to Sonia. With the same helplessness and the same terror, she looked at him for a while and, suddenly putting out her left hand, pressed her fingers faintly against his breast and slowly began to get up from the bed, moving further from him and keeping her eyes fixed even more immovably on him. Her terror infected him. The same fear showed itself on his face. In the same way he stared at her and almost with the same childish smile. ‘Have you guessed?’ he whispered at last. ‘Good God!’ broke in an awful wail from her bosom. She sank helplessly on the bed with her face in the pillows, but a moment later she got up, moved quickly to him, seized both his hands and, gripping them tight in her thin fingers, began looking into his face again with the same intent stare. In this last desperate look she tried to look into him and catch some last hope. But there was no hope; there was no doubt remaining; it was all true! Later on, indeed, when she recalled that moment, she thought it strange and wondered why she had seen at once that there was no doubt. She could not have said, for instance, that she had foreseen something of the sort—and yet now, as 727 of 967 Crime and Punishment soon as he told her, she suddenly fancied that she had really foreseen this very thing. ‘Stop, Sonia, enough! don’t torture me,’ he begged her miserably. It was not at all, not at all like this he had thought of telling her, but this is how it happened. She jumped up, seeming not to know what she was doing, and, wringing her hands, walked into the middle of the room; but quickly went back and sat down again beside him, her shoulder almost touching his. All of a sudden she started as though she had been stabbed, uttered a cry and fell on her knees before him, she did not know why. ‘What have you done—what have you done to yourself?’ she said in despair, and, jumping up, she flung herself on his neck, threw her arms round him, and held him tightly. Raskolnikov drew back and looked at her with a mournful smile. ‘You are a strange girl, Sonia—you kiss me and hug me when I tell you about that…. You don’t think what you are doing.’ ‘There is no one—no one in the whole world now so unhappy as you!’ she cried in a frenzy, not hearing what 728 of 967 Crime and Punishment he said, and she suddenly broke into violent hysterical weeping. A feeling long unfamiliar to him flooded his heart and softened it at once. He did not struggle against it. Two tears started into his eyes and hung on his eyelashes. ‘Then you won’t leave me, Sonia?’ he said, looking at her almost with hope. ‘No, no, never, nowhere!’ cried Sonia. ‘I will follow you, I will follow you everywhere. Oh, my God! Oh, how miserable I am! … Why, why didn’t I know you before! Why didn’t you come before? Oh, dear!’ ‘Here I have come.’ ‘Yes, now! What’s to be done now? … Together, together!’ she repeated as it were unconsciously, and she hugged him again. ‘I’ll follow you to Siberia!’ He recoiled at this, and the same hostile, almost haughty smile came to his lips. ‘Perhaps I don’t want to go to Siberia yet, Sonia,’ he said. Sonia looked at him quickly. Again after her first passionate, agonising sympathy for the unhappy man the terrible idea of the murder overwhelmed her. In his changed tone she seemed to hear the murderer speaking. She looked at him bewildered. She 729 of 967 Crime and Punishment knew nothing as yet, why, how, with what object it had been. Now all these questions rushed at once into her mind. And again she could not believe it: ‘He, he is a murderer! Could it be true?’ ‘What’s the meaning of it? Where am I?’ she said in complete bewilderment, as though still unable to recover herself. ‘How could you, you, a man like you…. How could you bring yourself to it? … What does it mean?’ ‘Oh, well—to plunder. Leave off, Sonia,’ he answered wearily, almost with vexation. Sonia stood as though struck dumb, but suddenly she cried: ‘You were hungry! It was … to help your mother? Yes?’ ‘No, Sonia, no,’ he muttered, turning away and hanging his head. ‘I was not so hungry…. I certainly did want to help my mother, but … that’s not the real thing either…. Don’t torture me, Sonia.’ Sonia clasped her hands. ‘Could it, could it all be true? Good God, what a truth! Who could believe it? And how could you give away your last farthing and yet rob and murder! Ah,’ she cried suddenly, ‘that money you gave Katerina Ivanovna … that money…. Can that money …’ 730 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘No, Sonia,’ he broke in hurriedly, ‘that money was not it. Don’t worry yourself! That money my mother sent me and it came when I was ill, the day I gave it to you…. Razumihin saw it … he received it for me…. That money was mine—my own.’ Sonia listened to him in bewilderment and did her utmost to comprehend. ‘And that money…. I don’t even know really whether there was any money,’ he added softly, as though reflecting. ‘I took a purse off her neck, made of chamois leather … a purse stuffed full of something … but I didn’t look in it; I suppose I hadn’t time…. And the things— chains and trinkets—I buried under a stone with the purse next morning in a yard off the V—— Prospect. They are all there now…. .’ Sonia strained every nerve to listen. ‘Then why … why, you said you did it to rob, but you took nothing?’ she asked quickly, catching at a straw. ‘I don’t know…. I haven’t yet decided whether to take that money or not,’ he said, musing again; and, seeming to wake up with a start, he gave a brief ironical smile. ‘Ach, what silly stuff I am talking, eh?’ 731 of 967 Crime and Punishment The thought flashed through Sonia’s mind, wasn’t he mad? But she dismissed it at once. ‘No, it was something else.’ She could make nothing of it, nothing. ‘Do you know, Sonia,’ he said suddenly with conviction, ‘let me tell you: if I’d simply killed because I was hungry,’ laying stress on every word and looking enigmatically but sincerely at her, ‘I should be happy now. You must believe that! What would it matter to you,’ he cried a moment later with a sort of despair, ‘what would it matter to you if I were to confess that I did wrong? What do you gain by such a stupid triumph over me? Ah, Sonia, was it for that I’ve come to you to-day?’ Again Sonia tried to say something, but did not speak. ‘I asked you to go with me yesterday because you are all I have left.’ ‘Go where?’ asked Sonia timidly. ‘Not to steal and not to murder, don’t be anxious,’ he smiled bitterly. ‘We are so different…. And you know, Sonia, it’s only now, only this moment that I understand where I asked you to go with me yesterday! Yesterday when I said it I did not know where. I asked you for one thing, I came to you for one thing—not to leave me. You won’t leave me, Sonia?’ She squeezed his hand. 732 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘And why, why did I tell her? Why did I let her know?’ he cried a minute later in despair, looking with infinite anguish at her. ‘Here you expect an explanation from me, Sonia; you are sitting and waiting for it, I see that. But what can I tell you? You won’t understand and will only suffer misery … on my account! Well, you are crying and embracing me again. Why do you do it? Because I couldn’t bear my burden and have come to throw it on another: you suffer too, and I shall feel better! And can you love such a mean wretch?’ ‘But aren’t you suffering, too?’ cried Sonia. Again a wave of the same feeling surged into his heart, and again for an instant softened it. ‘Sonia, I have a bad heart, take note of that. It may explain a great deal. I have come because I am bad. There are men who wouldn’t have come. But I am a coward and … a mean wretch. But … never mind! That’s not the point. I must speak now, but I don’t know how to begin.’ He paused and sank into thought. ‘Ach, we are so different,’ he cried again, ‘we are not alike. And why, why did I come? I shall never forgive myself that.’ ‘No, no, it was a good thing you came,’ cried Sonia. ‘It’s better I should know, far better!’ 733 of 967 Crime and Punishment He looked at her with anguish. ‘What if it were really that?’ he said, as though reaching a conclusion. ‘Yes, that’s what it was! I wanted to become a Napoleon, that is why I killed her…. Do you understand now?’ ‘N-no,’ Sonia whispered naïvely and timidly. ‘Only speak, speak, I shall understand, I shall understand in myself !’ she kept begging him. ‘You’ll understand? Very well, we shall see!’ He paused and was for some time lost in meditation. ‘It was like this: I asked myself one day this question— what if Napoleon, for instance, had happened to be in my place, and if he had not had Toulon nor Egypt nor the passage of Mont Blanc to begin his career with, but instead of all those picturesque and monumental things, there had simply been some ridiculous old hag, a pawnbroker, who had to be murdered too to get money from her trunk (for his career, you understand). Well, would he have brought himself to that if there had been no other means? Wouldn’t he have felt a pang at its being so far from monumental and … and sinful, too? Well, I must tell you that I worried myself fearfully over that ‘question’ so that I was awfully ashamed when I guessed at last (all of a sudden, somehow) that it would not have given him the 734 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. least pang, that it would not even have struck him that it was not monumental … that he would not have seen that there was anything in it to pause over, and that, if he had had no other way, he would have strangled her in a minute without thinking about it! Well, I too … left off thinking about it … murdered her, following his example. And that’s exactly how it was! Do you think it funny? Yes, Sonia, the funniest thing of all is that perhaps that’s just how it was.’ Sonia did not think it at all funny. ‘You had better tell me straight out … without examples,’ she begged, still more timidly and scarcely audibly. He turned to her, looked sadly at her and took her hands. ‘You are right again, Sonia. Of course that’s all nonsense, it’s almost all talk! You see, you know of course that my mother has scarcely anything, my sister happened to have a good education and was condemned to drudge as a governess. All their hopes were centered on me. I was a student, but I couldn’t keep myself at the university and was forced for a time to leave it. Even if I had lingered on like that, in ten or twelve years I might (with luck) hope to be some sort of teacher or clerk with a salary of a 735 of 967 Crime and Punishment thousand roubles’ (he repeated it as though it were a lesson) ‘and by that time my mother would be worn out with grief and anxiety and I could not succeed in keeping her in comfort while my sister … well, my sister might well have fared worse! And it’s a hard thing to pass everything by all one’s life, to turn one’s back upon everything, to forget one’s mother and decorously accept the insults inflicted on one’s sister. Why should one? When one has buried them to burden oneself with others—wife and children—and to leave them again without a farthing? So I resolved to gain possession of the old woman’s money and to use it for my first years without worrying my mother, to keep myself at the university and for a little while after leaving it—and to do this all on a broad, thorough scale, so as to build up a completely new career and enter upon a new life of independence…. Well … that’s all…. Well, of course in killing the old woman I did wrong…. Well, that’s enough.’ He struggled to the end of his speech in exhaustion and let his head sink. ‘Oh, that’s not it, that’s not it,’ Sonia cried in distress. ‘How could one … no, that’s not right, not right.’ 736 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘You see yourself that it’s not right. But I’ve spoken truly, it’s the truth.’ ‘As though that could be the truth! Good God!’ ‘I’ve only killed a louse, Sonia, a useless, loathsome, harmful creature.’ ‘A human being—a louse!’ ‘I too know it wasn’t a louse,’ he answered, looking strangely at her. ‘But I am talking nonsense, Sonia,’ he added. ‘I’ve been talking nonsense a long time…. That’s not it, you are right there. There were quite, quite other causes for it! I haven’t talked to anyone for so long, Sonia…. My head aches dreadfully now.’ His eyes shone with feverish brilliance. He was almost delirious; an uneasy smile strayed on his lips. His terrible exhaustion could be seen through his excitement. Sonia saw how he was suffering. She too was growing dizzy. And he talked so strangely; it seemed somehow comprehensible, but yet … ‘But how, how! Good God!’ And she wrung her hands in despair. ‘No, Sonia, that’s not it,’ he began again suddenly, raising his head, as though a new and sudden train of thought had struck and as it were roused him—‘that’s not it! Better … imagine—yes, it’s certainly better—imagine that I am vain, envious, malicious, base, vindictive and … 737 of 967 Crime and Punishment well, perhaps with a tendency to insanity. (Let’s have it all out at once! They’ve talked of madness already, I noticed.) I told you just now I could not keep myself at the university. But do you know that perhaps I might have done? My mother would have sent me what I needed for the fees and I could have earned enough for clothes, boots and food, no doubt. Lessons had turned up at half a rouble. Razumihin works! But I turned sulky and wouldn’t. (Yes, sulkiness, that’s the right word for it!) I sat in my room like a spider. You’ve been in my den, you’ve seen it…. And do you know, Sonia, that low ceilings and tiny rooms cramp the soul and the mind? Ah, how I hated that garret! And yet I wouldn’t go out of it! I wouldn’t on purpose! I didn’t go out for days together, and I wouldn’t work, I wouldn’t even eat, I just lay there doing nothing. If Nastasya brought me anything, I ate it, if she didn’t, I went all day without; I wouldn’t ask, on purpose, from sulkiness! At night I had no light, I lay in the dark and I wouldn’t earn money for candles. I ought to have studied, but I sold my books; and the dust lies an inch thick on the notebooks on my table. I preferred lying still and thinking. And I kept thinking…. And I had dreams all the time, strange dreams of all sorts, no need to describe! Only then I began to fancy that … No, that’s not it! Again I am 738 of 967 Crime and Punishment telling you wrong! You see I kept asking myself then: why am I so stupid that if others are stupid—and I know they are—yet I won’t be wiser? Then I saw, Sonia, that if one waits for everyone to get wiser it will take too long…. Afterwards I understood that that would never come to pass, that men won’t change and that nobody can alter it and that it’s not worth wasting effort over it. Yes, that’s so. That’s the law of their nature, Sonia, … that’s so! … And I know now, Sonia, that whoever is strong in mind and spirit will have power over them. Anyone who is greatly daring is right in their eyes. He who despises most things will be a lawgiver among them and he who dares most of all will be most in the right! So it has been till now and so it will always be. A man must be blind not to see it!’ Though Raskolnikov looked at Sonia as he said this, he no longer cared whether she understood or not. The fever had complete hold of him; he was in a sort of gloomy ecstasy (he certainly had been too long without talking to anyone). Sonia felt that his gloomy creed had become his faith and code. ‘I divined then, Sonia,’ he went on eagerly, ‘that power is only vouchsafed to the man who dares to stoop and pick it up. There is only one thing, one thing needful: one has only to dare! Then for the first time in my life an idea 739 of 967 Crime and Punishment took shape in my mind which no one had ever thought of before me, no one! I saw clear as daylight how strange it is that not a single person living in this mad world has had the daring to go straight for it all and send it flying to the devil! I … I wanted to have the daring … and I killed her. I only wanted to have the daring, Sonia! That was the whole cause of it!’ ‘Oh hush, hush,’ cried Sonia, clasping her hands. ‘You turned away from God and God has smitten you, has given you over to the devil!’ ‘Then Sonia, when I used to lie there in the dark and all this became clear to me, was it a temptation of the devil, eh?’ ‘Hush, don’t laugh, blasphemer! You don’t understand, you don’t understand! Oh God! He won’t understand!’ ‘Hush, Sonia! I am not laughing. I know myself that it was the devil leading me. Hush, Sonia, hush!’ he repeated with gloomy insistence. ‘I know it all, I have thought it all over and over and whispered it all over to myself, lying there in the dark…. I’ve argued it all over with myself, every point of it, and I know it all, all! And how sick, how sick I was then of going over it all! I have kept wanting to forget it and make a new beginning, Sonia, and leave off thinking. And you don’t suppose that I went into it 740 of 967 Crime and Punishment headlong like a fool? I went into it like a wise man, and that was just my destruction. And you mustn’t suppose that I didn’t know, for instance, that if I began to question myself whether I had the right to gain power—I certainly hadn’t the right—or that if I asked myself whether a human being is a louse it proved that it wasn’t so for me, though it might be for a man who would go straight to his goal without asking questions…. If I worried myself all those days, wondering whether Napoleon would have done it or not, I felt clearly of course that I wasn’t Napoleon. I had to endure all the agony of that battle of ideas, Sonia, and I longed to throw it off: I wanted to murder without casuistry, to murder for my own sake, for myself alone! I didn’t want to lie about it even to myself. It wasn’t to help my mother I did the murder—that’s nonsense —I didn’t do the murder to gain wealth and power and to become a benefactor of mankind. Nonsense! I simply did it; I did the murder for myself, for myself alone, and whether I became a benefactor to others, or spent my life like a spider catching men in my web and sucking the life out of men, I couldn’t have cared at that moment…. And it was not the money I wanted, Sonia, when I did it. It was not so much the money I wanted, but something else…. I know it all now…. Understand 741 of 967 Crime and Punishment me! Perhaps I should never have committed a murder again. I wanted to find out something else; it was something else led me on. I wanted to find out then and quickly whether I was a louse like everybody else or a man. Whether I can step over barriers or not, whether I dare stoop to pick up or not, whether I am a trembling creature or whether I have the right …’ ‘To kill? Have the right to kill?’ Sonia clasped her hands. ‘Ach, Sonia!’ he cried irritably and seemed about to make some retort, but was contemptuously silent. ‘Don’t interrupt me, Sonia. I want to prove one thing only, that the devil led me on then and he has shown me since that I had not the right to take that path, because I am just such a louse as all the rest. He was mocking me and here I’ve come to you now! Welcome your guest! If I were not a louse, should I have come to you? Listen: when I went then to the old woman’s I only went to try …. You may be sure of that!’ ‘And you murdered her!’ ‘But how did I murder her? Is that how men do murders? Do men go to commit a murder as I went then? I will tell you some day how I went! Did I murder the old woman? I murdered myself, not her! I crushed myself 742 of 967 Crime and Punishment once for all, for ever…. But it was the devil that killed that old woman, not I. Enough, enough, Sonia, enough! Let me be!’ he cried in a sudden spasm of agony, ‘let me be!’ He leaned his elbows on his knees and squeezed his head in his hands as in a vise. ‘What suffering!’ A wail of anguish broke from Sonia. ‘Well, what am I to do now?’ he asked, suddenly raising his head and looking at her with a face hideously distorted by despair. ‘What are you to do?’ she cried, jumping up, and her eyes that had been full of tears suddenly began to shine. ‘Stand up!’ (She seized him by the shoulder, he got up, looking at her almost bewildered.) ‘Go at once, this very minute, stand at the cross-roads, bow down, first kiss the earth which you have defiled and then bow down to all the world and say to all men aloud, ‘I am a murderer!’ Then God will send you life again. Will you go, will you go?’ she asked him, trembling all over, snatching his two hands, squeezing them tight in hers and gazing at him with eyes full of fire. He was amazed at her sudden ecstasy. ‘You mean Siberia, Sonia? I must give myself up?’ he asked gloomily. 743 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Suffer and expiate your sin by it, that’s what you must do.’ ‘No! I am not going to them, Sonia!’ ‘But how will you go on living? What will you live for?’ cried Sonia, ‘how is it possible now? Why, how can you talk to your mother? (Oh, what will become of them now?) But what am I saying? You have abandoned your mother and your sister already. He has abandoned them already! Oh, God!’ she cried, ‘why, he knows it all himself. How, how can he live by himself! What will become of you now?’ ‘Don’t be a child, Sonia,’ he said softly. ‘What wrong have I done them? Why should I go to them? What should I say to them? That’s only a phantom…. They destroy men by millions themselves and look on it as a virtue. They are knaves and scoundrels, Sonia! I am not going to them. And what should I say to them—that I murdered her, but did not dare to take the money and hid it under a stone?’ he added with a bitter smile. ‘Why, they would laugh at me, and would call me a fool for not getting it. A coward and a fool! They wouldn’t understand and they don’t deserve to understand. Why should I go to them? I won’t. Don’t be a child, Sonia….’ 744 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘It will be too much for you to bear, too much!’ she repeated, holding out her hands in despairing supplication. ‘Perhaps I’ve been unfair to myself,’ he observed gloomily, pondering, ‘perhaps after all I am a man and not a louse and I’ve been in too great a hurry to condemn myself. I’ll make another fight for it.’ A haughty smile appeared on his lips. ‘What a burden to bear! And your whole life, your whole life!’ ‘I shall get used to it,’ he said grimly and thoughtfully. ‘Listen,’ he began a minute later, ‘stop crying, it’s time to talk of the facts: I’ve come to tell you that the police are after me, on my track….’ ‘Ach!’ Sonia cried in terror. ‘Well, why do you cry out? You want me to go to Siberia and now you are frightened? But let me tell you: I shall not give myself up. I shall make a struggle for it and they won’t do anything to me. They’ve no real evidence. Yesterday I was in great danger and believed I was lost; but to-day things are going better. All the facts they know can be explained two ways, that’s to say I can turn their accusations to my credit, do you understand? And I shall, for I’ve learnt my lesson. But they will certainly arrest me. If it had not been for something that happened, they 745 of 967 Crime and Punishment would have done so to-day for certain; perhaps even now they will arrest me to-day…. But that’s no matter, Sonia; they’ll let me out again … for there isn’t any real proof against me, and there won’t be, I give you my word for it. And they can’t convict a man on what they have against me. Enough…. I only tell you that you may know…. I will try to manage somehow to put it to my mother and sister so that they won’t be frightened…. My sister’s future is secure, however, now, I believe … and my mother’s must be too…. Well, that’s all. Be careful, though. Will you come and see me in prison when I am there?’ ‘Oh, I will, I will.’ They sat side by side, both mournful and dejected, as though they had been cast up by the tempest alone on some deserted shore. He looked at Sonia and felt how great was her love for him, and strange to say he felt it suddenly burdensome and painful to be so loved. Yes, it was a strange and awful sensation! On his way to see Sonia he had felt that all his hopes rested on her; he expected to be rid of at least part of his suffering, and now, when all her heart turned towards him, he suddenly felt that he was immeasurably unhappier than before. ‘Sonia,’ he said, ‘you’d better not come and see me when I am in prison.’ 746 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. Sonia did not answer, she was crying. Several minutes passed. ‘Have you a cross on you?’ she asked, as though suddenly thinking of it. He did not at first understand the question. ‘No, of course not. Here, take this one, of cypress wood. I have another, a copper one that belonged to Lizaveta. I changed with Lizaveta: she gave me her cross and I gave her my little ikon. I will wear Lizaveta’s now and give you this. Take it … it’s mine! It’s mine, you know,’ she begged him. ‘We will go to suffer together, and together we will bear our cross!’ ‘Give it me,’ said Raskolnikov. He did not want to hurt her feelings. But immediately he drew back the hand he held out for the cross. ‘Not now, Sonia. Better later,’ he added to comfort her. ‘Yes, yes, better,’ she repeated with conviction, ‘when you go to meet your suffering, then put it on. You will come to me, I’ll put it on you, we will pray and go together.’ At that moment someone knocked three times at the door. 747 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Sofya Semyonovna, may I come in?’ they heard in a very familiar and polite voice. Sonia rushed to the door in a fright. The flaxen head of Mr. Lebeziatnikov appeared at the door. 748 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter V Lebeziatnikov looked perturbed. ‘I’ve come to you, Sofya Semyonovna,’ he began. ‘Excuse me … I thought I should find you,’ he said, addressing Raskolnikov suddenly, ‘that is, I didn’t mean anything … of that sort … But I just thought … Katerina Ivanovna has gone out of her mind,’ he blurted out suddenly, turning from Raskolnikov to Sonia. Sonia screamed. ‘At least it seems so. But … we don’t know what to do, you see! She came back—she seems to have been turned out somewhere, perhaps beaten…. So it seems at least, … She had run to your father’s former chief, she didn’t find him at home: he was dining at some other general’s…. Only fancy, she rushed off there, to the other general’s, and, imagine, she was so persistent that she managed to get the chief to see her, had him fetched out from dinner, it seems. You can imagine what happened. She was turned out, of course; but, according to her own story, she abused him and threw something at him. One may well believe it…. How it is she wasn’t taken up, I can’t understand! Now she is telling everyone, including Amalia Ivanovna; 749 of 967 Crime and Punishment but it’s difficult to understand her, she is screaming and flinging herself about…. Oh yes, she shouts that since everyone has abandoned her, she will take the children and go into the street with a barrel-organ, and the children will sing and dance, and she too, and collect money, and will go every day under the general’s window … ‘to let everyone see well-born children, whose father was an official, begging in the street.’ She keeps beating the children and they are all crying. She is teaching Lida to sing ‘My Village,’ the boy to dance, Polenka the same. She is tearing up all the clothes, and making them little caps like actors; she means to carry a tin basin and make it tinkle, instead of music…. She won’t listen to anything…. Imagine the state of things! It’s beyond anything!’ Lebeziatnikov would have gone on, but Sonia, who had heard him almost breathless, snatched up her cloak and hat, and ran out of the room, putting on her things as she went. Raskolnikov followed her and Lebeziatnikov came after him. ‘She has certainly gone mad!’ he said to Raskolnikov, as they went out into the street. ‘I didn’t want to frighten Sofya Semyonovna, so I said ‘it seemed like it,’ but there isn’t a doubt of it. They say that in consumption the tubercles sometimes occur in the brain; it’s a pity I know 750 of 967 Crime and Punishment nothing of medicine. I did try to persuade her, but she wouldn’t listen.’ ‘Did you talk to her about the tubercles?’ ‘Not precisely of the tubercles. Besides, she wouldn’t have understood! But what I say is, that if you convince a person logically that he has nothing to cry about, he’ll stop crying. That’s clear. Is it your conviction that he won’t?’ ‘Life would be too easy if it were so,’ answered Raskolnikov. ‘Excuse me, excuse me; of course it would be rather difficult for Katerina Ivanovna to understand, but do you know that in Paris they have been conducting serious experiments as to the possibility of curing the insane, simply by logical argument? One professor there, a scientific man of standing, lately dead, believed in the possibility of such treatment. His idea was that there’s nothing really wrong with the physical organism of the insane, and that insanity is, so to say, a logical mistake, an error of judgment, an incorrect view of things. He gradually showed the madman his error and, would you believe it, they say he was successful? But as he made use of douches too, how far success was due to that treatment remains uncertain…. So it seems at least.’ 751 of 967 Crime and Punishment Raskolnikov had long ceased to listen. Reaching the house where he lived, he nodded to Lebeziatnikov and went in at the gate. Lebeziatnikov woke up with a start, looked about him and hurried on. Raskolnikov went into his little room and stood still in the middle of it. Why had he come back here? He looked at the yellow and tattered paper, at the dust, at his sofa…. From the yard came a loud continuous knocking; someone seemed to be hammering … He went to the window, rose on tiptoe and looked out into the yard for a long time with an air of absorbed attention. But the yard was empty and he could not see who was hammering. In the house on the left he saw some open windows; on the window-sills were pots of sickly-looking geraniums. Linen was hung out of the windows … He knew it all by heart. He turned away and sat down on the sofa. Never, never had he felt himself so fearfully alone! Yes, he felt once more that he would perhaps come to hate Sonia, now that he had made her more miserable. ‘Why had he gone to her to beg for her tears? What need had he to poison her life? Oh, the meanness of it!’ ‘I will remain alone,’ he said resolutely, ‘and she shall not come to the prison!’ 752 of 967 Crime and Punishment Five minutes later he raised his head with a strange smile. That was a strange thought. ‘Perhaps it really would be better in Siberia,’ he thought suddenly. He could not have said how long he sat there with vague thoughts surging through his mind. All at once the door opened and Dounia came in. At first she stood still and looked at him from the doorway, just as he had done at Sonia; then she came in and sat down in the same place as yesterday, on the chair facing him. He looked silently and almost vacantly at her. ‘Don’t be angry, brother; I’ve only come for one minute,’ said Dounia. Her face looked thoughtful but not stern. Her eyes were bright and soft. He saw that she too had come to him with love. ‘Brother, now I know all, all . Dmitri Prokofitch has explained and told me everything. They are worrying and persecuting you through a stupid and contemptible suspicion…. Dmitri Prokofitch told me that there is no danger, and that you are wrong in looking upon it with such horror. I don’t think so, and I fully understand how indignant you must be, and that that indignation may have a permanent effect on you. That’s what I am afraid of. As 753 of 967 Crime and Punishment for your cutting yourself off from us, I don’t judge you, I don’t venture to judge you, and forgive me for having blamed you for it. I feel that I too, if I had so great a trouble, should keep away from everyone. I shall tell mother nothing of this but I shall talk about you continually and shall tell her from you that you will come very soon. Don’t worry about her; I will set her mind at rest; but don’t you try her too much—come once at least; remember that she is your mother. And now I have come simply to say’ (Dounia began to get up) ‘that if you should need me or should need … all my life or anything … call me, and I’ll come. Good-bye!’ She turned abruptly and went towards the door. ‘Dounia!’ Raskolnikov stopped her and went towards her. ‘That Razumihin, Dmitri Prokofitch, is a very good fellow.’ Dounia flushed slightly. ‘Well?’ she asked, waiting a moment. ‘He is competent, hardworking, honest and capable of real love…. Good-bye, Dounia.’ Dounia flushed crimson, then suddenly she took alarm. ‘But what does it mean, brother? Are we really parting for ever that you … give me such a parting message?’ ‘Never mind…. Good-bye.’ 754 of 967 Crime and Punishment He turned away, and walked to the window. She stood a moment, looked at him uneasily, and went out troubled. No, he was not cold to her. There was an instant (the very last one) when he had longed to take her in his arms and say good-bye to her, and even to tell her, but he had not dared even to touch her hand. ‘Afterwards she may shudder when she remembers that I embraced her, and will feel that I stole her kiss.’ ‘And would she stand that test?’ he went on a few minutes later to himself. ‘No, she wouldn’t; girls like that can’t stand things! They never do.’ And he thought of Sonia. There was a breath of fresh air from the window. The daylight was fading. He took up his cap and went out. He could not, of course, and would not consider how ill he was. But all this continual anxiety and agony of mind could not but affect him. And if he were not lying in high fever it was perhaps just because this continual inner strain helped to keep him on his legs and in possession of his faculties. But this artificial excitement could not last long. He wandered aimlessly. The sun was setting. A special form of misery had begun to oppress him of late. There was nothing poignant, nothing acute about it; but there was a feeling of permanence, of eternity about it; it 755 of 967 Crime and Punishment brought a foretaste of hopeless years of this cold leaden misery, a foretaste of an eternity ‘on a square yard of space.’ Towards evening this sensation usually began to weigh on him more heavily. ‘With this idiotic, purely physical weakness, depending on the sunset or something, one can’t help doing something stupid! You’ll go to Dounia, as well as to Sonia,’ he muttered bitterly. He heard his name called. He looked round. Lebeziatnikov rushed up to him. ‘Only fancy, I’ve been to your room looking for you. Only fancy, she’s carried out her plan, and taken away the children. Sofya Semyonovna and I have had a job to find them. She is rapping on a frying-pan and making the children dance. The children are crying. They keep stopping at the cross-roads and in front of shops; there’s a crowd of fools running after them. Come along!’ ‘And Sonia?’ Raskolnikov asked anxiously, hurrying after Lebeziatnikov. ‘Simply frantic. That is, it’s not Sofya Semyonovna’s frantic, but Katerina Ivanovna, though Sofya Semyonova’s frantic too. But Katerina Ivanovna is absolutely frantic. I tell you she is quite mad. They’ll be taken to the police. You can fancy what an effect that will have…. They are 756 of 967 Crime and Punishment on the canal bank, near the bridge now, not far from Sofya Semyonovna’s, quite close.’ On the canal bank near the bridge and not two houses away from the one where Sonia lodged, there was a crowd of people, consisting principally of gutter children. The hoarse broken voice of Katerina Ivanovna could be heard from the bridge, and it certainly was a strange spectacle likely to attract a street crowd. Katerina Ivanovna in her old dress with the green shawl, wearing a torn straw hat, crushed in a hideous way on one side, was really frantic. She was exhausted and breathless. Her wasted consumptive face looked more suffering than ever, and indeed out of doors in the sunshine a consumptive always looks worse than at home. But her excitement did not flag, and every moment her irritation grew more intense. She rushed at the children, shouted at them, coaxed them, told them before the crowd how to dance and what to sing, began explaining to them why it was necessary, and driven to desperation by their not understanding, beat them…. Then she would make a rush at the crowd; if she noticed any decently dressed person stopping to look, she immediately appealed to him to see what these children ‘from a genteel, one may say aristocratic, house’ had been brought to. If she heard laughter or jeering in the crowd, 757 of 967 Crime and Punishment she would rush at once at the scoffers and begin squabbling with them. Some people laughed, others shook their heads, but everyone felt curious at the sight of the madwoman with the frightened children. The frying-pan of which Lebeziatnikov had spoken was not there, at least Raskolnikov did not see it. But instead of rapping on the pan, Katerina Ivanovna began clapping her wasted hands, when she made Lida and Kolya dance and Polenka sing. She too joined in the singing, but broke down at the second note with a fearful cough, which made her curse in despair and even shed tears. What made her most furious was the weeping and terror of Kolya and Lida. Some effort had been made to dress the children up as street singers are dressed. The boy had on a turban made of something red and white to look like a Turk. There had been no costume for Lida; she simply had a red knitted cap, or rather a night cap that had belonged to Marmeladov, decorated with a broken piece of white ostrich feather, which had been Katerina Ivanovna’s grandmother’s and had been preserved as a family possession. Polenka was in her everyday dress; she looked in timid perplexity at her mother, and kept at her side, hiding her tears. She dimly realised her mother’s condition, and looked uneasily about her. She was terribly frightened of the street and the 758 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. crowd. Sonia followed Katerina Ivanovna, weeping and beseeching her to return home, but Katerina Ivanovna was not to be persuaded. ‘Leave off, Sonia, leave off,’ she shouted, speaking fast, panting and coughing. ‘You don’t know what you ask; you are like a child! I’ve told you before that I am not coming back to that drunken German. Let everyone, let all Petersburg see the children begging in the streets, though their father was an honourable man who served all his life in truth and fidelity, and one may say died in the service.’ (Katerina Ivanovna had by now invented this fantastic story and thoroughly believed it.) ‘Let that wretch of a general see it! And you are silly, Sonia: what have we to eat? Tell me that. We have worried you enough, I won’t go on so! Ah, Rodion Romanovitch, is that you?’ she cried, seeing Raskolnikov and rushing up to him. ‘Explain to this silly girl, please, that nothing better could be done! Even organ-grinders earn their living, and everyone will see at once that we are different, that we are an honourable and bereaved family reduced to beggary. And that general will lose his post, you’ll see! We shall perform under his windows every day, and if the Tsar drives by, I’ll fall on my knees, put the children before me, show them to him, and say ‘Defend us father.’ He is the 759 of 967 Crime and Punishment father of the fatherless, he is merciful, he’ll protect us, you’ll see, and that wretch of a general…. Lida, tenez vous droite ! Kolya, you’ll dance again. Why are you whimpering? Whimpering again! What are you afraid of, stupid? Goodness, what am I to do with them, Rodion Romanovitch? If you only knew how stupid they are! What’s one to do with such children?’ And she, almost crying herself—which did not stop her uninterrupted, rapid flow of talk—pointed to the crying children. Raskolnikov tried to persuade her to go home, and even said, hoping to work on her vanity, that it was unseemly for her to be wandering about the streets like an organ-grinder, as she was intending to become the principal of a boarding-school. ‘A boarding-school, ha-ha-ha! A castle in the air,’ cried Katerina Ivanovna, her laugh ending in a cough. ‘No, Rodion Romanovitch, that dream is over! All have forsaken us! … And that general…. You know, Rodion Romanovitch, I threw an inkpot at him—it happened to be standing in the waiting-room by the paper where you sign your name. I wrote my name, threw it at him and ran away. Oh, the scoundrels, the scoundrels! But enough of them, now I’ll provide for the children myself, I won’t bow down to anybody! She has had to bear enough for 760 of 967 Crime and Punishment us!’ she pointed to Sonia. ‘Polenka, how much have you got? Show me! What, only two farthings! Oh, the mean wretches! They give us nothing, only run after us, putting their tongues out. There, what is that blockhead laughing at?’ (She pointed to a man in the crowd.) ‘It’s all because Kolya here is so stupid; I have such a bother with him. What do you want, Polenka? Tell me in French, parlez-moi français . Why, I’ve taught you, you know some phrases. Else how are you to show that you are of good family, well brought-up children, and not at all like other organ-grinders? We aren’t going to have a Punch and Judy show in the street, but to sing a genteel song…. Ah, yes, … What are we to sing? You keep putting me out, but we … you see, we are standing here, Rodion Romanovitch, to find something to sing and get money, something Kolya can dance to…. For, as you can fancy, our performance is all impromptu…. We must talk it over and rehearse it all thoroughly, and then we shall go to Nevsky, where there are far more people of good society, and we shall be noticed at once. Lida knows ‘My Village’ only, nothing but ‘My Village,’ and everyone sings that. We must sing something far more genteel…. Well, have you thought of anything, Polenka? If only you’d help your mother! My memory’s quite gone, or I should have 761 of 967 Crime and Punishment thought of something. We really can’t sing ‘An Hussar.’ Ah, let us sing in French, ‘Cinq sous,’ I have taught it you, I have taught it you. And as it is in French, people will see at once that you are children of good family, and that will be much more touching…. You might sing ‘Marlborough s’en va-t-en guerre,’ for that’s quite a child’s song and is sung as a lullaby in all the aristocratic houses. " Marlborough s’en va-t-en guerre Ne sait quand reviendra …’ she began singing. ‘But no, better sing ‘Cinq sous.’ Now, Kolya, your hands on your hips, make haste, and you, Lida, keep turning the other way, and Polenka and I will sing and clap our hands! ‘ Cinq sous, cinq sous Pour monter notre menage.’ (Cough-cough-cough!) ‘Set your dress straight, Polenka, it’s slipped down on your shoulders,’ she observed, panting from coughing. ‘Now it’s particularly necessary to behave nicely and genteelly, that all may see that you are well-born children. I said at the time that the bodice should be cut longer, and made of two widths. It 762 of 967 Crime and Punishment was your fault, Sonia, with your advice to make it shorter, and now you see the child is quite deformed by it…. Why, you’re all crying again! What’s the matter, stupids? Come, Kolya, begin. Make haste, make haste! Oh, what an unbearable child! ‘Cinq sous, cinq sous. ‘A policeman again! What do you want?’ A policeman was indeed forcing his way through the crowd. But at that moment a gentleman in civilian uniform and an overcoat—a solid- looking official of about fifty with a decoration on his neck (which delighted Katerina Ivanovna and had its effect on the policeman)— approached and without a word handed her a green three-rouble note. His face wore a look of genuine sympathy. Katerina Ivanovna took it and gave him a polite, even ceremonious, bow. ‘I thank you, honoured sir,’ she began loftily. ‘The causes that have induced us (take the money, Polenka: you see there are generous and honourable people who are ready to help a poor gentlewoman in distress). You see, honoured sir, these orphans of good family—I might even say of aristocratic connections—and that wretch of a general sat eating grouse … and stamped at my disturbing him. ‘Your excellency,’ I said, ‘protect the orphans, for 763 of 967 Crime and Punishment you knew my late husband, Semyon Zaharovitch, and on the very day of his death the basest of scoundrels slandered his only daughter.’ … That policeman again! Protect me,’ she cried to the official. ‘Why is that policeman edging up to me? We have only just run away from one of them. What do you want, fool?’ ‘It’s forbidden in the streets. You mustn’t make a disturbance.’ ‘It’s you’re making a disturbance. It’s just the same as if I were grinding an organ. What business is it of yours?’ ‘You have to get a licence for an organ, and you haven’t got one, and in that way you collect a crowd. Where do you lodge?’ ‘What, a license?’ wailed Katerina Ivanovna. ‘I buried my husband to-day. What need of a license?’ ‘Calm yourself, madam, calm yourself,’ began the official. ‘Come along; I will escort you…. This is no place for you in the crowd. You are ill.’ ‘Honoured sir, honoured sir, you don’t know,’ screamed Katerina Ivanovna. ‘We are going to the Nevsky…. Sonia, Sonia! Where is she? She is crying too! What’s the matter with you all? Kolya, Lida, where are you going?’ she cried suddenly in alarm. ‘Oh, silly children! Kolya, Lida, where are they off to? …’ 764 of 967 Crime and Punishment Kolya and Lida, scared out of their wits by the crowd, and their mother’s mad pranks, suddenly seized each other by the hand, and ran off at the sight of the policeman who wanted to take them away somewhere. Weeping and wailing, poor Katerina Ivanovna ran after them. She was a piteous and unseemly spectacle, as she ran, weeping and panting for breath. Sonia and Polenka rushed after them. ‘Bring them back, bring them back, Sonia! Oh stupid, ungrateful children! … Polenka! catch them…. It’s for your sakes I …’ She stumbled as she ran and fell down. ‘She’s cut herself, she’s bleeding! Oh, dear!’ cried Sonia, bending over her. All ran up and crowded around. Raskolnikov and Lebeziatnikov were the first at her side, the official too hastened up, and behind him the policeman who muttered, ‘Bother!’ with a gesture of impatience, feeling that the job was going to be a troublesome one. ‘Pass on! Pass on!’ he said to the crowd that pressed forward. ‘She’s dying,’ someone shouted. ‘She’s gone out of her mind,’ said another. ‘Lord have mercy upon us,’ said a woman, crossing herself. ‘Have they caught the little girl and the boy? 765 of 967 Crime and Punishment They’re being brought back, the elder one’s got them…. Ah, the naughty imps!’ When they examined Katerina Ivanovna carefully, they saw that she had not cut herself against a stone, as Sonia thought, but that the blood that stained the pavement red was from her chest. ‘I’ve seen that before,’ muttered the official to Raskolnikov and Lebeziatnikov; ‘that’s consumption; the blood flows and chokes the patient. I saw the same thing with a relative of my own not long ago … nearly a pint of blood, all in a minute…. What’s to be done though? She is dying.’ ‘This way, this way, to my room!’ Sonia implored. ‘I live here! … See, that house, the second from here…. Come to me, make haste,’ she turned from one to the other. ‘Send for the doctor! Oh, dear!’ Thanks to the official’s efforts, this plan was adopted, the policeman even helping to carry Katerina Ivanovna. She was carried to Sonia’s room, almost unconscious, and laid on the bed. The blood was still flowing, but she seemed to be coming to herself. Raskolnikov, Lebeziatnikov, and the official accompanied Sonia into the room and were followed by the policeman, who first drove back the crowd which followed to the very door. 766 of 967 Crime and Punishment Polenka came in holding Kolya and Lida, who were trembling and weeping. Several persons came in too from the Kapernaumovs’ room; the landlord, a lame one-eyed man of strange appearance with whiskers and hair that stood up like a brush, his wife, a woman with an everlastingly scared expression, and several open-mouthed children with wonder-struck faces. Among these, Svidrigaïlov suddenly made his appearance. Raskolnikov looked at him with surprise, not understanding where he had come from and not having noticed him in the crowd. A doctor and priest wore spoken of. The official whispered to Raskolnikov that he thought it was too late now for the doctor, but he ordered him to be sent for. Kapernaumov ran himself. Meanwhile Katerina Ivanovna had regained her breath. The bleeding ceased for a time. She looked with sick but intent and penetrating eyes at Sonia, who stood pale and trembling, wiping the sweat from her brow with a handkerchief. At last she asked to be raised. They sat her up on the bed, supporting her on both sides. ‘Where are the children?’ she said in a faint voice. ‘You’ve brought them, Polenka? Oh the sillies! Why did you run away…. Och!’ 767 of 967 Crime and Punishment Once more her parched lips were covered with blood. She moved her eyes, looking about her. ‘So that’s how you live, Sonia! Never once have I been in your room.’ She looked at her with a face of suffering. ‘We have been your ruin, Sonia. Polenka, Lida, Kolya, come here! Well, here they are, Sonia, take them all! I hand them over to you, I’ve had enough! The ball is over.’ (Cough!) ‘Lay me down, let me die in peace.’ They laid her back on the pillow. ‘What, the priest? I don’t want him. You haven’t got a rouble to spare. I have no sins. God must forgive me without that. He knows how I have suffered…. And if He won’t forgive me, I don’t care!’ She sank more and more into uneasy delirium. At times she shuddered, turned her eyes from side to side, recognised everyone for a minute, but at once sank into delirium again. Her breathing was hoarse and difficult, there was a sort of rattle in her throat. ‘I said to him, your excellency,’ she ejaculated, gasping after each word. ‘That Amalia Ludwigovna, ah! Lida, Kolya, hands on your hips, make haste! Glissez, glissez! pas de basque! Tap with your heels, be a graceful child! ‘ Du hast Diamanten und Perlen 768 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘What next? That’s the thing to sing. ‘ Du hast die schonsten Augen Madchen, was willst du mehr? ‘What an idea! Was willst du mehr? What things the fool invents! Ah, yes! ‘In the heat of midday in the vale of Dagestan. ‘Ah, how I loved it! I loved that song to distraction, Polenka! Your father, you know, used to sing it when we were engaged…. Oh those days! Oh that’s the thing for us to sing! How does it go? I’ve forgotten. Remind me! How was it?’ She was violently excited and tried to sit up. At last, in a horribly hoarse, broken voice, she began, shrieking and gasping at every word, with a look of growing terror. ‘In the heat of midday! … in the vale! … of Dagestan! … With lead in my breast! …’ ‘Your excellency!’ she wailed suddenly with a heartrending scream and a flood of tears, ‘protect the orphans! You have been their father’s guest … one may say aristocratic….’ She started, regaining consciousness, and gazed at all with a sort of terror, but at once recognised Sonia. ‘Sonia, Sonia!’ she articulated softly and caressingly, as though surprised to find her there. ‘Sonia darling, are you here, too?’ 769 of 967 Crime and Punishment They lifted her up again. ‘Enough! It’s over! Farewell, poor thing! I am done for! I am broken!’ she cried with vindictive despair, and her head fell heavily back on the pillow. She sank into unconsciousness again, but this time it did not last long. Her pale, yellow, wasted face dropped back, her mouth fell open, her leg moved convulsively, she gave a deep, deep sigh and died. Sonia fell upon her, flung her arms about her, and remained motionless with her head pressed to the dead woman’s wasted bosom. Polenka threw herself at her mother’s feet, kissing them and weeping violently. Though Kolya and Lida did not understand what had happened, they had a feeling that it was something terrible; they put their hands on each other’s little shoulders, stared straight at one another and both at once opened their mouths and began screaming. They were both still in their fancy dress; one in a turban, the other in the cap with the ostrich feather. And how did ‘the certificate of merit’ come to be on the bed beside Katerina Ivanovna? It lay there by the pillow; Raskolnikov saw it. He walked away to the window. Lebeziatnikov skipped up to him. 770 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. ‘She is dead,’ he said. ‘Rodion Romanovitch, I must have two words with you,’ said Svidrigaïlov, coming up to them. Lebeziatnikov at once made room for him and delicately withdrew. Svidrigaïlov drew Raskolnikov further away. ‘I will undertake all the arrangements, the funeral and that. You know it’s a question of money and, as I told you, I have plenty to spare. I will put those two little ones and Polenka into some good orphan asylum, and I will settle fifteen hundred roubles to be paid to each on coming of age, so that Sofya Semyonovna need have no anxiety about them. And I will pull her out of the mud too, for she is a good girl, isn’t she? So tell Avdotya Romanovna that that is how I am spending her ten thousand.’ ‘What is your motive for such benevolence?’ asked Raskolnikov. ‘Ah! you sceptical person!’ laughed Svidrigaïlov. ‘I told you I had no need of that money. Won’t you admit that it’s simply done from humanity? She wasn’t ‘a louse,’ you know’ (he pointed to the corner where the dead woman lay), ‘was she, like some old pawnbroker woman? Come, you’ll agree, is Luzhin to go on living, and doing wicked 771 of 967 Crime and Punishment things or is she to die? And if I didn’t help them, Polenka would go the same way.’ He said this with an air of a sort of gay winking slyness, keeping his eyes fixed on Raskolnikov, who turned white and cold, hearing his own phrases, spoken to Sonia. He quickly stepped back and looked wildly at Svidrigaïlov. ‘How do you know?’ he whispered, hardly able to breathe. ‘Why, I lodge here at Madame Resslich’s, the other side of the wall. Here is Kapernaumov, and there lives Madame Resslich, an old and devoted friend of mine. I am a neighbour.’ ‘You?’ ‘Yes,’ continued Svidrigaïlov, shaking with laughter. ‘I assure you on my honour, dear Rodion Romanovitch, that you have interested me enormously. I told you we should become friends, I foretold it. Well, here we have. And you will see what an accommodating person I am. You’ll see that you can get on with me!’ 772 of 967 Crime and Punishment PART VI 773 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter I A strange period began for Raskolnikov: it was as though a fog had fallen upon him and wrapped him in a dreary solitude from which there was no escape. Recalling that period long after, he believed that his mind had been clouded at times, and that it had continued so, with intervals, till the final catastrophe. He was convinced that he had been mistaken about many things at that time, for instance as to the date of certain events. Anyway, when he tried later on to piece his recollections together, he learnt a great deal about himself from what other people told him. He had mixed up incidents and had explained events as due to circumstances which existed only in his imagination. At times he was a prey to agonies of morbid uneasiness, amounting sometimes to panic. But he remembered, too, moments, hours, perhaps whole days, of complete apathy, which came upon him as a reaction from his previous terror and might be compared with the abnormal insensibility, sometimes seen in the dying. He seemed to be trying in that latter stage to escape from a full and clear understanding of his position. Certain essential facts which required immediate consideration were particularly irksome to him. How glad he would 774 of 967 Crime and Punishment have been to be free from some cares, the neglect of which would have threatened him with complete, inevitable ruin. He was particularly worried about Svidrigaïlov, he might be said to be permanently thinking of Svidrigaïlov. From the time of Svidrigaïlov’s too menacing and unmistakable words in Sonia’s room at the moment of Katerina Ivanovna’s death, the normal working of his mind seemed to break down. But although this new fact caused him extreme uneasiness, Raskolnikov was in no hurry for an explanation of it. At times, finding himself in a solitary and remote part of the town, in some wretched eating-house, sitting alone lost in thought, hardly knowing how he had come there, he suddenly thought of Svidrigaïlov. He recognised suddenly, clearly, and with dismay that he ought at once to come to an understanding with that man and to make what terms he could. Walking outside the city gates one day, he positively fancied that they had fixed a meeting there, that he was waiting for Svidrigaïlov. Another time he woke up before daybreak lying on the ground under some bushes and could not at first understand how he had come there. But during the two or three days after Katerina Ivanovna’s death, he had two or three times met 775 of 967 Crime and Punishment Svidrigaïlov at Sonia’s lodging, where he had gone aimlessly for a moment. They exchanged a few words and made no reference to the vital subject, as though they were tacitly agreed not to speak of it for a time. Katerina Ivanovna’s body was still lying in the coffin, Svidrigaïlov was busy making arrangements for the funeral. Sonia too was very busy. At their last meeting Svidrigaïlov informed Raskolnikov that he had made an arrangement, and a very satisfactory one, for Katerina Ivanovna’s children; that he had, through certain connections, succeeded in getting hold of certain personages by whose help the three orphans could be at once placed in very suitable institutions; that the money he had settled on them had been of great assistance, as it is much easier to place orphans with some property than destitute ones. He said something too about Sonia and promised to come himself in a day or two to see Raskolnikov, mentioning that ‘he would like to consult with him, that there were things they must talk over….’ This conversation took place in the passage on the stairs. Svidrigaïlov looked intently at Raskolnikov and suddenly, after a brief pause, dropping his voice, asked: ‘But how is it, Rodion Romanovitch; you don’t seem yourself? You look and you listen, but you don’t seem to 776 of 967 Crime and Punishment understand. Cheer up! We’ll talk things over; I am only sorry, I’ve so much to do of my own business and other people’s. Ah, Rodion Romanovitch,’ he added suddenly, ‘what all men need is fresh air, fresh air … more than anything!’ He moved to one side to make way for the priest and server, who were coming up the stairs. They had come for the requiem service. By Svidrigaïlov’s orders it was sung twice a day punctually. Svidrigaïlov went his way. Raskolnikov stood still a moment, thought, and followed the priest into Sonia’s room. He stood at the door. They began quietly, slowly and mournfully singing the service. From his childhood the thought of death and the presence of death had something oppressive and mysteriously awful; and it was long since he had heard the requiem service. And there was something else here as well, too awful and disturbing. He looked at the children: they were all kneeling by the coffin; Polenka was weeping. Behind them Sonia prayed, softly and, as it were, timidly weeping. ‘These last two days she hasn’t said a word to me, she hasn’t glanced at me,’ Raskolnikov thought suddenly. The sunlight was bright in the room; the incense rose in clouds; the priest read, ‘Give rest, oh Lord….’ Raskolnikov stayed all through the service. As he blessed 777 of 967 Crime and Punishment them and took his leave, the priest looked round strangely. After the service, Raskolnikov went up to Sonia. She took both his hands and let her head sink on his shoulder. This slight friendly gesture bewildered Raskolnikov. It seemed strange to him that there was no trace of repugnance, no trace of disgust, no tremor in her hand. It was the furthest limit of self-abnegation, at least so he interpreted it. Sonia said nothing. Raskolnikov pressed her hand and went out. He felt very miserable. If it had been possible to escape to some solitude, he would have thought himself lucky, even if he had to spend his whole life there. But although he had almost always been by himself of late, he had never been able to feel alone. Sometimes he walked out of the town on to the high road, once he had even reached a little wood, but the lonelier the place was, the more he seemed to be aware of an uneasy presence near him. It did not frighten him, but greatly annoyed him, so that he made haste to return to the town, to mingle with the crowd, to enter restaurants and taverns, to walk in busy thoroughfares. There he felt easier and even more solitary. One day at dusk he sat for an hour listening to songs in a tavern and he remembered that he positively enjoyed it. But at last he had suddenly felt the same uneasiness again, as though his conscience smote him. 778 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Here I sit listening to singing, is that what I ought to be doing?’ he thought. Yet he felt at once that that was not the only cause of his uneasiness; there was something requiring immediate decision, but it was something he could not clearly understand or put into words. It was a hopeless tangle. ‘No, better the struggle again! Better Porfiry again … or Svidrigaïlov…. Better some challenge again … some attack. Yes, yes!’ he thought. He went out of the tavern and rushed away almost at a run. The thought of Dounia and his mother suddenly reduced him almost to a panic. That night he woke up before morning among some bushes in Krestovsky Island, trembling all over with fever; he walked home, and it was early morning when he arrived. After some hours’ sleep the fever left him, but he woke up late, two o’clock in the afternoon. He remembered that Katerina Ivanovna’s funeral had been fixed for that day, and was glad that he was not present at it. Nastasya brought him some food; he ate and drank with appetite, almost with greediness. His head was fresher and he was calmer than he had been for the last three days. He even felt a passing wonder at his previous attacks of panic. The door opened and Razumihin came in. 779 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Ah, he’s eating, then he’s not ill,’ said Razumihin. He took a chair and sat down at the table opposite Raskolnikov. He was troubled and did not attempt to conceal it. He spoke with evident annoyance, but without hurry or raising his voice. He looked as though he had some special fixed determination. ‘Listen,’ he began resolutely. ‘As far as I am concerned, you may all go to hell, but from what I see, it’s clear to me that I can’t make head or tail of it; please don’t think I’ve come to ask you questions. I don’t want to know, hang it! If you begin telling me your secrets, I dare say I shouldn’t stay to listen, I should go away cursing. I have only come to find out once for all whether it’s a fact that you are mad? There is a conviction in the air that you are mad or very nearly so. I admit I’ve been disposed to that opinion myself, judging from your stupid, repulsive and quite inexplicable actions, and from your recent behavior to your mother and sister. Only a monster or a madman could treat them as you have; so you must be mad.’ ‘When did you see them last?’ ‘Just now. Haven’t you seen them since then? What have you been doing with yourself? Tell me, please. I’ve been to you three times already. Your mother has been 780 of 967 Crime and Punishment seriously ill since yesterday. She had made up her mind to come to you; Avdotya Romanovna tried to prevent her; she wouldn’t hear a word. ‘If he is ill, if his mind is giving way, who can look after him like his mother?’ she said. We all came here together, we couldn’t let her come alone all the way. We kept begging her to be calm. We came in, you weren’t here; she sat down, and stayed ten minutes, while we stood waiting in silence. She got up and said: ‘If he’s gone out, that is, if he is well, and has forgotten his mother, it’s humiliating and unseemly for his mother to stand at his door begging for kindness.’ She returned home and took to her bed; now she is in a fever. ‘I see,’ she said, ‘that he has time for his girl . ’ She means by your girl Sofya Semyonovna, your betrothed or your mistress, I don’t know. I went at once to Sofya Semyonovna’s, for I wanted to know what was going on. I looked round, I saw the coffin, the children crying, and Sofya Semyonovna trying them on mourning dresses. No sign of you. I apologised, came away, and reported to Avdotya Romanovna. So that’s all nonsense and you haven’t got a girl; the most likely thing is that you are mad. But here you sit, guzzling boiled beef as though you’d not had a bite for three days. Though as far as that goes, madmen eat too, but though you have not said a 781 of 967 Crime and Punishment word to me yet … you are not mad! That I’d swear! Above all, you are not mad! So you may go to hell, all of you, for there’s some mystery, some secret about it, and I don’t intend to worry my brains over your secrets. So I’ve simply come to swear at you,’ he finished, getting up, ‘to relieve my mind. And I know what to do now.’ ‘What do you mean to do now?’ ‘What business is it of yours what I mean to do?’ ‘You are going in for a drinking bout.’ ‘How … how did you know?’ ‘Why, it’s pretty plain.’ Razumihin paused for a minute. ‘You always have been a very rational person and you’ve never been mad, never,’ he observed suddenly with warmth. ‘You’re right: I shall drink. Good-bye!’ And he moved to go out. ‘I was talking with my sister—the day before yesterday, I think it was—about you, Razumihin.’ ‘About me! But … where can you have seen her the day before yesterday?’ Razumihin stopped short and even turned a little pale. One could see that his heart was throbbing slowly and violently. ‘She came here by herself, sat there and talked to me.’ 782 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. ‘She did!’ ‘Yes.’ ‘What did you say to her … I mean, about me?’ ‘I told her you were a very good, honest, and industrious man. I didn’t tell her you love her, because she knows that herself.’ ‘She knows that herself?’ ‘Well, it’s pretty plain. Wherever I might go, whatever happened to me, you would remain to look after them. I, so to speak, give them into your keeping, Razumihin. I say this because I know quite well how you love her, and am convinced of the purity of your heart. I know that she too may love you and perhaps does love you already. Now decide for yourself, as you know best, whether you need go in for a drinking bout or not.’ ‘Rodya! You see … well…. Ach, damn it! But where do you mean to go? Of course, if it’s all a secret, never mind…. But I … I shall find out the secret … and I am sure that it must be some ridiculous nonsense and that you’ve made it all up. Anyway you are a capital fellow, a capital fellow! …’ ‘That was just what I wanted to add, only you interrupted, that that was a very good decision of yours not to find out these secrets. Leave it to time, don’t worry 783 of 967 Crime and Punishment about it. You’ll know it all in time when it must be. Yesterday a man said to me that what a man needs is fresh air, fresh air, fresh air. I mean to go to him directly to find out what he meant by that.’ Razumihin stood lost in thought and excitement, making a silent conclusion. ‘He’s a political conspirator! He must be. And he’s on the eve of some desperate step, that’s certain. It can only be that! And … and Dounia knows,’ he thought suddenly. ‘So Avdotya Romanovna comes to see you,’ he said, weighing each syllable, ‘and you’re going to see a man who says we need more air, and so of course that letter … that too must have something to do with it,’ he concluded to himself. ‘What letter?’ ‘She got a letter to-day. It upset her very much—very much indeed. Too much so. I began speaking of you, she begged me not to. Then … then she said that perhaps we should very soon have to part … then she began warmly thanking me for something; then she went to her room and locked herself in.’ ‘She got a letter?’ Raskolnikov asked thoughtfully. ‘Yes, and you didn’t know? hm …’ They were both silent. 784 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Good-bye, Rodion. There was a time, brother, when I…. Never mind, good-bye. You see, there was a time…. Well, good-bye! I must be off too. I am not going to drink. There’s no need now…. That’s all stuff!’ He hurried out; but when he had almost closed the door behind him, he suddenly opened it again, and said, looking away: ‘Oh, by the way, do you remember that murder, you know Porfiry’s, that old woman? Do you know the murderer has been found, he has confessed and given the proofs. It’s one of those very workmen, the painter, only fancy! Do you remember I defended them here? Would you believe it, all that scene of fighting and laughing with his companions on the stairs while the porter and the two witnesses were going up, he got up on purpose to disarm suspicion. The cunning, the presence of mind of the young dog! One can hardly credit it; but it’s his own explanation, he has confessed it all. And what a fool I was about it! Well, he’s simply a genius of hypocrisy and resourcefulness in disarming the suspicions of the lawyers—so there’s nothing much to wonder at, I suppose! Of course people like that are always possible. And the fact that he couldn’t keep up the character, but 785 of 967 Crime and Punishment confessed, makes him easier to believe in. But what a fool I was! I was frantic on their side!’ ‘Tell me, please, from whom did you hear that, and why does it interest you so?’ Raskolnikov asked with unmistakable agitation. ‘What next? You ask me why it interests me! … Well, I heard it from Porfiry, among others … It was from him I heard almost all about it.’ ‘From Porfiry?’ ‘From Porfiry.’ ‘What … what did he say?’ Raskolnikov asked in dismay. ‘He gave me a capital explanation of it. Psychologically, after his fashion.’ ‘He explained it? Explained it himself?’ ‘Yes, yes; good-bye. I’ll tell you all about it another time, but now I’m busy. There was a time when I fancied … But no matter, another time! … What need is there for me to drink now? You have made me drunk without wine. I am drunk, Rodya! Good-bye, I’m going. I’ll come again very soon.’ He went out. ‘He’s a political conspirator, there’s not a doubt about it,’ Razumihin decided, as he slowly descended the stairs. 786 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘And he’s drawn his sister in; that’s quite, quite in keeping with Avdotya Romanovna’s character. There are interviews between them! … She hinted at it too … So many of her words…. and hints … bear that meaning! And how else can all this tangle be explained? Hm! And I was almost thinking … Good heavens, what I thought! Yes, I took leave of my senses and I wronged him! It was his doing, under the lamp in the corridor that day. Pfoo! What a crude, nasty, vile idea on my part! Nikolay is a brick, for confessing…. And how clear it all is now! His illness then, all his strange actions … before this, in the university, how morose he used to be, how gloomy…. But what’s the meaning now of that letter? There’s something in that, too, perhaps. Whom was it from? I suspect …! No, I must find out!’ He thought of Dounia, realising all he had heard and his heart throbbed, and he suddenly broke into a run. As soon as Razumihin went out, Raskolnikov got up, turned to the window, walked into one corner and then into another, as though forgetting the smallness of his room, and sat down again on the sofa. He felt, so to speak, renewed; again the struggle, so a means of escape had come. 787 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Yes, a means of escape had come! It had been too stifling, too cramping, the burden had been too agonising. A lethargy had come upon him at times. From the moment of the scene with Nikolay at Porfiry’s he had been suffocating, penned in without hope of escape. After Nikolay’s confession, on that very day had come the scene with Sonia; his behaviour and his last words had been utterly unlike anything he could have imagined beforehand; he had grown feebler, instantly and fundamentally! And he had agreed at the time with Sonia, he had agreed in his heart he could not go on living alone with such a thing on his mind! ‘And Svidrigaïlov was a riddle … He worried him, that was true, but somehow not on the same point. He might still have a struggle to come with Svidrigaïlov. Svidrigaïlov, too, might be a means of escape; but Porfiry was a different matter. ‘And so Porfiry himself had explained it to Razumihin, had explained it psychologically . He had begun bringing in his damned psychology again! Porfiry? But to think that Porfiry should for one moment believe that Nikolay was guilty, after what had passed between them before Nikolay’s appearance, after that tête-à-tête interview, which could have only one explanation? (During those 788 of 967 Crime and Punishment days Raskolnikov had often recalled passages in that scene with Porfiry; he could not bear to let his mind rest on it.) Such words, such gestures had passed between them, they had exchanged such glances, things had been said in such a tone and had reached such a pass, that Nikolay, whom Porfiry had seen through at the first word, at the first gesture, could not have shaken his conviction. ‘And to think that even Razumihin had begun to suspect! The scene in the corridor under the lamp had produced its effect then. He had rushed to Porfiry…. But what had induced the latter to receive him like that? What had been his object in putting Razumihin off with Nikolay? He must have some plan; there was some design, but what was it? It was true that a long time had passed since that morning—too long a time—and no sight nor sound of Porfiry. Well, that was a bad sign….’ Raskolnikov took his cap and went out of the room, still pondering. It was the first time for a long while that he had felt clear in his mind, at least. ‘I must settle Svidrigaïlov,’ he thought, ‘and as soon as possible; he, too, seems to be waiting for me to come to him of my own accord.’ And at that moment there was such a rush of hate in his weary heart that he might have killed either of those 789 of 967 Crime and Punishment two—Porfiry or Svidrigaïlov. At least he felt that he would be capable of doing it later, if not now. ‘We shall see, we shall see,’ he repeated to himself. But no sooner had he opened the door than he stumbled upon Porfiry himself in the passage. He was coming in to see him. Raskolnikov was dumbfounded for a minute, but only for one minute. Strange to say, he was not very much astonished at seeing Porfiry and scarcely afraid of him. He was simply startled, but was quickly, instantly, on his guard. ‘Perhaps this will mean the end? But how could Porfiry have approached so quietly, like a cat, so that he had heard nothing? Could he have been listening at the door?’ ‘You didn’t expect a visitor, Rodion Romanovitch,’ Porfiry explained, laughing. ‘I’ve been meaning to look in a long time; I was passing by and thought why not go in for five minutes. Are you going out? I won’t keep you long. Just let me have one cigarette.’ ‘Sit down, Porfiry Petrovitch, sit down.’ Raskolnikov gave his visitor a seat with so pleased and friendly an expression that he would have marvelled at himself, if he could have seen it. The last moment had come, the last drops had to be drained! So a man will sometimes go through half an hour 790 of 967 Crime and Punishment of mortal terror with a brigand, yet when the knife is at his throat at last, he feels no fear. Raskolnikov seated himself directly facing Porfiry, and looked at him without flinching. Porfiry screwed up his eyes and began lighting a cigarette. ‘Speak, speak,’ seemed as though it would burst from Raskolnikov’s heart. ‘Come, why don’t you speak?’ 791 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter II ‘Ah these cigarettes!’ Porfiry Petrovitch ejaculated at last, having lighted one. ‘They are pernicious, positively pernicious, and yet I can’t give them up! I cough, I begin to have tickling in my throat and a difficulty in breathing. You know I am a coward, I went lately to Dr. B——n; he always gives at least half an hour to each patient. He positively laughed looking at me; he sounded me: ‘Tobacco’s bad for you,’ he said, ‘your lungs are affected.’ But how am I to give it up? What is there to take its place? I don’t drink, that’s the mischief, he-he-he, that I don’t. Everything is relative, Rodion Romanovitch, everything is relative!’ ‘Why, he’s playing his professional tricks again,’ Raskolnikov thought with disgust. All the circumstances of their last interview suddenly came back to him, and he felt a rush of the feeling that had come upon him then. ‘I came to see you the day before yesterday, in the evening; you didn’t know?’ Porfiry Petrovitch went on, looking round the room. ‘I came into this very room. I was passing by, just as I did to-day, and I thought I’d return your call. I walked in as your door was wide open, 792 of 967 Crime and Punishment I looked round, waited and went out without leaving my name with your servant. Don’t you lock your door?’ Raskolnikov’s face grew more and more gloomy. Porfiry seemed to guess his state of mind. ‘I’ve come to have it out with you, Rodion Romanovitch, my dear fellow! I owe you an explanation and must give it to you,’ he continued with a slight smile, just patting Raskolnikov’s knee. But almost at the same instant a serious and careworn look came into his face; to his surprise Raskolnikov saw a touch of sadness in it. He had never seen and never suspected such an expression in his face. ‘A strange scene passed between us last time we met, Rodion Romanovitch. Our first interview, too, was a strange one; but then … and one thing after another! This is the point: I have perhaps acted unfairly to you; I feel it. Do you remember how we parted? Your nerves were unhinged and your knees were shaking and so were mine. And, you know, our behaviour was unseemly, even ungentlemanly. And yet we are gentlemen, above all, in any case, gentlemen; that must be understood. Do you remember what we came to? … and it was quite indecorous.’ 793 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘What is he up to, what does he take me for?’ Raskolnikov asked himself in amazement, raising his head and looking with open eyes on Porfiry. ‘I’ve decided openness is better between us,’ Porfiry Petrovitch went on, turning his head away and dropping his eyes, as though unwilling to disconcert his former victim and as though disdaining his former wiles. ‘Yes, such suspicions and such scenes cannot continue for long. Nikolay put a stop to it, or I don’t know what we might not have come to. That damned workman was sitting at the time in the next room—can you realise that? You know that, of course; and I am aware that he came to you afterwards. But what you supposed then was not true: I had not sent for anyone, I had made no kind of arrangements. You ask why I hadn’t? What shall I say to you? it had all come upon me so suddenly. I had scarcely sent for the porters (you noticed them as you went out, I dare say). An idea flashed upon me; I was firmly convinced at the time, you see, Rodion Romanovitch. Come, I thought—even if I let one thing slip for a time, I shall get hold of something else—I shan’t lose what I want, anyway. You are nervously irritable, Rodion Romanovitch, by temperament; it’s out of proportion with other qualities of your heart and character, which I 794 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. flatter myself I have to some extent divined. Of course I did reflect even then that it does not always happen that a man gets up and blurts out his whole story. It does happen sometimes, if you make a man lose all patience, though even then it’s rare. I was capable of realising that. If I only had a fact, I thought, the least little fact to go upon, something I could lay hold of, something tangible, not merely psychological. For if a man is guilty, you must be able to get something substantial out of him; one may reckon upon most surprising results indeed. I was reckoning on your temperament, Rodion Romanovitch, on your temperament above all things! I had great hopes of you at that time.’ ‘But what are you driving at now?’ Raskolnikov muttered at last, asking the question without thinking. ‘What is he talking about?’ he wondered distractedly, ‘does he really take me to be innocent?’ ‘What am I driving at? I’ve come to explain myself, I consider it my duty, so to speak. I want to make clear to you how the whole business, the whole misunderstanding arose. I’ve caused you a great deal of suffering, Rodion Romanovitch. I am not a monster. I understand what it must mean for a man who has been unfortunate, but who is proud, imperious and above all, impatient, to have to 795 of 967 Crime and Punishment bear such treatment! I regard you in any case as a man of noble character and not without elements of magnanimity, though I don’t agree with all your convictions. I wanted to tell you this first, frankly and quite sincerely, for above all I don’t want to deceive you. When I made your acquaintance, I felt attracted by you. Perhaps you will laugh at my saying so. You have a right to. I know you disliked me from the first and indeed you’ve no reason to like me. You may think what you like, but I desire now to do all I can to efface that impression and to show that I am a man of heart and conscience. I speak sincerely.’ Porfiry Petrovitch made a dignified pause. Raskolnikov felt a rush of renewed alarm. The thought that Porfiry believed him to be innocent began to make him uneasy. ‘It’s scarcely necessary to go over everything in detail,’ Porfiry Petrovitch went on. ‘Indeed, I could scarcely attempt it. To begin with there were rumours. Through whom, how, and when those rumours came to me … and how they affected you, I need not go into. My suspicions were aroused by a complete accident, which might just as easily not have happened. What was it? Hm! I believe there is no need to go into that either. Those rumours and that accident led to one idea in my mind. I admit it openly—for one may as well make a clean breast of it—I 796 of 967 Crime and Punishment was the first to pitch on you. The old woman’s notes on the pledges and the rest of it—that all came to nothing. Yours was one of a hundred. I happened, too, to hear of the scene at the office, from a man who described it capitally, unconsciously reproducing the scene with great vividness. It was just one thing after another, Rodion Romanovitch, my dear fellow! How could I avoid being brought to certain ideas? From a hundred rabbits you can’t make a horse, a hundred suspicions don’t make a proof, as the English proverb says, but that’s only from the rational point of view—you can’t help being partial, for after all a lawyer is only human. I thought, too, of your article in that journal, do you remember, on your first visit we talked of it? I jeered at you at the time, but that was only to lead you on. I repeat, Rodion Romanovitch, you are ill and impatient. That you were bold, headstrong, in earnest and … had felt a great deal I recognised long before. I, too, have felt the same, so that your article seemed familiar to me. It was conceived on sleepless nights, with a throbbing heart, in ecstasy and suppressed enthusiasm. And that proud suppressed enthusiasm in young people is dangerous! I jeered at you then, but let me tell you that, as a literary amateur, I am awfully fond of such first essays, full of the heat of youth. There is a mistiness and a chord 797 of 967 Crime and Punishment vibrating in the mist. Your article is absurd and fantastic, but there’s a transparent sincerity, a youthful incorruptible pride and the daring of despair in it. It’s a gloomy article, but that’s what’s fine in it. I read your article and put it aside, thinking as I did so ‘that man won’t go the common way.’ Well, I ask you, after that as a preliminary, how could I help being carried away by what followed? Oh, dear, I am not saying anything, I am not making any statement now. I simply noted it at the time. What is there in it? I reflected. There’s nothing in it, that is really nothing and perhaps absolutely nothing. And it’s not at all the thing for the prosecutor to let himself be carried away by notions: here I have Nikolay on my hands with actual evidence against him—you may think what you like of it, but it’s evidence. He brings in his psychology, too; one has to consider him, too, for it’s a matter of life and death. Why am I explaining this to you? That you may understand, and not blame my malicious behaviour on that occasion. It was not malicious, I assure you, he-he! Do you suppose I didn’t come to search your room at the time? I did, I did, he-he! I was here when you were lying ill in bed, not officially, not in my own person, but I was here. Your room was searched to the last thread at the first suspicion; but umsonst ! I thought to myself, now that man 798 of 967 Crime and Punishment will come, will come of himself and quickly, too; if he’s guilty, he’s sure to come. Another man wouldn’t, but he will. And you remember how Mr. Razumihin began discussing the subject with you? We arranged that to excite you, so we purposely spread rumours, that he might discuss the case with you, and Razumihin is not a man to restrain his indignation. Mr. Zametov was tremendously struck by your anger and your open daring. Think of blurting out in a restaurant ‘I killed her.’ It was too daring, too reckless. I thought so myself, if he is guilty he will be a formidable opponent. That was what I thought at the time. I was expecting you. But you simply bowled Zametov over and … well, you see, it all lies in this—that this damnable psychology can be taken two ways! Well, I kept expecting you, and so it was, you came! My heart was fairly throbbing. Ach! ‘Now, why need you have come? Your laughter, too, as you came in, do you remember? I saw it all plain as daylight, but if I hadn’t expected you so specially, I should not have noticed anything in your laughter. You see what influence a mood has! Mr. Razumihin then—ah, that stone, that stone under which the things were hidden! I seem to see it somewhere in a kitchen garden. It was in a kitchen garden, you told Zametov and afterwards you 799 of 967 Crime and Punishment repeated that in my office? And when we began picking your article to pieces, how you explained it! One could take every word of yours in two senses, as though there were another meaning hidden. ‘So in this way, Rodion Romanovitch, I reached the furthest limit, and knocking my head against a post, I pulled myself up, asking myself what I was about. After all, I said, you can take it all in another sense if you like, and it’s more natural so, indeed. I couldn’t help admitting it was more natural. I was bothered! ‘No, I’d better get hold of some little fact’ I said. So when I heard of the bell-ringing, I held my breath and was all in a tremor. ‘Here is my little fact,’ thought I, and I didn’t think it over, I simply wouldn’t. I would have given a thousand roubles at that minute to have seen you with my own eyes, when you walked a hundred paces beside that workman, after he had called you murderer to your face, and you did not dare to ask him a question all the way. And then what about your trembling, what about your bell-ringing in your illness, in semi-delirium? ‘And so, Rodion Romanovitch, can you wonder that I played such pranks on you? And what made you come at that very minute? Someone seemed to have sent you, by Jove! And if Nikolay had not parted us … and do you 800 of 967 Crime and Punishment remember Nikolay at the time? Do you remember him clearly? It was a thunderbolt, a regular thunderbolt! And how I met him! I didn’t believe in the thunderbolt, not for a minute. You could see it for yourself; and how could I? Even afterwards, when you had gone and he began making very, very plausible answers on certain points, so that I was surprised at him myself, even then I didn’t believe his story! You see what it is to be as firm as a rock! No, thought I, Morgenfrüh . What has Nikolay got to do with it!’ ‘Razumihin told me just now that you think Nikolay guilty and had yourself assured him of it….’ His voice failed him, and he broke off. He had been listening in indescribable agitation, as this man who had seen through and through him, went back upon himself. He was afraid of believing it and did not believe it. In those still ambiguous words he kept eagerly looking for something more definite and conclusive. ‘Mr. Razumihin!’ cried Porfiry Petrovitch, seeming glad of a question from Raskolnikov, who had till then been silent. ‘He-he-he! But I had to put Mr. Razumihin off; two is company, three is none. Mr. Razumihin is not the right man, besides he is an outsider. He came running to me with a pale face…. But never mind him, why bring 801 of 967 Crime and Punishment him in? To return to Nikolay, would you like to know what sort of a type he is, how I understand him, that is? To begin with, he is still a child and not exactly a coward, but something by way of an artist. Really, don’t laugh at my describing him so. He is innocent and responsive to influence. He has a heart, and is a fantastic fellow. He sings and dances, he tells stories, they say, so that people come from other villages to hear him. He attends school too, and laughs till he cries if you hold up a finger to him; he will drink himself senseless—not as a regular vice, but at times, when people treat him, like a child. And he stole, too, then, without knowing it himself, for ‘How can it be stealing, if one picks it up?’ And do you know he is an Old Believer, or rather a dissenter? There have been Wanderers[*] in his family, and he was for two years in his village under the spiritual guidance of a certain elder. I learnt all this from Nikolay and from his fellow villagers. And what’s more, he wanted to run into the wilderness! He was full of fervour, prayed at night, read the old books, ‘the true’ ones, and read himself crazy. [*] A religious sect.—TRANSLATOR’S NOTE. ‘Petersburg had a great effect upon him, especially the women and the wine. He responds to everything and he forgot the elder and all that. I learnt that an artist here 802 of 967 Crime and Punishment took a fancy to him, and used to go and see him, and now this business came upon him. ‘Well, he was frightened, he tried to hang himself! He ran away! How can one get over the idea the people have of Russian legal proceedings? The very word ‘trial’ frightens some of them. Whose fault is it? We shall see what the new juries will do. God grant they do good! Well, in prison, it seems, he remembered the venerable elder; the Bible, too, made its appearance again. Do you know, Rodion Romanovitch, the force of the word ‘suffering’ among some of these people! It’s not a question of suffering for someone’s benefit, but simply, ‘one must suffer.’ If they suffer at the hands of the authorities, so much the better. In my time there was a very meek and mild prisoner who spent a whole year in prison always reading his Bible on the stove at night and he read himself crazy, and so crazy, do you know, that one day, apropos of nothing, he seized a brick and flung it at the governor; though he had done him no harm. And the way he threw it too: aimed it a yard on one side on purpose, for fear of hurting him. Well, we know what happens to a prisoner who assaults an officer with a weapon. So ‘he took his suffering.’ 803 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘So I suspect now that Nikolay wants to take his suffering or something of the sort. I know it for certain from facts, indeed. Only he doesn’t know that I know. What, you don’t admit that there are such fantastic people among the peasants? Lots of them. The elder now has begun influencing him, especially since he tried to hang himself. But he’ll come and tell me all himself. You think he’ll hold out? Wait a bit, he’ll take his words back. I am waiting from hour to hour for him to come and abjure his evidence. I have come to like that Nikolay and am studying him in detail. And what do you think? He-he! He answered me very plausibly on some points, he obviously had collected some evidence and prepared himself cleverly. But on other points he is simply at sea, knows nothing and doesn’t even suspect that he doesn’t know! ‘No, Rodion Romanovitch, Nikolay doesn’t come in! This is a fantastic, gloomy business, a modern case, an incident of to-day when the heart of man is troubled, when the phrase is quoted that blood ‘renews,’ when comfort is preached as the aim of life. Here we have bookish dreams, a heart unhinged by theories. Here we see resolution in the first stage, but resolution of a special kind: he resolved to do it like jumping over a precipice or 804 of 967 Crime and Punishment from a bell tower and his legs shook as he went to the crime. He forgot to shut the door after him, and murdered two people for a theory. He committed the murder and couldn’t take the money, and what he did manage to snatch up he hid under a stone. It wasn’t enough for him to suffer agony behind the door while they battered at the door and rung the bell, no, he had to go to the empty lodging, half delirious, to recall the bell-ringing, he wanted to feel the cold shiver over again…. Well, that we grant, was through illness, but consider this: he is a murderer, but looks upon himself as an honest man, despises others, poses as injured innocence. No, that’s not the work of a Nikolay, my dear Rodion Romanovitch!’ All that had been said before had sounded so like a recantation that these words were too great a shock. Raskolnikov shuddered as though he had been stabbed. ‘Then … who then … is the murderer?’ he asked in a breathless voice, unable to restrain himself. Porfiry Petrovitch sank back in his chair, as though he were amazed at the question. ‘Who is the murderer?’ he repeated, as though unable to believe his ears. ‘Why, you Rodion Romanovitch! You are the murderer,’ he added, almost in a whisper, in a voice of genuine conviction. 805 of 967 Crime and Punishment Raskolnikov leapt from the sofa, stood up for a few seconds and sat down again without uttering a word. His face twitched convulsively. ‘Your lip is twitching just as it did before,’ Porfiry Petrovitch observed almost sympathetically. ‘You’ve been misunderstanding me, I think, Rodion Romanovitch,’ he added after a brief pause, ‘that’s why you are so surprised. I came on purpose to tell you everything and deal openly with you.’ ‘It was not I murdered her,’ Raskolnikov whispered like a frightened child caught in the act. ‘No, it was you, you Rodion Romanovitch, and no one else,’ Porfiry whispered sternly, with conviction. They were both silent and the silence lasted strangely long, about ten minutes. Raskolnikov put his elbow on the table and passed his fingers through his hair. Porfiry Petrovitch sat quietly waiting. Suddenly Raskolnikov looked scornfully at Porfiry. ‘You are at your old tricks again, Porfiry Petrovitch! Your old method again. I wonder you don’t get sick of it!’ ‘Oh, stop that, what does that matter now? It would be a different matter if there were witnesses present, but we are whispering alone. You see yourself that I have not come to chase and capture you like a hare. Whether you 806 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. confess it or not is nothing to me now; for myself, I am convinced without it.’ ‘If so, what did you come for?’ Raskolnikov asked irritably. ‘I ask you the same question again: if you consider me guilty, why don’t you take me to prison?’ ‘Oh, that’s your question! I will answer you, point for point. In the first place, to arrest you so directly is not to my interest.’ ‘How so? If you are convinced you ought….’ ‘Ach, what if I am convinced? That’s only my dream for the time. Why should I put you in safety? You know that’s it, since you ask me to do it. If I confront you with that workman for instance and you say to him ‘were you drunk or not? Who saw me with you? I simply took you to be drunk, and you were drunk, too.’ Well, what could I answer, especially as your story is a more likely one than his? for there’s nothing but psychology to support his evidence—that’s almost unseemly with his ugly mug, while you hit the mark exactly, for the rascal is an inveterate drunkard and notoriously so. And I have myself admitted candidly several times already that that psychology can be taken in two ways and that the second way is stronger and looks far more probable, and that apart from that I have as yet nothing against you. And though I 807 of 967 Crime and Punishment shall put you in prison and indeed have come—quite contrary to etiquette—to inform you of it beforehand, yet I tell you frankly, also contrary to etiquette, that it won’t be to my advantage. Well, secondly, I’ve come to you because …’ ‘Yes, yes, secondly?’ Raskolnikov was listening breathless. ‘Because, as I told you just now, I consider I owe you an explanation. I don’t want you to look upon me as a monster, as I have a genuine liking for you, you may believe me or not. And in the third place I’ve come to you with a direct and open proposition—that you should surrender and confess. It will be infinitely more to your advantage and to my advantage too, for my task will be done. Well, is this open on my part or not?’ Raskolnikov thought a minute. ‘Listen, Porfiry Petrovitch. You said just now you have nothing but psychology to go on, yet now you’ve gone on mathematics. Well, what if you are mistaken yourself, now?’ ‘No, Rodion Romanovitch, I am not mistaken. I have a little fact even then, Providence sent it me.’ ‘What little fact?’ 808 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘I won’t tell you what, Rodion Romanovitch. And in any case, I haven’t the right to put it off any longer, I must arrest you. So think it over: it makes no difference to me now and so I speak only for your sake. Believe me, it will be better, Rodion Romanovitch.’ Raskolnikov smiled malignantly. ‘That’s not simply ridiculous, it’s positively shameless. Why, even if I were guilty, which I don’t admit, what reason should I have to confess, when you tell me yourself that I shall be in greater safety in prison?’ ‘Ah, Rodion Romanovitch, don’t put too much faith in words, perhaps prison will not be altogether a restful place. That’s only theory and my theory, and what authority am I for you? Perhaps, too, even now I am hiding something from you? I can’t lay bare everything, he-he! And how can you ask what advantage? Don’t you know how it would lessen your sentence? You would be confessing at a moment when another man has taken the crime on himself and so has muddled the whole case. Consider that! I swear before God that I will so arrange that your confession shall come as a complete surprise. We will make a clean sweep of all these psychological points, of a suspicion against you, so that your crime will appear to have been something like an aberration, for in truth it 809 of 967 Crime and Punishment was an aberration. I am an honest man, Rodion Romanovitch, and will keep my word.’ Raskolnikov maintained a mournful silence and let his head sink dejectedly. He pondered a long while and at last smiled again, but his smile was sad and gentle. ‘No!’ he said, apparently abandoning all attempt to keep up appearances with Porfiry, ‘it’s not worth it, I don’t care about lessening the sentence!’ ‘That’s just what I was afraid of!’ Porfiry cried warmly and, as it seemed, involuntarily. ‘That’s just what I feared, that you wouldn’t care about the mitigation of sentence.’ Raskolnikov looked sadly and expressively at him. ‘Ah, don’t disdain life!’ Porfiry went on. ‘You have a great deal of it still before you. How can you say you don’t want a mitigation of sentence? You are an impatient fellow!’ ‘A great deal of what lies before me?’ ‘Of life. What sort of prophet are you, do you know much about it? Seek and ye shall find. This may be God’s means for bringing you to Him. And it’s not for ever, the bondage….’ ‘The time will be shortened,’ laughed Raskolnikov. ‘Why, is it the bourgeois disgrace you are afraid of? It may be that you are afraid of it without knowing it, 810 of 967 Crime and Punishment because you are young! But anyway you shouldn’t be afraid of giving yourself up and confessing.’ ‘Ach, hang it!’ Raskolnikov whispered with loathing and contempt, as though he did not want to speak aloud. He got up again as though he meant to go away, but sat down again in evident despair. ‘Hang it, if you like! You’ve lost faith and you think that I am grossly flattering you; but how long has your life been? How much do you understand? You made up a theory and then were ashamed that it broke down and turned out to be not at all original! It turned out something base, that’s true, but you are not hopelessly base. By no means so base! At least you didn’t deceive yourself for long, you went straight to the furthest point at one bound. How do I regard you? I regard you as one of those men who would stand and smile at their torturer while he cuts their entrails out, if only they have found faith or God. Find it and you will live. You have long needed a change of air. Suffering, too, is a good thing. Suffer! Maybe Nikolay is right in wanting to suffer. I know you don’t believe in it—but don’t be over-wise; fling yourself straight into life, without deliberation; don’t be afraid—the flood will bear you to the bank and set you safe on your feet again. What bank? How can I tell? I only 811 of 967 Crime and Punishment believe that you have long life before you. I know that you take all my words now for a set speech prepared beforehand, but maybe you will remember them after. They may be of use some time. That’s why I speak. It’s as well that you only killed the old woman. If you’d invented another theory you might perhaps have done something a thousand times more hideous. You ought to thank God, perhaps. How do you know? Perhaps God is saving you for something. But keep a good heart and have less fear! Are you afraid of the great expiation before you? No, it would be shameful to be afraid of it. Since you have taken such a step, you must harden your heart. There is justice in it. You must fulfil the demands of justice. I know that you don’t believe it, but indeed, life will bring you through. You will live it down in time. What you need now is fresh air, fresh air, fresh air!’ Raskolnikov positively started. ‘But who are you? what prophet are you? From the height of what majestic calm do you proclaim these words of wisdom?’ ‘Who am I? I am a man with nothing to hope for, that’s all. A man perhaps of feeling and sympathy, maybe of some knowledge too, but my day is over. But you are a different matter, there is life waiting for you. Though, 812 of 967 Crime and Punishment who knows? maybe your life, too, will pass off in smoke and come to nothing. Come, what does it matter, that you will pass into another class of men? It’s not comfort you regret, with your heart! What of it that perhaps no one will see you for so long? It’s not time, but yourself that will decide that. Be the sun and all will see you. The sun has before all to be the sun. Why are you smiling again? At my being such a Schiller? I bet you’re imagining that I am trying to get round you by flattery. Well, perhaps I am, he-he-he! Perhaps you’d better not believe my word, perhaps you’d better never believe it altogether—I’m made that way, I confess it. But let me add, you can judge for yourself, I think, how far I am a base sort of man and how far I am honest.’ ‘When do you mean to arrest me?’ ‘Well, I can let you walk about another day or two. Think it over, my dear fellow, and pray to God. It’s more in your interest, believe me.’ ‘And what if I run away?’ asked Raskolnikov with a strange smile. ‘No, you won’t run away. A peasant would run away, a fashionable dissenter would run away, the flunkey of another man’s thought, for you’ve only to show him the end of your little finger and he’ll be ready to believe in 813 of 967 Crime and Punishment anything for the rest of his life. But you’ve ceased to believe in your theory already, what will you run away with? And what would you do in hiding? It would be hateful and difficult for you, and what you need more than anything in life is a definite position, an atmosphere to suit you. And what sort of atmosphere would you have? If you ran away, you’d come back to yourself. You can’t get on without us. And if I put you in prison—say you’ve been there a month, or two, or three—remember my word, you’ll confess of yourself and perhaps to your own surprise. You won’t know an hour beforehand that you are coming with a confession. I am convinced that you will decide, ‘to take your suffering.’ You don’t believe my words now, but you’ll come to it of yourself. For suffering, Rodion Romanovitch, is a great thing. Never mind my having grown fat, I know all the same. Don’t laugh at it, there’s an idea in suffering, Nokolay is right. No, you won’t run away, Rodion Romanovitch.’ Raskolnikov got up and took his cap. Porfiry Petrovitch also rose. ‘Are you going for a walk? The evening will be fine, if only we don’t have a storm. Though it would be a good thing to freshen the air.’ He, too, took his cap. 814 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Porfiry Petrovitch, please don’t take up the notion that I have confessed to you to-day,’ Raskolnikov pronounced with sullen insistence. ‘You’re a strange man and I have listened to you from simple curiosity. But I have admitted nothing, remember that!’ ‘Oh, I know that, I’ll remember. Look at him, he’s trembling! Don’t be uneasy, my dear fellow, have it your own way. Walk about a bit, you won’t be able to walk too far. If anything happens, I have one request to make of you,’ he added, dropping his voice. ‘It’s an awkward one, but important. If anything were to happen (though indeed I don’t believe in it and think you quite incapable of it), yet in case you were taken during these forty or fifty hours with the notion of putting an end to the business in some other way, in some fantastic fashion—laying hands on yourself—(it’s an absurd proposition, but you must forgive me for it) do leave a brief but precise note, only two lines, and mention the stone. It will be more generous. Come, till we meet! Good thoughts and sound decisions to you!’ Porfiry went out, stooping and avoiding looking at Raskolnikov. The latter went to the window and waited with irritable impatience till he calculated that Porfiry had reached the street and moved away. Then he too went hurriedly out of the room. 815 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter III He hurried to Svidrigaïlov’s. What he had to hope from that man he did not know. But that man had some hidden power over him. Having once recognised this, he could not rest, and now the time had come. On the way, one question particularly worried him: had Svidrigaïlov been to Porfiry’s? As far as he could judge, he would swear to it, that he had not. He pondered again and again, went over Porfiry’s visit; no, he hadn’t been, of course he hadn’t. But if he had not been yet, would he go? Meanwhile, for the present he fancied he couldn’t. Why? He could not have explained, but if he could, he would not have wasted much thought over it at the moment. It all worried him and at the same time he could not attend to it. Strange to say, none would have believed it perhaps, but he only felt a faint vague anxiety about his immediate future. Another, much more important anxiety tormented him—it concerned himself, but in a different, more vital way. Moreover, he was conscious of immense moral fatigue, though his mind was working better that morning than it had done of late. 816 of 967 Crime and Punishment And was it worth while, after all that had happened, to contend with these new trivial difficulties? Was it worth while, for instance, to manœuvre that Svidrigaïlov should not go to Porfiry’s? Was it worth while to investigate, to ascertain the facts, to waste time over anyone like Svidrigaïlov? Oh, how sick he was of it all! And yet he was hastening to Svidrigaïlov; could he be expecting something new from him, information, or means of escape? Men will catch at straws! Was it destiny or some instinct bringing them together? Perhaps it was only fatigue, despair; perhaps it was not Svidrigaïlov but some other whom he needed, and Svidrigaïlov had simply presented himself by chance. Sonia? But what should he go to Sonia for now? To beg her tears again? He was afraid of Sonia, too. Sonia stood before him as an irrevocable sentence. He must go his own way or hers. At that moment especially he did not feel equal to seeing her. No, would it not be better to try Svidrigaïlov? And he could not help inwardly owning that he had long felt that he must see him for some reason. But what could they have in common? Their very evil-doing could not be of the same kind. The man, moreover, was very unpleasant, evidently depraved, undoubtedly 817 of 967 Crime and Punishment cunning and deceitful, possibly malignant. Such stories were told about him. It is true he was befriending Katerina Ivanovna’s children, but who could tell with what motive and what it meant? The man always had some design, some project. There was another thought which had been continually hovering of late about Raskolnikov’s mind, and causing him great uneasiness. It was so painful that he made distinct efforts to get rid of it. He sometimes thought that Svidrigaïlov was dogging his footsteps. Svidrigaïlov had found out his secret and had had designs on Dounia. What if he had them still? Wasn’t it practically certain that he had? And what if, having learnt his secret and so having gained power over him, he were to use it as a weapon against Dounia? This idea sometimes even tormented his dreams, but it had never presented itself so vividly to him as on his way to Svidrigaïlov. The very thought moved him to gloomy rage. To begin with, this would transform everything, even his own position; he would have at once to confess his secret to Dounia. Would he have to give himself up perhaps to prevent Dounia from taking some rash step? The letter? This morning Dounia had received a letter. From whom could she get letters in Petersburg? Luzhin, 818 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. perhaps? It’s true Razumihin was there to protect her, but Razumihin knew nothing of the position. Perhaps it was his duty to tell Razumihin? He thought of it with repugnance. In any case he must see Svidrigaïlov as soon as possible, he decided finally. Thank God, the details of the interview were of little consequence, if only he could get at the root of the matter; but if Svidrigaïlov were capable … if he were intriguing against Dounia— then … Raskolnikov was so exhausted by what he had passed through that month that he could only decide such questions in one way; ‘then I shall kill him,’ he thought in cold despair. A sudden anguish oppressed his heart, he stood still in the middle of the street and began looking about to see where he was and which way he was going. He found himself in X. Prospect, thirty or forty paces from the Hay Market, through which he had come. The whole second storey of the house on the left was used as a tavern. All the windows were wide open; judging from the figures moving at the windows, the rooms were full to overflowing. There were sounds of singing, of clarionet and violin, and the boom of a Turkish drum. He could hear women shrieking. He was about to turn back 819 of 967 Crime and Punishment wondering why he had come to the X. Prospect, when suddenly at one of the end windows he saw Svidrigaïlov, sitting at a tea-table right in the open window with a pipe in his mouth. Raskolnikov was dreadfully taken aback, almost terrified. Svidrigaïlov was silently watching and scrutinising him and, what struck Raskolnikov at once, seemed to be meaning to get up and slip away unobserved. Raskolnikov at once pretended not to have seen him, but to be looking absent-mindedly away, while he watched him out of the corner of his eye. His heart was beating violently. Yet, it was evident that Svidrigaïlov did not want to be seen. He took the pipe out of his mouth and was on the point of concealing himself, but as he got up and moved back his chair, he seemed to have become suddenly aware that Raskolnikov had seen him, and was watching him. What had passed between them was much the same as what happened at their first meeting in Raskolnikov’s room. A sly smile came into Svidrigaïlov’s face and grew broader and broader. Each knew that he was seen and watched by the other. At last Svidrigaïlov broke into a loud laugh. ‘Well, well, come in if you want me; I am here!’ he shouted from the window. 820 of 967 Crime and Punishment Raskolnikov went up into the tavern. He found Svidrigaïlov in a tiny back room, adjoining the saloon in which merchants, clerks and numbers of people of all sorts were drinking tea at twenty little tables to the desperate bawling of a chorus of singers. The click of billiard balls could be heard in the distance. On the table before Svidrigaïlov stood an open bottle and a glass half full of champagne. In the room he found also a boy with a little hand organ, a healthy-looking red- cheeked girl of eighteen, wearing a tucked-up striped skirt, and a Tyrolese hat with ribbons. In spite of the chorus in the other room, she was singing some servants’ hall song in a rather husky contralto, to the accompaniment of the organ. ‘Come, that’s enough,’ Svidrigaïlov stopped her at Raskolnikov’s entrance. The girl at once broke off and stood waiting respectfully. She had sung her guttural rhymes, too, with a serious and respectful expression in her face. ‘Hey, Philip, a glass!’ shouted Svidrigaïlov. ‘I won’t drink anything,’ said Raskolnikov. ‘As you like, I didn’t mean it for you. Drink, Katia! I don’t want anything more to-day, you can go.’ He poured her out a full glass, and laid down a yellow note. 821 of 967 Crime and Punishment Katia drank off her glass of wine, as women do, without putting it down, in twenty gulps, took the note and kissed Svidrigaïlov’s hand, which he allowed quite seriously. She went out of the room and the boy trailed after her with the organ. Both had been brought in from the street. Svidrigaïlov had not been a week in Petersburg, but everything about him was already, so to speak, on a patriarchal footing; the waiter, Philip, was by now an old friend and very obsequious. The door leading to the saloon had a lock on it. Svidrigaïlov was at home in this room and perhaps spent whole days in it. The tavern was dirty and wretched, not even second-rate. ‘I was going to see you and looking for you,’ Raskolnikov began, ‘but I don’t know what made me turn from the Hay Market into the X. Prospect just now. I never take this turning. I turn to the right from the Hay Market. And this isn’t the way to you. I simply turned and here you are. It is strange!’ ‘Why don’t you say at once ‘it’s a miracle’?’ ‘Because it may be only chance.’ ‘Oh, that’s the way with all you folk,’ laughed Svidrigaïlov. ‘You won’t admit it, even if you do inwardly believe it a miracle! Here you say that it may be only 822 of 967 Crime and Punishment chance. And what cowards they all are here, about having an opinion of their own, you can’t fancy, Rodion Romanovitch. I don’t mean you, you have an opinion of your own and are not afraid to have it. That’s how it was you attracted my curiosity.’ ‘Nothing else?’ ‘Well, that’s enough, you know,’ Svidrigaïlov was obviously exhilarated, but only slightly so, he had not had more than half a glass of wine. ‘I fancy you came to see me before you knew that I was capable of having what you call an opinion of my own,’ observed Raskolnikov. ‘Oh, well, it was a different matter. everyone has his own plans. And apropos of the miracle let me tell you that I think you have been asleep for the last two or three days. I told you of this tavern myself, there is no miracle in your coming straight here. I explained the way myself, told you where it was, and the hours you could find me here. Do you remember?’ ‘I don’t remember,’ answered Raskolnikov with surprise. ‘I believe you. I told you twice. The address has been stamped mechanically on your memory. You turned this way mechanically and yet precisely according to the 823 of 967 Crime and Punishment direction, though you are not aware of it. When I told you then, I hardly hoped you understood me. You give yourself away too much, Rodion Romanovitch. And another thing, I’m convinced there are lots of people in Petersburg who talk to themselves as they walk. This is a town of crazy people. If only we had scientific men, doctors, lawyers and philosophers might make most valuable investigations in Petersburg each in his own line. There are few places where there are so many gloomy, strong and queer influences on the soul of man as in Petersburg. The mere influences of climate mean so much. And it’s the administrative centre of all Russia and its character must be reflected on the whole country. But that is neither here nor there now. The point is that I have several times watched you. You walk out of your house— holding your head high—twenty paces from home you let it sink, and fold your hands behind your back. You look and evidently see nothing before nor beside you. At last you begin moving your lips and talking to yourself, and sometimes you wave one hand and declaim, and at last stand still in the middle of the road. That’s not at all the thing. Someone may be watching you besides me, and it won’t do you any good. It’s nothing really to do with me and I can’t cure you, but, of course, you understand me.’ 824 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Do you know that I am being followed?’ asked Raskolnikov, looking inquisitively at him. ‘No, I know nothing about it,’ said Svidrigaïlov, seeming surprised. ‘Well, then, let us leave me alone,’ Raskolnikov muttered, frowning. ‘Very good, let us leave you alone.’ ‘You had better tell me, if you come here to drink, and directed me twice to come here to you, why did you hide, and try to get away just now when I looked at the window from the street? I saw it.’ ‘He-he! And why was it you lay on your sofa with closed eyes and pretended to be asleep, though you were wide awake while I stood in your doorway? I saw it.’ ‘I may have had … reasons. You know that yourself.’ ‘And I may have had my reasons, though you don’t know them.’ Raskolnikov dropped his right elbow on the table, leaned his chin in the fingers of his right hand, and stared intently at Svidrigaïlov. For a full minute he scrutinised his face, which had impressed him before. It was a strange face, like a mask; white and red, with bright red lips, with a flaxen beard, and still thick flaxen hair. His eyes were somehow too blue and their expression somehow too 825 of 967 Crime and Punishment heavy and fixed. There was something awfully unpleasant in that handsome face, which looked so wonderfully young for his age. Svidrigaïlov was smartly dressed in light summer clothes and was particularly dainty in his linen. He wore a huge ring with a precious stone in it. ‘Have I got to bother myself about you, too, now?’ said Raskolnikov suddenly, coming with nervous impatience straight to the point. ‘Even though perhaps you are the most dangerous man if you care to injure me, I don’t want to put myself out any more. I will show you at once that I don’t prize myself as you probably think I do. I’ve come to tell you at once that if you keep to your former intentions with regard to my sister and if you think to derive any benefit in that direction from what has been discovered of late, I will kill you before you get me locked up. You can reckon on my word. You know that I can keep it. And in the second place if you want to tell me anything —for I keep fancying all this time that you have something to tell me—make haste and tell it, for time is precious and very likely it will soon be too late.’ ‘Why in such haste?’ asked Svidrigaïlov, looking at him curiously. ‘Everyone has his plans,’ Raskolnikov answered gloomily and impatiently. 826 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘You urged me yourself to frankness just now, and at the first question you refuse to answer,’ Svidrigaïlov observed with a smile. ‘You keep fancying that I have aims of my own and so you look at me with suspicion. Of course it’s perfectly natural in your position. But though I should like to be friends with you, I shan’t trouble myself to convince you of the contrary. The game isn’t worth the candle and I wasn’t intending to talk to you about anything special.’ ‘What did you want me, for, then? It was you who came hanging about me.’ ‘Why, simply as an interesting subject for observation. I liked the fantastic nature of your position—that’s what it was! Besides you are the brother of a person who greatly interested me, and from that person I had in the past heard a very great deal about you, from which I gathered that you had a great influence over her; isn’t that enough? Ha-ha-ha! Still I must admit that your question is rather complex, and is difficult for me to answer. Here, you, for instance, have come to me not only for a definite object, but for the sake of hearing something new. Isn’t that so? Isn’t that so?’ persisted Svidrigaïlov with a sly smile. ‘Well, can’t you fancy then that I, too, on my way here in the train was reckoning on you, on your telling me something 827 of 967 Crime and Punishment new, and on my making some profit out of you! You see what rich men we are!’ ‘What profit could you make?’ ‘How can I tell you? How do I know? You see in what a tavern I spend all my time and it’s my enjoyment, that’s to say it’s no great enjoyment, but one must sit somewhere; that poor Katia now—you saw her? … If only I had been a glutton now, a club gourmand, but you see I can eat this.’ He pointed to a little table in the corner where the remnants of a terrible-looking beef-steak and potatoes lay on a tin dish. ‘Have you dined, by the way? I’ve had something and want nothing more. I don’t drink, for instance, at all. Except for champagne I never touch anything, and not more than a glass of that all the evening, and even that is enough to make my head ache. I ordered it just now to wind myself up, for I am just going off somewhere and you see me in a peculiar state of mind. That was why I hid myself just now like a schoolboy, for I was afraid you would hinder me. But I believe,’ he pulled out his watch, ‘I can spend an hour with you. It’s half-past four now. If only I’d been something, a landowner, a father, a cavalry officer, a photographer, a journalist … I am nothing, no 828 of 967 Crime and Punishment specialty, and sometimes I am positively bored. I really thought you would tell me something new.’ ‘But what are you, and why have you come here?’ ‘What am I? You know, a gentleman, I served for two years in the cavalry, then I knocked about here in Petersburg, then I married Marfa Petrovna and lived in the country. There you have my biography!’ ‘You are a gambler, I believe?’ ‘No, a poor sort of gambler. A card-sharper—not a gambler.’ ‘You have been a card-sharper then?’ ‘Yes, I’ve been a card-sharper too.’ ‘Didn’t you get thrashed sometimes?’ ‘It did happen. Why?’ ‘Why, you might have challenged them … altogether it must have been lively.’ ‘I won’t contradict you, and besides I am no hand at philosophy. I confess that I hastened here for the sake of the women.’ ‘As soon as you buried Marfa Petrovna?’ ‘Quite so,’ Svidrigaïlov smiled with engaging candour. ‘What of it? You seem to find something wrong in my speaking like that about women?’ ‘You ask whether I find anything wrong in vice?’ 829 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Vice! Oh, that’s what you are after! But I’ll answer you in order, first about women in general; you know I am fond of talking. Tell me, what should I restrain myself for? Why should I give up women, since I have a passion for them? It’s an occupation, anyway.’ ‘So you hope for nothing here but vice?’ ‘Oh, very well, for vice then. You insist on its being vice. But anyway I like a direct question. In this vice at least there is something permanent, founded indeed upon nature and not dependent on fantasy, something present in the blood like an ever-burning ember, for ever setting one on fire and, maybe, not to be quickly extinguished, even with years. You’ll agree it’s an occupation of a sort.’ ‘That’s nothing to rejoice at, it’s a disease and a dangerous one.’ ‘Oh, that’s what you think, is it! I agree, that it is a disease like everything that exceeds moderation. And, of course, in this one must exceed moderation. But in the first place, everybody does so in one way or another, and in the second place, of course, one ought to be moderate and prudent, however mean it may be, but what am I to do? If I hadn’t this, I might have to shoot myself. I am ready to admit that a decent man ought to put up with being bored, but yet …’ 830 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. ‘And could you shoot yourself?’ ‘Oh, come!’ Svidrigaïlov parried with disgust. ‘Please don’t speak of it,’ he added hurriedly and with none of the bragging tone he had shown in all the previous conversation. His face quite changed. ‘I admit it’s an unpardonable weakness, but I can’t help it. I am afraid of death and I dislike its being talked of. Do you know that I am to a certain extent a mystic?’ ‘Ah, the apparitions of Marfa Petrovna! Do they still go on visiting you?’ ‘Oh, don’t talk of them; there have been no more in Petersburg, confound them!’ he cried with an air of irritation. ‘Let’s rather talk of that … though … H’m! I have not much time, and can’t stay long with you, it’s a pity! I should have found plenty to tell you.’ ‘What’s your engagement, a woman?’ ‘Yes, a woman, a casual incident…. No, that’s not what I want to talk of.’ ‘And the hideousness, the filthiness of all your surroundings, doesn’t that affect you? Have you lost the strength to stop yourself?’ ‘And do you pretend to strength, too? He-he-he! You surprised me just now, Rodion Romanovitch, though I knew beforehand it would be so. You preach to me about 831 of 967 Crime and Punishment vice and æsthetics! You—a Schiller, you—an idealist! Of course that’s all as it should be and it would be surprising if it were not so, yet it is strange in reality…. Ah, what a pity I have no time, for you’re a most interesting type! And, by-the-way, are you fond of Schiller? I am awfully fond of him.’ ‘But what a braggart you are,’ Raskolnikov said with some disgust. ‘Upon my word, I am not,’ answered Svidrigaïlov laughing. ‘However, I won’t dispute it, let me be a braggart, why not brag, if it hurts no one? I spent seven years in the country with Marfa Petrovna, so now when I come across an intelligent person like you—intelligent and highly interesting—I am simply glad to talk and, besides, I’ve drunk that half-glass of champagne and it’s gone to my head a little. And besides, there’s a certain fact that has wound me up tremendously, but about that I … will keep quiet. Where are you off to?’ he asked in alarm. Raskolnikov had begun getting up. He felt oppressed and stifled and, as it were, ill at ease at having come here. He felt convinced that Svidrigaïlov was the most worthless scoundrel on the face of the earth. ‘A-ach! Sit down, stay a little!’ Svidrigaïlov begged. ‘Let them bring you some tea, anyway. Stay a little, I won’t 832 of 967 Crime and Punishment talk nonsense, about myself, I mean. I’ll tell you something. If you like I’ll tell you how a woman tried ‘to save’ me, as you would call it? It will be an answer to your first question indeed, for the woman was your sister. May I tell you? It will help to spend the time.’ ‘Tell me, but I trust that you …’ ‘Oh, don’t be uneasy. Besides, even in a worthless low fellow like me, Avdotya Romanovna can only excite the deepest respect.’ 833 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter IV ‘You know perhaps—yes, I told you myself,’ began Svidrigaïlov, ‘that I was in the debtors’ prison here, for an immense sum, and had not any expectation of being able to pay it. There’s no need to go into particulars how Marfa Petrovna bought me out; do you know to what a point of insanity a woman can sometimes love? She was an honest woman, and very sensible, although completely uneducated. Would you believe that this honest and jealous woman, after many scenes of hysterics and reproaches, condescended to enter into a kind of contract with me which she kept throughout our married life? She was considerably older than I, and besides, she always kept a clove or something in her mouth. There was so much swinishness in my soul and honesty too, of a sort, as to tell her straight out that I couldn’t be absolutely faithful to her. This confession drove her to frenzy, but yet she seems in a way to have liked my brutal frankness. She thought it showed I was unwilling to deceive her if I warned her like this beforehand and for a jealous woman, you know, that’s the first consideration. After many tears an unwritten contract was drawn up between us: first, that I would 834 of 967 Crime and Punishment never leave Marfa Petrovna and would always be her husband; secondly, that I would never absent myself without her permission; thirdly, that I would never set up a permanent mistress; fourthly, in return for this, Marfa Petrovna gave me a free hand with the maidservants, but only with her secret knowledge; fifthly, God forbid my falling in love with a woman of our class; sixthly, in case I—which God forbid—should be visited by a great serious passion I was bound to reveal it to Marfa Petrovna. On this last score, however, Marfa Petrovna was fairly at ease. She was a sensible woman and so she could not help looking upon me as a dissolute profligate incapable of real love. But a sensible woman and a jealous woman are two very different things, and that’s where the trouble came in. But to judge some people impartially we must renounce certain preconceived opinions and our habitual attitude to the ordinary people about us. I have reason to have faith in your judgment rather than in anyone’s. Perhaps you have already heard a great deal that was ridiculous and absurd about Marfa Petrovna. She certainly had some very ridiculous ways, but I tell you frankly that I feel really sorry for the innumerable woes of which I was the cause. Well, and that’s enough, I think, by way of a decorous oraison funèbre for the most tender wife of a most tender 835 of 967 Crime and Punishment husband. When we quarrelled, I usually held my tongue and did not irritate her and that gentlemanly conduct rarely failed to attain its object, it influenced her, it pleased her, indeed. These were times when she was positively proud of me. But your sister she couldn’t put up with, anyway. And however she came to risk taking such a beautiful creature into her house as a governess. My explanation is that Marfa Petrovna was an ardent and impressionable woman and simply fell in love herself— literally fell in love—with your sister. Well, little wonder—look at Avdotya Romanovna! I saw the danger at the first glance and what do you think, I resolved not to look at her even. But Avdotya Romanovna herself made the first step, would you believe it? Would you believe it too that Marfa Petrovna was positively angry with me at first for my persistent silence about your sister, for my careless reception of her continual adoring praises of Avdotya Romanovna. I don’t know what it was she wanted! Well, of course, Marfa Petrovna told Avdotya Romanovna every detail about me. She had the unfortunate habit of telling literally everyone all our family secrets and continually complaining of me; how could she fail to confide in such a delightful new friend? I expect they talked of nothing else but me and no doubt Avdotya 836 of 967 Crime and Punishment Romanovna heard all those dark mysterious rumours that were current about me…. I don’t mind betting that you too have heard something of the sort already?’ ‘I have. Luzhin charged you with having caused the death of a child. Is that true?’ ‘Don’t refer to those vulgar tales, I beg,’ said Svidrigaïlov with disgust and annoyance. ‘If you insist on wanting to know about all that idiocy, I will tell you one day, but now …’ ‘I was told too about some footman of yours in the country whom you treated badly.’ ‘I beg you to drop the subject,’ Svidrigaïlov interrupted again with obvious impatience. ‘Was that the footman who came to you after death to fill your pipe? … you told me about it yourself.’ Raskolnikov felt more and more irritated. Svidrigaïlov looked at him attentively and Raskolnikov fancied he caught a flash of spiteful mockery in that look. But Svidrigaïlov restrained himself and answered very civilly: ‘Yes, it was. I see that you, too, are extremely interested and shall feel it my duty to satisfy your curiosity at the first opportunity. Upon my soul! I see that I really might pass for a romantic figure with some people. Judge 837 of 967 Crime and Punishment how grateful I must be to Marfa Petrovna for having repeated to Avdotya Romanovna such mysterious and interesting gossip about me. I dare not guess what impression it made on her, but in any case it worked in my interests. With all Avdotya Romanovna’s natural aversion and in spite of my invariably gloomy and repellent aspect—she did at least feel pity for me, pity for a lost soul. And if once a girl’s heart is moved to pity it’s more dangerous than anything. She is bound to want to ‘save him,’ to bring him to his senses, and lift him up and draw him to nobler aims, and restore him to new life and usefulness—well, we all know how far such dreams can go. I saw at once that the bird was flying into the cage of herself. And I too made ready. I think you are frowning, Rodion Romanovitch? There’s no need. As you know, it all ended in smoke. (Hang it all, what a lot I am drinking!) Do you know, I always, from the very beginning, regretted that it wasn’t your sister’s fate to be born in the second or third century A.D., as the daughter of a reigning prince or some governor or pro-consul in Asia Minor. She would undoubtedly have been one of those who would endure martyrdom and would have smiled when they branded her bosom with hot pincers. And she would have gone to it of herself. And in the fourth or fifth century she 838 of 967 Crime and Punishment would have walked away into the Egyptian desert and would have stayed there thirty years living on roots and ecstasies and visions. She is simply thirsting to face some torture for someone, and if she can’t get her torture, she’ll throw herself out of a window. I’ve heard something of a Mr. Razumihin—he’s said to be a sensible fellow; his surname suggests it, indeed. He’s probably a divinity student. Well, he’d better look after your sister! I believe I understand her, and I am proud of it. But at the beginning of an acquaintance, as you know, one is apt to be more heedless and stupid. One doesn’t see clearly. Hang it all, why is she so handsome? It’s not my fault. In fact, it began on my side with a most irresistible physical desire. Avdotya Romanovna is awfully chaste, incredibly and phenomenally so. Take note, I tell you this about your sister as a fact. She is almost morbidly chaste, in spite of her broad intelligence, and it will stand in her way. There happened to be a girl in the house then, Parasha, a black-eyed wench, whom I had never seen before—she had just come from another village—very pretty, but incredibly stupid: she burst into tears, wailed so that she could be heard all over the place and caused scandal. One day after dinner Avdotya Romanovna followed me into an avenue in the garden and with flashing eyes insisted on my leaving 839 of 967 Crime and Punishment poor Parasha alone. It was almost our first conversation by ourselves. I, of course, was only too pleased to obey her wishes, tried to appear disconcerted, embarrassed, in fact played my part not badly. Then came interviews, mysterious conversations, exhortations, entreaties, supplications, even tears—would you believe it, even tears? Think what the passion for propaganda will bring some girls to! I, of course, threw it all on my destiny, posed as hungering and thirsting for light, and finally resorted to the most powerful weapon in the subjection of the female heart, a weapon which never fails one. It’s the well-known resource—flattery. Nothing in the world is harder than speaking the truth and nothing easier than flattery. If there’s the hundredth part of a false note in speaking the truth, it leads to a discord, and that leads to trouble. But if all, to the last note, is false in flattery, it is just as agreeable, and is heard not without satisfaction. It may be a coarse satisfaction, but still a satisfaction. And however coarse the flattery, at least half will be sure to seem true. That’s so for all stages of development and classes of society. A vestal virgin might be seduced by flattery. I can never remember without laughter how I once seduced a lady who was devoted to her husband, her children, and her principles. What fun it was and how 840 of 967 Crime and Punishment little trouble! And the lady really had principles—of her own, anyway. All my tactics lay in simply being utterly annihilated and prostrate before her purity. I flattered her shamelessly, and as soon as I succeeded in getting a pressure of the hand, even a glance from her, I would reproach myself for having snatched it by force, and would declare that she had resisted, so that I could never have gained anything but for my being so unprincipled. I maintained that she was so innocent that she could not foresee my treachery, and yielded to me unconsciously, unawares, and so on. In fact, I triumphed, while my lady remained firmly convinced that she was innocent, chaste, and faithful to all her duties and obligations and had succumbed quite by accident. And how angry she was with me when I explained to her at last that it was my sincere conviction that she was just as eager as I. Poor Marfa Petrovna was awfully weak on the side of flattery, and if I had only cared to, I might have had all her property settled on me during her lifetime. (I am drinking an awful lot of wine now and talking too much.) I hope you won’t be angry if I mention now that I was beginning to produce the same effect on Avdotya Romanovna. But I was stupid and impatient and spoiled it all. Avdotya Romanovna had several times—and one time in 841 of 967 Crime and Punishment particular—been greatly displeased by the expression of my eyes, would you believe it? There was sometimes a light in them which frightened her and grew stronger and stronger and more unguarded till it was hateful to her. No need to go into detail, but we parted. There I acted stupidly again. I fell to jeering in the coarsest way at all such propaganda and efforts to convert me; Parasha came on to the scene again, and not she alone; in fact there was a tremendous to-do. Ah, Rodion Romanovitch, if you could only see how your sister’s eyes can flash sometimes! Never mind my being drunk at this moment and having had a whole glass of wine. I am speaking the truth. I assure you that this glance has haunted my dreams; the very rustle of her dress was more than I could stand at last. I really began to think that I might become epileptic. I could never have believed that I could be moved to such a frenzy. It was essential, indeed, to be reconciled, but by then it was impossible. And imagine what I did then! To what a pitch of stupidity a man can be brought by frenzy! Never undertake anything in a frenzy, Rodion Romanovitch. I reflected that Avdotya Romanovna was after all a beggar (ach, excuse me, that’s not the word … but does it matter if it expresses the meaning?), that she lived by her work, that she had her mother and you to 842 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. keep (ach, hang it, you are frowning again), and I resolved to offer her all my money—thirty thousand roubles I could have realised then—if she would run away with me here, to Petersburg. Of course I should have vowed eternal love, rapture, and so on. Do you know, I was so wild about her at that time that if she had told me to poison Marfa Petrovna or to cut her throat and to marry herself, it would have been done at once! But it ended in the catastrophe of which you know already. You can fancy how frantic I was when I heard that Marfa Petrovna had got hold of that scoundrelly attorney, Luzhin, and had almost made a match between them—which would really have been just the same thing as I was proposing. Wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t it? I notice that you’ve begun to be very attentive … you interesting young man….’ Svidrigaïlov struck the table with his fist impatiently. He was flushed. Raskolnikov saw clearly that the glass or glass and a half of champagne that he had sipped almost unconsciously was affecting him— and he resolved to take advantage of the opportunity. He felt very suspicious of Svidrigaïlov. ‘Well, after what you have said, I am fully convinced that you have come to Petersburg with designs on my 843 of 967 Crime and Punishment sister,’ he said directly to Svidrigaïlov, in order to irritate him further. ‘Oh, nonsense,’ said Svidrigaïlov, seeming to rouse himself. ‘Why, I told you … besides your sister can’t endure me.’ ‘Yes, I am certain that she can’t, but that’s not the point.’ ‘Are you so sure that she can’t?’ Svidrigaïlov screwed up his eyes and smiled mockingly. ‘You are right, she doesn’t love me, but you can never be sure of what has passed between husband and wife or lover and mistress. There’s always a little corner which remains a secret to the world and is only known to those two. Will you answer for it that Avdotya Romanovna regarded me with aversion?’ ‘From some words you’ve dropped, I notice that you still have designs —and of course evil ones—on Dounia and mean to carry them out promptly.’ ‘What, have I dropped words like that?’ Svidrigaïlov asked in naïve dismay, taking not the slightest notice of the epithet bestowed on his designs. ‘Why, you are dropping them even now. Why are you so frightened? What are you so afraid of now?’ 844 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Me—afraid? Afraid of you? You have rather to be afraid of me, cher ami . But what nonsense…. I’ve drunk too much though, I see that. I was almost saying too much again. Damn the wine! Hi! there, water!’ He snatched up the champagne bottle and flung it without ceremony out of the window. Philip brought the water. ‘That’s all nonsense!’ said Svidrigaïlov, wetting a towel and putting it to his head. ‘But I can answer you in one word and annihilate all your suspicions. Do you know that I am going to get married?’ ‘You told me so before.’ ‘Did I? I’ve forgotten. But I couldn’t have told you so for certain for I had not even seen my betrothed; I only meant to. But now I really have a betrothed and it’s a settled thing, and if it weren’t that I have business that can’t be put off, I would have taken you to see them at once, for I should like to ask your advice. Ach, hang it, only ten minutes left! See, look at the watch. But I must tell you, for it’s an interesting story, my marriage, in its own way. Where are you off to? Going again?’ ‘No, I’m not going away now.’ ‘Not at all? We shall see. I’ll take you there, I’ll show you my betrothed, only not now. For you’ll soon have to 845 of 967 Crime and Punishment be off. You have to go to the right and I to the left. Do you know that Madame Resslich, the woman I am lodging with now, eh? I know what you’re thinking, that she’s the woman whose girl they say drowned herself in the winter. Come, are you listening? She arranged it all for me. You’re bored, she said, you want something to fill up your time. For, you know, I am a gloomy, depressed person. Do you think I’m light-hearted? No, I’m gloomy. I do no harm, but sit in a corner without speaking a word for three days at a time. And that Resslich is a sly hussy, I tell you. I know what she has got in her mind; she thinks I shall get sick of it, abandon my wife and depart, and she’ll get hold of her and make a profit out of her—in our class, of course, or higher. She told me the father was a broken-down retired official, who has been sitting in a chair for the last three years with his legs paralysed. The mamma, she said, was a sensible woman. There is a son serving in the provinces, but he doesn’t help; there is a daughter, who is married, but she doesn’t visit them. And they’ve two little nephews on their hands, as though their own children were not enough, and they’ve taken from school their youngest daughter, a girl who’ll be sixteen in another month, so that then she can be married. She was for me. We went there. How funny it was! I present myself—a 846 of 967 Crime and Punishment landowner, a widower, of a well- known name, with connections, with a fortune. What if I am fifty and she is not sixteen? Who thinks of that? But it’s fascinating, isn’t it? It is fascinating, ha-ha! You should have seen how I talked to the papa and mamma. It was worth paying to have seen me at that moment. She comes in, curtseys, you can fancy, still in a short frock—an unopened bud! Flushing like a sunset—she had been told, no doubt. I don’t know how you feel about female faces, but to my mind these sixteen years, these childish eyes, shyness and tears of bashfulness are better than beauty; and she is a perfect little picture, too. Fair hair in little curls, like a lamb’s, full little rosy lips, tiny feet, a charmer! … Well, we made friends. I told them I was in a hurry owing to domestic circumstances, and the next day, that is the day before yesterday, we were betrothed. When I go now I take her on my knee at once and keep her there…. Well, she flushes like a sunset and I kiss her every minute. Her mamma of course impresses on her that this is her husband and that this must be so. It’s simply delicious! The present betrothed condition is perhaps better than marriage. Here you have what is called la nature et la vérité ha-ha! I’ve talked to her twice, she is far from a fool. Sometimes she steals a look at me that positively scorches me. Her face is 847 of 967 Crime and Punishment like Raphael’s Madonna. You know, the Sistine Madonna’s face has something fantastic in it, the face of mournful religious ecstasy. Haven’t you noticed it? Well, she’s something in that line. The day after we’d been betrothed, I bought her presents to the value of fifteen hundred roubles—a set of diamonds and another of pearls and a silver dressing-case as large as this, with all sorts of things in it, so that even my Madonna’s face glowed. I sat her on my knee, yesterday, and I suppose rather too unceremoniously—she flushed crimson and the tears started, but she didn’t want to show it. We were left alone, she suddenly flung herself on my neck (for the first time of her own accord), put her little arms round me, kissed me, and vowed that she would be an obedient, faithful, and good wife, would make me happy, would devote all her life, every minute of her life, would sacrifice everything, everything, and that all she asks in return is my respect and that she wants ‘nothing, nothing more from me, no presents.’ You’ll admit that to hear such a confession, alone, from an angel of sixteen in a muslin frock, with little curls, with a flush of maiden shyness in her cheeks and tears of enthusiasm in her eyes is rather fascinating! Isn’t it fascinating? It’s worth paying for, isn’t it? Well … listen, we’ll go to see my betrothed, only not just now!’ 848 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘The fact is this monstrous difference in age and development excites your sensuality! Will you really make such a marriage?’ ‘Why, of course. Everyone thinks of himself, and he lives most gaily who knows best how to deceive himself. Ha-ha! But why are you so keen about virtue? Have mercy on me, my good friend. I am a sinful man. Ha- ha-ha!’ ‘But you have provided for the children of Katerina Ivanovna. Though … though you had your own reasons…. I understand it all now.’ ‘I am always fond of children, very fond of them,’ laughed Svidrigaïlov. ‘I can tell you one curious instance of it. The first day I came here I visited various haunts, after seven years I simply rushed at them. You probably notice that I am not in a hurry to renew acquaintance with my old friends. I shall do without them as long as I can. Do you know, when I was with Marfa Petrovna in the country, I was haunted by the thought of these places where anyone who knows his way about can find a great deal. Yes, upon my soul! The peasants have vodka, the educated young people, shut out from activity, waste themselves in impossible dreams and visions and are crippled by theories; Jews have sprung up and are amassing 849 of 967 Crime and Punishment money, and all the rest give themselves up to debauchery. From the first hour the town reeked of its familiar odours. I chanced to be in a frightful den—I like my dens dirty—it was a dance, so called, and there was a cancan such as I never saw in my day. Yes, there you have progress. All of a sudden I saw a little girl of thirteen, nicely dressed, dancing with a specialist in that line, with another one vis- à-vis . Her mother was sitting on a chair by the wall. You can’t fancy what a cancan that was! The girl was ashamed, blushed, at last felt insulted, and began to cry. Her partner seized her and began whirling her round and performing before her; everyone laughed and—I like your public, even the cancan public—they laughed and shouted, ‘Serves her right— serves her right! Shouldn’t bring children!’ Well, it’s not my business whether that consoling reflection was logical or not. I at once fixed on my plan, sat down by the mother, and began by saying that I too was a stranger and that people here were ill-bred and that they couldn’t distinguish decent folks and treat them with respect, gave her to understand that I had plenty of money, offered to take them home in my carriage. I took them home and got to know them. They were lodging in a miserable little hole and had only just arrived from the country. She told me that she and her daughter could only 850 of 967 Crime and Punishment regard my acquaintance as an honour. I found out that they had nothing of their own and had come to town upon some legal business. I proffered my services and money. I learnt that they had gone to the dancing saloon by mistake, believing that it was a genuine dancing class. I offered to assist in the young girl’s education in French and dancing. My offer was accepted with enthusiasm as an honour—and we are still friendly…. If you like, we’ll go and see them, only not just now.’ ‘Stop! Enough of your vile, nasty anecdotes, depraved vile, sensual man!’ ‘Schiller, you are a regular Schiller! O la vertu va-t-elle se nicher? But you know I shall tell you these things on purpose, for the pleasure of hearing your outcries!’ ‘I dare say. I can see I am ridiculous myself,’ muttered Raskolnikov angrily. Svidrigaïlov laughed heartily; finally he called Philip, paid his bill, and began getting up. ‘I say, but I am drunk, assez causé ’ he said. ‘It’s been a pleasure.’ ‘I should rather think it must be a pleasure!’ cried Raskolnikov, getting up. ‘No doubt it is a pleasure for a worn-out profligate to describe such adventures with a monstrous project of the same sort in his mind—especially 851 of 967 Crime and Punishment under such circumstances and to such a man as me…. It’s stimulating!’ ‘Well, if you come to that,’ Svidrigaïlov answered, scrutinising Raskolnikov with some surprise, ‘if you come to that, you are a thorough cynic yourself. You’ve plenty to make you so, anyway. You can understand a great deal … and you can do a great deal too. But enough. I sincerely regret not having had more talk with you, but I shan’t lose sight of you…. Only wait a bit.’ Svidrigaïlov walked out of the restaurant. Raskolnikov walked out after him. Svidrigaïlov was not however very drunk, the wine had affected him for a moment, but it was passing off every minute. He was preoccupied with something of importance and was frowning. He was apparently excited and uneasy in anticipation of something. His manner to Raskolnikov had changed during the last few minutes, and he was ruder and more sneering every moment. Raskolnikov noticed all this, and he too was uneasy. He became very suspicious of Svidrigaïlov and resolved to follow him. They came out on to the pavement. ‘You go to the right, and I to the left, or if you like, the other way. Only adieu, mon plaisir may we meet again.’ And he walked to the right towards the Hay Market. 852 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter V Raskolnikov walked after him. ‘What’s this?’ cried Svidrigaïlov turning round, ‘I thought I said …’ ‘It means that I am not going to lose sight of you now.’ ‘What?’ Both stood still and gazed at one another, as though measuring their strength. ‘From all your half tipsy stories,’ Raskolnikov observed harshly, ‘I am positive that you have not given up your designs on my sister, but are pursuing them more actively than ever. I have learnt that my sister received a letter this morning. You have hardly been able to sit still all this time…. You may have unearthed a wife on the way, but that means nothing. I should like to make certain myself.’ Raskolnikov could hardly have said himself what he wanted and of what he wished to make certain. ‘Upon my word! I’ll call the police!’ ‘Call away!’ Again they stood for a minute facing each other. At last Svidrigaïlov’s face changed. Having satisfied himself that 853 of 967 Crime and Punishment Raskolnikov was not frightened at his threat, he assumed a mirthful and friendly air. ‘What a fellow! I purposely refrained from referring to your affair, though I am devoured by curiosity. It’s a fantastic affair. I’ve put it off till another time, but you’re enough to rouse the dead…. Well, let us go, only I warn you beforehand I am only going home for a moment, to get some money; then I shall lock up the flat, take a cab and go to spend the evening at the Islands. Now, now are you going to follow me?’ ‘I’m coming to your lodgings, not to see you but Sofya Semyonovna, to say I’m sorry not to have been at the funeral.’ ‘That’s as you like, but Sofya Semyonovna is not at home. She has taken the three children to an old lady of high rank, the patroness of some orphan asylums, whom I used to know years ago. I charmed the old lady by depositing a sum of money with her to provide for the three children of Katerina Ivanovna and subscribing to the institution as well. I told her too the story of Sofya Semyonovna in full detail, suppressing nothing. It produced an indescribable effect on her. That’s why Sofya Semyonovna has been invited to call to-day at the X. Hotel where the lady is staying for the time.’ 854 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. ‘No matter, I’ll come all the same.’ ‘As you like, it’s nothing to me, but I won’t come with you; here we are at home. By the way, I am convinced that you regard me with suspicion just because I have shown such delicacy and have not so far troubled you with questions … you understand? It struck you as extraordinary; I don’t mind betting it’s that. Well, it teaches one to show delicacy!’ ‘And to listen at doors!’ ‘Ah, that’s it, is it?’ laughed Svidrigaïlov. ‘Yes, I should have been surprised if you had let that pass after all that has happened. Ha-ha! Though I did understand something of the pranks you had been up to and were telling Sofya Semyonovna about, what was the meaning of it? Perhaps I am quite behind the times and can’t understand. For goodness’ sake, explain it, my dear boy. Expound the latest theories!’ ‘You couldn’t have heard anything. You’re making it all up!’ ‘But I’m not talking about that (though I did hear something). No, I’m talking of the way you keep sighing and groaning now. The Schiller in you is in revolt every moment, and now you tell me not to listen at doors. If that’s how you feel, go and inform the police that you had 855 of 967 Crime and Punishment this mischance: you made a little mistake in your theory. But if you are convinced that one mustn’t listen at doors, but one may murder old women at one’s pleasure, you’d better be off to America and make haste. Run, young man! There may still be time. I’m speaking sincerely. Haven’t you the money? I’ll give you the fare.’ ‘I’m not thinking of that at all,’ Raskolnikov interrupted with disgust. ‘I understand (but don’t put yourself out, don’t discuss it if you don’t want to). I understand the questions you are worrying over— moral ones, aren’t they? Duties of citizen and man? Lay them all aside. They are nothing to you now, ha-ha! You’ll say you are still a man and a citizen. If so you ought not to have got into this coil. It’s no use taking up a job you are not fit for. Well, you’d better shoot yourself, or don’t you want to?’ ‘You seem trying to enrage me, to make me leave you.’ ‘What a queer fellow! But here we are. Welcome to the staircase. You see, that’s the way to Sofya Semyonovna. Look, there is no one at home. Don’t you believe me? Ask Kapernaumov. She leaves the key with him. Here is Madame de Kapernaumov herself. Hey, what? She is rather deaf. Has she gone out? Where? Did you hear? She is not in and won’t be till late in the 856 of 967 Crime and Punishment evening probably. Well, come to my room; you wanted to come and see me, didn’t you? Here we are. Madame Resslich’s not at home. She is a woman who is always busy, an excellent woman I assure you…. She might have been of use to you if you had been a little more sensible. Now, see! I take this five-per-cent bond out of the bureau—see what a lot I’ve got of them still—this one will be turned into cash to-day. I mustn’t waste any more time. The bureau is locked, the flat is locked, and here we are again on the stairs. Shall we take a cab? I’m going to the Islands. Would you like a lift? I’ll take this carriage. Ah, you refuse? You are tired of it! Come for a drive! I believe it will come on to rain. Never mind, we’ll put down the hood….’ Svidrigaïlov was already in the carriage. Raskolnikov decided that his suspicions were at least for that moment unjust. Without answering a word he turned and walked back towards the Hay Market. If he had only turned round on his way he might have seen Svidrigaïlov get out not a hundred paces off, dismiss the cab and walk along the pavement. But he had turned the corner and could see nothing. Intense disgust drew him away from Svidrigaïlov. 857 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘To think that I could for one instant have looked for help from that coarse brute, that depraved sensualist and blackguard!’ he cried. Raskolnikov’s judgment was uttered too lightly and hastily: there was something about Svidrigaïlov which gave him a certain original, even a mysterious character. As concerned his sister, Raskolnikov was convinced that Svidrigaïlov would not leave her in peace. But it was too tiresome and unbearable to go on thinking and thinking about this. When he was alone, he had not gone twenty paces before he sank, as usual, into deep thought. On the bridge he stood by the railing and began gazing at the water. And his sister was standing close by him. He met her at the entrance to the bridge, but passed by without seeing her. Dounia had never met him like this in the street before and was struck with dismay. She stood still and did not know whether to call to him or not. Suddenly she saw Svidrigaïlov coming quickly from the direction of the Hay Market. He seemed to be approaching cautiously. He did not go on to the bridge, but stood aside on the pavement, doing all he could to avoid Raskolnikov’s seeing him. He had observed Dounia for some time and had been making 858 of 967 Crime and Punishment signs to her. She fancied he was signalling to beg her not to speak to her brother, but to come to him. That was what Dounia did. She stole by her brother and went up to Svidrigaïlov. ‘Let us make haste away,’ Svidrigaïlov whispered to her, ‘I don’t want Rodion Romanovitch to know of our meeting. I must tell you I’ve been sitting with him in the restaurant close by, where he looked me up and I had great difficulty in getting rid of him. He has somehow heard of my letter to you and suspects something. It wasn’t you who told him, of course, but if not you, who then?’ ‘Well, we’ve turned the corner now,’ Dounia interrupted, ‘and my brother won’t see us. I have to tell you that I am going no further with you. Speak to me here. You can tell it all in the street.’ ‘In the first place, I can’t say it in the street; secondly, you must hear Sofya Semyonovna too; and, thirdly, I will show you some papers…. Oh well, if you won’t agree to come with me, I shall refuse to give any explanation and go away at once. But I beg you not to forget that a very curious secret of your beloved brother’s is entirely in my keeping.’ Dounia stood still, hesitating, and looked at Svidrigaïlov with searching eyes. 859 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘What are you afraid of?’ he observed quietly. ‘The town is not the country. And even in the country you did me more harm than I did you.’ ‘Have you prepared Sofya Semyonovna?’ ‘No, I have not said a word to her and am not quite certain whether she is at home now. But most likely she is. She has buried her stepmother to-day: she is not likely to go visiting on such a day. For the time I don’t want to speak to anyone about it and I half regret having spoken to you. The slightest indiscretion is as bad as betrayal in a thing like this. I live there in that house, we are coming to it. That’s the porter of our house—he knows me very well; you see, he’s bowing; he sees I’m coming with a lady and no doubt he has noticed your face already and you will be glad of that if you are afraid of me and suspicious. Excuse my putting things so coarsely. I haven’t a flat to myself; Sofya Semyonovna’s room is next to mine—she lodges in the next flat. The whole floor is let out in lodgings. Why are you frightened like a child? Am I really so terrible?’ Svidrigaïlov’s lips were twisted in a condescending smile; but he was in no smiling mood. His heart was throbbing and he could scarcely breathe. He spoke rather loud to cover his growing excitement. But Dounia did not 860 of 967 Crime and Punishment notice this peculiar excitement, she was so irritated by his remark that she was frightened of him like a child and that he was so terrible to her. ‘Though I know that you are not a man … of honour, I am not in the least afraid of you. Lead the way,’ she said with apparent composure, but her face was very pale. Svidrigaïlov stopped at Sonia’s room. ‘Allow me to inquire whether she is at home…. She is not. How unfortunate! But I know she may come quite soon. If she’s gone out, it can only be to see a lady about the orphans. Their mother is dead…. I’ve been meddling and making arrangements for them. If Sofya Semyonovna does not come back in ten minutes, I will send her to you, to-day if you like. This is my flat. These are my two rooms. Madame Resslich, my landlady, has the next room. Now, look this way. I will show you my chief piece of evidence: this door from my bedroom leads into two perfectly empty rooms, which are to let. Here they are … You must look into them with some attention.’ Svidrigaïlov occupied two fairly large furnished rooms. Dounia was looking about her mistrustfully, but saw nothing special in the furniture or position of the rooms. Yet there was something to observe, for instance, that Svidrigaïlov’s flat was exactly between two sets of almost 861 of 967 Crime and Punishment uninhabited apartments. His rooms were not entered directly from the passage, but through the landlady’s two almost empty rooms. Unlocking a door leading out of his bedroom, Svidrigaïlov showed Dounia the two empty rooms that were to let. Dounia stopped in the doorway, not knowing what she was called to look upon, but Svidrigaïlov hastened to explain. ‘Look here, at this second large room. Notice that door, it’s locked. By the door stands a chair, the only one in the two rooms. I brought it from my rooms so as to listen more conveniently. Just the other side of the door is Sofya Semyonovna’s table; she sat there talking to Rodion Romanovitch. And I sat here listening on two successive evenings, for two hours each time—and of course I was able to learn something, what do you think?’ ‘You listened?’ ‘Yes, I did. Now come back to my room; we can’t sit down here.’ He brought Avdotya Romanovna back into his sitting-room and offered her a chair. He sat down at the opposite side of the table, at least seven feet from her, but probably there was the same glow in his eyes which had once frightened Dounia so much. She shuddered and once more looked about her distrustfully. It was an involuntary 862 of 967 Crime and Punishment gesture; she evidently did not wish to betray her uneasiness. But the secluded position of Svidrigaïlov’s lodging had suddenly struck her. She wanted to ask whether his landlady at least were at home, but pride kept her from asking. Moreover, she had another trouble in her heart incomparably greater than fear for herself. She was in great distress. ‘Here is your letter,’ she said, laying it on the table. ‘Can it be true what you write? You hint at a crime committed, you say, by my brother. You hint at it too clearly; you daren’t deny it now. I must tell you that I’d heard of this stupid story before you wrote and don’t believe a word of it. It’s a disgusting and ridiculous suspicion. I know the story and why and how it was invented. You can have no proofs. You promised to prove it. Speak! But let me warn you that I don’t believe you! I don’t believe you!’ Dounia said this, speaking hurriedly, and for an instant the colour rushed to her face. ‘If you didn’t believe it, how could you risk coming alone to my rooms? Why have you come? Simply from curiosity?’ ‘Don’t torment me. Speak, speak!’ 863 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘There’s no denying that you are a brave girl. Upon my word, I thought you would have asked Mr. Razumihin to escort you here. But he was not with you nor anywhere near. I was on the look-out. It’s spirited of you, it proves you wanted to spare Rodion Romanovitch. But everything is divine in you…. About your brother, what am I to say to you? You’ve just seen him yourself. What did you think of him?’ ‘Surely that’s not the only thing you are building on?’ ‘No, not on that, but on his own words. He came here on two successive evenings to see Sofya Semyonovna. I’ve shown you where they sat. He made a full confession to her. He is a murderer. He killed an old woman, a pawnbroker, with whom he had pawned things himself. He killed her sister too, a pedlar woman called Lizaveta, who happened to come in while he was murdering her sister. He killed them with an axe he brought with him. He murdered them to rob them and he did rob them. He took money and various things…. He told all this, word for word, to Sofya Semyonovna, the only person who knows his secret. But she has had no share by word or deed in the murder; she was as horrified at it as you are now. Don’t be anxious, she won’t betray him.’ 864 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘It cannot be,’ muttered Dounia, with white lips. She gasped for breath. ‘It cannot be. There was not the slightest cause, no sort of ground…. It’s a lie, a lie!’ ‘He robbed her, that was the cause, he took money and things. It’s true that by his own admission he made no use of the money or things, but hid them under a stone, where they are now. But that was because he dared not make use of them.’ ‘But how could he steal, rob? How could he dream of it?’ cried Dounia, and she jumped up from the chair. ‘Why, you know him, and you’ve seen him, can he be a thief?’ She seemed to be imploring Svidrigaïlov; she had entirely forgotten her fear. ‘There are thousands and millions of combinations and possibilities, Avdotya Romanovna. A thief steals and knows he is a scoundrel, but I’ve heard of a gentleman who broke open the mail. Who knows, very likely he thought he was doing a gentlemanly thing! Of course I should not have believed it myself if I’d been told of it as you have, but I believe my own ears. He explained all the causes of it to Sofya Semyonovna too, but she did not believe her ears at first, yet she believed her own eyes at last.’ 865 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘What … were the causes?’ ‘It’s a long story, Avdotya Romanovna. Here’s … how shall I tell you?—A theory of a sort, the same one by which I for instance consider that a single misdeed is permissible if the principal aim is right, a solitary wrongdoing and hundreds of good deeds! It’s galling too, of course, for a young man of gifts and overweening pride to know that if he had, for instance, a paltry three thousand, his whole career, his whole future would be differently shaped and yet not to have that three thousand. Add to that, nervous irritability from hunger, from lodging in a hole, from rags, from a vivid sense of the charm of his social position and his sister’s and mother’s position too. Above all, vanity, pride and vanity, though goodness knows he may have good qualities too…. I am not blaming him, please don’t think it; besides, it’s not my business. A special little theory came in too—a theory of a sort—dividing mankind, you see, into material and superior persons, that is persons to whom the law does not apply owing to their superiority, who make laws for the rest of mankind, the material, that is. It’s all right as a theory, une théorie comme une autre . Napoleon attracted him tremendously, that is, what affected him was that a great many men of genius have not hesitated at wrongdoing, 866 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. but have overstepped the law without thinking about it. He seems to have fancied that he was a genius too—that is, he was convinced of it for a time. He has suffered a great deal and is still suffering from the idea that he could make a theory, but was incapable of boldly overstepping the law, and so he is not a man of genius. And that’s humiliating for a young man of any pride, in our day especially….’ ‘But remorse? You deny him any moral feeling then? Is he like that?’ ‘Ah, Avdotya Romanovna, everything is in a muddle now; not that it was ever in very good order. Russians in general are broad in their ideas, Avdotya Romanovna, broad like their land and exceedingly disposed to the fantastic, the chaotic. But it’s a misfortune to be broad without a special genius. Do you remember what a lot of talk we had together on this subject, sitting in the evenings on the terrace after supper? Why, you used to reproach me with breadth! Who knows, perhaps we were talking at the very time when he was lying here thinking over his plan. There are no sacred traditions amongst us, especially in the educated class, Avdotya Romanovna. At the best someone will make them up somehow for himself out of books or from some old chronicle. But those are for the 867 of 967 Crime and Punishment most part the learned and all old fogeys, so that it would be almost ill-bred in a man of society. You know my opinions in general, though. I never blame anyone. I do nothing at all, I persevere in that. But we’ve talked of this more than once before. I was so happy indeed as to interest you in my opinions…. You are very pale, Avdotya Romanovna.’ ‘I know his theory. I read that article of his about men to whom all is permitted. Razumihin brought it to me.’ ‘Mr. Razumihin? Your brother’s article? In a magazine? Is there such an article? I didn’t know. It must be interesting. But where are you going, Avdotya Romanovna?’ ‘I want to see Sofya Semyonovna,’ Dounia articulated faintly. ‘How do I go to her? She has come in, perhaps. I must see her at once. Perhaps she …’ Avdotya Romanovna could not finish. Her breath literally failed her. ‘Sofya Semyonovna will not be back till night, at least I believe not. She was to have been back at once, but if not, then she will not be in till quite late.’ ‘Ah, then you are lying! I see … you were lying … lying all the time…. I don’t believe you! I don’t believe you!’ cried Dounia, completely losing her head. 868 of 967 Crime and Punishment Almost fainting, she sank on to a chair which Svidrigaïlov made haste to give her. ‘Avdotya Romanovna, what is it? Control yourself! Here is some water. Drink a little….’ He sprinkled some water over her. Dounia shuddered and came to herself. ‘It has acted violently,’ Svidrigaïlov muttered to himself, frowning. ‘Avdotya Romanovna, calm yourself! Believe me, he has friends. We will save him. Would you like me to take him abroad? I have money, I can get a ticket in three days. And as for the murder, he will do all sorts of good deeds yet, to atone for it. Calm yourself. He may become a great man yet. Well, how are you? How do you feel?’ ‘Cruel man! To be able to jeer at it! Let me go …’ ‘Where are you going?’ ‘To him. Where is he? Do you know? Why is this door locked? We came in at that door and now it is locked. When did you manage to lock it?’ ‘We couldn’t be shouting all over the flat on such a subject. I am far from jeering; it’s simply that I’m sick of talking like this. But how can you go in such a state? Do you want to betray him? You will drive him to fury, and he will give himself up. Let me tell you, he is already 869 of 967 Crime and Punishment being watched; they are already on his track. You will simply be giving him away. Wait a little: I saw him and was talking to him just now. He can still be saved. Wait a bit, sit down; let us think it over together. I asked you to come in order to discuss it alone with you and to consider it thoroughly. But do sit down!’ ‘How can you save him? Can he really be saved?’ Dounia sat down. Svidrigaïlov sat down beside her. ‘It all depends on you, on you, on you alone,’ he begin with glowing eyes, almost in a whisper and hardly able to utter the words for emotion. Dounia drew back from him in alarm. He too was trembling all over. ‘You … one word from you, and he is saved. I … I’ll save him. I have money and friends. I’ll send him away at once. I’ll get a passport, two passports, one for him and one for me. I have friends … capable people…. If you like, I’ll take a passport for you … for your mother…. What do you want with Razumihin? I love you too…. I love you beyond everything…. Let me kiss the hem of your dress, let me, let me…. The very rustle of it is too much for me. Tell me, ‘do that,’ and I’ll do it. I’ll do everything. I will do the impossible. What you believe, I will believe. I’ll do anything —anything! Don’t, don’t 870 of 967 Crime and Punishment look at me like that. Do you know that you are killing me? …’ He was almost beginning to rave…. Something seemed suddenly to go to his head. Dounia jumped up and rushed to the door. ‘Open it! Open it!’ she called, shaking the door. ‘Open it! Is there no one there?’ Svidrigaïlov got up and came to himself. His still trembling lips slowly broke into an angry mocking smile. ‘There is no one at home,’ he said quietly and emphatically. ‘The landlady has gone out, and it’s waste of time to shout like that. You are only exciting yourself uselessly.’ ‘Where is the key? Open the door at once, at once, base man!’ ‘I have lost the key and cannot find it.’ ‘This is an outrage,’ cried Dounia, turning pale as death. She rushed to the furthest corner, where she made haste to barricade herself with a little table. She did not scream, but she fixed her eyes on her tormentor and watched every movement he made. Svidrigaïlov remained standing at the other end of the room facing her. He was positively composed, at least in 871 of 967 Crime and Punishment appearance, but his face was pale as before. The mocking smile did not leave his face. ‘You spoke of outrage just now, Avdotya Romanovna. In that case you may be sure I’ve taken measures. Sofya Semyonovna is not at home. The Kapernaumovs are far away—there are five locked rooms between. I am at least twice as strong as you are and I have nothing to fear, besides. For you could not complain afterwards. You surely would not be willing actually to betray your brother? Besides, no one would believe you. How should a girl have come alone to visit a solitary man in his lodgings? So that even if you do sacrifice your brother, you could prove nothing. It is very difficult to prove an assault, Avdotya Romanovna.’ ‘Scoundrel!’ whispered Dounia indignantly. ‘As you like, but observe I was only speaking by way of a general proposition. It’s my personal conviction that you are perfectly right —violence is hateful. I only spoke to show you that you need have no remorse even if … you were willing to save your brother of your own accord, as I suggest to you. You would be simply submitting to circumstances, to violence, in fact, if we must use that word. Think about it. Your brother’s and your mother’s 872 of 967 Crime and Punishment fate are in your hands. I will be your slave … all my life … I will wait here.’ Svidrigaïlov sat down on the sofa about eight steps from Dounia. She had not the slightest doubt now of his unbending determination. Besides, she knew him. Suddenly she pulled out of her pocket a revolver, cocked it and laid it in her hand on the table. Svidrigaïlov jumped up. ‘Aha! So that’s it, is it?’ he cried, surprised but smiling maliciously. ‘Well, that completely alters the aspect of affairs. You’ve made things wonderfully easier for me, Avdotya Romanovna. But where did you get the revolver? Was it Mr. Razumihin? Why, it’s my revolver, an old friend! And how I’ve hunted for it! The shooting lessons I’ve given you in the country have not been thrown away.’ ‘It’s not your revolver, it belonged to Marfa Petrovna, whom you killed, wretch! There was nothing of yours in her house. I took it when I began to suspect what you were capable of. If you dare to advance one step, I swear I’ll kill you.’ She was frantic. ‘But your brother? I ask from curiosity,’ said Svidrigaïlov, still standing where he was. 873 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Inform, if you want to! Don’t stir! Don’t come nearer! I’ll shoot! You poisoned your wife, I know; you are a murderer yourself!’ She held the revolver ready. ‘Are you so positive I poisoned Marfa Petrovna?’ ‘You did! You hinted it yourself; you talked to me of poison…. I know you went to get it … you had it in readiness…. It was your doing…. It must have been your doing…. Scoundrel!’ ‘Even if that were true, it would have been for your sake … you would have been the cause.’ ‘You are lying! I hated you always, always….’ ‘Oho, Avdotya Romanovna! You seem to have forgotten how you softened to me in the heat of propaganda. I saw it in your eyes. Do you remember that moonlight night, when the nightingale was singing?’ ‘That’s a lie,’ there was a flash of fury in Dounia’s eyes, ‘that’s a lie and a libel!’ ‘A lie? Well, if you like, it’s a lie. I made it up. Women ought not to be reminded of such things,’ he smiled. ‘I know you will shoot, you pretty wild creature. Well, shoot away!’ Dounia raised the revolver, and deadly pale, gazed at him, measuring the distance and awaiting the first movement on his part. Her lower lip was white and 874 of 967 Crime and Punishment quivering and her big black eyes flashed like fire. He had never seen her so handsome. The fire glowing in her eyes at the moment she raised the revolver seemed to kindle him and there was a pang of anguish in his heart. He took a step forward and a shot rang out. The bullet grazed his hair and flew into the wall behind. He stood still and laughed softly. ‘The wasp has stung me. She aimed straight at my head. What’s this? Blood?’ he pulled out his handkerchief to wipe the blood, which flowed in a thin stream down his right temple. The bullet seemed to have just grazed the skin. Dounia lowered the revolver and looked at Svidrigaïlov not so much in terror as in a sort of wild amazement. She seemed not to understand what she was doing and what was going on. ‘Well, you missed! Fire again, I’ll wait,’ said Svidrigaïlov softly, still smiling, but gloomily. ‘If you go on like that, I shall have time to seize you before you cock again.’ Dounia started, quickly cocked the pistol and again raised it. ‘Let me be,’ she cried in despair. ‘I swear I’ll shoot again. I … I’ll kill you.’ 875 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Well … at three paces you can hardly help it. But if you don’t … then.’ His eyes flashed and he took two steps forward. Dounia shot again: it missed fire. ‘You haven’t loaded it properly. Never mind, you have another charge there. Get it ready, I’ll wait.’ He stood facing her, two paces away, waiting and gazing at her with wild determination, with feverishly passionate, stubborn, set eyes. Dounia saw that he would sooner die than let her go. ‘And … now, of course she would kill him, at two paces!’ Suddenly she flung away the revolver. ‘She’s dropped it!’ said Svidrigaïlov with surprise, and he drew a deep breath. A weight seemed to have rolled from his heart—perhaps not only the fear of death; indeed he may scarcely have felt it at that moment. It was the deliverance from another feeling, darker and more bitter, which he could not himself have defined. He went to Dounia and gently put his arm round her waist. She did not resist, but, trembling like a leaf, looked at him with suppliant eyes. He tried to say something, but his lips moved without being able to utter a sound. ‘Let me go,’ Dounia implored. Svidrigaïlov shuddered. Her voice now was quite different. 876 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Then you don’t love me?’ he asked softly. Dounia shook her head. ‘And … and you can’t? Never?’ he whispered in despair. ‘Never!’ There followed a moment of terrible, dumb struggle in the heart of Svidrigaïlov. He looked at her with an indescribable gaze. Suddenly he withdrew his arm, turned quickly to the window and stood facing it. Another moment passed. ‘Here’s the key.’ He took it out of the left pocket of his coat and laid it on the table behind him, without turning or looking at Dounia. ‘Take it! Make haste!’ He looked stubbornly out of the window. Dounia went up to the table to take the key. ‘Make haste! Make haste!’ repeated Svidrigaïlov, still without turning or moving. But there seemed a terrible significance in the tone of that ‘make haste.’ Dounia understood it, snatched up the key, flew to the door, unlocked it quickly and rushed out of the room. A minute later, beside herself, she ran out on to the canal bank in the direction of X. Bridge. 877 of 967 Crime and Punishment Svidrigaïlov remained three minutes standing at the window. At last he slowly turned, looked about him and passed his hand over his forehead. A strange smile contorted his face, a pitiful, sad, weak smile, a smile of despair. The blood, which was already getting dry, smeared his hand. He looked angrily at it, then wetted a towel and washed his temple. The revolver which Dounia had flung away lay near the door and suddenly caught his eye. He picked it up and examined it. It was a little pocket three-barrel revolver of old-fashioned construction. There were still two charges and one capsule left in it. It could be fired again. He thought a little, put the revolver in his pocket, took his hat and went out. 878 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. Chapter VI He spent that evening till ten o’clock going from one low haunt to another. Katia too turned up and sang another gutter song, how a certain ‘villain and tyrant.’ ‘began kissing Katia.’ Svidrigaïlov treated Katia and the organ-grinder and some singers and the waiters and two little clerks. He was particularly drawn to these clerks by the fact that they both had crooked noses, one bent to the left and the other to the right. They took him finally to a pleasure garden, where he paid for their entrance. There was one lanky three- year-old pine-tree and three bushes in the garden, besides a ‘Vauxhall,’ which was in reality a drinking-bar where tea too was served, and there were a few green tables and chairs standing round it. A chorus of wretched singers and a drunken but exceedingly depressed German clown from Munich with a red nose entertained the public. The clerks quarrelled with some other clerks and a fight seemed imminent. Svidrigaïlov was chosen to decide the dispute. He listened to them for a quarter of an hour, but they shouted so loud that there was no possibility of understanding them. The only fact that seemed certain was 879 of 967 Crime and Punishment that one of them had stolen something and had even succeeded in selling it on the spot to a Jew, but would not share the spoil with his companion. Finally it appeared that the stolen object was a teaspoon belonging to the Vauxhall. It was missed and the affair began to seem troublesome. Svidrigaïlov paid for the spoon, got up, and walked out of the garden. It was about six o’clock. He had not drunk a drop of wine all this time and had ordered tea more for the sake of appearances than anything. It was a dark and stifling evening. Threatening storm-clouds came over the sky about ten o’clock. There was a clap of thunder, and the rain came down like a waterfall. The water fell not in drops, but beat on the earth in streams. There were flashes of lightning every minute and each flash lasted while one could count five. Drenched to the skin, he went home, locked himself in, opened the bureau, took out all his money and tore up two or three papers. Then, putting the money in his pocket, he was about to change his clothes, but, looking out of the window and listening to the thunder and the rain, he gave up the idea, took up his hat and went out of the room without locking the door. He went straight to Sonia. She was at home. 880 of 967 Crime and Punishment She was not alone: the four Kapernaumov children were with her. She was giving them tea. She received Svidrigaïlov in respectful silence, looking wonderingly at his soaking clothes. The children all ran away at once in indescribable terror. Svidrigaïlov sat down at the table and asked Sonia to sit beside him. She timidly prepared to listen. ‘I may be going to America, Sofya Semyonovna,’ said Svidrigaïlov, ‘and as I am probably seeing you for the last time, I have come to make some arrangements. Well, did you see the lady to-day? I know what she said to you, you need not tell me.’ (Sonia made a movement and blushed.) ‘Those people have their own way of doing things. As to your sisters and your brother, they are really provided for and the money assigned to them I’ve put into safe keeping and have received acknowledgments. You had better take charge of the receipts, in case anything happens. Here, take them! Well now, that’s settled. Here are three 5-percent bonds to the value of three thousand roubles. Take those for yourself, entirely for yourself, and let that be strictly between ourselves, so that no one knows of it, whatever you hear. You will need the money, for to go on living in the old way, Sofya Semyonovna, is bad, and besides there is no need for it now.’ 881 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘I am so much indebted to you, and so are the children and my stepmother,’ said Sonia hurriedly, ‘and if I’ve said so little … please don’t consider …’ ‘That’s enough! that’s enough!’ ‘But as for the money, Arkady Ivanovitch, I am very grateful to you, but I don’t need it now. I can always earn my own living. Don’t think me ungrateful. If you are so charitable, that money….’ ‘It’s for you, for you, Sofya Semyonovna, and please don’t waste words over it. I haven’t time for it. You will want it. Rodion Romanovitch has two alternatives: a bullet in the brain or Siberia.’ (Sonia looked wildly at him, and started.) ‘Don’t be uneasy, I know all about it from himself and I am not a gossip; I won’t tell anyone. It was good advice when you told him to give himself up and confess. It would be much better for him. Well, if it turns out to be Siberia, he will go and you will follow him. That’s so, isn’t it? And if so, you’ll need money. You’ll need it for him, do you understand? Giving it to you is the same as my giving it to him. Besides, you promised Amalia Ivanovna to pay what’s owing. I heard you. How can you undertake such obligations so heedlessly, Sofya Semyonovna? It was Katerina Ivanovna’s debt and not yours, so you ought not to have taken any notice of the 882 of 967 Crime and Punishment German woman. You can’t get through the world like that. If you are ever questioned about me—to-morrow or the day after you will be asked—don’t say anything about my coming to see you now and don’t show the money to anyone or say a word about it. Well, now good- bye.’ (He got up.) ‘My greetings to Rodion Romanovitch. By the way, you’d better put the money for the present in Mr. Razumihin’s keeping. You know Mr. Razumihin? Of course you do. He’s not a bad fellow. Take it to him to-morrow or … when the time comes. And till then, hide it carefully.’ Sonia too jumped up from her chair and looked in dismay at Svidrigaïlov. She longed to speak, to ask a question, but for the first moments she did not dare and did not know how to begin. ‘How can you … how can you be going now, in such rain?’ ‘Why, be starting for America, and be stopped by rain! Ha, ha! Good- bye, Sofya Semyonovna, my dear! Live and live long, you will be of use to others. By the way … tell Mr. Razumihin I send my greetings to him. Tell him Arkady Ivanovitch Svidrigaïlov sends his greetings. Be sure to.’ 883 of 967 Crime and Punishment He went out, leaving Sonia in a state of wondering anxiety and vague apprehension. It appeared afterwards that on the same evening, at twenty past eleven, he made another very eccentric and unexpected visit. The rain still persisted. Drenched to the skin, he walked into the little flat where the parents of his betrothed lived, in Third Street in Vassilyevsky Island. He knocked some time before he was admitted, and his visit at first caused great perturbation; but Svidrigaïlov could be very fascinating when he liked, so that the first, and indeed very intelligent surmise of the sensible parents that Svidrigaïlov had probably had so much to drink that he did not know what he was doing vanished immediately. The decrepit father was wheeled in to see Svidrigaïlov by the tender and sensible mother, who as usual began the conversation with various irrelevant questions. She never asked a direct question, but began by smiling and rubbing her hands and then, if she were obliged to ascertain something—for instance, when Svidrigaïlov would like to have the wedding—she would begin by interested and almost eager questions about Paris and the court life there, and only by degrees brought the conversation round to Third Street. On other occasions this had of course been very impressive, but this time Arkady Ivanovitch seemed 884 of 967 Crime and Punishment particularly impatient, and insisted on seeing his betrothed at once, though he had been informed, to begin with, that she had already gone to bed. The girl of course appeared. Svidrigaïlov informed her at once that he was obliged by very important affairs to leave Petersburg for a time, and therefore brought her fifteen thousand roubles and begged her accept them as a present from him, as he had long been intending to make her this trifling present before their wedding. The logical connection of the present with his immediate departure and the absolute necessity of visiting them for that purpose in pouring rain at midnight was not made clear. But it all went off very well; even the inevitable ejaculations of wonder and regret, the inevitable questions were extraordinarily few and restrained. On the other hand, the gratitude expressed was most glowing and was reinforced by tears from the most sensible of mothers. Svidrigaïlov got up, laughed, kissed his betrothed, patted her cheek, declared he would soon come back, and noticing in her eyes, together with childish curiosity, a sort of earnest dumb inquiry, reflected and kissed her again, though he felt sincere anger inwardly at the thought that his present would be immediately locked up in the keeping of the most sensible of mothers. He went away, leaving them all in a state of extraordinary 885 of 967 Crime and Punishment excitement, but the tender mamma, speaking quietly in a half whisper, settled some of the most important of their doubts, concluding that Svidrigaïlov was a great man, a man of great affairs and connections and of great wealth— there was no knowing what he had in his mind. He would start off on a journey and give away money just as the fancy took him, so that there was nothing surprising about it. Of course it was strange that he was wet through, but Englishmen, for instance, are even more eccentric, and all these people of high society didn’t think of what was said of them and didn’t stand on ceremony. Possibly, indeed, he came like that on purpose to show that he was not afraid of anyone. Above all, not a word should be said about it, for God knows what might come of it, and the money must be locked up, and it was most fortunate that Fedosya, the cook, had not left the kitchen. And above all not a word must be said to that old cat, Madame Resslich, and so on and so on. They sat up whispering till two o’clock, but the girl went to bed much earlier, amazed and rather sorrowful. Svidrigaïlov meanwhile, exactly at midnight, crossed the bridge on the way back to the mainland. The rain had ceased and there was a roaring wind. He began shivering, and for one moment he gazed at the black waters of the 886 of 967 Crime and Punishment Little Neva with a look of special interest, even inquiry. But he soon felt it very cold, standing by the water; he turned and went towards Y. Prospect. He walked along that endless street for a long time, almost half an hour, more than once stumbling in the dark on the wooden pavement, but continually looking for something on the right side of the street. He had noticed passing through this street lately that there was a hotel somewhere towards the end, built of wood, but fairly large, and its name he remembered was something like Adrianople. He was not mistaken: the hotel was so conspicuous in that God-forsaken place that he could not fail to see it even in the dark. It was a long, blackened wooden building, and in spite of the late hour there were lights in the windows and signs of life within. He went in and asked a ragged fellow who met him in the corridor for a room. The latter, scanning Svidrigaïlov, pulled himself together and led him at once to a close and tiny room in the distance, at the end of the corridor, under the stairs. There was no other, all were occupied. The ragged fellow looked inquiringly. ‘Is there tea?’ asked Svidrigaïlov. ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘What else is there?’ ‘Veal, vodka, savouries.’ 887 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Bring me tea and veal.’ ‘And you want nothing else?’ he asked with apparent surprise. ‘Nothing, nothing.’ The ragged man went away, completely disillusioned. ‘It must be a nice place,’ thought Svidrigaïlov. ‘How was it I didn’t know it? I expect I look as if I came from a café chantant and have had some adventure on the way. It would be interesting to know who stay here?’ He lighted the candle and looked at the room more carefully. It was a room so low-pitched that Svidrigaïlov could only just stand up in it; it had one window; the bed, which was very dirty, and the plain- stained chair and table almost filled it up. The walls looked as though they were made of planks, covered with shabby paper, so torn and dusty that the pattern was indistinguishable, though the general colour—yellow—could still be made out. One of the walls was cut short by the sloping ceiling, though the room was not an attic but just under the stairs. Svidrigaïlov set down the candle, sat down on the bed and sank into thought. But a strange persistent murmur which sometimes rose to a shout in the next room attracted his attention. The murmur had not ceased from the moment he entered the room. He listened: someone 888 of 967 Crime and Punishment was upbraiding and almost tearfully scolding, but he heard only one voice. Svidrigaïlov got up, shaded the light with his hand and at once he saw light through a crack in the wall; he went up and peeped through. The room, which was somewhat larger than his, had two occupants. One of them, a very curly-headed man with a red inflamed face, was standing in the pose of an orator, without his coat, with his legs wide apart to preserve his balance, and smiting himself on the breast. He reproached the other with being a beggar, with having no standing whatever. He declared that he had taken the other out of the gutter and he could turn him out when he liked, and that only the finger of Providence sees it all. The object of his reproaches was sitting in a chair, and had the air of a man who wants dreadfully to sneeze, but can’t. He sometimes turned sheepish and befogged eyes on the speaker, but obviously had not the slightest idea what he was talking about and scarcely heard it. A candle was burning down on the table; there were wine-glasses, a nearly empty bottle of vodka, bread and cucumber, and glasses with the dregs of stale tea. After gazing attentively at this, Svidrigaïlov turned away indifferently and sat down on the bed. 889 of 967 Crime and Punishment The ragged attendant, returning with the tea, could not resist asking him again whether he didn’t want anything more, and again receiving a negative reply, finally withdrew. Svidrigaïlov made haste to drink a glass of tea to warm himself, but could not eat anything. He began to feel feverish. He took off his coat and, wrapping himself in the blanket, lay down on the bed. He was annoyed. ‘It would have been better to be well for the occasion,’ he thought with a smile. The room was close, the candle burnt dimly, the wind was roaring outside, he heard a mouse scratching in the corner and the room smelt of mice and of leather. He lay in a sort of reverie: one thought followed another. He felt a longing to fix his imagination on something. ‘It must be a garden under the window,’ he thought. ‘There’s a sound of trees. How I dislike the sound of trees on a stormy night, in the dark! They give one a horrid feeling.’ He remembered how he had disliked it when he passed Petrovsky Park just now. This reminded him of the bridge over the Little Neva and he felt cold again as he had when standing there. ‘I never have liked water,’ he thought, ‘even in a landscape,’ and he suddenly smiled again at a strange idea: ‘Surely now all these questions of taste and comfort ought not to matter, but I’ve become more particular, like an animal that picks 890 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. out a special place … for such an occasion. I ought to have gone into the Petrovsky Park! I suppose it seemed dark, cold, ha-ha! As though I were seeking pleasant sensations! … By the way, why haven’t I put out the candle?’ he blew it out. ‘They’ve gone to bed next door,’ he thought, not seeing the light at the crack. ‘Well, now, Marfa Petrovna, now is the time for you to turn up; it’s dark, and the very time and place for you. But now you won’t come!’ He suddenly recalled how, an hour before carrying out his design on Dounia, he had recommended Raskolnikov to trust her to Razumihin’s keeping. ‘I suppose I really did say it, as Raskolnikov guessed, to tease myself. But what a rogue that Raskolnikov is! He’s gone through a good deal. He may be a successful rogue in time when he’s got over his nonsense. But now he’s too eager for life. These young men are contemptible on that point. But, hang the fellow! Let him please himself, it’s nothing to do with me.’ He could not get to sleep. By degrees Dounia’s image rose before him, and a shudder ran over him. ‘No, I must give up all that now,’ he thought, rousing himself. ‘I must think of something else. It’s queer and funny. I never had a great hatred for anyone, I never particularly desired to avenge myself even, and that’s a bad sign, a bad sign, a bad 891 of 967 Crime and Punishment sign. I never liked quarrelling either, and never lost my temper— that’s a bad sign too. And the promises I made her just now, too— Damnation! But—who knows?— perhaps she would have made a new man of me somehow….’ He ground his teeth and sank into silence again. Again Dounia’s image rose before him, just as she was when, after shooting the first time, she had lowered the revolver in terror and gazed blankly at him, so that he might have seized her twice over and she would not have lifted a hand to defend herself if he had not reminded her. He recalled how at that instant he felt almost sorry for her, how he had felt a pang at his heart … ‘Aïe! Damnation, these thoughts again! I must put it away!’ He was dozing off; the feverish shiver had ceased, when suddenly something seemed to run over his arm and leg under the bedclothes. He started. ‘Ugh! hang it! I believe it’s a mouse,’ he thought, ‘that’s the veal I left on the table.’ He felt fearfully disinclined to pull off the blanket, get up, get cold, but all at once something unpleasant ran over his leg again. He pulled off the blanket and lighted the candle. Shaking with feverish chill he bent down to examine the bed: there was nothing. He shook the blanket 892 of 967 Crime and Punishment and suddenly a mouse jumped out on the sheet. He tried to catch it, but the mouse ran to and fro in zigzags without leaving the bed, slipped between his fingers, ran over his hand and suddenly darted under the pillow. He threw down the pillow, but in one instant felt something leap on his chest and dart over his body and down his back under his shirt. He trembled nervously and woke up. The room was dark. He was lying on the bed and wrapped up in the blanket as before. The wind was howling under the window. ‘How disgusting,’ he thought with annoyance. He got up and sat on the edge of the bedstead with his back to the window. ‘It’s better not to sleep at all,’ he decided. There was a cold damp draught from the window, however; without getting up he drew the blanket over him and wrapped himself in it. He was not thinking of anything and did not want to think. But one image rose after another, incoherent scraps of thought without beginning or end passed through his mind. He sank into drowsiness. Perhaps the cold, or the dampness, or the dark, or the wind that howled under the window and tossed the trees roused a sort of persistent craving for the fantastic. He kept dwelling on images of flowers, he fancied a charming flower garden, a bright, warm, almost 893 of 967 Crime and Punishment hot day, a holiday—Trinity day. A fine, sumptuous country cottage in the English taste overgrown with fragrant flowers, with flower beds going round the house; the porch, wreathed in climbers, was surrounded with beds of roses. A light, cool staircase, carpeted with rich rugs, was decorated with rare plants in china pots. He noticed particularly in the windows nosegays of tender, white, heavily fragrant narcissus bending over their bright, green, thick long stalks. He was reluctant to move away from them, but he went up the stairs and came into a large, high drawing-room and again everywhere—at the windows, the doors on to the balcony, and on the balcony itself—were flowers. The floors were strewn with freshly-cut fragrant hay, the windows were open, a fresh, cool, light air came into the room. The birds were chirruping under the window, and in the middle of the room, on a table covered with a white satin shroud, stood a coffin. The coffin was covered with white silk and edged with a thick white frill; wreaths of flowers surrounded it on all sides. Among the flowers lay a girl in a white muslin dress, with her arms crossed and pressed on her bosom, as though carved out of marble. But her loose fair hair was wet; there was a wreath of roses on her head. The stern and already rigid profile of her face looked as though 894 of 967 Crime and Punishment chiselled of marble too, and the smile on her pale lips was full of an immense unchildish misery and sorrowful appeal. Svidrigaïlov knew that girl; there was no holy image, no burning candle beside the coffin; no sound of prayers: the girl had drowned herself. She was only fourteen, but her heart was broken. And she had destroyed herself, crushed by an insult that had appalled and amazed that childish soul, had smirched that angel purity with unmerited disgrace and torn from her a last scream of despair, unheeded and brutally disregarded, on a dark night in the cold and wet while the wind howled…. Svidrigaïlov came to himself, got up from the bed and went to the window. He felt for the latch and opened it. The wind lashed furiously into the little room and stung his face and his chest, only covered with his shirt, as though with frost. Under the window there must have been something like a garden, and apparently a pleasure garden. There, too, probably there were tea-tables and singing in the daytime. Now drops of rain flew in at the window from the trees and bushes; it was dark as in a cellar, so that he could only just make out some dark blurs of objects. Svidrigaïlov, bending down with elbows on the window-sill, gazed for five minutes into the darkness; the boom of a cannon, followed by a second one, resounded 895 of 967 Crime and Punishment in the darkness of the night. ‘Ah, the signal! The river is overflowing,’ he thought. ‘By morning it will be swirling down the street in the lower parts, flooding the basements and cellars. The cellar rats will swim out, and men will curse in the rain and wind as they drag their rubbish to their upper storeys. What time is it now?’ And he had hardly thought it when, somewhere near, a clock on the wall, ticking away hurriedly, struck three. ‘Aha! It will be light in an hour! Why wait? I’ll go out at once straight to the park. I’ll choose a great bush there drenched with rain, so that as soon as one’s shoulder touches it, millions of drops drip on one’s head.’ He moved away from the window, shut it, lighted the candle, put on his waistcoat, his overcoat and his hat and went out, carrying the candle, into the passage to look for the ragged attendant who would be asleep somewhere in the midst of candle-ends and all sorts of rubbish, to pay him for the room and leave the hotel. ‘It’s the best minute; I couldn’t choose a better.’ He walked for some time through a long narrow corridor without finding anyone and was just going to call out, when suddenly in a dark corner between an old cupboard and the door he caught sight of a strange object which seemed to be alive. He bent down with the candle 896 of 967 Crime and Punishment and saw a little girl, not more than five years old, shivering and crying, with her clothes as wet as a soaking house-flannel. She did not seem afraid of Svidrigaïlov, but looked at him with blank amazement out of her big black eyes. Now and then she sobbed as children do when they have been crying a long time, but are beginning to be comforted. The child’s face was pale and tired, she was numb with cold. ‘How can she have come here? She must have hidden here and not slept all night.’ He began questioning her. The child suddenly becoming animated, chattered away in her baby language, something about ‘mammy’ and that ‘mammy would beat her,’ and about some cup that she had ‘bwoken.’ The child chattered on without stopping. He could only guess from what she said that she was a neglected child, whose mother, probably a drunken cook, in the service of the hotel, whipped and frightened her; that the child had broken a cup of her mother’s and was so frightened that she had run away the evening before, had hidden for a long while somewhere outside in the rain, at last had made her way in here, hidden behind the cupboard and spent the night there, crying and trembling from the damp, the darkness and the fear that she would be badly beaten for it. He took her in his arms, went back to his room, sat her on the bed, and 897 of 967 Crime and Punishment began undressing her. The torn shoes which she had on her stockingless feet were as wet as if they had been standing in a puddle all night. When he had undressed her, he put her on the bed, covered her up and wrapped her in the blanket from her head downwards. She fell asleep at once. Then he sank into dreary musing again. ‘What folly to trouble myself,’ he decided suddenly with an oppressive feeling of annoyance. ‘What idiocy!’ In vexation he took up the candle to go and look for the ragged attendant again and make haste to go away. ‘Damn the child!’ he thought as he opened the door, but he turned again to see whether the child was asleep. He raised the blanket carefully. The child was sleeping soundly, she had got warm under the blanket, and her pale cheeks were flushed. But strange to say that flush seemed brighter and coarser than the rosy cheeks of childhood. ‘It’s a flush of fever,’ thought Svidrigaïlov. It was like the flush from drinking, as though she had been given a full glass to drink. Her crimson lips were hot and glowing; but what was this? He suddenly fancied that her long black eyelashes were quivering, as though the lids were opening and a sly crafty eye peeped out with an unchildlike wink, as though the little girl were not asleep, but pretending. Yes, it was so. Her lips parted in a smile. The corners of her mouth 898 of 967 Crime and Punishment quivered, as though she were trying to control them. But now she quite gave up all effort, now it was a grin, a broad grin; there was something shameless, provocative in that quite unchildish face; it was depravity, it was the face of a harlot, the shameless face of a French harlot. Now both eyes opened wide; they turned a glowing, shameless glance upon him; they laughed, invited him…. There was something infinitely hideous and shocking in that laugh, in those eyes, in such nastiness in the face of a child. ‘What, at five years old?’ Svidrigaïlov muttered in genuine horror. ‘What does it mean?’ And now she turned to him, her little face all aglow, holding out her arms…. ‘Accursed child!’ Svidrigaïlov cried, raising his hand to strike her, but at that moment he woke up. He was in the same bed, still wrapped in the blanket. The candle had not been lighted, and daylight was streaming in at the windows. ‘I’ve had nightmare all night!’ He got up angrily, feeling utterly shattered; his bones ached. There was a thick mist outside and he could see nothing. It was nearly five. He had overslept himself! He got up, put on his still damp jacket and overcoat. Feeling the revolver in his pocket, he took it out and then he sat down, took a notebook out of his pocket and in the most conspicuous 899 of 967 Crime and Punishment place on the title page wrote a few lines in large letters. Reading them over, he sank into thought with his elbows on the table. The revolver and the notebook lay beside him. Some flies woke up and settled on the untouched veal, which was still on the table. He stared at them and at last with his free right hand began trying to catch one. He tried till he was tired, but could not catch it. At last, realising that he was engaged in this interesting pursuit, he started, got up and walked resolutely out of the room. A minute later he was in the street. A thick milky mist hung over the town. Svidrigaïlov walked along the slippery dirty wooden pavement towards the Little Neva. He was picturing the waters of the Little Neva swollen in the night, Petrovsky Island, the wet paths, the wet grass, the wet trees and bushes and at last the bush…. He began ill-humouredly staring at the houses, trying to think of something else. There was not a cabman or a passer-by in the street. The bright yellow, wooden, little houses looked dirty and dejected with their closed shutters. The cold and damp penetrated his whole body and he began to shiver. From time to time he came across shop signs and read each carefully. At last he reached the end of the wooden pavement and came to a big stone house. A dirty, shivering dog crossed his path 900 of 967 Crime and Punishment with its tail between its legs. A man in a greatcoat lay face downwards; dead drunk, across the pavement. He looked at him and went on. A high tower stood up on the left. ‘Bah!’ he shouted, ‘here is a place. Why should it be Petrovsky? It will be in the presence of an official witness anyway….’ He almost smiled at this new thought and turned into the street where there was the big house with the tower. At the great closed gates of the house, a little man stood with his shoulder leaning against them, wrapped in a grey soldier’s coat, with a copper Achilles helmet on his head. He cast a drowsy and indifferent glance at Svidrigaïlov. His face wore that perpetual look of peevish dejection, which is so sourly printed on all faces of Jewish race without exception. They both, Svidrigaïlov and Achilles, stared at each other for a few minutes without speaking. At last it struck Achilles as irregular for a man not drunk to be standing three steps from him, staring and not saying a word. ‘What do you want here?’ he said, without moving or changing his position. ‘Nothing, brother, good morning,’ answered Svidrigaïlov. ‘This isn’t the place.’ 901 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘I am going to foreign parts, brother.’ ‘To foreign parts?’ ‘To America.’ ‘America.’ Svidrigaïlov took out the revolver and cocked it. Achilles raised his eyebrows. ‘I say, this is not the place for such jokes!’ ‘Why shouldn’t it be the place?’ ‘Because it isn’t.’ ‘Well, brother, I don’t mind that. It’s a good place. When you are asked, you just say he was going, he said, to America.’ He put the revolver to his right temple. ‘You can’t do it here, it’s not the place,’ cried Achilles, rousing himself, his eyes growing bigger and bigger. Svidrigaïlov pulled the trigger. 902 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. Chapter VII The same day, about seven o’clock in the evening, Raskolnikov was on his way to his mother’s and sister’s lodging—the lodging in Bakaleyev’s house which Razumihin had found for them. The stairs went up from the street. Raskolnikov walked with lagging steps, as though still hesitating whether to go or not. But nothing would have turned him back: his decision was taken. ‘Besides, it doesn’t matter, they still know nothing,’ he thought, ‘and they are used to thinking of me as eccentric.’ He was appallingly dressed: his clothes torn and dirty, soaked with a night’s rain. His face was almost distorted from fatigue, exposure, the inward conflict that had lasted for twenty-four hours. He had spent all the previous night alone, God knows where. But anyway he had reached a decision. He knocked at the door which was opened by his mother. Dounia was not at home. Even the servant happened to be out. At first Pulcheria Alexandrovna was speechless with joy and surprise; then she took him by the hand and drew him into the room. 903 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Here you are!’ she began, faltering with joy. ‘Don’t be angry with me, Rodya, for welcoming you so foolishly with tears: I am laughing not crying. Did you think I was crying? No, I am delighted, but I’ve got into such a stupid habit of shedding tears. I’ve been like that ever since your father’s death. I cry for anything. Sit down, dear boy, you must be tired; I see you are. Ah, how muddy you are.’ ‘I was in the rain yesterday, mother….’ Raskolnikov began. ‘No, no,’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna hurriedly interrupted, ‘you thought I was going to cross-question you in the womanish way I used to; don’t be anxious, I understand, I understand it all: now I’ve learned the ways here and truly I see for myself that they are better. I’ve made up my mind once for all: how could I understand your plans and expect you to give an account of them? God knows what concerns and plans you may have, or what ideas you are hatching; so it’s not for me to keep nudging your elbow, asking you what you are thinking about? But, my goodness! why am I running to and fro as though I were crazy … ? I am reading your article in the magazine for the third time, Rodya. Dmitri Prokofitch brought it to me. Directly I saw it I cried out to myself: ‘There, foolish one,’ I thought, ‘that’s what he is busy 904 of 967 Crime and Punishment about; that’s the solution of the mystery! Learned people are always like that. He may have some new ideas in his head just now; he is thinking them over and I worry him and upset him.’ I read it, my dear, and of course there was a great deal I did not understand; but that’s only natural— how should I?’ ‘Show me, mother.’ Raskolnikov took the magazine and glanced at his article. Incongruous as it was with his mood and his circumstances, he felt that strange and bitter sweet sensation that every author experiences the first time he sees himself in print; besides, he was only twenty-three. It lasted only a moment. After reading a few lines he frowned and his heart throbbed with anguish. He recalled all the inward conflict of the preceding months. He flung the article on the table with disgust and anger. ‘But, however foolish I may be, Rodya, I can see for myself that you will very soon be one of the leading—if not the leading man—in the world of Russian thought. And they dared to think you were mad! You don’t know, but they really thought that. Ah, the despicable creatures, how could they understand genius! And Dounia, Dounia was all but believing it—what do you say to that? Your father sent twice to magazines—the first time poems (I’ve 905 of 967 Crime and Punishment got the manuscript and will show you) and the second time a whole novel (I begged him to let me copy it out) and how we prayed that they should be taken—they weren’t! I was breaking my heart, Rodya, six or seven days ago over your food and your clothes and the way you are living. But now I see again how foolish I was, for you can attain any position you like by your intellect and talent. No doubt you don’t care about that for the present and you are occupied with much more important matters….’ ‘Dounia’s not at home, mother?’ ‘No, Rodya. I often don’t see her; she leaves me alone. Dmitri Prokofitch comes to see me, it’s so good of him, and he always talks about you. He loves you and respects you, my dear. I don’t say that Dounia is very wanting in consideration. I am not complaining. She has her ways and I have mine; she seems to have got some secrets of late and I never have any secrets from you two. Of course, I am sure that Dounia has far too much sense, and besides she loves you and me … but I don’t know what it will all lead to. You’ve made me so happy by coming now, Rodya, but she has missed you by going out; when she comes in I’ll tell her: ‘Your brother came in while you were out. Where have you been all this time?’ You mustn’t spoil 906 of 967 Crime and Punishment me, Rodya, you know; come when you can, but if you can’t, it doesn’t matter, I can wait. I shall know, anyway, that you are fond of me, that will be enough for me. I shall read what you write, I shall hear about you from everyone, and sometimes you’ll come yourself to see me. What could be better? Here you’ve come now to comfort your mother, I see that.’ Here Pulcheria Alexandrovna began to cry. ‘Here I am again! Don’t mind my foolishness. My goodness, why am I sitting here?’ she cried, jumping up. ‘There is coffee and I don’t offer you any. Ah, that’s the selfishness of old age. I’ll get it at once!’ ‘Mother, don’t trouble, I am going at once. I haven’t come for that. Please listen to me.’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna went up to him timidly. ‘Mother, whatever happens, whatever you hear about me, whatever you are told about me, will you always love me as you do now?’ he asked suddenly from the fullness of his heart, as though not thinking of his words and not weighing them. ‘Rodya, Rodya, what is the matter? How can you ask me such a question? Why, who will tell me anything about you? Besides, I shouldn’t believe anyone, I should refuse to listen.’ 907 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘I’ve come to assure you that I’ve always loved you and I am glad that we are alone, even glad Dounia is out,’ he went on with the same impulse. ‘I have come to tell you that though you will be unhappy, you must believe that your son loves you now more than himself, and that all you thought about me, that I was cruel and didn’t care about you, was all a mistake. I shall never cease to love you…. Well, that’s enough: I thought I must do this and begin with this….’ Pulcheria Alexandrovna embraced him in silence, pressing him to her bosom and weeping gently. ‘I don’t know what is wrong with you, Rodya,’ she said at last. ‘I’ve been thinking all this time that we were simply boring you and now I see that there is a great sorrow in store for you, and that’s why you are miserable. I’ve foreseen it a long time, Rodya. Forgive me for speaking about it. I keep thinking about it and lie awake at nights. Your sister lay talking in her sleep all last night, talking of nothing but you. I caught something, but I couldn’t make it out. I felt all the morning as though I were going to be hanged, waiting for something, expecting something, and now it has come! Rodya, Rodya, where are you going? You are going away somewhere?’ 908 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Yes.’ ‘That’s what I thought! I can come with you, you know, if you need me. And Dounia, too; she loves you, she loves you dearly—and Sofya Semyonovna may come with us if you like. You see, I am glad to look upon her as a daughter even … Dmitri Prokofitch will help us to go together. But … where … are you going?’ ‘Good-bye, mother.’ ‘What, to-day?’ she cried, as though losing him for ever. ‘I can’t stay, I must go now….’ ‘And can’t I come with you?’ ‘No, but kneel down and pray to God for me. Your prayer perhaps will reach Him.’ ‘Let me bless you and sign you with the cross. That’s right, that’s right. Oh, God, what are we doing?’ Yes, he was glad, he was very glad that there was no one there, that he was alone with his mother. For the first time after all those awful months his heart was softened. He fell down before her, he kissed her feet and both wept, embracing. And she was not surprised and did not question him this time. For some days she had realised that something awful was happening to her son and that now some terrible minute had come for him. 909 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Rodya, my darling, my first born,’ she said sobbing, ‘now you are just as when you were little. You would run like this to me and hug me and kiss me. When your father was living and we were poor, you comforted us simply by being with us and when I buried your father, how often we wept together at his grave and embraced, as now. And if I’ve been crying lately, it’s that my mother’s heart had a foreboding of trouble. The first time I saw you, that evening, you remember, as soon as we arrived here, I guessed simply from your eyes. My heart sank at once, and to-day when I opened the door and looked at you, I thought the fatal hour had come. Rodya, Rodya, you are not going away to-day?’ ‘No!’ ‘You’ll come again?’ ‘Yes … I’ll come.’ ‘Rodya, don’t be angry, I don’t dare to question you. I know I mustn’t. Only say two words to me—is it far where you are going?’ ‘Very far.’ ‘What is awaiting you there? Some post or career for you?’ 910 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘What God sends … only pray for me.’ Raskolnikov went to the door, but she clutched him and gazed despairingly into his eyes. Her face worked with terror. ‘Enough, mother,’ said Raskolnikov, deeply regretting that he had come. ‘Not for ever, it’s not yet for ever? You’ll come, you’ll come to-morrow?’ ‘I will, I will, good-bye.’ He tore himself away at last. It was a warm, fresh, bright evening; it had cleared up in the morning. Raskolnikov went to his lodgings; he made haste. He wanted to finish all before sunset. He did not want to meet anyone till then. Going up the stairs he noticed that Nastasya rushed from the samovar to watch him intently. ‘Can anyone have come to see me?’ he wondered. He had a disgusted vision of Porfiry. But opening his door he saw Dounia. She was sitting alone, plunged in deep thought, and looked as though she had been waiting a long time. He stopped short in the doorway. She rose from the sofa in dismay and stood up facing him. Her eyes, fixed upon him, betrayed horror and infinite grief. And from those eyes alone he saw at once that she knew. ‘Am I to come in or go away?’ he asked uncertainly. 911 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘I’ve been all day with Sofya Semyonovna. We were both waiting for you. We thought that you would be sure to come there.’ Raskolnikov went into the room and sank exhausted on a chair. ‘I feel weak, Dounia, I am very tired; and I should have liked at this moment to be able to control myself.’ He glanced at her mistrustfully. ‘Where were you all night?’ ‘I don’t remember clearly. You see, sister, I wanted to make up my mind once for all, and several times I walked by the Neva, I remember that I wanted to end it all there, but … I couldn’t make up my mind,’ he whispered, looking at her mistrustfully again. ‘Thank God! That was just what we were afraid of, Sofya Semyonovna and I. Then you still have faith in life? Thank God, thank God!’ Raskolnikov smiled bitterly. ‘I haven’t faith, but I have just been weeping in mother’s arms; I haven’t faith, but I have just asked her to pray for me. I don’t know how it is, Dounia, I don’t understand it.’ ‘Have you been at mother’s? Have you told her?’ cried Dounia, horror- stricken. ‘Surely you haven’t done that?’ 912 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘No, I didn’t tell her … in words; but she understood a great deal. She heard you talking in your sleep. I am sure she half understands it already. Perhaps I did wrong in going to see her. I don’t know why I did go. I am a contemptible person, Dounia.’ ‘A contemptible person, but ready to face suffering! You are, aren’t you?’ ‘Yes, I am going. At once. Yes, to escape the disgrace I thought of drowning myself, Dounia, but as I looked into the water, I thought that if I had considered myself strong till now I’d better not be afraid of disgrace,’ he said, hurrying on. ‘It’s pride, Dounia.’ ‘Pride, Rodya.’ There was a gleam of fire in his lustreless eyes; he seemed to be glad to think that he was still proud. ‘You don’t think, sister, that I was simply afraid of the water?’ he asked, looking into her face with a sinister smile. ‘Oh, Rodya, hush!’ cried Dounia bitterly. Silence lasted for two minutes. He sat with his eyes fixed on the floor; Dounia stood at the other end of the table and looked at him with anguish. Suddenly he got up. 913 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘It’s late, it’s time to go! I am going at once to give myself up. But I don’t know why I am going to give myself up.’ Big tears fell down her cheeks. ‘You are crying, sister, but can you hold out your hand to me?’ ‘You doubted it?’ She threw her arms round him. ‘Aren’t you half expiating your crime by facing the suffering?’ she cried, holding him close and kissing him. ‘Crime? What crime?’ he cried in sudden fury. ‘That I killed a vile noxious insect, an old pawnbroker woman, of use to no one! … Killing her was atonement for forty sins. She was sucking the life out of poor people. Was that a crime? I am not thinking of it and I am not thinking of expiating it, and why are you all rubbing it in on all sides? ‘A crime! a crime!’ Only now I see clearly the imbecility of my cowardice, now that I have decided to face this superfluous disgrace. It’s simply because I am contemptible and have nothing in me that I have decided to, perhaps too for my advantage, as that … Porfiry … suggested!’ ‘Brother, brother, what are you saying? Why, you have shed blood?’ cried Dounia in despair. 914 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. ‘Which all men shed,’ he put in almost frantically, ‘which flows and has always flowed in streams, which is spilt like champagne, and for which men are crowned in the Capitol and are called afterwards benefactors of mankind. Look into it more carefully and understand it! I too wanted to do good to men and would have done hundreds, thousands of good deeds to make up for that one piece of stupidity, not stupidity even, simply clumsiness, for the idea was by no means so stupid as it seems now that it has failed…. (Everything seems stupid when it fails.) By that stupidity I only wanted to put myself into an independent position, to take the first step, to obtain means, and then everything would have been smoothed over by benefits immeasurable in comparison…. But I … I couldn’t carry out even the first step, because I am contemptible, that’s what’s the matter! And yet I won’t look at it as you do. If I had succeeded I should have been crowned with glory, but now I’m trapped.’ ‘But that’s not so, not so! Brother, what are you saying?’ ‘Ah, it’s not picturesque, not æsthetically attractive! I fail to understand why bombarding people by regular siege is more honourable. The fear of appearances is the first symptom of impotence. I’ve never, never recognised this 915 of 967 Crime and Punishment more clearly than now, and I am further than ever from seeing that what I did was a crime. I’ve never, never been stronger and more convinced than now.’ The colour had rushed into his pale exhausted face, but as he uttered his last explanation, he happened to meet Dounia’s eyes and he saw such anguish in them that he could not help being checked. He felt that he had, anyway, made these two poor women miserable, that he was, anyway, the cause … ‘Dounia darling, if I am guilty forgive me (though I cannot be forgiven if I am guilty). Good-bye! We won’t dispute. It’s time, high time to go. Don’t follow me, I beseech you, I have somewhere else to go…. But you go at once and sit with mother. I entreat you to! It’s my last request of you. Don’t leave her at all; I left her in a state of anxiety, that she is not fit to bear; she will die or go out of her mind. Be with her! Razumihin will be with you. I’ve been talking to him…. Don’t cry about me: I’ll try to be honest and manly all my life, even if I am a murderer. Perhaps I shall some day make a name. I won’t disgrace you, you will see; I’ll still show…. Now good-bye for the present,’ he concluded hurriedly, noticing again a strange expression in Dounia’s eyes at his last words and promises. 916 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Why are you crying? Don’t cry, don’t cry: we are not parting for ever! Ah, yes! Wait a minute, I’d forgotten!’ He went to the table, took up a thick dusty book, opened it and took from between the pages a little water-colour portrait on ivory. It was the portrait of his landlady’s daughter, who had died of fever, that strange girl who had wanted to be a nun. For a minute he gazed at the delicate expressive face of his betrothed, kissed the portrait and gave it to Dounia. ‘I used to talk a great deal about it to her, only to her,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘To her heart I confided much of what has since been so hideously realised. Don’t be uneasy,’ he returned to Dounia, ‘she was as much opposed to it as you, and I am glad that she is gone. The great point is that everything now is going to be different, is going to be broken in two,’ he cried, suddenly returning to his dejection. ‘Everything, everything, and am I prepared for it? Do I want it myself? They say it is necessary for me to suffer! What’s the object of these senseless sufferings? shall I know any better what they are for, when I am crushed by hardships and idiocy, and weak as an old man after twenty years’ penal servitude? And what shall I have to live for then? Why am I consenting to 917 of 967 Crime and Punishment that life now? Oh, I knew I was contemptible when I stood looking at the Neva at daybreak to-day!’ At last they both went out. It was hard for Dounia, but she loved him. She walked away, but after going fifty paces she turned round to look at him again. He was still in sight. At the corner he too turned and for the last time their eyes met; but noticing that she was looking at him, he motioned her away with impatience and even vexation, and turned the corner abruptly. ‘I am wicked, I see that,’ he thought to himself, feeling ashamed a moment later of his angry gesture to Dounia. ‘But why are they so fond of me if I don’t deserve it? Oh, if only I were alone and no one loved me and I too had never loved anyone! Nothing of all this would have happened. But I wonder shall I in those fifteen or twenty years grow so meek that I shall humble myself before people and whimper at every word that I am a criminal? Yes, that’s it, that’s it, that’s what they are sending me there for, that’s what they want. Look at them running to and fro about the streets, every one of them a scoundrel and a criminal at heart and, worse still, an idiot. But try to get me off and they’d be wild with righteous indignation. Oh, how I hate them all!’ 918 of 967 Crime and Punishment He fell to musing by what process it could come to pass, that he could be humbled before all of them, indiscriminately—humbled by conviction. And yet why not? It must be so. Would not twenty years of continual bondage crush him utterly? Water wears out a stone. And why, why should he live after that? Why should he go now when he knew that it would be so? It was the hundredth time perhaps that he had asked himself that question since the previous evening, but still he went. 919 of 967 Crime and Punishment Chapter VIII When he went into Sonia’s room, it was already getting dark. All day Sonia had been waiting for him in terrible anxiety. Dounia had been waiting with her. She had come to her that morning, remembering Svidrigaïlov’s words that Sonia knew. We will not describe the conversation and tears of the two girls, and how friendly they became. Dounia gained one comfort at least from that interview, that her brother would not be alone. He had gone to her, Sonia, first with his confession; he had gone to her for human fellowship when he needed it; she would go with him wherever fate might send him. Dounia did not ask, but she knew it was so. She looked at Sonia almost with reverence and at first almost embarrassed her by it. Sonia was almost on the point of tears. She felt herself, on the contrary, hardly worthy to look at Dounia. Dounia’s gracious image when she had bowed to her so attentively and respectfully at their first meeting in Raskolnikov’s room had remained in her mind as one of the fairest visions of her life. Dounia at last became impatient and, leaving Sonia, went to her brother’s room to await him there; she kept 920 of 967 Crime and Punishment thinking that he would come there first. When she had gone, Sonia began to be tortured by the dread of his committing suicide, and Dounia too feared it. But they had spent the day trying to persuade each other that that could not be, and both were less anxious while they were together. As soon as they parted, each thought of nothing else. Sonia remembered how Svidrigaïlov had said to her the day before that Raskolnikov had two alternatives— Siberia or … Besides she knew his vanity, his pride and his lack of faith. ‘Is it possible that he has nothing but cowardice and fear of death to make him live?’ she thought at last in despair. Meanwhile the sun was setting. Sonia was standing in dejection, looking intently out of the window, but from it she could see nothing but the unwhitewashed blank wall of the next house. At last when she began to feel sure of his death—he walked into the room. She gave a cry of joy, but looking carefully into his face she turned pale. ‘Yes,’ said Raskolnikov, smiling. ‘I have come for your cross, Sonia. It was you told me to go to the cross-roads; why is it you are frightened now it’s come to that?’ 921 of 967 Crime and Punishment Sonia gazed at him astonished. His tone seemed strange to her; a cold shiver ran over her, but in a moment she guessed that the tone and the words were a mask. He spoke to her looking away, as though to avoid meeting her eyes. ‘You see, Sonia, I’ve decided that it will be better so. There is one fact…. But it’s a long story and there’s no need to discuss it. But do you know what angers me? It annoys me that all those stupid brutish faces will be gaping at me directly, pestering me with their stupid questions, which I shall have to answer—they’ll point their fingers at me…. Tfoo! You know I am not going to Porfiry, I am sick of him. I’d rather go to my friend, the Explosive Lieutenant; how I shall surprise him, what a sensation I shall make! But I must be cooler; I’ve become too irritable of late. You know I was nearly shaking my fist at my sister just now, because she turned to take a last look at me. It’s a brutal state to be in! Ah! what am I coming to! Well, where are the crosses?’ He seemed hardly to know what he was doing. He could not stay still or concentrate his attention on anything; his ideas seemed to gallop after one another, he talked incoherently, his hands trembled slightly. 922 of 967 Crime and Punishment Without a word Sonia took out of the drawer two crosses, one of cypress wood and one of copper. She made the sign of the cross over herself and over him, and put the wooden cross on his neck. ‘It’s the symbol of my taking up the cross,’ he laughed. ‘As though I had not suffered much till now! The wooden cross, that is the peasant one; the copper one, that is Lizaveta’s—you will wear yourself, show me! So she had it on … at that moment? I remember two things like these too, a silver one and a little ikon. I threw them back on the old woman’s neck. Those would be appropriate now, really, those are what I ought to put on now…. But I am talking nonsense and forgetting what matters; I’m somehow forgetful…. You see I have come to warn you, Sonia, so that you might know … that’s all— that’s all I came for. But I thought I had more to say. You wanted me to go yourself. Well, now I am going to prison and you’ll have your wish. Well, what are you crying for? You too? Don’t. Leave off! Oh, how I hate it all!’ But his feeling was stirred; his heart ached, as he looked at her. ‘Why is she grieving too?’ he thought to himself. ‘What am I to her? Why does she weep? Why is she looking after me, like my mother or Dounia? She’ll be my nurse.’ 923 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘Cross yourself, say at least one prayer,’ Sonia begged in a timid broken voice. ‘Oh certainly, as much as you like! And sincerely, Sonia, sincerely….’ But he wanted to say something quite different. He crossed himself several times. Sonia took up her shawl and put it over her head. It was the green drap de dames shawl of which Marmeladov had spoken, ‘the family shawl.’ Raskolnikov thought of that looking at it, but he did not ask. He began to feel himself that he was certainly forgetting things and was disgustingly agitated. He was frightened at this. He was suddenly struck too by the thought that Sonia meant to go with him. ‘What are you doing? Where are you going? Stay here, stay! I’ll go alone,’ he cried in cowardly vexation, and almost resentful, he moved towards the door. ‘What’s the use of going in procession?’ he muttered going out. Sonia remained standing in the middle of the room. He had not even said good-bye to her; he had forgotten her. A poignant and rebellious doubt surged in his heart. ‘Was it right, was it right, all this?’ he thought again as he went down the stairs. ‘Couldn’t he stop and retract it all … and not go?’ 924 of 967 Crime and Punishment But still he went. He felt suddenly once for all that he mustn’t ask himself questions. As he turned into the street he remembered that he had not said good-bye to Sonia, that he had left her in the middle of the room in her green shawl, not daring to stir after he had shouted at her, and he stopped short for a moment. At the same instant, another thought dawned upon him, as though it had been lying in wait to strike him then. ‘Why, with what object did I go to her just now? I told her—on business; on what business? I had no sort of business! To tell her I was going ; but where was the need? Do I love her? No, no, I drove her away just now like a dog. Did I want her crosses? Oh, how low I’ve sunk! No, I wanted her tears, I wanted to see her terror, to see how her heart ached! I had to have something to cling to, something to delay me, some friendly face to see! And I dared to believe in myself, to dream of what I would do! I am a beggarly contemptible wretch, contemptible!’ He walked along the canal bank, and he had not much further to go. But on reaching the bridge he stopped and turning out of his way along it went to the Hay Market. He looked eagerly to right and left, gazed intently at every object and could not fix his attention on anything; everything slipped away. ‘In another week, another month 925 of 967 Crime and Punishment I shall be driven in a prison van over this bridge, how shall I look at the canal then? I should like to remember this!’ slipped into his mind. ‘Look at this sign! How shall I read those letters then? It’s written here ‘Campany,’ that’s a thing to remember, that letter a and to look at it again in a month—how shall I look at it then? What shall I be feeling and thinking then? … How trivial it all must be, what I am fretting about now! Of course it must all be interesting … in its way … (Ha-ha-ha! What am I thinking about?) I am becoming a baby, I am showing off to myself; why am I ashamed? Foo! how people shove! that fat man—a German he must be—who pushed against me, does he know whom he pushed? There’s a peasant woman with a baby, begging. It’s curious that she thinks me happier than she is. I might give her something, for the incongruity of it. Here’s a five copeck piece left in my pocket, where did I get it? Here, here … take it, my good woman!’ ‘God bless you,’ the beggar chanted in a lachrymose voice. He went into the Hay Market. It was distasteful, very distasteful to be in a crowd, but he walked just where he saw most people. He would have given anything in the world to be alone; but he knew himself that he would not 926 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. have remained alone for a moment. There was a man drunk and disorderly in the crowd; he kept trying to dance and falling down. There was a ring round him. Raskolnikov squeezed his way through the crowd, stared for some minutes at the drunken man and suddenly gave a short jerky laugh. A minute later he had forgotten him and did not see him, though he still stared. He moved away at last, not remembering where he was; but when he got into the middle of the square an emotion suddenly came over him, overwhelming him body and mind. He suddenly recalled Sonia’s words, ‘Go to the cross-roads, bow down to the people, kiss the earth, for you have sinned against it too, and say aloud to the whole world, ‘I am a murderer.’’ He trembled, remembering that. And the hopeless misery and anxiety of all that time, especially of the last hours, had weighed so heavily upon him that he positively clutched at the chance of this new unmixed, complete sensation. It came over him like a fit; it was like a single spark kindled in his soul and spreading fire through him. Everything in him softened at once and the tears started into his eyes. He fell to the earth on the spot…. 927 of 967 Crime and Punishment He knelt down in the middle of the square, bowed down to the earth, and kissed that filthy earth with bliss and rapture. He got up and bowed down a second time. ‘He’s boozed,’ a youth near him observed. There was a roar of laughter. ‘He’s going to Jerusalem, brothers, and saying good-bye to his children and his country. He’s bowing down to all the world and kissing the great city of St. Petersburg and its pavement,’ added a workman who was a little drunk. ‘Quite a young man, too!’ observed a third. ‘And a gentleman,’ someone observed soberly. ‘There’s no knowing who’s a gentleman and who isn’t nowadays.’ These exclamations and remarks checked Raskolnikov, and the words, ‘I am a murderer,’ which were perhaps on the point of dropping from his lips, died away. He bore these remarks quietly, however, and, without looking round, he turned down a street leading to the police office. He had a glimpse of something on the way which did not surprise him; he had felt that it must be so. The second time he bowed down in the Hay Market he saw, standing fifty paces from him on the left, Sonia. She was hiding from him behind one of the wooden shanties in the 928 of 967 Crime and Punishment market-place. She had followed him then on his painful way! Raskolnikov at that moment felt and knew once for all that Sonia was with him for ever and would follow him to the ends of the earth, wherever fate might take him. It wrung his heart … but he was just reaching the fatal place. He went into the yard fairly resolutely. He had to mount to the third storey. ‘I shall be some time going up,’ he thought. He felt as though the fateful moment was still far off, as though he had plenty of time left for consideration. Again the same rubbish, the same eggshells lying about on the spiral stairs, again the open doors of the flats, again the same kitchens and the same fumes and stench coming from them. Raskolnikov had not been here since that day. His legs were numb and gave way under him, but still they moved forward. He stopped for a moment to take breath, to collect himself, so as to enter like a man . ‘But why? what for?’ he wondered, reflecting. ‘If I must drink the cup what difference does it make? The more revolting the better.’ He imagined for an instant the figure of the ‘explosive lieutenant,’ Ilya Petrovitch. Was he actually going to him? Couldn’t he go to someone else? To Nikodim Fomitch? Couldn’t he turn back and go straight to Nikodim Fomitch’s lodgings? At least then it would be 929 of 967 Crime and Punishment done privately…. No, no! To the ‘explosive lieutenant’! If he must drink it, drink it off at once. Turning cold and hardly conscious, he opened the door of the office. There were very few people in it this time— only a house porter and a peasant. The doorkeeper did not even peep out from behind his screen. Raskolnikov walked into the next room. ‘Perhaps I still need not speak,’ passed through his mind. Some sort of clerk not wearing a uniform was settling himself at a bureau to write. In a corner another clerk was seating himself. Zametov was not there, nor, of course, Nikodim Fomitch. ‘No one in?’ Raskolnikov asked, addressing the person at the bureau. ‘Whom do you want?’ ‘A-ah! Not a sound was heard, not a sight was seen, but I scent the Russian … how does it go on in the fairy tale … I’ve forgotten! ‘At your service!’’ a familiar voice cried suddenly. Raskolnikov shuddered. The Explosive Lieutenant stood before him. He had just come in from the third room. ‘It is the hand of fate,’ thought Raskolnikov. ‘Why is he here?’ ‘You’ve come to see us? What about?’ cried Ilya Petrovitch. He was obviously in an exceedingly good 930 of 967 Crime and Punishment humour and perhaps a trifle exhilarated. ‘If it’s on business you are rather early.[*] It’s only a chance that I am here … however I’ll do what I can. I must admit, I … what is it, what is it? Excuse me….’ [*] Dostoevsky appears to have forgotten that it is after sunset, and that the last time Raskolnikov visited the police office at two in the afternoon he was reproached for coming too late.—TRANSLATOR. ‘Raskolnikov.’ ‘Of course, Raskolnikov. You didn’t imagine I’d forgotten? Don’t think I am like that … Rodion Ro— Ro—Rodionovitch, that’s it, isn’t it?’ ‘Rodion Romanovitch.’ ‘Yes, yes, of course, Rodion Romanovitch! I was just getting at it. I made many inquiries about you. I assure you I’ve been genuinely grieved since that … since I behaved like that … it was explained to me afterwards that you were a literary man … and a learned one too … and so to say the first steps … Mercy on us! What literary or scientific man does not begin by some originality of conduct! My wife and I have the greatest respect for literature, in my wife it’s a genuine passion! Literature and art! If only a man is a gentleman, all the rest can be gained by talents, learning, good sense, genius. As for a hat—well, 931 of 967 Crime and Punishment what does a hat matter? I can buy a hat as easily as I can a bun; but what’s under the hat, what the hat covers, I can’t buy that! I was even meaning to come and apologise to you, but thought maybe you’d … But I am forgetting to ask you, is there anything you want really? I hear your family have come?’ ‘Yes, my mother and sister.’ ‘I’ve even had the honour and happiness of meeting your sister—a highly cultivated and charming person. I confess I was sorry I got so hot with you. There it is! But as for my looking suspiciously at your fainting fit—that affair has been cleared up splendidly! Bigotry and fanaticism! I understand your indignation. Perhaps you are changing your lodging on account of your family’s arriving?’ ‘No, I only looked in … I came to ask … I thought that I should find Zametov here.’ ‘Oh, yes! Of course, you’ve made friends, I heard. Well, no, Zametov is not here. Yes, we’ve lost Zametov. He’s not been here since yesterday … he quarrelled with everyone on leaving … in the rudest way. He is a feather-headed youngster, that’s all; one might have expected something from him, but there, you know what they are, our brilliant young men. He wanted to go in for some 932 of 967 Crime and Punishment examination, but it’s only to talk and boast about it, it will go no further than that. Of course it’s a very different matter with you or Mr. Razumihin there, your friend. Your career is an intellectual one and you won’t be deterred by failure. For you, one may say, all the attractions of life nihil est —you are an ascetic, a monk, a hermit! … A book, a pen behind your ear, a learned research—that’s where your spirit soars! I am the same way myself…. Have you read Livingstone’s Travels?’ ‘No.’ ‘Oh, I have. There are a great many Nihilists about nowadays, you know, and indeed it is not to be wondered at. What sort of days are they? I ask you. But we thought … you are not a Nihilist of course? Answer me openly, openly!’ ‘N-no …’ ‘Believe me, you can speak openly to me as you would to yourself! Official duty is one thing but … you are thinking I meant to say friendship is quite another? No, you’re wrong! It’s not friendship, but the feeling of a man and a citizen, the feeling of humanity and of love for the Almighty. I may be an official, but I am always bound to feel myself a man and a citizen…. You were asking about Zametov. Zametov will make a scandal in the French style 933 of 967 Crime and Punishment in a house of bad reputation, over a glass of champagne … that’s all your Zametov is good for! While I’m perhaps, so to speak, burning with devotion and lofty feelings, and besides I have rank, consequence, a post! I am married and have children, I fulfil the duties of a man and a citizen, but who is he, may I ask? I appeal to you as a man ennobled by education … Then these midwives, too, have become extraordinarily numerous.’ Raskolnikov raised his eyebrows inquiringly. The words of Ilya Petrovitch, who had obviously been dining, were for the most part a stream of empty sounds for him. But some of them he understood. He looked at him inquiringly, not knowing how it would end. ‘I mean those crop-headed wenches,’ the talkative Ilya Petrovitch continued. ‘Midwives is my name for them. I think it a very satisfactory one, ha-ha! They go to the Academy, study anatomy. If I fall ill, am I to send for a young lady to treat me? What do you say? Ha-ha!’ Ilya Petrovitch laughed, quite pleased with his own wit. ‘It’s an immoderate zeal for education, but once you’re educated, that’s enough. Why abuse it? Why insult honourable people, as that scoundrel Zametov does? Why did he insult me, I ask you? Look at these suicides, too, how common they are, you can’t fancy! People spend their last 934 of 967 Crime and Punishment halfpenny and kill themselves, boys and girls and old people. Only this morning we heard about a gentleman who had just come to town. Nil Pavlitch, I say, what was the name of that gentleman who shot himself?’ ‘Svidrigaïlov,’ someone answered from the other room with drowsy listlessness. Raskolnikov started. ‘Svidrigaïlov! Svidrigaïlov has shot himself!’ he cried. ‘What, do you know Svidrigaïlov?’ ‘Yes … I knew him…. He hadn’t been here long.’ ‘Yes, that’s so. He had lost his wife, was a man of reckless habits and all of a sudden shot himself, and in such a shocking way…. He left in his notebook a few words: that he dies in full possession of his faculties and that no one is to blame for his death. He had money, they say. How did you come to know him?’ ‘I … was acquainted … my sister was governess in his family.’ ‘Bah-bah-bah! Then no doubt you can tell us something about him. You had no suspicion?’ ‘I saw him yesterday … he … was drinking wine; I knew nothing.’ Raskolnikov felt as though something had fallen on him and was stifling him. 935 of 967 Crime and Punishment ‘You’ve turned pale again. It’s so stuffy here …’ ‘Yes, I must go,’ muttered Raskolnikov. ‘Excuse my troubling you….’ ‘Oh, not at all, as often as you like. It’s a pleasure to see you and I am glad to say so.’ Ilya Petrovitch held out his hand. ‘I only wanted … I came to see Zametov.’ ‘I understand, I understand, and it’s a pleasure to see you.’ ‘I … am very glad … good-bye,’ Raskolnikov smiled. He went out; he reeled, he was overtaken with giddiness and did not know what he was doing. He began going down the stairs, supporting himself with his right hand against the wall. He fancied that a porter pushed past him on his way upstairs to the police office, that a dog in the lower storey kept up a shrill barking and that a woman flung a rolling-pin at it and shouted. He went down and out into the yard. There, not far from the entrance, stood Sonia, pale and horror- stricken. She looked wildly at him. He stood still before her. There was a look of poignant agony, of despair, in her face. She clasped her hands. His lips worked in an ugly, meaningless smile. He stood still a minute, grinned and went back to the police office. 936 of 967 Crime and Punishment Ilya Petrovitch had sat down and was rummaging among some papers. Before him stood the same peasant who had pushed by on the stairs. ‘Hulloa! Back again! have you left something behind? What’s the matter?’ Raskolnikov, with white lips and staring eyes, came slowly nearer. He walked right to the table, leaned his hand on it, tried to say something, but could not; only incoherent sounds were audible. ‘You are feeling ill, a chair! Here, sit down! Some water!’ Raskolnikov dropped on to a chair, but he kept his eyes fixed on the face of Ilya Petrovitch, which expressed unpleasant surprise. Both looked at one another for a minute and waited. Water was brought. ‘It was I …’ began Raskolnikov. ‘Drink some water.’ Raskolnikov refused the water with his hand, and softly and brokenly, but distinctly said: ‘ It was I killed the old pawnbroker woman and her sister Lizaveta with an axe and robbed them. ’ Ilya Petrovitch opened his mouth. People ran up on all sides. Raskolnikov repeated his statement. 937 of 967 Crime and Punishment EPILOGUE 938 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. I Siberia. On the banks of a broad solitary river stands a town, one of the administrative centres of Russia; in the town there is a fortress, in the fortress there is a prison. In the prison the second-class convict Rodion Raskolnikov has been confined for nine months. Almost a year and a half has passed since his crime. There had been little difficulty about his trial. The criminal adhered exactly, firmly, and clearly to his statement. He did not confuse nor misrepresent the facts, nor soften them in his own interest, nor omit the smallest detail. He explained every incident of the murder, the secret of the pledge (the piece of wood with a strip of metal) which was found in the murdered woman’s hand. He described minutely how he had taken her keys, what they were like, as well as the chest and its contents; he explained the mystery of Lizaveta’s murder; described how Koch and, after him, the student knocked, and repeated all they had said to one another; how he afterwards had run downstairs and heard Nikolay and Dmitri shouting; how he had hidden in the empty flat and afterwards gone home. He ended by indicating the stone in the yard off the Voznesensky Prospect under which the purse and the 939 of 967 Crime and Punishment trinkets were found. The whole thing, in fact, was perfectly clear. The lawyers and the judges were very much struck, among other things, by the fact that he had hidden the trinkets and the purse under a stone, without making use of them, and that, what was more, he did not now remember what the trinkets were like, or even how many there were. The fact that he had never opened the purse and did not even know how much was in it seemed incredible. There turned out to be in the purse three hundred and seventeen roubles and sixty copecks. From being so long under the stone, some of the most valuable notes lying uppermost had suffered from the damp. They were a long while trying to discover why the accused man should tell a lie about this, when about everything else he had made a truthful and straightforward confession. Finally some of the lawyers more versed in psychology admitted that it was possible he had really not looked into the purse, and so didn’t know what was in it when he hid it under the stone. But they immediately drew the deduction that the crime could only have been committed through temporary mental derangement, through homicidal mania, without object or the pursuit of gain. This fell in with the most recent fashionable theory of temporary insanity, so often applied in our days in criminal cases. Moreover 940 of 967 Crime and Punishment Raskolnikov’s hypochondriacal condition was proved by many witnesses, by Dr. Zossimov, his former fellow students, his landlady and her servant. All this pointed strongly to the conclusion that Raskolnikov was not quite like an ordinary murderer and robber, but that there was another element in the case. To the intense annoyance of those who maintained this opinion, the criminal scarcely attempted to defend himself. To the decisive question as to what motive impelled him to the murder and the robbery, he answered very clearly with the coarsest frankness that the cause was his miserable position, his poverty and helplessness, and his desire to provide for his first steps in life by the help of the three thousand roubles he had reckoned on finding. He had been led to the murder through his shallow and cowardly nature, exasperated moreover by privation and failure. To the question what led him to confess, he answered that it was his heartfelt repentance. All this was almost coarse…. The sentence however was more merciful than could have been expected, perhaps partly because the criminal had not tried to justify himself, but had rather shown a desire to exaggerate his guilt. All the strange and peculiar circumstances of the crime were taken into consideration. There could be no doubt of the abnormal and poverty-941 of 967 Crime and Punishment stricken condition of the criminal at the time. The fact that he had made no use of what he had stolen was put down partly to the effect of remorse, partly to his abnormal mental condition at the time of the crime. Incidentally the murder of Lizaveta served indeed to confirm the last hypothesis: a man commits two murders and forgets that the door is open! Finally, the confession, at the very moment when the case was hopelessly muddled by the false evidence given by Nikolay through melancholy and fanaticism, and when, moreover, there were no proofs against the real criminal, no suspicions even (Porfiry Petrovitch fully kept his word) —all this did much to soften the sentence. Other circumstances, too, in the prisoner’s favour came out quite unexpectedly. Razumihin somehow discovered and proved that while Raskolnikov was at the university he had helped a poor consumptive fellow student and had spent his last penny on supporting him for six months, and when this student died, leaving a decrepit old father whom he had maintained almost from his thirteenth year, Raskolnikov had got the old man into a hospital and paid for his funeral when he died. Raskolnikov’s landlady bore witness, too, that when they had lived in another house at Five Corners, Raskolnikov had rescued two little children from 942 of 967 Crime and Punishment a house on fire and was burnt in doing so. This was investigated and fairly well confirmed by many witnesses. These facts made an impression in his favour. And in the end the criminal was, in consideration of extenuating circumstances, condemned to penal servitude in the second class for a term of eight years only. At the very beginning of the trial Raskolnikov’s mother fell ill. Dounia and Razumihin found it possible to get her out of Petersburg during the trial. Razumihin chose a town on the railway not far from Petersburg, so as to be able to follow every step of the trial and at the same time to see Avdotya Romanovna as often as possible. Pulcheria Alexandrovna’s illness was a strange nervous one and was accompanied by a partial derangement of her intellect. When Dounia returned from her last interview with her brother, she had found her mother already ill, in feverish delirium. That evening Razumihin and she agreed what answers they must make to her mother’s questions about Raskolnikov and made up a complete story for her mother’s benefit of his having to go away to a distant part of Russia on a business commission, which would bring him in the end money and reputation. But they were struck by the fact that Pulcheria Alexandrovna never asked them anything on the subject, 943 of 967 Crime and Punishment neither then nor thereafter. On the contrary, she had her own version of her son’s sudden departure; she told them with tears how he had come to say good-bye to her, hinting that she alone knew many mysterious and important facts, and that Rodya had many very powerful enemies, so that it was necessary for him to be in hiding. As for his future career, she had no doubt that it would be brilliant when certain sinister influences could be removed. She assured Razumihin that her son would be one day a great statesman, that his article and brilliant literary talent proved it. This article she was continually reading, she even read it aloud, almost took it to bed with her, but scarcely asked where Rodya was, though the subject was obviously avoided by the others, which might have been enough to awaken her suspicions. They began to be frightened at last at Pulcheria Alexandrovna’s strange silence on certain subjects. She did not, for instance, complain of getting no letters from him, though in previous years she had only lived on the hope of letters from her beloved Rodya. This was the cause of great uneasiness to Dounia; the idea occurred to her that her mother suspected that there was something terrible in her son’s fate and was afraid to ask, for fear of hearing something still more awful. In any case, Dounia saw 944 of 967 Crime and Punishment clearly that her mother was not in full possession of her faculties. It happened once or twice, however, that Pulcheria Alexandrovna gave such a turn to the conversation that it was impossible to answer her without mentioning where Rodya was, and on receiving unsatisfactory and suspicious answers she became at once gloomy and silent, and this mood lasted for a long time. Dounia saw at last that it was hard to deceive her and came to the conclusion that it was better to be absolutely silent on certain points; but it became more and more evident that the poor mother suspected something terrible. Dounia remembered her brother’s telling her that her mother had overheard her talking in her sleep on the night after her interview with Svidrigaïlov and before the fatal day of the confession: had not she made out something from that? Sometimes days and even weeks of gloomy silence and tears would be succeeded by a period of hysterical animation, and the invalid would begin to talk almost incessantly of her son, of her hopes of his future…. Her fancies were sometimes very strange. They humoured her, pretended to agree with her (she saw perhaps that they were pretending), but she still went on talking. 945 of 967 Crime and Punishment Five months after Raskolnikov’s confession, he was sentenced. Razumihin and Sonia saw him in prison as often as it was possible. At last the moment of separation came. Dounia swore to her brother that the separation should not be for ever, Razumihin did the same. Razumihin, in his youthful ardour, had firmly resolved to lay the foundations at least of a secure livelihood during the next three or four years, and saving up a certain sum, to emigrate to Siberia, a country rich in every natural resource and in need of workers, active men and capital. There they would settle in the town where Rodya was and all together would begin a new life. They all wept at parting. Raskolnikov had been very dreamy for a few days before. He asked a great deal about his mother and was constantly anxious about her. He worried so much about her that it alarmed Dounia. When he heard about his mother’s illness he became very gloomy. With Sonia he was particularly reserved all the time. With the help of the money left to her by Svidrigaïlov, Sonia had long ago made her preparations to follow the party of convicts in which he was despatched to Siberia. Not a word passed between Raskolnikov and her on the subject, but both knew it would be so. At the final leave-taking he smiled 946 of 967 Crime and Punishment strangely at his sister’s and Razumihin’s fervent anticipations of their happy future together when he should come out of prison. He predicted that their mother’s illness would soon have a fatal ending. Sonia and he at last set off. Two months later Dounia was married to Razumihin. It was a quiet and sorrowful wedding; Porfiry Petrovitch and Zossimov were invited however. During all this period Razumihin wore an air of resolute determination. Dounia put implicit faith in his carrying out his plans and indeed she could not but believe in him. He displayed a rare strength of will. Among other things he began attending university lectures again in order to take his degree. They were continually making plans for the future; both counted on settling in Siberia within five years at least. Till then they rested their hopes on Sonia. Pulcheria Alexandrovna was delighted to give her blessing to Dounia’s marriage with Razumihin; but after the marriage she became even more melancholy and anxious. To give her pleasure Razumihin told her how Raskolnikov had looked after the poor student and his decrepit father and how a year ago he had been burnt and injured in rescuing two little children from a fire. These two pieces of news excited Pulcheria Alexandrovna’s 947 of 967 Crime and Punishment disordered imagination almost to ecstasy. She was continually talking about them, even entering into conversation with strangers in the street, though Dounia always accompanied her. In public conveyances and shops, wherever she could capture a listener, she would begin the discourse about her son, his article, how he had helped the student, how he had been burnt at the fire, and so on! Dounia did not know how to restrain her. Apart from the danger of her morbid excitement, there was the risk of someone’s recalling Raskolnikov’s name and speaking of the recent trial. Pulcheria Alexandrovna found out the address of the mother of the two children her son had saved and insisted on going to see her. At last her restlessness reached an extreme point. She would sometimes begin to cry suddenly and was often ill and feverishly delirious. One morning she declared that by her reckoning Rodya ought soon to be home, that she remembered when he said good-bye to her he said that they must expect him back in nine months. She began to prepare for his coming, began to do up her room for him, to clean the furniture, to wash and put up new hangings and so on. Dounia was anxious, but said nothing and helped her to arrange the room. After a fatiguing day spent in continual fancies, in joyful day-dreams and tears, 948 of 967 Crime and Punishment Pulcheria Alexandrovna was taken ill in the night and by morning she was feverish and delirious. It was brain fever. She died within a fortnight. In her delirium she dropped words which showed that she knew a great deal more about her son’s terrible fate than they had supposed. For a long time Raskolnikov did not know of his mother’s death, though a regular correspondence had been maintained from the time he reached Siberia. It was carried on by means of Sonia, who wrote every month to the Razumihins and received an answer with unfailing regularity. At first they found Sonia’s letters dry and unsatisfactory, but later on they came to the conclusion that the letters could not be better, for from these letters they received a complete picture of their unfortunate brother’s life. Sonia’s letters were full of the most matter-of-fact detail, the simplest and clearest description of all Raskolnikov’s surroundings as a convict. There was no word of her own hopes, no conjecture as to the future, no description of her feelings. Instead of any attempt to interpret his state of mind and inner life, she gave the simple facts—that is, his own words, an exact account of his health, what he asked for at their interviews, what commission he gave her and so on. All these facts she gave with extraordinary minuteness. The picture of their 949 of 967 Crime and Punishment unhappy brother stood out at last with great clearness and precision. There could be no mistake, because nothing was given but facts. But Dounia and her husband could get little comfort out of the news, especially at first. Sonia wrote that he was constantly sullen and not ready to talk, that he scarcely seemed interested in the news she gave him from their letters, that he sometimes asked after his mother and that when, seeing that he had guessed the truth, she told him at last of her death, she was surprised to find that he did not seem greatly affected by it, not externally at any rate. She told them that, although he seemed so wrapped up in himself and, as it were, shut himself off from everyone— he took a very direct and simple view of his new life; that he understood his position, expected nothing better for the time, had no ill-founded hopes (as is so common in his position) and scarcely seemed surprised at anything in his surroundings, so unlike anything he had known before. She wrote that his health was satisfactory; he did his work without shirking or seeking to do more; he was almost indifferent about food, but except on Sundays and holidays the food was so bad that at last he had been glad to accept some money from her, Sonia, to have his own tea every day. He begged her not to trouble about anything else, 950 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. declaring that all this fuss about him only annoyed him. Sonia wrote further that in prison he shared the same room with the rest, that she had not seen the inside of their barracks, but concluded that they were crowded, miserable and unhealthy; that he slept on a plank bed with a rug under him and was unwilling to make any other arrangement. But that he lived so poorly and roughly, not from any plan or design, but simply from inattention and indifference. Sonia wrote simply that he had at first shown no interest in her visits, had almost been vexed with her indeed for coming, unwilling to talk and rude to her. But that in the end these visits had become a habit and almost a necessity for him, so that he was positively distressed when she was ill for some days and could not visit him. She used to see him on holidays at the prison gates or in the guard-room, to which he was brought for a few minutes to see her. On working days she would go to see him at work either at the workshops or at the brick kilns, or at the sheds on the banks of the Irtish. About herself, Sonia wrote that she had succeeded in making some acquaintances in the town, that she did sewing, and, as there was scarcely a dressmaker in the town, she was looked upon as an indispensable person in 951 of 967 Crime and Punishment many houses. But she did not mention that the authorities were, through her, interested in Raskolnikov; that his task was lightened and so on. At last the news came (Dounia had indeed noticed signs of alarm and uneasiness in the preceding letters) that he held aloof from everyone, that his fellow prisoners did not like him, that he kept silent for days at a time and was becoming very pale. In the last letter Sonia wrote that he had been taken very seriously ill and was in the convict ward of the hospital. 952 of 967 Crime and Punishment II He was ill a long time. But it was not the horrors of prison life, not the hard labour, the bad food, the shaven head, or the patched clothes that crushed him. What did he care for all those trials and hardships! he was even glad of the hard work. Physically exhausted, he could at least reckon on a few hours of quiet sleep. And what was the food to him—the thin cabbage soup with beetles floating in it? In the past as a student he had often not had even that. His clothes were warm and suited to his manner of life. He did not even feel the fetters. Was he ashamed of his shaven head and parti-coloured coat? Before whom? Before Sonia? Sonia was afraid of him, how could he be ashamed before her? And yet he was ashamed even before Sonia, whom he tortured because of it with his contemptuous rough manner. But it was not his shaven head and his fetters he was ashamed of: his pride had been stung to the quick. It was wounded pride that made him ill. Oh, how happy he would have been if he could have blamed himself! He could have borne anything then, even shame and disgrace. But he judged himself severely, and his exasperated conscience found no particularly terrible 953 of 967 Crime and Punishment fault in his past, except a simple blunder which might happen to anyone. He was ashamed just because he, Raskolnikov, had so hopelessly, stupidly come to grief through some decree of blind fate, and must humble himself and submit to ‘the idiocy’ of a sentence, if he were anyhow to be at peace. Vague and objectless anxiety in the present, and in the future a continual sacrifice leading to nothing—that was all that lay before him. And what comfort was it to him that at the end of eight years he would only be thirty-two and able to begin a new life! What had he to live for? What had he to look forward to? Why should he strive? To live in order to exist? Why, he had been ready a thousand times before to give up existence for the sake of an idea, for a hope, even for a fancy. Mere existence had always been too little for him; he had always wanted more. Perhaps it was just because of the strength of his desires that he had thought himself a man to whom more was permissible than to others. And if only fate would have sent him repentance— burning repentance that would have torn his heart and robbed him of sleep, that repentance, the awful agony of which brings visions of hanging or drowning! Oh, he 954 of 967 Crime and Punishment would have been glad of it! Tears and agonies would at least have been life. But he did not repent of his crime. At least he might have found relief in raging at his stupidity, as he had raged at the grotesque blunders that had brought him to prison. But now in prison, in freedom he thought over and criticised all his actions again and by no means found them so blundering and so grotesque as they had seemed at the fatal time. ‘In what way,’ he asked himself, ‘was my theory stupider than others that have swarmed and clashed from the beginning of the world? One has only to look at the thing quite independently, broadly, and uninfluenced by commonplace ideas, and my idea will by no means seem so … strange. Oh, sceptics and halfpenny philosophers, why do you halt half-way!’ ‘Why does my action strike them as so horrible?’ he said to himself. ‘Is it because it was a crime? What is meant by crime? My conscience is at rest. Of course, it was a legal crime, of course, the letter of the law was broken and blood was shed. Well, punish me for the letter of the law … and that’s enough. Of course, in that case many of the benefactors of mankind who snatched power for themselves instead of inheriting it ought to have been punished at their first steps. But those men succeeded and 955 of 967 Crime and Punishment so they were right and I didn’t, and so I had no right to have taken that step.’ It was only in that that he recognised his criminality, only in the fact that he had been unsuccessful and had confessed it. He suffered too from the question: why had he not killed himself? Why had he stood looking at the river and preferred to confess? Was the desire to live so strong and was it so hard to overcome it? Had not Svidrigaïlov overcome it, although he was afraid of death? In misery he asked himself this question, and could not understand that, at the very time he had been standing looking into the river, he had perhaps been dimly conscious of the fundamental falsity in himself and his convictions. He didn’t understand that that consciousness might be the promise of a future crisis, of a new view of life and of his future resurrection. He preferred to attribute it to the dead weight of instinct which he could not step over, again through weakness and meanness. He looked at his fellow prisoners and was amazed to see how they all loved life and prized it. It seemed to him that they loved and valued life more in prison than in freedom. What terrible agonies and privations some of them, the tramps for instance, had 956 of 967 Crime and Punishment endured! Could they care so much for a ray of sunshine, for the primeval forest, the cold spring hidden away in some unseen spot, which the tramp had marked three years before, and longed to see again, as he might to see his sweetheart, dreaming of the green grass round it and the bird singing in the bush? As he went on he saw still more inexplicable examples. In prison, of course, there was a great deal he did not see and did not want to see; he lived as it were with downcast eyes. It was loathsome and unbearable for him to look. But in the end there was much that surprised him and he began, as it were involuntarily, to notice much that he had not suspected before. What surprised him most of all was the terrible impossible gulf that lay between him and all the rest. They seemed to be a different species, and he looked at them and they at him with distrust and hostility. He felt and knew the reasons of his isolation, but he would never have admitted till then that those reasons were so deep and strong. There were some Polish exiles, political prisoners, among them. They simply looked down upon all the rest as ignorant churls; but Raskolnikov could not look upon them like that. He saw that these ignorant men were in many respects far wiser than the Poles. There were some Russians who were just as 957 of 967 Crime and Punishment contemptuous, a former officer and two seminarists. Raskolnikov saw their mistake as clearly. He was disliked and avoided by everyone; they even began to hate him at last—why, he could not tell. Men who had been far more guilty despised and laughed at his crime. ‘You’re a gentleman,’ they used to say. ‘You shouldn’t hack about with an axe; that’s not a gentleman’s work.’ The second week in Lent, his turn came to take the sacrament with his gang. He went to church and prayed with the others. A quarrel broke out one day, he did not know how. All fell on him at once in a fury. ‘You’re an infidel! You don’t believe in God,’ they shouted. ‘You ought to be killed.’ He had never talked to them about God nor his belief, but they wanted to kill him as an infidel. He said nothing. One of the prisoners rushed at him in a perfect frenzy. Raskolnikov awaited him calmly and silently; his eyebrows did not quiver, his face did not flinch. The guard succeeded in intervening between him and his assailant, or there would have been bloodshed. There was another question he could not decide: why were they all so fond of Sonia? She did not try to win their favour; she rarely met them, sometimes only she came to see him at work for a moment. And yet 958 of 967 Crime and Punishment everybody knew her, they knew that she had come out to follow him knew how and where she lived. She never gave them money, did them no particular services. Only once at Christmas she sent them all presents of pies and rolls. But by degrees closer relations sprang up between them and Sonia. She would write and post letters for them to their relations. Relations of the prisoners who visited the town, at their instructions, left with Sonia presents and money for them. Their wives and sweethearts knew her and used to visit her. And when she visited Raskolnikov at work, or met a party of the prisoners on the road, they all took off their hats to her. ‘Little mother Sofya Semyonovna, you are our dear, good little mother,’ coarse branded criminals said to that frail little creature. She would smile and bow to them and everyone was delighted when she smiled. They even admired her gait and turned round to watch her walking; they admired her too for being so little, and, in fact, did not know what to admire her most for. They even came to her for help in their illnesses. He was in the hospital from the middle of Lent till after Easter. When he was better, he remembered the dreams he had had while he was feverish and delirious. He dreamt that the whole world was condemned to a terrible new 959 of 967 Crime and Punishment strange plague that had come to Europe from the depths of Asia. All were to be destroyed except a very few chosen. Some new sorts of microbes were attacking the bodies of men, but these microbes were endowed with intelligence and will. Men attacked by them became at once mad and furious. But never had men considered themselves so intellectual and so completely in possession of the truth as these sufferers, never had they considered their decisions, their scientific conclusions, their moral convictions so infallible. Whole villages, whole towns and peoples went mad from the infection. All were excited and did not understand one another. Each thought that he alone had the truth and was wretched looking at the others, beat himself on the breast, wept, and wrung his hands. They did not know how to judge and could not agree what to consider evil and what good; they did not know whom to blame, whom to justify. Men killed each other in a sort of senseless spite. They gathered together in armies against one another, but even on the march the armies would begin attacking each other, the ranks would be broken and the soldiers would fall on each other, stabbing and cutting, biting and devouring each other. The alarm bell was ringing all day long in the towns; men rushed together, but why they were summoned and who 960 of 967 Crime and Punishment was summoning them no one knew. The most ordinary trades were abandoned, because everyone proposed his own ideas, his own improvements, and they could not agree. The land too was abandoned. Men met in groups, agreed on something, swore to keep together, but at once began on something quite different from what they had proposed. They accused one another, fought and killed each other. There were conflagrations and famine. All men and all things were involved in destruction. The plague spread and moved further and further. Only a few men could be saved in the whole world. They were a pure chosen people, destined to found a new race and a new life, to renew and purify the earth, but no one had seen these men, no one had heard their words and their voices. Raskolnikov was worried that this senseless dream haunted his memory so miserably, the impression of this feverish delirium persisted so long. The second week after Easter had come. There were warm bright spring days; in the prison ward the grating windows under which the sentinel paced were opened. Sonia had only been able to visit him twice during his illness; each time she had to obtain permission, and it was difficult. But she often used to come to the hospital yard, especially in the evening, 961 of 967 Crime and Punishment sometimes only to stand a minute and look up at the windows of the ward. One evening, when he was almost well again, Raskolnikov fell asleep. On waking up he chanced to go to the window, and at once saw Sonia in the distance at the hospital gate. She seemed to be waiting for someone. Something stabbed him to the heart at that minute. He shuddered and moved away from the window. Next day Sonia did not come, nor the day after; he noticed that he was expecting her uneasily. At last he was discharged. On reaching the prison he learnt from the convicts that Sofya Semyonovna was lying ill at home and was unable to go out. He was very uneasy and sent to inquire after her; he soon learnt that her illness was not dangerous. Hearing that he was anxious about her, Sonia sent him a pencilled note, telling him that she was much better, that she had a slight cold and that she would soon, very soon come and see him at his work. His heart throbbed painfully as he read it. Again it was a warm bright day. Early in the morning, at six o’clock, he went off to work on the river bank, where they used to pound alabaster and where there was a kiln for baking it in a shed. There were only three of them 962 of 967 eBook brought to you by Crime and Punishment Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version. sent. One of the convicts went with the guard to the fortress to fetch a tool; the other began getting the wood ready and laying it in the kiln. Raskolnikov came out of the shed on to the river bank, sat down on a heap of logs by the shed and began gazing at the wide deserted river. From the high bank a broad landscape opened before him, the sound of singing floated faintly audible from the other bank. In the vast steppe, bathed in sunshine, he could just see, like black specks, the nomads’ tents. There there was freedom, there other men were living, utterly unlike those here; there time itself seemed to stand still, as though the age of Abraham and his flocks had not passed. Raskolnikov sat gazing, his thoughts passed into day-dreams, into contemplation; he thought of nothing, but a vague restlessness excited and troubled him. Suddenly he found Sonia beside him; she had come up noiselessly and sat down at his side. It was still quite early; the morning chill was still keen. She wore her poor old burnous and the green shawl; her face still showed signs of illness, it was thinner and paler. She gave him a joyful smile of welcome, but held out her hand with her usual timidity. She was always timid of holding out her hand to him and sometimes did not offer it at all, as though afraid he would repel it. He always took her hand as though with 963 of 967 Crime and Punishment repugnance, always seemed vexed to meet her and was sometimes obstinately silent throughout her visit. Sometimes she trembled before him and went away deeply grieved. But now their hands did not part. He stole a rapid glance at her and dropped his eyes on the ground without speaking. They were alone, no one had seen them. The guard had turned away for the time. How it happened he did not know. But all at once something seemed to seize him and fling him at her feet. He wept and threw his arms round her knees. For the first instant she was terribly frightened and she turned pale. She jumped up and looked at him trembling. But at the same moment she understood, and a light of infinite happiness came into her eyes. She knew and had no doubt that he loved her beyond everything and that at last the moment had come…. They wanted to speak, but could not; tears stood in their eyes. They were both pale and thin; but those sick pale faces were bright with the dawn of a new future, of a full resurrection into a new life. They were renewed by love; the heart of each held infinite sources of life for the heart of the other. They resolved to wait and be patient. They had another seven years to wait, and what terrible suffering 964 of 967 Crime and Punishment and what infinite happiness before them! But he had risen again and he knew it and felt it in all his being, while she—she only lived in his life. On the evening of the same day, when the barracks were locked, Raskolnikov lay on his plank bed and thought of her. He had even fancied that day that all the convicts who had been his enemies looked at him differently; he had even entered into talk with them and they answered him in a friendly way. He remembered that now, and thought it was bound to be so. Wasn’t everything now bound to be changed? He thought of her. He remembered how continually he had tormented her and wounded her heart. He remembered her pale and thin little face. But these recollections scarcely troubled him now; he knew with what infinite love he would now repay all her sufferings. And what were all, all the agonies of the past! Everything, even his crime, his sentence and imprisonment, seemed to him now in the first rush of feeling an external, strange fact with which he had no concern. But he could not think for long together of anything that evening, and he could not have analysed anything consciously; he was simply feeling. Life had stepped into the place of theory 965 of 967 Crime and Punishment and something quite different would work itself out in his mind. Under his pillow lay the New Testament. He took it up mechanically. The book belonged to Sonia; it was the one from which she had read the raising of Lazarus to him. At first he was afraid that she would worry him about religion, would talk about the gospel and pester him with books. But to his great surprise she had not once approached the subject and had not even offered him the Testament. He had asked her for it himself not long before his illness and she brought him the book without a word. Till now he had not opened it. He did not open it now, but one thought passed through his mind: ‘Can her convictions not be mine now? Her feelings, her aspirations at least….’ She too had been greatly agitated that day, and at night she was taken ill again. But she was so happy—and so unexpectedly happy—that she was almost frightened of her happiness. Seven years, only seven years! At the beginning of their happiness at some moments they were both ready to look on those seven years as though they were seven days. He did not know that the new life would not be given him for nothing, that he would have to pay 966 of 967 Crime and Punishment dearly for it, that it would cost him great striving, great suffering. But that is the beginning of a new story—the story of the gradual renewal of a man, the story of his gradual regeneration, of his passing from one world into another, of his initiation into a new unknown life. That might be the subject of a new story, but our present story is ended.   967 of 967   Document Outline Publication Date: February 18th 2017 https://www.bookrix.com/-albiorix

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Brydge Torres The Surprise Chapter One "Wake up Jasmine time for breakfast!" Jasmine's mom yelled. "Hurry up you're food is getting cold!" "I'm up i'm up!" ylled Jasmine back. She gets up and walks into the bathroom. Her phone rings. It's a text message from her boyfriend Jamal saying that he had a surprise for her and that it was going to be the happiest day of her life. As she read this a smile grew upon her face. "What could this mean?" She thought to herself. "Is he gunna ask me to marry him?" Jasmine got excited. She thought that her lifelong dream of Jamal asking her to marry him was going to come true since they have been together for 5 years. "Dammit Jasmine get you're ass down here!" As Jasmine was coming down the steps her mom said "Damn I don't know what's wrong with you kids nowadays taking so damn long to do one little thing." "Sorry mom." said Jasmine. It's just that i got a text message from Jamal. I think he's gunna ask me to marry him!" Jasmine's mom looked at her with rage. "Girl you must be so damn stupid to think he's gunna ask you to marry him. Don't you see all he's trying to do is get in your pants? I don't like that guy, if you were smart you would leave his ass for someone more mature." "Whatever mom. Have you ever took the time to think that maybe I like guys like Jamal, huh? It doesn't matter what you say 'cause me an Jamal are gunna be together no matter what you think or say." "You know what I don't got time for this shit hurry up and eat you're food and get ready for school." Jasmine didn't say a word and went upstairs. As she was getting dressed her phone rang again. It was another text message from Jamal saying that he couldn't wait to see her. Jasmine grew so happy. She was in love with Jamal. And now that she thinks he is going to propose to her, it made her even happier. She finished getting dressed and sat down on her bed. Before she did anything her mom calls out, "Jasmine let's go! You're late!" Jasmine got right back up ran down the steps and out the front door. Chapter Two As Jasmine was walking to school she ran into her friend Liz. "Hey girl" She said. "Guess what?" "What?" Liz asked. "I think Jamal is gunna ask me to marry him!" "What?! Oh my gosh girl you're so lucky!" She said with excitement. "How do you know?" Asked Liz. "Well he sent me a message and told me that he couldn't wait to see me that he wanted to ask me something and it was gunna be the happiest day of my life!" Jasmine responded so happily. "Damn girl I hope everything goes good for you." "Thanks." Said Jasmine. They were walking up the stairs into school. They gave eachother a hug and went about there day. Soon after a long day, school was over. Jasmine walked down the steps and into the school parking lot. There she saw Jamal standing there looking good as ever. She went up to him and gave him a kiss. "Hey baby how was school?" Jamal asked. "It was good. I couldn't wait to get out though." Jasmine said. "Yeah, I couldn't wait for you to get out either. I missed you." "I missed you too baby." Jasmine said, and they gave eachother another kiss. "Are you ready for that surprise baby?" Jamal asked. "Yea I think so." Jasmine responded nervously. "Don't be nervous baby, I told you, this is gunna be the happieest day of your life." Jamal stared into her eyes and pulled out a little box from his pocket. Jasmine stared at him feeling so nervous she felt goosebumps. Jamal got down on one knee and looked into her eyes. "Oh my god Jamal are you serious?" Jasmine said with tears in her eyes. "Baby you know I love you. I love you so much And I don't ever wanna lose you." Before Jasmine could speak gunshots started going off. She looked behind her as she though they were coming from that direction. When she turned back to look at Jamal he was lying on the ground with a bullet in his chest. "Jamal!" Jasmine screamed. She sat on the ground and held Jamal in her arms. "Jamal! Jamal!" She kept screaming. "Please wake up baby, please!" Jamal Layed helplessly in Jasmine's arms. He was dead and she knew it. Jasmine started calling for help. Before anyone came a car drove up to her. Two men came out the car and grabbed Jasmine. She started yelling uncontrollably. One guy grabbed her arms and the other her legs. She started swinging her arms and kicking her feet but before she could do any damage, one of the men hit her on the head so hard with his phone and made her unconcsious. They quickly put her in the trunk of their car and drove off. Chapter Three Meanwhile, at home Jasmine's mom was cleaning. She turned onto the news. She noticed that they were talking about a man who had been shot in a school parking lot where Jasmine goes. A few seconds later they showed who the victim was. Her eyes grew wide when she saw that it was a picture of Jamal. "Oh my God." She said aloud."Jasmine."She quicly called the police an told them everything. She told them that he and Jasmine were dating and that she hasn't seen Jasmine since the morning.The police were on there way to Jasmine's house to see what was going on.A couple hours later, Jasmine woke up. Her legs and feet were tied to a bed and she had a rag covering her mouth.She looked in the room and noticed it was a motel room. She knew there had to be people around. She tried to yell for help but the rag covering her mouth was so tight her lips would rip everytime she tried to speak. She tried tugging on the ropes to release herself. She suddenly heard a noise coming from the bathroom. Out came Rodney,(the man who kidnapped Jasmine in the school parking lot)standing there naked. "Hey baby, ready for another round?" A tear from Jasmine's eye rolled down her cheek. She knew that she had been raped. Rodney went up to Jasmine and kissed her bloody lips. He started kissing her down her neck and stomach rubbing her genitals with his two fingers. Jasmine was crying and fidgeting trying to get Rodney off of her. He slowly started rubbing her genitals with his penis. He slowly went inside of her and started moving up and down, up and down making her moan in disgust. He went harder and harder. She kept tugging on her ropes and one came loose. Her arm was free. She punched him right in the face and tried to untangle the rest of the ropes. He quickly got up and slapped her with the backside of his hand. The hit was so hard Jasmine flew back on the bed. A neighbor avross the hall from Rodney's motel room heard all the commotion. He walked over to Rodney's door and knocked. He looked at Jasmine. "Hold On." He yelled. Chapter Four He quickly tied Jasmine's arm back to the bedpost. "Don't make a noise." HE said looking into Jasmine's eyes as if he was going to attack her. He put on a bathrobe and walked to the door. He opened the door just a little crack and saw that it was a neighbor. "What do you want?" He asked the neighbor. "I'm sorry to bother you but I heard a ruckis coming from here." "No everything's fine it's just the tv, so if you don't mind can i get back to my movie?" The neighbor knew something wasn't right. He looked at Rodney and walked away without a word. "That was close." Rodney said. "You stupid bitch, you almost got me caught!" He yelled at Jasmine. Jasmine couldn't help but cry. She was terrified. She didn't know who Rodney was or what he was going to do with her. Rodney walked up to her and looked into her eyes. "Why are you crying?" He asked. "You're just getting what you deserve." Jasmine didn't understand. She just kept crying. A couple minutes later there was another knock on the door. Rodney walked towards the door and looked through the peephole. "Oh shit she called the cops." He said. He quickly ran toward Jasmine and said "Don't do anything stupid or I'll kill you." Jasmine could tell he wasn't joking. He untied her and moved her to the cabinets under the kitchen sink. "Don't make a sound he told her." The cops knocked again. This time even harder. He ran to the bed and hid the ropes behind the sofa. He walked to the door and opened it. "Hello officers can I help you?" "Yes." Said one of the officers. "We recieved a call from a neighbor. She said she heard screaming and yelling?" Rodney laughed nervously. "Oh, no sir. It was just the tv. I was watching a movie. Sorry I must have had it too loud." The officers looked at Rodney. "May we come in?" Rodney let them in. They walked into his living room and noticed his tv was off. "Watching a movie huh?" Asked one of the officers. "Yea, had to end it a little early. I have work tomorrow." Replied Rodney. The officers looked around. Suddenly they heard a noise come from the kitchen. They both looked at Rodney. "Rats." He said. "They stay crawling around here, i need to buy some traps." "Haha." Laughed one of the officers. "Ok then, we're done here you should get some traps and quick." He said jokingly and walked out the door. Rodney went to his window and watched the officers exiting the building and driving off. He about another 5 minutes to make sure they didn't return and walked toward the cabinets. He opened it up, grabbed Jasmine by her hair, and pulled her out of the cabinets. "You tryed to get me caught huh?!" He yelled at Jasmine. He slapped her again with the backside of his hand. "I told you not to make a sound." He dragged Jasmine to his balcony handed her clothes back and told her she was free to go. "Don't ever tell anyone about this or I will find you." He made it very clear that he wasn't joking. Jasmine started walking down the fire escape. Rodney kicked her and she fell down the 3 flights of steps. She could barely move. Rodney just looked at her and went inside leaving her. Jasmine got herself up using the little bit of strength that she had and walked out into the street. She was walking trying to find help but no one came. Not one person stopped and tried to help her. As she was walking, she came to a stop. She saw a picture of a young girl with long brown hair and a pretty smile. Is that me?" She said. Chapter 5 She stared at the picture for about ten minutes. It was her and she knew it. She noticed that there was a number at the bottom of the picture. She quickly ran around asking people for some change. When she finally got all the change she needed. she walked to a public phone and called the number. The phone rang four times. Just as Jasmine was about to hang up a voice sayed, "Hello?" It was Jasmine's mother. "Hello, who is this?" She said again. "Mom?" Jasmine replied. "Oh my God Jasmine is that you? Are you okay?, Where are you?" She said crying over the phone. Jasmine looked around. "I'm on Cedar Street And Washington Street." She said. "Oksy Jasmine stay there i'm on my way baby, I love you." Jasmine sat down ant waited for her mom. When her mom arrived, she ran out of her car and towards Jasmine. She hugged her so tight. "I missed you so much." Her mom said sobbing. She took Jasmine to the hospital to get checked. There she finds out that she's pregnant. Jasmine knew it was Rodney's baby. She made the choice that she will keep her and her mother was with her a hundred percent. AS months passed, Jasmine's belly grew bigger and she grew stronger. She was 9 months now and she was at the grocery store with her mom. Suddenly, her water broke. She was quickly rushed to the hospital. While she was laying on the table ready to have the baby the doctor says, "Push Jasmine!, Push!" Jasmine pushed with all her might. Out came the baby. Jasmine noticed the baby wasn't crying. "Where's my baby? Why isn't it crying? Whats wrong?" Jasmine kept asking questions. "i'm sorry Jasmine. But your Baby---." He paused for a second. "The baby is dead." Jasmine looked at her mom. Before she could do anything she started yelling again. She was having another baby. She kept pushing and pushing and out came the baby crying so loud the room seemed to shake. "Congratulations Jasmine. It's a beautiful baby boy." Said the doctor. Jasmine held her beautiful baby boy in her arms. "It's Okay Jamal, Mommy's here." She said. Chapter Six A couple months past and Jasmine was at home with baby Jamal in her room. She was doing alot better but still traumatized by what had happened. It was a nice day out so Jasmine decided to go for a walk with Jamal Jr. When she was headed out the door her mom called out,"Be careful!" and Jasmine walked out the door. Jasmine was walking toward a bodega and noticed a amn in a car was watching her. He walked out the car and Jasmine's eyes grew wide. It was Rodney. Jasmine couldn't believe it. She tried to walk alway as quick as she could but Rodney caught up. "Is that him?" He asked. "Yes Rodney, this is your son." Rodney looked at Jamal Jr and picked him up. "Let me Take him He said. "Ha you must be crazy if you really think im going to give him to you." Rodney ignored what Jasmine said and started walking towards his car with baby Jamal. Jasmine followed. "Rodney what are you doing?, Give me my baby." She said. Rodney got into his car and locked all the doors. Jasmine banged on the windows. "Give me my baby.!" She yelled over and over again. Rodney drove off and Jasmine chased after. By the time she reached the top of the hill the car was gone. Jasmine ran back home to her mom. "Mom! They took him! They took Jamal!" She yelled. Jasmine's mom quickly called the police. When they got there they asked what happened. Jasmine told them about the rape, about baby Jamal, and how Rodney took him away. Jasmine gave them a picture of Jamal to hold. "Ww will find him." Said a police officer. "We'll call you if we find anything. Publication Date: May 27th 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-brydge

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-shy-shy-if-he-only-knew/

Shy Shy If He Only Knew What goes around comes around Leaving Early It's only noon and already, I cannot wait to get out of here.  If I leave early, I can spend a couple of hours in our new house, not even a week moved in, not completely unpacked but happy just the same.  I would have to stop by Lance's job and get the key.  "My baby Lance, best chef in Rockville.  Hmmm, some of those ribs would hit the spot right now."  I chose not to give him a call for a heads up that I was on my way at 2:30.  My phone was flashing in the car.  Text message from a crazy ex....his crazy ex.  What the eff?  Here is my perfect day going to hell.  I was thinking, once he got off and got home, we could have some crazy sex.  Back him into the wall, groping him, and forcing him to forget all about being mad at me, ha, as if he had any room to be mad anyway. Constantly, when he was in the wrong, he always found a way to flip anything just like there's a good excuse, and why can't I answer questions but expect some answers.  He went into the account, lost the money, tried to say sorry but too soon flipped on me about not getting enough ass.  I shouldn't care, and honestly I really didn't but I was horny, so today, I was going to satisfy my craving before I went stark cold again. "Is L with you?  His phone is off?  Tell him I want my shit back?  do ya'll live together?" This woman had sent text after text and phone calls while I was at work.  I picked up the phone and called her back.  As the phone rang, I prepared myself for what I was about to hear. FYI  "Hello? Michelle? This is Nikki, is Lance with you?" "Um, no he is not, I'm working and why are you calling my phone looking for him?" "Well he is supposed to be your man, but he's been telling me that ya'll aren't together, he owes me money and I have his stuff that he left at my house just last week." "Excuse me?  Last week." "Yes, he asked me just last week if he can move in with me." "Well we live together now as of last week." "I knew it!  He took my $800 and moved in with another woman!  I'm not a trouble maker, he has been deceiving both of us and I am pissed off.  I want my money back and he can go to hell, he's on his way to jail anyway.  Did you know that he is a wanted man?  He missed his court date and now there is a warrant out for his arrest." You'd think I'd be in shock, but I wasn't, I'd prepared myself for something like this.  My intuition was good, but no matter how good,  I always hoped I'd be wrong.  I knew he was lying about getting rid of all these women he had in his life to be dedicated to me. "Well look, I'm on my way to his job, so let me call you back Nikki," I said sarcastically.  No need getting pissed off at her, she was hurt too, only I wasn't feeling mine.  There was a void where hurt should be.  Pulling up to the steakhouse cuisine restaurant, I pull out my body spray and mist a little.  It wouldn't be much of a surprise that I stopped by because he was holding the only key to the house right now and I would need it to get in.  I pucker up and freshen my lip gloss and proceed to exit the car to enter the restaurant.  My heels clicking and heart racing, I walk up to the counter and wait. *** Son of a bitch!  He's been having me fooled all this time, for the past week and a half.  I could not believe it, I had to ask again.  "The police came in her looking for him in uniform, and I don't think the boss liked that so I think he got fired."  That's what the young girl at the register told me.  All this time I'm thinking he is working, while we moved into the house and the asshole has been lying to me.  We just moved in and the burden of knowing everything would fall on my shoulders didn't sit well.  I was nausious. I get back into the car, hands shaking and pull out a black n mild.  My nerves were bad, something needed to settle.  As I make my way home through town, mind racing, I finally pull into the front yard.  The TV is on , the xbox game is running and it is football.  I see clearly the Kansas City Chiefs and Patriots are against each other.  It paused.  I knock on the door.  He wasn't moving fast enough, matter of fact, I hadn't heard him move at all.  I banged harder.  He opens the door.  The look on his face read caught, but oh he didn't really know what for yet.   Surprise Visit  "Hey baby, what you didn't go to work today?' I spoke first.  He had backed far away from me.  He was shirtless, wearing a pair of black gym shorts and socks, clearly he hadn't gotten his ass up out of bed and showed up to work like he said. "Hey honey, no, I a, I called out.  Why are you banging on the door like that?" "Oh, I wanted to make sure you heard me, i saw you playing the game through the window and I wanted you to hear me over the volume," I smiled and walked past him into the kitchen.  I pulled out a seat a the kitchen table and sat down looking at my phone.  Nikki had text me and asked if he was working.  I told her he was fired just before I walked in the door, she said, we need to see him together.  I agreed.  "So, I'm listening, what do you want to talk about?" "Nothing," I said, lying.  Clearly, he knew there was something, but he didn't deserve to be put out of his misery so soon. I stood and walked down the hall into the bedroom and removed my sweater.  He was right behind me.  I turn around and place my hands on his shoulder. "So I was thinking when I got off early, that I could come home and wait for you.  That we could consumate and let me lick all over your body and empty all your juice into my mouth." "Well what makes you think that I was just going to submit to you after everything we talked about?" "Because baby, I was just hoping that you wouldn't turn me down and be willing to see what I had to offer you today, I mean, my cycle just went off and your argument wasn't really an argument due to the fact, know what I mean.  So are you turning me down?" I asked as I pressed against him, running my hand down his side while resting the other on the wall behind him.  I leaned in smelling him as I cupped his testicles and felt him harden beneath his pants.  I watched him biting into his bottom lip.  He was thinking exactly what I wanted him to think. Very seductively, I said to him, " so I went by your job so I could see you and get the key and come home to get ready for you."  The vein in his temple popped out as he clinched his teeth. "And you know what they told me?" He swallowed, preparing himself for my next words.  "They told me you had been fired two weeks ago." He looked like a sad puppy. "Baby, I was going to tell you." "Tell me when Lance," I was still holding his balls.  He didn't dare shift. "Probably the end of this week, I knew I couldn't keep it from you that long." I brought my hand down and put my arms around his neck.  "You have warrants for your arrest, the police showed up to your job in uniform." He shook his head, "I didn't know that, anyone went looking for me." I dropped my hands and walked back into the kitchen.  He followed, stopping at the corner of the hallway and living room with his hands in his pocket.  The doorbell rang.  I turned and looked at him, his body shifted, looking at the door.  He finally walks over and I assume, looks out the window.  His steps quicken and he comes to the doorway. "Why is Nikki at our front door?" I get up from my seat and casually walk to the front door. "Did you invite her to our house?" I didn't answer.  I opened the door and there she was, in the flesh.  she was wearing nursing scrubs, bright colored turquise pants and a pink top with some designs etched all over them.  He hair was pulled back into a long but really thin pony tail.  She had a scar in the corner of her mouth right above her right dimple.  I opened the door and directed her in. He must have disappeared when i opened the door and then he showed back up standing on the corner of the hallway and living room once again looking a little intimidated, glaring, tryng not to react to the highly uncomfortable situation I placed him in. She stopped right in front of him. "What are you doing showing up to our house," he asked her calmly. I was puzzled. "What the fuck Lance, you just asked me last week to move in with me and here you are moved in with another woman!" I rested my shoulder on the corner, placing an amused smile on my face, watching his every move and facial expression.  He said nothing. Her anger rose and she cursed him with everything she had.  Taking out her phone and scrolling through the messages, she handed it to me, I took it and read through them as he watched me entertain it with nervous eyes. She threatened him numberous times, but showed concern about losing her job. "And you just gon stand there and look dumb and not say nothing Lance?" "Are you finished?" he asked her. "Fuck you, you don't care about nobody but yourself.  I'm a good woman and I know she probably is too," pointing in my direction, "one day you are going to get yours, you gon end up with fucking AIDS cause you don't know how to keep your dick in your pants!  I'm done with you, I love you but I have been stupid and I'm fucking done!" She looked at me and said, "I'm sorry for my language and I thank you for allowing me to come over here and show you just how worthless your man is, because he's been playing us both, and I hope for your sake, you can leave him alone just like I'm doing, because he will use you up till he can't use you anymore." I told her she was welcome and walked her out of the front door. Leaving  Lance was leaving, he had until Friday.  He begged and pleaded for forgiveness giving the dumbest answers I ever heard for his cheating ass.    He thought that I was suspicious and sending messages from work just like I do him.....Stupid. He was afraid of not having someone to fall back on.....Stupid. He was just using her and playing games.....Stupid She was the only one who came between our relationship.....Now he thinks I'm Stupid.   He says he is going to a shelter, but after calling around they didn't have any space for him until Friday.  Now, I've never stayed in a shelter, but I know good and well if someone says that don't have nowhere to go, if they don't have room they don't just give a date when you can come lay up on one of their cots.  Who does he think he's fooling?   I walked out the door feeling numb and void of any emotion.   After returning from the gym, I was feeling good, I hopped in the shower, and layed across my bed.  I said nothing to the piece of shit that sat at the table looking at me with sad eyes, sniffling like he had been crying.  My mental thoughts were "Fuck you and your fake ass crying".    He was a wonderful chef and had prepared dinner so I didn't have to worry about it.  He didn't have to cook.  I didn't want him to, there was plenty of spagetti left from the night before when I cooked a quick meal.  I didn't always need a chef surprise and I didn't always want to cook a four course meal.  I had been missing spagetti.  I made a mental note not to eat what he prepared and to get a plate of spagetti if I chose to eat.    I heard is foot steps down the hall.  He opened the door and hands me two pieces of paper.  It is a letter.   "I'm not trying to convince you in any way to let me stay, I just want you to read this when you have time. I will be out by Friday and all I ask is that you give me time to remove the pieces of furniture that belong to me."   "Ahem, all that needs to be out before the end of the weekend, you can get a storage, I don't care how you do it, just remove it without making several trips back here.  We are done, and I want to see the least of you possible."   "Will you still let me see the kids?"   My heart jumped.  I didn't know what to say.  He needed to be out of my life, like all the way out.  Just as I was about to speak there was a knock at the door.  I turned quickly to go to the living room to answer it.   I know that I should have looked through the peep hole, that's what they are made for, so that you can check out your visitor before opening the door to prevent unwanted contact from strangers or pestering family members.  I should have asked who it was before touching the door knob, but my mind was in a different place.  Even though, I seemed to be non emotional, my heart was breaking inside.  Lance loved my kids, probably a bit more than I thought he loved me.  My boys loved him.  He was more of a father to them than their own father.  I hated having to explain to them that Lance would be gone and he couldn't be part of our lives moving forward.  He could never be trusted again.   Turning the door knob, my stomach began to spin, facing the person on the other side would be my first test of how I was holding up after facing this terrible disaster that had just become apart of my life.   I opened the door and there she was again, angry and erect. I was confused, why was she back on my door step.  I heard footsteps behind me, I knew it was him, her body shifted when she saw him and that's when I saw it, in her left hand was a hand gun.  My eyes widened as a lump rose in my throat practically suffocating me. "Oh my God," it was only a whisper but I knew she heard me as she raised the gun and I turned to run with her body already in the doorway.   POW! POW!   It burned, it burned so bad as my body was falling all I could think was how do I get out of this alive.  Should I play dead or should I turn around and fight?  Suddenly I felt my back jerk and retract.  I was in agony and my shoulder seered with pain.   "Nikki stop, what are you doing," I heard him scream.  "Don't do this, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, put the gun down!" "You just didn't know how to stop did you? I fucking hate you and I hope you die," it was barely audible, either she was weeping or I was losing consciousness.   POW! POW! POW!   CLANK!   I heard the door slam.  She's gone, I thought.  Please let her be gone.  Let her be gone, and dear God, please please let me live.  Suddenly it all went black. I Never Meant to  Lance Pov   Hello?  Hello?  Where am I?  What happened?  How did I get here?  Everything is so dark.  I can't see.  Oh God, oh God, am I dead?   Laughter erupted from behind him.  Lance snatched his head around and finally saw light and a little house that he recognized.  He walked toward it.  Inside he could still hear laughter, the laughter of children and adults.  He knocked on the door, but no one answered.  He knocked again more intensely.  He didn't want to be rude, but he was in dire need of help, he was lost and didn't know how he got here.   I must have blacked out somehow.   Still no one came to the door.  He opened the door and stepped inside and there before him was his siblings wrestling around on the floor, and behind them he saw himself, at aged 9.  There was his brother, 6, his aunts who were growing up with him, 8 and 10 and his sneaky little sister, 5.  His mother was in the kitchen having a conversation with the devil himself, his stepfather and it looked uncomfortable and heated.  He called out to her, but she remained the same.  No one could hear him, no one knew he was there.  He saw his mother slapped to the kitchen counter by his step father.  It was a memory.  Just then he knew what would happen, is little brother Leon ran to the kitchen, hearing the screams of his mother and snatches a butcher knife off of the counter, jumped on his step father's back and plunged the knife in.   Just then the scene changed.  I was in a hospital and looking down, there was a baby girl in a car seat.  I saw the mother of my now fifteen year old child sitting in a wheel chair on the day of my daughter's discharge.  I remember, she was waiting for me to take them home, but I never showed up.  I could feel my heart breaking and wanted to cry, the way she was sitting there waiting for me.  Was I feeling her pain?    The day Cynthia showed up at home early from work, there was a black Nissan Sentra in the driveway.  I never heard her walk in and when she opened the door to me in bed with my other girl, I remembered I didn't care, she would forgive me.  But the memory gave me a flinch.  I watched as months and months played by of her trying to forgive me, but the evidence that I was still seeing other women kept bringing it back.  Suddenly my chest was stinging and I felt rage.  I was so overwhelmed, my head wanted to explode.  I walked down the hall where my feet took me to the bedroom Cynthia and I once shared and she was standing there at the side of the bed, where my human body lay sleeping with rage in her eyes and a knife to her side and the thoughts of death in her heart.  The phone rings and as my body moved, she snapped out of it and slipped out of the room.  I remembered that day when I looked up and saw her leaving the room suddenly and wondering why she didn't answer they phone on the bed stand.  I never realized, she was on the verge of killing me that day.   Dozens and dozens of scenes replayed before me, the broken hearts attacking my skin, body and soul, until I saw Michelle.  I knew the pain was over.  This one, the one, I truly fell in love with.  I was shitty to her in the beginning,  I still saw Nikki and worked out ways to spend time with them both, but most of it went to Michelle.  I wanted to settle down and marry her.  After I got exposed a few months ago, I dedicated myself to making her happy and to get her to trust me again.  I did....I did continue to see Nikki every once in a while, but now Michelle and I were moved in together and I swore that I was done with all that.         Burning from the inside Nikki POV:   I was angry, I was hurt.  All I can think about was revenge.  The first time I talked to that girl Michelle, I thought that would be enough.  I thought I could leave Lance alone and she would too, hell, I had almost 2 years with him and she told me they hadn't been together that long.  I don't know why, I just could not leave it alone.  The bastard told me out of his own mouth that he was working on making things right with his "girl".  What?  I was supposed to be his girl!  I left alone friends and familly to make him happy, I can only imagine what he is telling her.    I've heard about them having family get togethers and parties at their house together.  They were living together and there is nothing that I can do but bury myself in a bath of self pity.  Why did he do this to me.  I'm so pissed.  I'm so hurt and all I want to do is make someone else hurt too.  I can't hurt him, I know this now, unless I can hurt her.  He must love her.    I left messages, texted and several calls, still, this girl didn't answer.  All of a sudden I hear her voice on the other end of the reciever, she had answered my call.   "Hello? Michelle? This is Nikki, is Lance with you?"  I asked quisically.   This was my chance, my opportunity.  I told her everything, even making up some things in between.  What difference did it make, he was still cheating on her with me, but then again, didn't her cheat on me with her?  I felt no remorse.  I needed my $800 back that he had gotten from me to find a place.  I knew he used it so that they could move in together but I was buying his bullshit because I wanted his love and I thought I could put an end to this thing he had with this woman.  I always did.  They never lasted long and then he was back with me full time, whispering sweet nothings in my ear as usual.  I loved him for the way he made me feel for the time being, and right now, I felt he had actually fallen for this girl since he shut me out.  I was beginning to hate her.   The thought of everything he has put me through even after I had been there for him and he started a life with someone else.  I want him to know how it feels.    Nikki goes to her bedroom closet and takes down the shoe box from the shelf.  She opens it to reveal the hand gun her brother gave her  when he wanted to rid himself of the gun he used to commit a robbery.  She never shot a gun before, never had a reason too, but as hurt as she was, all she wanted to do was hurt him.    She pulled up infront of the house.  Both cars were home.  She didn't expect his so called woman to be home, she knew she worked out and expected her to be at the gym from what her status read on facebook just 30 minutes ago, she was on her way.  Nikki waited a while, to see if Michelle would leave, but the anticipation was too much.  She saw the shadow of Lance cross the window and anger swelled up inside of her.  Taking the gun from the passenger seat she switched off the safety as tears fell from her eyes, angry tears from swollen eyes.   Nikki slowly stepped out of the car, leaving the door ajar.  Walking up to the house she could hear her pulse beating in her ears.  The consistent drum beating and blood flowing adrenaline while walking up those steps, she didn't even realize she had opened the screen and knocked on the front door.   Michelle opened the door.  Nikki just stared at her.  The woman looked confused, then petrified when she saw the gun, Nikki moved forward seeing the man come behind her that she wanted to hurt.  Suddenly she heard from Michelle, "Oh my God", Nikki then focused and pointed the gun on the retreating woman and fired.   "Nikki stop, what are you doing," I heard him scream. "Don't do this, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, put the gun down!"   "You just didn't know how to stop did you? I fucking hate you and I hope you die."   POW! POW! POW! Something about the past        Michelle was a beautiful woman of 29.  She made a career in the criminal justice field as a parole officer with no children and was a woman of integrity and morals, yet always seemed to make the committment to a man whom had a lot going for himself, yet had the worst conceitment and outlook on life.    She assumed this man would be different.  They started a life together, entwined their finances and responsibilities.  Lance was a good guy and an excellent father to his children, but he had a thing for attention.  He felt he could have any woman he wanted.   Lance had a childhood filled with black eyes by his stepfather, no protection from his mother, estrangement from his father, and loneliness from the entire ordeal from his mother disowning him for the comfort of her battered yet priviledged life with her husband.  To him women were a disappointment.  He carried a huge hole in his heart and for him, never committing to someone who would be a disappointment to him was not neccessary.....until he met Michelle Johnson.    He wanted to do the right thing, cancel all his social media accounts, change his number, be upfront and honest, and he thought he would, it just didn't happen as it should have.  Being a womanizer for so long, it now seemed like an addiction, and when they would have a falling out, it was only natural for him to gravitate toward someone else for affection.  He had a problem, he knew he needed help or else he was going to lose everything that he ever wanted that he had right now at this moment.  He didn't want to hurt Nikola, but he didn't love her either.  He never wanted to be with her indefinitely, never crossed his mind, but she was devoted and crazy in love with him.  He loved the attention and neediness from her toward him.  If he only knew the consequences behind that.   Nikola Shockley was a deeply troubled woman whom had been hurt and burned several times in her life from her father, to her husband who up and left her for someone else while heavily pregnant with her daughter five years ago.  He beat her, kept her from family and friends, yet after having him thrown in jail and then promising it would never happen again, he just left her telling her to never contact him because she wasn't shit and every man woudl beat her because she wasn't shit and then they would leave her.  Little did she know, he had already had a whole other family the entire time with two other children whom he went on to marry one week after their divorce was finalized.  She embarked out and had several other relationships,  with hand problems,  drug problems and they all hit her.  Until she met Lance.   Lance was a handsome man, young and bald.  She was working at a daycare when he came in one day to pick up his son.  For the next week, he was there every afternoon, asking her how she was doing, flashing his winning smile when he picked up his son.  He always genuinely cared about whether she had a good day or not, and that one Friday, when she seemed like she had all the weight of the world on her shoulders and looked evil.  He asked her out for coffee for the next morning at the starbucks.  That's how it all started.  He never hit her, had never touched drugs or smoked a cigarette.  He was a devoted father and he even went to church.  He didn't even drink coffee, instead he enjoyed a hot chocolate that morning.  She was head over heels in love.   Lance had a childhood where in a home with a woman whom was supposed to protect him, his mother was an accomplice to harsh beatings, degrading comments, embarrassing moments, and attending church where members thought his parents were perfect.  Everyone's kids in the family lived them, kids parents would die, and his would take custody, recieving the death benefits meant for the children, buying fancy cars, a home and forcing the children to work to buy school clothes and pay rent.  He was locked in the bedroom days at a time, only to be let out for school and to return, with no dinner and a pot to piss in.  He left home at 15 and never looked back.  All of his siblings and cousins were under their control, but would finally escape later, leaving his mother and step father to attempt to actively steal their children from right under their noses.  They didn't abuse these kids though, for they were granted to them by the court.  His real father was kept from him.  When he found him, he had six months to live, and then he died, but not before telling Lance how much he loved him and wished they had more time.   He was a hurt man, a broken man, who knew nothing about love but that it hurt.  He hurt everyone he came across, while telling them he loved them.  It was true, but caos was all he knew.  When he met Michelle and got to know her, he never thought that he would actually consider marriage one day.  He also realized that because he REALLY loved her, she could be the one to hurt him, so he continued to play his games, wanting to stay ahead.  All along, not realizing that his life could change and he'd lose her anyway on his own through his wrong doing. Really Unreal   She's been out for two weeks!  What if she doesn't make it?  If she dies....if my baby dies, I'll kill him!  She's not going to die.  Didn't you hear the doctor's she is getting stronger and stronger everyday?     Michelle opens her eyes slowly to see her mother and step-father whispering in the corner.  She couldn't understand why she couldn't move, or what they were talking about.  What baby girl?  Her voice was lost somehow and her throat hurt terribly.  Everything seemed cloudy and there were white walls surrounding her.  With all her strenghth, she still didn't seem to be able to say anything.  Tired, she drifted back off, out of reality, away from the sound of her mother's worrying voice and her step-father's attempt at calming her.  Didn't he know by now, she couldn not be calmed?   Michelle:   I like it here, it's peaceful.  Looks like Africa, no drama, no labor, just utopia. Chelle, you can't stay. Why not?  I'm already here. You don't belong here, I already told you that. But daddy!  I don't want to go, I've missed you so much!  Can't I just stay a little while longer and talk with? I've missed you too baby girl, but I've been watching you all these years, you will be okay. If I must, I will go back, but first, please walk the praire with me, just one more time, I want to watch the children play with the animals. Absolutely baby girl.   "Michelle?  Michelle?"  A gentle male's voice hovered over her calling her name.  "Oh, my God, Michelle, please wake up, I see your eyes you want to wake up".   Suddenly her eyes opened and standing above her was a masculine, bald, handsome young face.  Michelle didn't know who this man was, where she was, or why she was lying down with this man over top of her.  Worst off, she couldn't move, her voice was being caught by some tubing.  She was frightened at her seemingly vegetative state.   "Oh God, you are awake," he whispered.  "Michelle, it's okay, oh my god, I'm so happy you are awake, don't move, I'll get the doctor!"   "Michelle Warren, hello, I am your doctor, Dr. Spencer.  Young lady, we have been waiting on you to wake up for quite sometime now.  Now I do not want you to try and speak, but Michelle, you are in the hospital and you had some trauma to your internal organs and your lower spine.  I am going to take this pen here and use it on your foot.  Squeeze my hand if you can feel this."   There was a tickle under the bottom of her foot that caused Michelle to wiggle her toes just a little and she gave the doctor a light squeeze.   "Good Michelle."   There was another tickle on the bottom of her right foot.   "Excellent Michell!" "Wow I am really amazed.  I believe that you are going to be up and back to yourself in no time.  For now, I'm going to send in your nurse so she can go over some things with you as far as getting you back eating regularly.  Now that you are awake, I'm sorry to say, you should probably be getting some rest."   Dr. Spencer was talking so fast, or so it seemed, Michelle just looked at him with a blank stare, almost completely void of strenghth, should didn't even attempt to nod her head.  As she closed her eyes, the man known only as Dr. Spencer left an impression behind the shade of her lids.     Lan-Ce-Lost Lance:   There was a time in my life, when I was young, I said I would grow up to be a good man, not the one that I watched use and abuse my mother.  Not the one who beat the kids who were not his and he didn't even love until they couldn't walk for days at a time.  Not the one who ran around on my mother only to watch her gravel at his feet and love him more than she loved those whom she gave life.  I was going to be a good man, start a family, have kids and love them unconditionally and see that they never had to endure the pain that I had in my lifetime if I had anything to do with it.  I was going to work hard, love my family, and overcome.   I blamed my ways on not being loved enough as a child.  I admit, I didn't really know how to love anyone unconditionally.  I loved every woman for conditional reasons only.  What one lacked the other one had it for me.  If she is mad, then I know the other is going to rub my back, let me attack her blissfully and then when I'm done with her, I'm on my way to the next one, selling the same dreams and the same future that was never going to happen.   As I moved on to my next victim, I was still stringing that crazy girl along.  Perhaps, she was a little crazier because of me.  Sure was just so crazy about me.  It was my fault though.  I kinda feel sorry for her, sorry for what I did to her, sorry for what I put her through.  I had no idea she would be that sensitive.  I made time for Nikki and Michelle, but Michelle made it so hard, that Nikki knew there had to be someone else.  I never made her a priority which is why I could go and stay away from her days at a time, weeks even, but I talked to her everyday, all day with every excuse in the world why she wasn't seeing.  I'm out of town with Michelle and my son to see my daughter, but I told her it was only me.  She didn't understand why she wasn't invited, but I told her, it was just for me and the kids.  She bought it, she always bought it, as long as it wasn't right in her face.   I was being more honest with myself now, more than ever.  I didn't stay over at her place anymore, because, I was always with Michelle, until she went to work.  I even adjusted my work schedule to have certain mornings off, and on Mondays to make up a few hours to see Nikki.  I wasn't as good juggling women, so it was only those two.  Michelle, ha, she's smart and she's focused.  She kept a watchful eye, but when the cat is away, the mice will play.  Honestly, she was the boss and I was the dog.  I knew it was something about her, and I wish that I had learned a long time ago to get right, but I didn't.  I thought I was going to die that night Nikki showed up and shot the both of us.   My life flashed before my eyes and all I felt was misery.  I was afraid that she took the woman that I had finally felt I never wanted to lose away from me.   Michelle, Michelle, I didn't know that when I met her, she would make me look at the world in a whole other way.  She was smart, funny, fun, spiritual, loving, giving, understanding.  She read me like a book that she had read over and over and knew every inch of it.  She still gave me a chance and the worst part is, she knew it would happen to her.  She once told me, I believe that I am where I am supposed to be at this time.  I don't care if I have something to do with your life changing now or later, but I know that no matter what, I would have had an impact on you, and somebody is going to get some good out of it, just because we met; even me.  I didn't know what that meant at the time, I just thought, "Girl please, I'm not changing for nobody."  I was wrong.   She is all I think about.  It's been six months and all I think about is the pain that I caused her and the life that she has given me.  Even though, I am confined in this space, my hopes and dreams have come alive.  Every word she has ever given me is alive.  After the investigators spoke with me for the second time about the shooting, three weeks later they came and arrested me, at the hospital.  I am in prison for larceny, a crime I committed two years ago in another state.  It's the reason I quit my job, they had been looking for me and I got scared, well, I didn't go in and they fired me.  I don't know if it was for not going to work or that I made their establishment look bad by cops coming in to look for me.  I knew, Nikki was the one who ratted me out after I wouldn't return any of her phone calls.   I've tried calling Michelle, but she wouldn't take the calls.  Today, I received a letter.   Dear Lance,   It has been a while.  I have seen the prison calls, but I am not one to accept those type of calls, especially if I can't stand the person calling.  I decided to write you, because this is something that even if you forget, you can always read over it, or just discard it. I want you to know that I am no longer angry with you or her.  I have overcome that.  It wasn't all her fault and I must say, you share the blame.  I am completely healed now and I am back to work.  I think of you from time to time.  I pray for you when I do.  I know that jail isn't for you.  We all make mistakes, it doesn't make you a bad person, just someone whom I hope learns from their mistakes.  I have faith that you will have learned some very valuable lessons about life when you walk out of those doors.  Please, don't ponder on what happened and what happened between us.  I forgive you.   Sincerely,   Michelle Spencer     I called home to my sister Nessie.   "Hello?" "Hey Ness, how are you?" "Hey baby brother, I'm good, how are you?" "Let me ask you something. Have you talked to Michelle lately?  I was just wondering how she is doing." "I knew you had to be calling about something.  Yes, Lance, actually I have." "Well, how is she doing, and I'm sorry sis, I love you, she's just really been on my mind lately." "That's fine, glad to hear from you anyway.  Well, Chelle is doing just fine, she actually left town Sunday." "Oh yeah, well I'm glad she is doing okay.  Could you please tell her that I asked about her." "----------------Lance, I think that maybe you should start forgetting about Michelle.  I don't think that she would want that message." "Well why not?  Nessie, I know I wasn't the best man to her, but I'm hoping with parole next week, I can come home and show her that I have changed and win her heart back.  You never heard me say that I wanted to get married ever.  I wanted to be a bachelor all my life.  I want to show her and marry her.  I have to win her back." "----------Ahem,----------Lance, Michelle went out of town on her honeymoon." "Excuse me?  Ness, that isn't funny, I'm trying to be serious with you and you think it's all fun and games, I want to marry her!" "I'm not playing games or trying to be funny Lance.  Michelle got married Saturday, I was one of her brides maids.  I'm sorry. "Are you really telling me that she found someone, and married him?  Already!" "Well, if you really want to be technical about it, you found him." "What?!" "Remember the doctor who did her surgery right after the shooting?" "Doctor Spencer?  She married Doctor Spencer?" "Yes Lance, and she's happy now, very happy." Ruined life   I don't know what I was thinking.  I am miserable, I am lost, I am alone.  I wanted to get rid of the heartache, by getting rid of him.  I only got rid of myself, out of my son's life.  I am nobody now.  I don't even remember what I look like.  He is still alive, living his life with her, I imagine. How can I do 20 years?  I can't do it, I can't do it.   Nicola pulled her notebook from under her hard thin mattress.  She began to pin a note.  It had been two years and she was finally broken.  She tried to keep her head up and look forward to an appeal, a sentence modification, anything.  She at least hoped to have her attempted murder charge plead down to an assault charge.  The judge wouldn't have it.  She just wanted to explain that she lost it.  She was a damaged woman whom felt her life had been ruined by this man and this woman who he loved more than her for some reason.  She just couldn't comprehend at the time that her life wasn't ruined, but ultimately, she ruined her life.  She wasted all her good talents that she had to offer the world all because she didn't know how to walk away, let go and live.  All these thoughts continuously drove Nicola into a deep dark depression.   When the officer came to do her rounds, she handed her a sealed, stamped envelope and asked for it to be sent out in the mail.  Once the officer left, knew she had at least 30 minutes until she would see any officer walk by and check on her again.  Nicola used a razor she had taped under the metal pole of the bed.  She stripped the sheet from top to bottom in half.  Wrapping it around the bar of the window and twisting it tight, she looked blank.  Wrapping the garment around her throat and notting it, she then took the razor and sliced through her wrists.  She stood there wondering why she could not feel it.  She was numb.  Suddenly everything just went dark.  As her body slumped and she passed out from losing so much blood, her back slid down the wall.  the homemade rope hung only inches from the window bar.  Her body convulsing, Nicola, for the final time seemed to cry as tears streamed down her cheeks. Haunted Vanessa opened the mailbox and saw that there was a letter from Westpointe Correctional Institution.  It was for her brother Lance.  Lance had only been home three months.  He did a little time, but in that time, it seemed like he did a lot of thinking.  He hadn't once had a woman over to the house, or stayed out with one since he came home.  He was working, and making pretty good money.  Vanessa was concerned about him though.  He seemed to be deeply depressed; perhaps over Michelle moving on with her life and never responding to his attempt to contact her.   "Lance, you have a letter." "Oh yeah?  From who? "Your stalker." "Lance rolled his eyes, took the envelope and tossed it in the trash." "I guess that's what I get for letting her come over here.  This trash is non-stop.  She tried to kill us." "Lance, you haven't read one letter.  She might be trying to apologize.  She might need some closure.  Hell, you need some closure.  Maybe an apology can help your sad ass."   Vanessa walked out the door.  It was Saturday and the sun was out.  Lance had a long week of work and he just wanted to relax.  A beer sounded good.  He wondered what Michelle was up to.  He had found her new number in Vanessa's phone when she let him use it for a call one day.  He memorized it and wrote it down.  He hadn't had the nerve yet to call her.  He knew he shouldn't, but he still didn't think that she should have moved on so fast.  He was sure it had to be for the money, hell, she married a doctor. He grabbed a beer from the refridgerator.  He thought of how lonely he was, mostly because he was on house arrest.  Maybe because of his heartache.  He messed up bad.  Opening the beer, he looked down at the trash can and picked up the letter from Nikki.  He carried it upstairs to his room and opened the letter.   Dear Lance,   I cannot believe that after all this time, I still haven't heard from you.  It has been torture, day by day, I watch the officer hand out letters from loved ones to the other women in this place and not one of them from you to me.  When I heard you were released for your parole violation, I was angry.  Knowing you were confined just like me, I wasn't worried about what you were doing out there with anyone else, but you always came back to me, I was always your go to girl.  I immediately placed you name on my visiting list and wrote you a letter, I even called your sister's house.  I really needed to see you.  There is something that I needed to tell you in person, but I vowed that if you never talked to me again, then you would never know. Well now is the time I guess.  I know you don't care and I don't expect you to.  My life is ruined, I don't have one.  The decision I made was so that another person would not grow up and be embarassed of what I have become.  I had a baby girl eight months after my incarceration.  I named her Harmony, because I wanted her to live a peaceful, loving life, and because I wanted that for her, I decided to have a closed adoption.  I didn't want her to know who I was, until she is eighteen and has made the choice herself, and if she knew you, she would know me too, so I told them that I didn't know the father.   I wanted to tell you face to face because without your consent, if you stepped up and wanted to challenge the adoption, you could, but you never even gave a rat's ass as to how I was holding up in here, because now that I am in jail, there is nothing you can use me for.  You've left me all alone.  Do you know the really fucked up part about all of this Lance?  Michelle wrote me a letter and asked to see me.  When she saw me, I could see part of the scar on her left shoulder from the bullet I put in her.  I couldn't believe that I would do something like that.  I expected her to hate me, but she didn't.  She told me that she forgave me and prayed for me.  That should have been my deliverence Lance, but it wasn't because, I wanted you to forgive me too.  Forgive me for trying to kill you, forgive me for not telling that I was pregnant with your child, and forgiveness for letting another family raise her.  I cannot even forgive myself and since you won't, I am tired of the torture and I must say goodbye.  I hate you now for what you are making me do.   Love & Hate Forever and Ever, Nicola         Publication Date: August 4th 2016 https://www.bookrix.com/-njoyabl

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Anonymous The Castaway I Dedicate this book to my mom. Prologue Just a little girl brought into the world. never had a fear. Just one life, one life to live, one life to hope to be the best life, not a care in the world hoping that god was protecting and watching over her that evil shall never touch her, that she would get to see all of the life in the world.A world filled with light and no darkness. The Start It started off with a little girl born on July 16,1999.I was a pretty little girl, I was bright and loved to smile. My name is Payton. I had a smile that could brighten up the whole room,I had that smile that could make everyone fall in love with me,and as I got older I continued to smile.When I turned 1 years old I started to noticed that My dad always made me stay down stair and my mom and dad would go up stairs I always wondered why. But one day I would find out.One day my dad just had walked in and I said "Hi Daddy" and he just slammed the door and walked right passed me he had a real mean look on his face he just walked up the stairs to where my mom was not focused on anything else. All of a sudden I hear My mom screaming "Stop" and so i slowly walk up the stairs to find my dad holding my mom down pinned to the wall he's hitting her and punching her i noticed my moms nose is bleeding I start to cry " mommy alright" i say my dad says " Mommy's fine" then he looks at my mom with a evil look in his eyes when i say " Mommy are you ok" and she softly say's "yeah" with tears coming down her face. I go give my mom a hug even though that i can tell she's in pain but then again i don't beleive my dad would hurt my mom on purpose because i've never seen him like this but at the same time i'm scared as he says " don't tell nanna about this" I nodded knowing me i've never had the urge to disobey my father. After my dad said go to your room and play with elmo.Elmo was my only friend really my dad never let me play with other kids i had absolutely no friends my friends were my toys my mom would always buy me all the dragon tails,Pooh Bear, seseme street, and Barney charaters because he would never let me nor my mom be outside because his "friends" would be outside on the porch smoking weed or gambling.After I heard my parents door slam then i heard a cry then the door opened and my dad came out I could hear my mom crying my dad came into my room and said "Bye Pooh" Pooh was my nickname that he always called me because i loved winne the pooh. My whole room was winnie the pooh. Then I see my mom come out the room she walks to my room as she wipes her tears she says " hey payton guess who'S coming today?" and i look at her and she says "nanna" and i scream yay! Then my mom walks me into her room and all i see is glass everwhere lamps on the floor broken light bulbs and the bed is messed up I asked " mommy what happened" she says nothing honey and i say "it's messy" and my mom just smiles at me. Then we hear a knock on the door nanna i cheer as i run down the stairs "hey girly" " nanna" "hey mom" "hey.. how was my baby today" "she was fine" " nanna play with elmo"... "hi i'm elmo" my nanna says "tehehe" i giggle "want to go to elmo's world" my nanna says then my mom says" how was work?" my nanna says "good you know i love working with the little kids" and my mom says "yeah i know" and then my nanna played with me till at least 8 pm then she said " Well I have to go I love you girly... I love you guys " then she kisses both of us on the cheek then walks out the door. Then soon after it was me and my mom sat in my room with me untill iI fell asleep. Then around 12am in the morning i woke up to the phone ringing and my mom not there so i screamed mommy but i got no answer so then i look in her room no ones there so then i scream mommy again still no answer so then i scream with a screaching voice mommy and she answers in a whiney voice payton i'm down her and then so i walk down their to find my mommy sitting on the couch crying and i'm asking "mommy what's wrong with you" and im patting on her thigh and she says "nothing payton just go up stairs" " then i say mommy can you come up stairs i scared" and my mom says weeping " go up stairs i'll be there in a minute" so i slowly walked up stairs TERRIFIED and then my mom slowly walks behind me i looked at her face deep into her eyes and i can tell that she is not happy she had a sad worried like look on her face her eyes were red like she had been crying for hours. She followed me to my room we sat in my winnie the pooh room and watched beetween the lions. As I asked her "where's daddy" repeatly I notice her watched as he smile from just being aroun dropped and she just couldn't look straight at me she looked down at her hands and as i asked one last time she walked away and just cryed. Unbearable The very next night after not seeing my dad night before and the all day and then he walks in, and because my dad wasn't there my mom had made plans to go to our cousins house and my dad wasn't happy about that so as me and my mom were putting our coats on my mom has me down stairs in the living room and she puts my shoes on and then we hear our cusion knocking and because my mom told my cousin because my dad wouldn't let my mom talk or hangout with friends we were going to hangout with my cusion.My mom went to go answer the door and my dad slams the door back in my cousin face.He trys to snatch me out of my moms hands but he couldn't he could only snatched my timberlands and coat and hat and was throwing it on the floor saying were not going nowhere my mom was struggling to keep a hold of me mean while.. you can hear my mom screaming stop as he slaps her in the face while im in her hands and you can hear my cusion saying stop it's me Tiara stop and then he finally opens the door and i'm in my moms arms screaming and crying were both crying and were laying on the floor.Our cusion tells us to come on that we don't deserve this she walks in the house and helps us pack some of our stuff.When we arrive at my cusions house she asked us are we alright my mom starts to cry and tell her everything that has happened my cusion asked does my nanna know about this and my mom says know she said you can't tell her and she promises to keep it a secret. Then we go to bed. In the morning I wake up we decide were going back to our house my cusion asked is my mom sure she said yeah when we got back my mom went to put the key in the door the key wouldn't fit my dad had changed the locks we were locked out so my mom called for the locks to get changed again... later that day my dad had got in some trouble but was released on bail... so my mom changed the locks after a while i could speak really clear and i would tell my nanna everytime my dad was around nanna don't leave me but she would always say i love you i have too go at first she didn't get why I wanted her to stay i guessed she thought the only reason i liked her to stay is because I love her But there was other reasons.Later that day me and my mom were down stairs watching the Grinch Who Stole Christmas I was sitting on her lap because I was scared of the Grinch, mean while my dad was waiting for his cab and my nana was on her way to my house from work.Finally the taxi arrives and he asked my dad where are you going and my dad says that he's going to 434 Maple and the taxi driver say's i just dropped a guy off at that address and as stupid as my dad was he beleived him so he says please hurry i have to get home. Mean while my grandma just arrived at my house but she sitting outside in a green van talking to the lady she works for then the taxi pulls up the lady say's to my nana "isn't that your son in law"she say's as he runs to the house "yeah" she replys "why is he running?" "I don't know i have to go" then she quickly gets out the van then We hear a knock on the door my mom see's it's my dad and answers it the door left right open he says "so you had another man in here?" my mom says "no" in a scary voice and he slaps her in the face put's her in a head lock and drags her punching in her nose and face she's choked up trying to scream for help "mommmy" i yell as he makes his way out the back door throwing her body like a rag doll choking her squeezing her throught tighter and tighter my grandma walks in and see's me screaming mommy she goes to the back door to find my mom's body half way out the door being choked out my nanna then punches him screaming "Nate let her go" then she punches him and grabs my mom's arms pulling her away from him then my short skinny dad gives up and let's go my nanna ask "are you okay?" and then she get's my mom a big glass of water and my mom turn's around to pick me up and all I saw was blood her nose was gushing out blood she has bruses all on her face. As my nanna handed her a papper towel for her nose my nanna called the cops my dad ran into my his and my mom's room and locked the door. My nanna explained to the cops that he basicly tried to kill her. I don't know what would of happened if my nanna wasn't there my mom would have probably been dead my dad would of probably took me and ran away somewhere were no one could find us. Meanwhile my dad was locked up in the room doing god knows what my mom was just saying to my nanna that it's been going on for a while and my nanna just was like it all makes sence now that's why Payton would tell me to stay and then she said why didn't you tell me my mom replyed i didn't know how then my mom said my nose really hurts i can you call the abulance and then my nanna did and she said that there on there way mean while my nanna said that we should sit on the couch untill the cops and abulance come so we did. Finally the cops cam they were banging on the door my nanna answered "where is he" they asked "locked up in the room upstairs" my nanna replyed as my mom just sat on the couch holding me and sobbing as they took him away as they slowly took him away he said "don't let them take me away don't" but my mom just looked away.At least 4-5 min after they took him the ambulance came it was a long way to Baystate but when we got there we found out that my moms nose was broken and her lip was busted open so she was going to have to get surgery and stitches. My mom only ended up staying for a day and a half. Publication Date: July 11th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-prettygirlzswagga

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-skylar997-runway/

Skylar997 Runway Broken Tears Broken Tears My friend walked out the door and five minutes later i noticed the guards were on the floor. I then looked beside my shoulder and, my dad popped up having a maniac look on his face. I started to breath fast and heavily. He smiled and whispered,"I told you, your dead meat". My eyes widened. He smiled and whispered again,"Don't think of getting away again, i have this place surrounded, by some friends of mine. So if you try and escape, you get it". I then murmured,"G-get w-wha-what"? He whispered,"You wouldn't want to know". I breathed heavily again, kicked him and screamed at the top of my lungs,"HHEELLPP, HHEELLPP"!!!! He got back up and looked at me in despise,"You,probably should not have done that". My eyes widened as i saw him take one of the amnesia shots out of drawer. I breathed heavily and he stuck it into my arm. I then blacked out, and when i woke up i was in his van, along with his so called "friends". I acted like i was still out and overheard their plan. My dad said,"So, now that we got her, were going to sell her". One of the "friends" shouted,"WHERE ARE WE GOING TO SELL HER AND HOW MUCH"? My dads face went red and the guy stopped talking. My dad finally calmed down and whispered,"Mexico, across the boarder my friend". One guy in a black mask whispered,"How we going to ship her"? My dad smiled and said,"I have a friend that lives in mexico, he will come over here and get her". The other guy responded,"Eh,good plan im glad i made it up". My dad looked at him and his face got red. The other guy went into the back of the van while my dad calmed down. Skylar and her parents were already searching for me and my dad. The reward, 12,000 dollars. I never knew if they would actually find me, but i was hoping. Packaging My dad threw me into a pit to make sure i wasn't going to leave. He unloaded the truck when his friend asked,"Hey why don't we just kill her, be much easier. I mean nobody will notice". I heard him and started to squeal. My dad smiled and pulled out something black and shiny from the car and put it into his pocket. I got a closer look and saw it was a shotgun. He smiled and said,"Don't worry if she gets us into trouble, i got a way to shut her up". He turned to me and shot my arm. It hurt so bad, not like a paper cut bad, A SUPER BAD like almost broken bone bad. I started to cry and he shot above my head, he wanted to scare me. I shut up and he smiled. He smirked and whispered kind of loud to his friend,"See, i got everything under control". The friend stupidly repeated him loudly. I heard everything, my dad punched him. I was so scared. They got me out of the pit and threw me into the car. I got a hang of my dads gun and threw it out the back when they weren't looking. A few of the 4 men not including my dad and two of his buddies,held me down. My dad and his friends that didn't hold me down went into the abandoned gas station and used it. I head bumped the two men and cut myself open. I ran for my life when my dad came out with an extra gun. He shot one of my legs but i still ran. He nearly shot my head, but i was already behind a dumpster. They ran after me but i was too far ahead. I ran till i couldn't run. I ran faster then one of the cars. I ran past 3 traffic lights, and 4 cars. I then was in a valley where nobody could really find me. I found a box and some old pillow sheets. I pilled them on top of each other and went to sleep in the box. In the morning, i was bloody and i was on a ship. I opened my eyes to see only blurs. I wiped my eyes to see me covered in blood. I saw my dad and his friends talking. I slowly scooted my self up to the ship panel while nobody was looking. I saw that the captain wasn't awake. I taped his eyes closed along with his mouth. I put medicine up his nose, to help him breath. I went up to the controls and I broke it. I grabbed some packaged food, a float, and I jumped off the boat before it sunk. I swam as fast as my bloody legs could go. I had just realized I had just made a horrible mistake. I was bloody, in a shark infested ocean. I swam faster till I had burned five pounds. I caught my breath as I felt sudden movements around me. I looked up to see a shark circling me. I stood as still as I could. I got my energy back and when she shark was behind me I starting swimming. I swam so fast, but not fast enough. The shark bit my foot shaking it, to tear off. It wouldn't give, so the shark aimed for my arm. I held my breath and got in a swimming position. I swam as deep as I could go, and hid in some coral. I slowly swam up, but my air was running out. I quickly swam up to the top. I took deep, heavy breaths. I slowed my heartbeat down as I cleared my vision. I looked ahead to see a land form. I swam slowly towards the figure as to see a small hospital. I limped inside with my foot hanging, and dripping with blood and skin. I took my best arm and knocked on the door with all my strength. I saw the doctor come by and look at me. He stood there a second and then rushed to my side. He dragged me inside. He seemed to have recognized my face. I passed out with a whiff of air. When I awoke I heard crying, familiar sounds crowded the room. I blinked twice to clear my vision. I seemed to have been strapped to a oxygen machine. I looked over to my side to see Skylar and her mom crying, while the dad sat in the chair nervously. As if they were my parents. Skylar's mom whispered in her ear as if she didn't want me to know, yet. Skylar looked at her and smiled. She looked at me a hugged me gently. I asked,"What is it?" Her smile grew bigger. Skylar's mom whispered in Skylar's ear, but I could here this time,"I will tell her, go into the lobby". Her smile went away as she sighed. She sat down next to me and rubbed her soft nails threw my hair. I looked up to her as she took a deep breath. She smiled and whispered,"Im glad your okay, Sunny." I tilted my head with a curious expression,"Huh? My name is Avalon." She smiled and kissed my forehead,"Im your, mom, Skylar is your sister, and my husband is your dad." I sat there in shock as my curious expression went away. A tear dropped from her eye as she hardly got out her words,"I couldn't take care of you, I didn't have the money. Skylar was born 6 months later, when I had money. I never thought that you-" I stopped her as I smiled. I hugged her and soon saw Skylar come into the room,"Im glad your okay,sis. Publication Date: August 13th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-skylar997

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-william-shakespeare-the-tragedy-of-coriolanus/

William Shakespeare The Tragedy of Coriolanus PERSONS REPRESENTED. CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS, a noble Roman TITUS LARTIUS, General against the Volscians COMINIUS, General against the Volscians MENENIUS AGRIPPA, Friend to Coriolanus SICINIUS VELUTUS, Tribune of the People JUNIUS BRUTUS, Tribune of the People YOUNG MARCIUS, son to Coriolanus A ROMAN HERALD TULLUS AUFIDIUS, General of the Volscians LIEUTENANT, to Aufidius Conspirators with Aufidius A CITIZEN of Antium TWO VOLSCIAN GUARDS VOLUMNIA, Mother to Coriolanus VIRGILIA, Wife to Coriolanus VALERIA, Friend to Virgilia GENTLEWOMAN attending on Virgilia Roman and Volscian Senators, Patricians, Aediles, Lictors, Soldiers, Citizens, Messengers, Servants to Aufidius, and other Attendants SCENE: Partly in Rome, and partly in the territories of the Volscians and Antiates. ACT I. SCENE I. Rome. A street. [Enter a company of mutinous citizens, with staves, clubs, and other weapons.] FIRST CITIZEN. Before we proceed any further, hear me speak. ALL. Speak, speak. FIRST CITIZEN. You are all resolved rather to die than to famish? ALL. Resolved, resolved. FIRST CITIZEN. First, you know Caius Marcius is chief enemy to the people. ALL. We know't, we know't. FIRST CITIZEN. Let us kill him, and we'll have corn at our own price. Is't a verdict? ALL. No more talking on't; let it be done: away, away! SECOND CITIZEN. One word, good citizens. FIRST CITIZEN. We are accounted poor citizens; the patricians good. What authority surfeits on would relieve us; if they would yield us but the superfluity, while it were wholesome, we might guess they relieved us humanely; but they think we are too dear: the leanness that afflicts us, the object of our misery, is as an inventory to particularize their abundance; our sufferance is a gain to them. - Let us revenge this with our pikes ere we become rakes: for the gods know I speak this in hunger for bread, not in thirst for revenge. SECOND CITIZEN. Would you proceed especially against Caius Marcius? FIRST CITIZEN. Against him first: he's a very dog to the commonalty. SECOND CITIZEN. Consider you what services he has done for his country? FIRST CITIZEN. Very well; and could be content to give him good report for't, but that he pays himself with being proud. SECOND CITIZEN. Nay, but speak not maliciously. FIRST CITIZEN. I say unto you, what he hath done famously he did it to that end: though soft-conscienced men can be content to say it was for his country, he did it to please his mother, and to be partly proud; which he is, even to the altitude of his virtue. SECOND CITIZEN. What he cannot help in his nature you account a vice in him. You must in no way say he is covetous. FIRST CITIZEN. If I must not, I need not be barren of accusations; he hath faults, with surplus, to tire in repetition. [Shouts within.] What shouts are these? The other side o' the city is risen: why stay we prating here? to the Capitol! ALL. Come, come. FIRST CITIZEN. Soft! who comes here? SECOND CITIZEN. Worthy Menenius Agrippa; one that hath always loved the people. FIRST CITIZEN. He's one honest enough; would all the rest were so! [Enter MENENIUS AGRIPPA.] MENENIUS. What work's, my countrymen, in hand? where go you With bats and clubs? the matter? speak, I pray you. FIRST CITIZEN. Our business is not unknown to the senate; they have had inkling this fortnight what we intend to do, which now we'll show 'em in deeds. They say poor suitors have strong breaths; they shall know we have strong arms too. MENENIUS. Why, masters, my good friends, mine honest neighbours, Will you undo yourselves? FIRST CITIZEN. We cannot, sir; we are undone already. MENENIUS. I tell you, friends, most charitable care Have the patricians of you. For your wants, Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well Strike at the heaven with your staves as lift them Against the Roman state; whose course will on The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs Of more strong link asunder than can ever Appear in your impediment: for the dearth, The gods, not the patricians, make it; and Your knees to them, not arms, must help. Alack, You are transported by calamity Thither where more attends you; and you slander The helms o' th' state, who care for you like fathers, When you curse them as enemies. FIRST CITIZEN. Care for us! True, indeed! They ne'er cared for us yet. Suffer us to famish, and their storehouses crammed with grain; make edicts for usury, to support usurers; repeal daily any wholesome act established against the rich, and provide more piercing statutes daily to chain up and restrain the poor. If the wars eat us not up, they will; and there's all the love they bear us. MENENIUS. Either you must Confess yourselves wondrous malicious, Or be accus'd of folly. I shall tell you A pretty tale: it may be you have heard it; But, since it serves my purpose, I will venture To stale't a little more. FIRST CITIZEN. Well, I'll hear it, sir; yet you must not think to fob off our disgrace with a tale: but, an't please you, deliver. MENENIUS. There was a time when all the body's members Rebell'd against the belly; thus accus'd it: - That only like a gulf it did remain I' the midst o' the body, idle and unactive, Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing Like labour with the rest; where th' other instruments Did see and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel, And, mutually participate, did minister Unto the appetite and affection common Of the whole body. The belly answered, - FIRST CITIZEN. Well, sir, what answer made the belly? MENENIUS. Sir, I shall tell you. - With a kind of smile, Which ne'er came from the lungs, but even thus, - For, look you, I may make the belly smile As well as speak, - it tauntingly replied To the discontented members, the mutinous parts That envied his receipt; even so most fitly As you malign our senators for that They are not such as you. FIRST CITIZEN. Your belly's answer? What! The kingly crowned head, the vigilant eye, The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier, Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter, With other muniments and petty helps Is this our fabric, if that they, - MENENIUS. What then? - 'Fore me, this fellow speaks! - what then? what then? FIRST CITIZEN. Should by the cormorant belly be restrain'd, Who is the sink o' the body, - MENENIUS. Well, what then? FIRST CITIZEN. The former agents, if they did complain, What could the belly answer? MENENIUS. I will tell you; If you'll bestow a small, - of what you have little, - Patience awhile, you'll hear the belly's answer. FIRST CITIZEN. You are long about it. MENENIUS. Note me this, good friend; Your most grave belly was deliberate, Not rash like his accusers, and thus answer'd: 'True is it, my incorporate friends,' quoth he, 'That I receive the general food at first Which you do live upon; and fit it is, Because I am the storehouse and the shop Of the whole body: but, if you do remember, I send it through the rivers of your blood, Even to the court, the heart, - to the seat o' the brain; And, through the cranks and offices of man, The strongest nerves and small inferior veins From me receive that natural competency Whereby they live: and though that all at once You, my good friends,' - this says the belly, - mark me, - FIRST CITIZEN. Ay, sir; well, well. MENENIUS. 'Though all at once cannot See what I do deliver out to each, Yet I can make my audit up, that all From me do back receive the flour of all, And leave me but the bran.' What say you to't? FIRST CITIZEN. It was an answer: how apply you this? MENENIUS. The senators of Rome are this good belly, And you the mutinous members; for, examine Their counsels and their cares; digest things rightly Touching the weal o' the common; you shall find No public benefit which you receive But it proceeds or comes from them to you, And no way from yourselves. - What do you think, You, the great toe of this assembly? FIRST CITIZEN. I the great toe? why the great toe? MENENIUS. For that, being one o' the lowest, basest, poorest, Of this most wise rebellion, thou go'st foremost: Thou rascal, that art worst in blood to run, Lead'st first to win some vantage. - But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs: Rome and her rats are at the point of battle; The one side must have bale. - [Enter CAIUS MARCIUS.] Hail, noble Marcius! MARCIUS. Thanks. - What's the matter, you dissentious rogues That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion, Make yourselves scabs? FIRST CITIZEN. We have ever your good word. MARCIUS. He that will give good words to thee will flatter Beneath abhorring. - What would you have, you curs, That like nor peace nor war? The one affrights you, The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you, Where he should find you lions, finds you hares; Where foxes, geese: you are no surer, no, Than is the coal of fire upon the ic, Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is To make him worthy whose offence subdues him, And curse that justice did it. Who deserves greatness Deserves your hate; and your affections are A sick man's appetite, who desires most that Which would increase his evil. He that depends Upon your favours swims with fins of lead, And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust ye! With every minute you do change a mind; And call him noble that was now your hate, Him vile that was your garland. What's the matter, That in these several places of the city You cry against the noble senate, who, Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else Would feed on one another? - What's their seeking? MENENIUS. For corn at their own rates; whereof they say The city is well stor'd. MARCIUS. Hang 'em! They say! They'll sit by th' fire and presume to know What's done i' the Capitol; who's like to rise, Who thrives and who declines; side factions, and give out Conjectural marriages; making parties strong, And feebling such as stand not in their liking Below their cobbled shoes. They say there's grain enough! Would the nobility lay aside their ruth And let me use my sword, I'd make a quarry With thousands of these quarter'd slaves, as high As I could pick my lance. MENENIUS. Nay, these are almost thoroughly persuaded; For though abundantly they lack discretion, Yet are they passing cowardly. But, I beseech you, What says the other troop? MARCIUS. They are dissolved: hang 'em! They said they were an-hungry; sigh'd forth proverbs, - That hunger broke stone walls, that dogs must eat, That meat was made for mouths, that the gods sent not Corn for the rich men only: - with these shreds They vented their complainings; which being answer'd, And a petition granted them, - a strange one, To break the heart of generosity, And make bold power look pale, - they threw their caps As they would hang them on the horns o' the moon, Shouting their emulation. MENENIUS. What is granted them? MARCIUS. Five tribunes, to defend their vulgar wisdoms, Of their own choice: one's Junius Brutus, Sicinius Velutus, and I know not. - 'Sdeath! The rabble should have first unroof'd the city Ere so prevail'd with me: it will in time Win upon power, and throw forth greater themes For insurrection's arguing. MENENIUS. This is strange. MARCIUS. Go get you home, you fragments! [Enter a MESSENGER, hastily.] MESSENGER. Where's Caius Marcius? MARCIUS. Here: what's the matter? MESSENGER. The news is, sir, the Volsces are in arms. MARCIUS. I am glad on't: then we shall ha' means to vent Our musty superfluity. - See, our best elders. [Enter COMINIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, and other SENATORS; JUNIUS BRUTUS and SICINIUS VELUTUS.] FIRST SENATOR. Marcius, 'tis true that you have lately told us: - The Volsces are in arms. MARCIUS. They have a leader, Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to't. I sin in envying his nobility; And were I anything but what I am, I would wish me only he. COMINIUS. You have fought together. MARCIUS. Were half to half the world by the ears, and he Upon my party, I'd revolt, to make Only my wars with him: he is a lion That I am proud to hunt. FIRST SENATOR. Then, worthy Marcius, Attend upon Cominius to these wars. COMINIUS. It is your former promise. MARCIUS. Sir, it is; And I am constant. - Titus Lartius, thou Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus' face. What, art thou stiff? stand'st out? TITUS LARTIUS. No, Caius Marcius; I'll lean upon one crutch and fight with the other Ere stay behind this business. MENENIUS. O, true bred! FIRST SENATOR. Your company to the Capitol; where, I know, Our greatest friends attend us. TITUS LARTIUS. Lead you on. Follow, Cominius; we must follow you; Right worthy your priority. COMINIUS. Noble Marcius! FIRST SENATOR. Hence to your homes; be gone! [To the Citizens.] MARCIUS. Nay, let them follow: The Volsces have much corn; take these rats thither To gnaw their garners. - Worshipful mutineers, Your valour puts well forth: pray follow. [Exeunt Senators, COM., MAR, TIT., and MENEN. Citizens steal away.] SICINIUS. Was ever man so proud as is this Marcius? BRUTUS. He has no equal. SICINIUS. When we were chosen tribunes for the people, - BRUTUS. Mark'd you his lip and eyes? SICINIUS. Nay, but his taunts! BRUTUS. Being mov'd, he will not spare to gird the gods. SICINIUS. Bemock the modest moon. BRUTUS. The present wars devour him: he is grown Too proud to be so valiant. SICINIUS. Such a nature, Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow Which he treads on at noon: but I do wonder His insolence can brook to be commanded Under Cominius. BRUTUS. Fame, at the which he aims, - In whom already he is well grac'd, - cannot Better be held, nor more attain'd, than by A place below the first: for what miscarries Shall be the general's fault, though he perform To th' utmost of a man; and giddy censure Will then cry out of Marcius 'O, if he Had borne the business!' SICINIUS. Besides, if things go well, Opinion, that so sticks on Marcius, shall Of his demerits rob Cominius. BRUTUS. Come: Half all Cominius' honours are to Marcius, Though Marcius earn'd them not; and all his faults To Marcius shall be honours, though, indeed, In aught he merit not. SICINIUS. Let's hence and hear How the dispatch is made; and in what fashion, More than in singularity, he goes Upon this present action. BRUTUS. Let's along. [Exeunt.] SCENE II. Corioli. The Senate House. [Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS and certain SENATORS.] FIRST SENATOR. So, your opinion is, Aufidius, That they of Rome are enter'd in our counsels And know how we proceed. AUFIDIUS. Is it not yours? What ever have been thought on in this state, That could be brought to bodily act ere Rome Had circumvention! 'Tis not four days gone Since I heard thence; these are the words: I think I have the letter here;yes, here it is: [Reads.] 'They have pressed a power, but it is not known Whether for east or west: the dearth is great; The people mutinous: and it is rumour'd, Cominius, Marcius your old enemy, - Who is of Rome worse hated than of you, - And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman, These three lead on this preparation Whither 'tis bent: most likely 'tis for you: Consider of it.' FIRST SENATOR. Our army's in the field: We never yet made doubt but Rome was ready To answer us. AUFIDIUS. Nor did you think it folly To keep your great pretences veil'd till when They needs must show themselves; which in the hatching, It seem'd, appear'd to Rome. By the discovery We shall be shorten'd in our aim; which was, To take in many towns ere, almost, Rome Should know we were afoot. SECOND SENATOR. Noble Aufidius, Take your commission; hie you to your bands; Let us alone to guard Corioli: If they set down before's, for the remove Bring up your army; but I think you'll find They've not prepared for us. AUFIDIUS. O, doubt not that; I speak from certainties. Nay, more, Some parcels of their power are forth already, And only hitherward. I leave your honours. If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet, 'Tis sworn between us we shall ever strike Till one can do no more. ALL. The gods assist you! AUFIDIUS. And keep your honours safe! FIRST SENATOR. Farewell. SECOND SENATOR. Farewell. ALL. Farewell. [Exeunt.] SCENE III. Rome. An apartmnet in MARCIUS' house. [Enter VOLUMNIA and VIRGILIA; they sit down on two low stools and sew.] VOLUMNIA. I pray you, daughter, sing, or express yourself in a more comfortable sort; if my son were my husband, I should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he won honour than in the embracements of his bed where he would show most love. When yet he was but tender-bodied, and the only son of my womb; when youth with comeliness pluck'd all gaze his way; when, for a day of kings' entreaties, a mother should not sell him an hour from her beholding; I, - considering how honour would become such a person; that it was no better than picture-like to hang by th' wall if renown made it not stir; - was pleased to let him seek danger where he was to find fame. To a cruel war I sent him; from whence he returned his brows bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter, I sprang not more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child than now in first seeing he had proved himself a man. VIRGILIA. But had he died in the business, madam? how then? VOLUMNIA. Then his good report should have been my son; I therein would have found issue. Hear me profess sincerely, - had I a dozen sons, each in my love alike, and none less dear than thine and my good Marcius, I had rather had eleven die nobly for their country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action. [Enter a GENTLEWOMAN.] GENTLEWOMAN. Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to visit you. VIRGILIA. Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself. VOLUMNIA. Indeed you shall not. Methinks I hear hither your husband's drum; See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair; As children from a bear, the Volsces shunning him: Methinks I see him stamp thus, and call thus: - 'Come on, you cowards! you were got in fear Though you were born in Rome:' his bloody brow With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes, Like to a harvest-man that's tasked to mow Or all, or lose his hire. VIRGILIA. His bloody brow! O Jupiter, no blood! VOLUMNIA. Away, you fool! It more becomes a man Than gilt his trophy: the breasts of Hecuba, When she did suckle Hector, looked not lovelier Than Hector's forehead when it spit forth blood At Grecian swords contending. - Tell Valeria We are fit to bid her welcome. [Exit GENTLEWOMAN.] VIRGILIA. Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius! VOLUMNIA. He'll beat Aufidius' head below his knee, And tread upon his neck. [Re-enter GENTLEWOMAN, with VALERIA and her Usher.] VALERIA. My ladies both, good-day to you. VOLUMNIA. Sweet madam. VIRGILIA. I am glad to see your ladyship. VALERIA. How do you both? you are manifest housekeepers. What are you sewing here? A fine spot, in good faith. - How does your little son? VIRGILIA. I thank your ladyship; well, good madam. VOLUMNIA. He had rather see the swords and hear a drum than look upon his schoolmaster. VALERIA. O' my word, the father's son: I'll swear 'tis a very pretty boy. O' my troth, I looked upon him o' Wednesday, half an hour together: has such a confirmed countenance. I saw him run after a gilded butterfly; and when he caught it he let it go again; and after it again; and over and over he comes, and up again; catched it again; or whether his fall enraged him, or how 'twas, he did so set his teeth and tear it; O, I warrant, how he mammocked it! VOLUMNIA. One on's father's moods. VALERIA. Indeed, la, 'tis a noble child. VIRGILIA. A crack, madam. VALERIA. Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play the idle huswife with me this afternoon. VIRGILIA. No, good madam; I will not out of doors. VALERIA. Not out of doors! VOLUMNIA. She shall, she shall. VIRGILIA. Indeed, no, by your patience; I'll not over the threshold till my lord return from the wars. VALERIA. Fie, you confine yourself most unreasonably; come, you must go visit the good lady that lies in. VIRGILIA. I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with my prayers; but I cannot go thither. VOLUMNIA. Why, I pray you? VIRGILIA. 'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love. VALERIA. You would be another Penelope; yet they say all the yarn she spun in Ulysses' absence did but fill Ithaca full of moths. Come; I would your cambric were sensible as your finger, that you might leave pricking it for pity. - Come, you shall go with us. VIRGILIA. No, good madam, pardon me; indeed I will not forth. VALERIA. In truth, la, go with me; and I'll tell you excellent news of your husband. VIRGILIA. O, good madam, there can be none yet. VALERIA. Verily, I do not jest with you; there came news from him last night. VIRGILIA. Indeed, madam? VALERIA. In earnest, it's true; I heard a senator speak it. Thus it is: - the Volsces have an army forth; against whom Cominius the general is gone, with one part of our Roman power: your lord and Titus Lartius are set down before their city Corioli; they nothing doubt prevailing, and to make it brief wars. This is true, on mine honour; and so, I pray, go with us. VIRGILIA. Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in everything hereafter. VOLUMNIA. Let her alone, lady; as she is now, she will but disease our better mirth. VALERIA. In troth, I think she would. - Fare you well, then. - Come, good sweet lady. - Pr'ythee, Virgilia, turn thy solemness out o' door and go along with us. VIRGILIA. No, at a word, madam; indeed I must not. I wish you much mirth. VALERIA. Well then, farewell. [Exeunt.] SCENE IV. Before Corioli. [Enter, with drum and colours, MARCIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, Officers, and soldiers.] MARCIUS. Yonder comes news: - a wager they have met. LARTIUS. My horse to yours, no. MARCIUS. 'Tis done. LARTIUS. Agreed. [Enter a Messenger.] MARCIUS. Say, has our general met the enemy? MESSENGER. They lie in view; but have not spoke as yet. LARTIUS. So, the good horse is mine. MARCIUS. I'll buy him of you. LARTIUS. No, I'll nor sell nor give him: lend you him I will For half a hundred years. - Summon the town. MARCIUS. How far off lie these armies? MESSENGER. Within this mile and half. MARCIUS. Then shall we hear their 'larum, and they ours. - Now, Mars, I pr'ythee, make us quick in work, That we with smoking swords may march from hence To help our fielded friends! - Come, blow thy blast. [They sound a parley. Enter, on the Walls, some Senators and others.] Tullus Aufidius, is he within your walls? FIRST SENATOR. No, nor a man that fears you less than he, That's lesser than a little. [Drum afar off] Hark, our drums Are bringing forth our youth! we'll break our walls Rather than they shall pound us up: our gates, Which yet seem shut, we have but pinn'd with rushes; They'll open of themselves. [Alarum far off.] Hark you far off! There is Aufidius; list what work he makes Amongst your cloven army. MARCIUS. O, they are at it! LARTIUS. Their noise be our instruction. - Ladders, ho! [The Volsces enter and pass over.] MARCIUS. They fear us not, but issue forth their city. Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight With hearts more proof than shields. - Advance, brave Titus: They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts, Which makes me sweat with wrath. - Come on, my fellows: He that retires, I'll take him for a Volsce, And he shall feel mine edge. [Alarums, and exeunt Romeans and Volsces fighting. Romans are beaten back to their trenches. Re-enter MARCIUS.] MARCIUS. All the contagion of the south light on you, You shames of Rome! - you herd of - Boils and plagues Plaster you o'er, that you may be abhorr'd Farther than seen, and one infect another Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese That bear the shapes of men, how have you run From slaves that apes would beat! Pluto and hell! All hurt behind; backs red, and faces pale With flight and agued fear! Mend, and charge home, Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe And make my wars on you: look to't: come on; If you'll stand fast we'll beat them to their wives, As they us to our trenches. [Another alarum. The Volsces and Romans re-enter, and the fight is renewed. The Volsces retire into Corioli, and MARCIUS follows them to the gates.] So, now the gates are ope: - now prove good seconds: 'Tis for the followers fortune widens them, Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like. [He enters the gates] FIRST SOLDIER. Fool-hardiness: not I. SECOND SOLDIER. Nor I. [MARCIUS is shut in.] FIRST SOLDIER. See, they have shut him in. ALL. To th' pot, I warrant him. [Alarum continues] [Re-enter TITUS LARTIUS.] LARTIUS. What is become of Marcius? ALL. Slain, sir, doubtless. FIRST SOLDIER. Following the fliers at the very heels, With them he enters; who, upon the sudden, Clapp'd-to their gates: he is himself alone, To answer all the city. LARTIUS. O noble fellow! Who sensible, outdares his senseless sword, And when it bows stands up! Thou art left, Marcius: A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art, Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier Even to Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible Only in strokes; but with thy grim looks and The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds Thou mad'st thine enemies shake, as if the world Were feverous and did tremble. [Re-enter MARCIUS, bleeding, assaulted by the enemy.] FIRST SOLDIER. Look, sir. LARTIUS. O, 'tis Marcius! Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike. [They fight, and all enter the city.] SCENE V. Within Corioli. A street. [Enter certain Romans, with spoils.] FIRST ROMAN. This will I carry to Rome. SECOND ROMAN. And I this. THIRD ROMAN. A murrain on't! I took this for silver. [Alarum continues still afar off.] [Enter MARCIUS and TITUS LARTIUS with a trumpet.] MARCIUS. See here these movers that do prize their hours At a crack'd drachma! Cushions, leaden spoons, Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves, Ere yet the fight be done, pack up: - down with them! - And hark, what noise the general makes! - To him! - There is the man of my soul's hate, Aufidius, Piercing our Romans; then, valiant Titus, take Convenient numbers to make good the city; Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste To help Cominius. LARTIUS. Worthy sir, thou bleed'st; Thy exercise hath been too violent For a second course of fight. MARCIUS. Sir, praise me not; My work hath yet not warm'd me: fare you well; The blood I drop is rather physical Than dangerous to me: to Aufidius thus I will appear, and fight. LARTIUS. Now the fair goddess, Fortune, Fall deep in love with thee; and her great charms Misguide thy opposers' swords! Bold gentleman, Prosperity be thy page! MARCIUS. Thy friend no less Than those she placeth highest! - So farewell. LARTIUS. Thou worthiest Marcius! - [Exit MARCIUS.] Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place; Call thither all the officers o' the town, Where they shall know our mind: away! [Exeunt.] SCENE VI. Near the camp of COMINIUS. [Enter COMINIUS and Foreces, retreating.] COMINIUS. Breathe you, my friends: well fought; we are come off Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands Nor cowardly in retire: believe me, sirs, We shall be charg'd again. Whiles we have struck, By interims and conveying gusts we have heard The charges of our friends. The Roman gods, Lead their successes as we wish our own, That both our powers, with smiling fronts encountering, May give you thankful sacrifice! - [Enter A MESSENGER.] Thy news? MESSENGER. The citizens of Corioli have issued, And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle: I saw our party to their trenches driven, And then I came away. COMINIUS. Though thou speak'st truth, Methinks thou speak'st not well. How long is't since? MESSENGER. Above an hour, my lord. COMINIUS. 'Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums: How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour, And bring thy news so late? MESSENGER. Spies of the Volsces Held me in chase, that I was forc'd to wheel Three or four miles about; else had I, sir, Half an hour since brought my report. COMINIUS. Who's yonder, That does appear as he were flay'd? O gods! He has the stamp of Marcius; and I have Before-time seen him thus. MARCIUS. [Within.] Come I too late? COMINIUS. The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabor More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue From every meaner man. [Enter MARCIUS.] MARCIUS. Come I too late? COMINIUS. Ay, if you come not in the blood of others, But mantled in your own. MARCIUS. O! let me clip ye In arms as sound as when I woo'd; in heart As merry as when our nuptial day was done, And tapers burn'd to bedward. COMINIUS. Flower of warriors, How is't with Titus Lartius? MARCIUS. As with a man busied about decrees: Condemning some to death and some to exile; Ransoming him or pitying, threat'ning the other; Holding Corioli in the name of Rome, Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash, To let him slip at will. COMINIUS. Where is that slave Which told me they had beat you to your trenches? Where's he? call him hither. MARCIUS. Let him alone; He did inform the truth: but for our gentlemen, The common file, - a plague! - tribunes for them! - The mouse ne'er shunned the cat as they did budge From rascals worse than they. COMINIUS. But how prevail'd you? MARCIUS. Will the time serve to tell? I do not think. Where is the enemy? are you lords o' the field? If not, why cease you till you are so? COMINIUS. Marcius, We have at disadvantage fought, and did Retire, to win our purpose. MARCIUS. How lies their battle? know you on which side They have placed their men of trust? COMINIUS. As I guess, Marcius, Their bands in the vaward are the Antiates, Of their best trust; o'er them Aufidius, Their very heart of hope. MARCIUS. I do beseech you, By all the battles wherein we have fought, By the blood we have shed together, by the vows We have made to endure friends, that you directly Set me against Aufidius and his Antiates; And that you not delay the present, but, Filling the air with swords advanc'd and darts, We prove this very hour. COMINIUS. Though I could wish You were conducted to a gentle bath, And balms applied to you, yet dare I never Deny your asking: take your choice of those That best can aid your action. MARCIUS. Those are they That most are willing. - If any such be here, - As it were sin to doubt, - that love this painting Wherein you see me smear'd; if any fear Lesser his person than an ill report; If any think brave death outweighs bad life, And that his country's dearer than himself; Let him alone, or so many so minded, Wave thus [waving his hand], to express his disposition, And follow Marcius. [They all shout and wave their swords; take him up in their arms and cast up their caps.] O, me alone! Make you a sword of me? If these shows be not outward, which of you But is four Volsces? none of you but is Able to bear against the great Aufidius A shield as hard as his. A certain number, Though thanks to all, must I select from all: the rest Shall bear the business in some other fight, As cause will be obey'd. Please you to march; And four shall quickly draw out my command, Which men are best inclin'd. COMINIUS. March on, my fellows; Make good this ostentation, and you shall Divide in all with us. [Exeunt.] SCENE VII. The gates of Corioli. [TITUS LARTIUS, having set a guard upon Corioli, going with drum and trumpet toward COMINIUS and CAIUS MARCIUS, enters with a LIEUTENANT, a party of Soldiers, and a Scout.] LARTIUS. So, let the ports be guarded: keep your duties As I have set them down. If I do send, despatch Those centuries to our aid; the rest will serve For a short holding: if we lose the field We cannot keep the town. LIEUTENANT. Fear not our care, sir. LARTIUS. Hence, and shut your gates upon's. - Our guider, come; to the Roman camp conduct us. [Exeunt.] SCENE VIII. A field of battle between the Roman and the Volscian camps. [Alarum. Enter, from opposite sides, MARCIUS and AUFIDIUS.] MARCIUS. I'll fight with none but thee, for I do hate thee Worse than a promise-breaker. AUFIDIUS. We hate alike: Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor More than thy fame and envy. Fix thy foot. MARCIUS. Let the first budger die the other's slave, And the gods doom him after! AUFIDIUS. If I fly, Marcius, Halloo me like a hare. MARCIUS. Within these three hours, Tullus, Alone I fought in your Corioli walls, And made what work I pleas'd: 'tis not my blood Wherein thou seest me mask'd: for thy revenge Wrench up thy power to the highest. AUFIDIUS. Wert thou the Hector That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny, Thou shouldst not scape me here. - [They fight, and certain Volsces come to the aid of AUFIDIUS.] Officious, and not valiant, - you have sham'd me In your condemned seconds. [Exeunt fighting, driven in by MAR.] SCENE IX. The Roman camp. [Alarum. A retreat is sounded. Flourish. Enter, at one side, COMINIUS and Romans; at the other side, MARCIUS, with his arm in a scarf, and other Romans.] COMINIUS. If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work, Thou't not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles; Where great patricians shall attend, and shrug, I' the end admire; where ladies shall be frighted And, gladly quak'd, hear more; where the dull tribunes, That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours, Shall say, against their hearts 'We thank the gods Our Rome hath such a soldier.' Yet cam'st thou to a morsel of this feast, Having fully dined before. [Enter TITUS LARTIUS, with his power, from the pursuit.] LARTIUS. O general, Here is the steed, we the caparison: Hadst thou beheld, - MARCIUS. Pray now, no more: my mother, Who has a charter to extol her blood, When she does praise me grieves me. I have done As you have done, - that's what I can; induced As you have been, - that's for my country: He that has but effected his good will Hath overta'en mine act. COMINIUS. You shall not be The grave of your deserving; Rome must know The value of her own: 'twere a concealment Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement, To hide your doings; and to silence that Which, to the spire and top of praises vouch'd, Would seem but modest: therefore, I beseech you, - In sign of what you are, not to reward What you have done, - before our army hear me. MARCIUS. I have some wounds upon me, and they smart To hear themselves remember'd. COMINIUS. Should they not, Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude, And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses, - Whereof we have ta'en good, and good store, - of all The treasure in this field achiev'd and city, We render you the tenth; to be ta'en forth Before the common distribution at Your only choice. MARCIUS. I thank you, general, But cannot make my heart consent to take A bribe to pay my sword: I do refuse it; And stand upon my common part with those That have beheld the doing. [A long flourish. They all cry 'Marcius, Marcius!', cast up their caps and lances. COMINIUS and LARTIUS stand bare.] May these same instruments which you profane Never sound more! When drums and trumpets shall I' the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be Made all of false-fac'd soothing. When steel grows soft as the parasite's silk, Let him be made a coverture for the wars. No more, I say! for that I have not wash'd My nose that bled, or foil'd some debile wretch, - Which, without note, here's many else have done, - You shout me forth in acclamations hyperbolical; As if I loved my little should be dieted In praises sauc'd with lies. COMINIUS. Too modest are you; More cruel to your good report than grateful To us that give you truly; by your patience, If 'gainst yourself you be incens'd, we'll put you, - Like one that means his proper harm, - in manacles, Then reason safely with you. - Therefore be it known, As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius Wears this war's garland: in token of the which, My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him, With all his trim belonging; and from this time, For what he did before Corioli, call him, With all the applause - and clamour of the host, 'Caius Marcius Coriolanus.' - Bear the addition nobly ever! [Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums] ALL. Caius Marcius Coriolanus! CORIOLANUS. I will go wash; And when my face is fair you shall perceive Whether I blush or no: howbeit, I thank you; - I mean to stride your steed; and at all times To undercrest your good addition To the fairness of my power. COMINIUS. So, to our tent; Where, ere we do repose us, we will write To Rome of our success. - You, Titus Lartius, Must to Corioli back: send us to Rome The best, with whom we may articulate For their own good and ours. LARTIUS. I shall, my lord. CORIOLANUS. The gods begin to mock me. I, that now Refus'd most princely gifts, am bound to beg Of my lord general. COMINIUS. Take't: 'tis yours. - What is't? CORIOLANUS. I sometime lay here in Corioli At a poor man's house; he used me kindly: He cried to me; I saw him prisoner; But then Aufidius was within my view, And wrath o'erwhelmed my pity: I request you To give my poor host freedom. COMINIUS. O, well begg'd! Were he the butcher of my son, he should Be free as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus. LARTIUS. Marcius, his name? CORIOLANUS. By Jupiter, forgot: - I am weary; yea, my memory is tir'd. - Have we no wine here? COMINIUS. Go we to our tent: The blood upon your visage dries; 'tis time It should be look'd to: come. [Exeunt.] SCENE X. The camp of the Volsces. [A flourish. Cornets. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, bloody, with two or three soldiers.] AUFIDIUS. The town is ta'en. FIRST SOLDIER. 'Twill be delivered back on good condition. AUFIDIUS. Condition! I would I were a Roman; for I cannot, Being a Volsce, be that I am. - Condition? What good condition can a treaty find I' the part that is at mercy? - Five times, Marcius, I have fought with thee; so often hast thou beat me; And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter As often as we eat. - By the elements, If e'er again I meet him beard to beard, He's mine or I am his: mine emulation Hath not that honour in't it had; for where I thought to crush him in an equal force, - True sword to sword, - I'll potch at him some way, Or wrath or craft may get him. FIRST SOLDIER. He's the devil. AUFIDIUS. Bolder, though not so subtle. My valour's poisoned With only suffering stain by him; for him Shall fly out of itself: nor sleep nor sanctuary, Being naked, sick; nor fane nor Capitol, The prayers of priests nor times of sacrifice, Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were it At home, upon my brother's guard, even there, Against the hospitable canon, would I Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to the city; Learn how 'tis held; and what they are that must Be hostages for Rome. FIRST SOLDIER. Will not you go? AUFIDIUS. I am attended at the cypress grove: I pray you, - 'Tis south the city mills, - bring me word thither How the world goes, that to the pace of it I may spur on my journey. FIRST SOLDIER. I shall, sir. [Exeunt.] ACT II. SCENE I. Rome. A public place [Enter MENENIUS, SICINIUS, and BRUTUS.] MENENIUS. The augurer tells me we shall have news tonight. BRUTUS. Good or bad? MENENIUS. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Marcius. SICINIUS. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends. MENENIUS. Pray you, who does the wolf love? SICINIUS. The lamb. MENENIUS. Ay, to devour him, as the hungry plebeians would the noble Marcius. BRUTUS. He's a lamb indeed, that baas like a bear. MENENIUS. He's a bear indeed, that lives like a lamb. You two are old men: tell me one thing that I shall ask you. BOTH TRIBUNES. Well, sir. MENENIUS. In what enormity is Marcius poor in, that you two have not in abundance? BRUTUS. He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all. SICINIUS. Especially in pride. BRUTUS. And topping all others in boasting. MENENIUS. This is strange now: do you two know how you are censured here in the city, I mean of us o' the right-hand file? Do you? BOTH TRIBUNES. Why, how are we censured? MENENIUS. Because you talk of pride now, - will you not be angry? BOTH TRIBUNES. Well, well, sir, well. MENENIUS. Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience: give your dispositions the reins, and be angry at your pleasures; at the least, if you take it as a pleasure to you in being so. You blame Marcius for being proud? BRUTUS. We do it not alone, sir. MENENIUS. I know you can do very little alone; for your helps are many, or else your actions would grow wondrous single: your abilities are too infant-like for doing much alone. You talk of pride: O that you could turn your eyes toward the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves! O that you could! BOTH TRIBUNES. What then, sir? MENENIUS. Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates, - alias fools, - as any in Rome. SICINIUS. Menenius, you are known well enough too. MENENIUS. I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiber in't; said to be something imperfect in favouring the first complaint, hasty and tinder-like upon too trivial motion; one that converses more with the buttock of the night than with the forehead of the morning. What I think I utter, and spend my malice in my breath. Meeting two such wealsmen as you are, - I cannot call you Lycurguses, - if the drink you give me touch my palate adversely, I make a crooked face at it. I cannot say your worships have delivered the matter well when I find the ass in compound with the major part of your syllables; and though I must be content to bear with those that say you are reverend grave men, yet they lie deadly that tell you have good faces. If you see this in the map of my microcosm, follows it that I am known well enough too? What harm can your bisson conspectuities glean out of this character, if I be known well enough too? BRUTUS. Come, sir, come, we know you well enough. MENENIUS. You know neither me, yourselves, nor anything. You are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs; you wear out a good wholesome forenoon in hearing a cause between an orange-wife and a fosset-seller, and then rejourn the controversy of threepence to a second day of audience. - When you are hearing a matter between party and party, if you chance to be pinched with the colic, you make faces like mummers, set up the bloody flag against all patience, and, in roaring for a chamber-pot, dismiss the controversy bleeding, the more entangled by your hearing: all the peace you make in their cause is calling both the parties knaves. You are a pair of strange ones. BRUTUS. Come, come, you are well understood to be a perfecter giber for the table than a necessary bencher in the Capitol. MENENIUS. Our very priests must become mockers if they shall encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are. When you speak best unto the purpose, it is not worth the wagging of your beards; and your beards deserve not so honourable a grave as to stuff a botcher's cushion or to be entombed in an ass's pack-saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is proud; who, in a cheap estimation, is worth all your predecessors since Deucalion; though peradventure some of the best of 'em were hereditary hangmen. God-den to your worships: more of your conversation would infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly plebeians: I will be bold to take my leave of you. [BRUTUS and SICINIUS retire.] [Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, VALERIA, &c.] How now, my as fair as noble ladies, - and the moon, were she earthly, no nobler, - whither do you follow your eyes so fast? VOLUMNIA. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches; for the love of Juno, let's go. MENENIUS. Ha! Marcius coming home! VOLUMNIA. Ay, worthy Menenius, and with most prosperous approbation. MENENIUS. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee. - Hoo! Marcius coming home! VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA. Nay, 'tis true. VOLUMNIA. Look, here's a letter from him: the state hath another, his wife another; and I think there's one at home for you. MENENIUS. I will make my very house reel to-night. - A letter for me? VIRGILIA. Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw it. MENENIUS. A letter for me! It gives me an estate of seven years' health; in which time I will make a lip at the physician: the most sovereign prescription in Galen is but empiricutic, and, to this preservative, of no better report than a horse-drench. Is he not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded. VIRGILIA. O, no, no, no. VOLUMNIA. O, he is wounded, I thank the gods for't. MENENIUS. So do I too, if it be not too much. - Brings a victory in his pocket? - The wounds become him. VOLUMNIA. On's brows: Menenius, he comes the third time home with the oaken garland. MENENIUS. Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly? VOLUMNIA. Titus Lartius writes, - they fought together, but Aufidius got off. MENENIUS. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that: an he had stayed by him, I would not have been so fidiused for all the chests in Corioli and the gold that's in them. Is the Senate possessed of this? VOLUMNIA. Good ladies, let's go. - Yes, yes, yes; the Senate has letters from the general, wherein he gives my son the whole name of the war: he hath in this action outdone his former deeds doubly. VALERIA. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him. MENENIUS. Wondrous! ay, I warrant you, and not without his true purchasing. VIRGILIA. The gods grant them true! VOLUMNIA. True! pow, wow. MENENIUS. True! I'll be sworn they are true. Where is he wounded? - [To the TRIBUNES, who come forward.] God save your good worships! Marcius is coming home; he has more cause to be proud. - Where is he wounded? VOLUMNIA. I' the shoulder and i' the left arm; there will be large cicatrices to show the people when he shall stand for his place. He received in the repulse of Tarquin seven hurts i' the body. MENENIUS. One i' the neck and two i' the thigh, - there's nine that I know. VOLUMNIA. He had, before this last expedition, twenty-five wounds upon him. MENENIUS. Now it's twenty-seven: every gash was an enemy's grave. [A shout and flourish.] Hark! the trumpets. VOLUMNIA. These are the ushers of Marcius: before him He carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears; Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth lie; Which, being advanc'd, declines, and then men die. [A sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter COMINIUS and TITUS LARTIUS; between them, CORIOLANUS, crowned with an oaken garland; with CAPTAINS and Soldiers and a HERALD.] HERALD. Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight Within Corioli gates: where he hath won, With fame, a name to Caius Marcius; these In honour follows Coriolanus: - Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! [Flourish.] ALL. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! CORIOLANUS. No more of this, it does offend my heart; Pray now, no more. COMINIUS. Look, sir, your mother! CORIOLANUS. O, You have, I know, petition'd all the gods For my prosperity! [Kneels.] VOLUMNIA. Nay, my good soldier, up; My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and By deed-achieving honour newly nam'd, - What is it? - Coriolanus must I call thee? But, O, thy wife! CORIOLANUS. My gracious silence, hail! Wouldst thou have laugh'd had I come coffin'd home, That weep'st to see me triumph? Ah, my dear, Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear, And mothers that lack sons. MENENIUS. Now the gods crown thee! CORIOLANUS. And live you yet? [To VALERIA] - O my sweet lady, pardon. VOLUMNIA. I know not where to turn. - O, welcome home; - and welcome, general; - and you are welcome all. MENENIUS. A hundred thousand welcomes. - I could weep And I could laugh; I am light and heavy. - Welcome: A curse begin at very root on's heart That is not glad to see thee! - You are three That Rome should dote on: yet, by the faith of men, We have some old crab trees here at home that will not Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors. We call a nettle but a nettle; and The faults of fools but folly. COMINIUS. Ever right. CORIOLANUS. Menenius ever, ever. HERALD. Give way there, and go on! CORIOLANUS. [To his wife and mother.] Your hand, and yours: Ere in our own house I do shade my head, The good patricians must be visited; From whom I have receiv'd not only greetings, But with them change of honours. VOLUMNIA. I have lived To see inherited my very wishes, And the buildings of my fancy; only There's one thing wanting, which I doubt not but Our Rome will cast upon thee. CORIOLANUS. Know, good mother, I had rather be their servant in my way Than sway with them in theirs. COMINIUS. On, to the Capitol. [Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in state, as before. The tribunes remain.] BRUTUS. All tongues speak of him and the bleared sights Are spectacled to see him: your prattling nurse Into a rapture lets her baby cry While she chats him: the kitchen malkin pins Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck, Clamb'ring the walls to eye him: stalls, bulks, windows, Are smother'd up, leads fill'd and ridges hors'd With variable complexions; all agreeing In earnestness to see him: seld-shown flamens Do press among the popular throngs, and puff To win a vulgar station: our veil'd dames Commit the war of white and damask, in Their nicely gawded cheeks, to the wanton spoil Of Phoebus' burning kisses; such a pother, As if that whatsoever god who leads him Were slily crept into his human powers, And gave him graceful posture. SICINIUS. On the sudden I warrant him consul. BRUTUS. Then our office may During his power go sleep. SICINIUS. He cannot temp'rately transport his honours From where he should begin and end; but will Lose those he hath won. BRUTUS. In that there's comfort. SICINIUS. Doubt not the commoners, for whom we stand, But they, upon their ancient malice will forget, With the least cause these his new honours; which That he will give them make as little question As he is proud to do't. BRUTUS. I heard him swear, Were he to stand for consul, never would he Appear i' the market-place, nor on him put The napless vesture of humility; Nor, showing, as the manner is, his wounds To the people, beg their stinking breaths. SICINIUS. 'Tis right. BRUTUS. It was his word: O, he would miss it rather Than carry it but by the suit of the gentry to him, And the desire of the nobles. SICINIUS. I wish no better Than have him hold that purpose, and to put it In execution. BRUTUS. 'Tis most like he will. SICINIUS. It shall be to him then, as our good wills, A sure destruction. BRUTUS. So it must fall out To him or our authorities. For an end, We must suggest the people in what hatred He still hath held them; that to's power he would Have made them mules, silenc'd their pleaders, and Dispropertied their freedoms; holding them, In human action and capacity, Of no more soul nor fitness for the world Than camels in their war; who have their provand Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows For sinking under them. SICINIUS. This, as you say, suggested At some time when his soaring insolence Shall touch the people, - which time shall not want, If it be put upon't; and that's as easy As to set dogs on sheep, - will be his fire To kindle their dry stubble; and their blaze Shall darken him for ever. [Enter A MESSENGER.] BRUTUS. What's the matter? MESSENGER. You are sent for to the Capitol. 'Tis thought That Marcius shall be consul: I have seen the dumb men throng to see him, and The blind to hear him speak: matrons flung gloves, Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchers, Upon him as he pass'd; the nobles bended As to Jove's statue; and the commons made A shower and thunder with their caps and shouts: I never saw the like. BRUTUS. Let's to the Capitol; And carry with us ears and eyes for the time, But hearts for the event. SICINIUS. Have with you. [Exeunt.] SCENE II. Rome. The Capitol. [Enter two OFFICERS, to lay cushions.] FIRST OFFICER. Come, come; they are almost here. How many stand for consulships? SECOND OFFICER. Three, they say; but 'tis thought of every one Coriolanus will carry it. FIRST OFFICER. That's a brave fellow; but he's vengeance proud and loves not the common people. SECOND OFFICER. Faith, there have been many great men that have flattered the people, who ne'er loved them; and there be many that they have loved, they know not wherefore; so that, if they love they know not why, they hate upon no better a ground: therefore, for Coriolanus neither to care whether they love or hate him manifests the true knowledge he has in their disposition; and, out of his noble carelessness, lets them plainly see't. FIRST OFFICER. If he did not care whether he had their love or no, he waved indifferently 'twixt doing them neither good nor harm; but he seeks their hate with greater devotion than they can render it him; and leaves nothing undone that may fully discover him their opposite. Now to seem to affect the malice and displeasure of the people is as bad as that which he dislikes, - to flatter them for their love. SECOND OFFICER. He hath deserved worthily of his country: and his ascent is not by such easy degrees as those who, having been supple and courteous to the people, bonnetted, without any further deed to have them at all, into their estimation and report: but he hath so planted his honours in their eyes, and his actions in their hearts, that for their tongues to be silent, and not confess so much, were a kind of ingrateful injury; to report otherwise were a malice that, giving itself the lie, would pluck reproof and rebuke from every ear that heard it. FIRST OFFICER. No more of him; he is a worthy man.: make way, they are coming. [A sennet. Enter, with Lictors before them, COMINIUS the Consul, MENENIUS, CORIOLANUS, Senators, SICINIUS and BRUTUS. The Senators take their places; the Tribunes take theirs also by themselves.] MENENIUS. Having determined of the Volsces, and To send for Titus Lartius, it remains, As the main point of this our after-meeting, To gratify his noble service that Hath thus stood for his country: therefore please you, Most reverend and grave elders, to desire The present consul, and last general In our well-found successes, to report A little of that worthy work perform'd By Caius Marcius Coriolanus; whom We met here both to thank and to remember With honours like himself. FIRST SENATOR. Speak, good Cominius: Leave nothing out for length, and make us think Rather our state's defective for requital Than we to stretch it out. - Masters o' the people, We do request your kindest ears; and, after, Your loving motion toward the common body, To yield what passes here. SICINIUS. We are convented Upon a pleasing treaty; and have hearts Inclinable to honour and advance The theme of our assembly. BRUTUS. Which the rather We shall be bless'd to do, if he remember A kinder value of the people than He hath hereto priz'd them at. MENENIUS. That's off, that's off; I would you rather had been silent. Please you To hear Cominius speak? BRUTUS. Most willingly. But yet my caution was more pertinent Than the rebuke you give it. MENENIUS. He loves your people; But tie him not to be their bedfellow. - Worthy Cominius, speak. [CORIOLANUS rises, and offers to go away.] Nay, keep your place. FIRST SENATOR. Sit, Coriolanus; never shame to hear What you have nobly done. CORIOLANUS. Your Honours' pardon: I had rather have my wounds to heal again Than hear say how I got them. BRUTUS. Sir, I hope My words disbench'd you not. CORIOLANUS. No, sir; yet oft, When blows have made me stay, I fled from words. You sooth'd not, therefore hurt not: but your people, I love them as they weigh. MENENIUS. Pray now, sit down. CORIOLANUS. I had rather have one scratch my head i' the sun When the alarum were struck, than idly sit To hear my nothings monster'd. [Exit.] MENENIUS. Masters o' the people, Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter, - That's thousand to one good one, - when you now see He had rather venture all his limbs for honour Than one on's ears to hear it? - Proceed, Cominius. COMINIUS. I shall lack voice: the deeds of Coriolanus Should not be utter'd feebly. - It is held That valour is the chiefest virtue, and Most dignifies the haver: if it be, The man I speak of cannot in the world Be singly counterpois'd. At sixteen years, When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought Beyond the mark of others; our then dictator, Whom with all praise I point at, saw him fight, When with his Amazonian chin he drove The bristled lips before him: he bestrid An o'erpress'd Roman and i' the consul's view Slew three opposers: Tarquin's self he met, And struck him on his knee: in that day's feats, When he might act the woman in the scene, He proved best man i' the field, and for his meed Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil age Man-enter'd thus, he waxed like a sea; And in the brunt of seventeen battles since He lurch'd all swords of the garland. For this last, Before and in Corioli, let me say, I cannot speak him home: he stopp'd the fliers; And by his rare example made the coward Turn terror into sport: as weeds before A vessel under sail, so men obey'd, And fell below his stem: his sword, - death's stamp, - Where it did mark, it took; from face to foot He was a thing of blood, whose every motion Was timed with dying cries: alone he enter'd The mortal gate of the city, which he painted With shunless destiny; aidless came off, And with a sudden re-enforcement struck Corioli like a planet. Now all's his: When, by and by, the din of war 'gan pierce His ready sense; then straight his doubled spirit Re-quick'ned what in flesh was fatigate, And to the battle came he; where he did Run reeking o'er the lives of men, as if 'Twere a perpetual spoil: and till we call'd Both field and city ours he never stood To ease his breast with panting. MENENIUS. Worthy man! FIRST SENATOR. He cannot but with measure fit the honours Which we devise him. COMINIUS. Our spoils he kick'd at; And looked upon things precious as they were The common muck of the world: he covets less Than misery itself would give; rewards His deeds with doing them; and is content To spend the time to end it. MENENIUS. He's right noble: Let him be call'd for. FIRST SENATOR. Call Coriolanus. OFFICER. He doth appear. [Re-enter CORIOLANUS.] MENENIUS. The Senate, Coriolanus, are well pleas'd To make thee consul. CORIOLANUS. I do owe them still My life and services. MENENIUS. It then remains That you do speak to the people. CORIOLANUS. I do beseech you Let me o'erleap that custom; for I cannot Put on the gown, stand naked, and entreat them, For my wounds' sake to give their suffrage: please you That I may pass this doing. SICINIUS. Sir, the people Must have their voices; neither will they bate One jot of ceremony. MENENIUS. Put them not to't: - Pray you, go fit you to the custom; and Take to you, as your predecessors have, Your honour with your form. CORIOLANUS. It is a part That I shall blush in acting, and might well Be taken from the people. BRUTUS. Mark you that? CORIOLANUS. To brag unto them, - thus I did, and thus; - Show them the unaching scars which I should hide, As if I had receiv'd them for the hire Of their breath only! MENENIUS. Do not stand upon't. - We recommend to you, tribunes of the people, Our purpose to them; - and to our noble consul Wish we all joy and honour. SENATORS. To Coriolanus come all joy and honour! [Flourish. Exeunt all but SICINIUS and BRUTUS.] BRUTUS. You see how he intends to use the people. SICINIUS. May they perceive's intent! He will require them As if he did contemn what he requested Should be in them to give. BRUTUS. Come, we'll inform them Of our proceedings here: on the market-place I know they do attend us. [Exeunt.] SCENE III. Rome. The Forum. [Enter several citizens.] FIRST CITIZEN. Once, if he do require our voices, we ought not to deny him. SECOND CITIZEN. We may, sir, if we will. THIRD CITIZEN. We have power in ourselves to do it, but it is a power that we have no power to do: for if he show us his wounds and tell us his deeds, we are to put our tongues into those wounds and speak for them; so, if he tell us his noble deeds, we must also tell him our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude is monstrous: and for the multitude to be ingrateful were to make a monster of the multitude; of the which we being members, should bring ourselves to be monstrous members. FIRST CITIZEN. And to make us no better thought of, a little help will serve; for once we stood up about the corn, he himself stuck not to call us the many-headed multitude. THIRD CITIZEN. We have been called so of many; not that our heads are some brown, some black, some auburn, some bald, but that our wits are so diversely coloured; and truly I think if all our wits were to issue out of one skull, they would fly east, west, north, south; and their consent of one direct way should be at once to all the points o' the compass. SECOND CITIZEN. Think you so? Which way do you judge my wit would fly? THIRD CITIZEN. Nay, your wit will not so soon out as another man's will, - 'tis strongly wedged up in a block-head; but if it were at liberty 'twould, sure, southward. SECOND CITIZEN. Why that way? THIRD CITIZEN. To lose itself in a fog; where being three parts melted away with rotten dews, the fourth would return for conscience' sake, to help to get thee a wife. SECOND CITIZEN. You are never without your tricks: - you may, you may. THIRD CITIZEN. Are you all resolved to give your voices? But that's no matter, the greater part carries it. I say, if he would incline to the people, there was never a worthier man. Here he comes, and in the gown of humility. Mark his behaviour. We are not to stay all together, but to come by him where he stands, by ones, by twos, and by threes. He's to make his requests by particulars, wherein every one of us has a single honour, in giving him our own voices with our own tongues; therefore follow me, and I'll direct you how you shall go by him. ALL. Content, content. [Exeunt.] [Enter CORIOLANUS and MENENIUS.] MENENIUS. O sir, you are not right; have you not known The worthiest men have done't! CORIOLANUS. What must I say? - 'I pray, sir' - Plague upon't! I cannot bring My tongue to such a pace. - 'Look, sir, - my wounds; - I got them in my country's service, when Some certain of your brethren roar'd, and ran From the noise of our own drums.' MENENIUS. O me, the gods! You must not speak of that: you must desire them To think upon you. CORIOLANUS. Think upon me! Hang 'em! I would they would forget me, like the virtues Which our divines lose by 'em. MENENIUS. You'll mar all: I'll leave you. Pray you speak to 'em, I pray you, In wholesome manner. CORIOLANUS. Bid them wash their faces And keep their teeth clean. [Exit MENENIUS.] So, here comes a brace: [Re-enter two citizens.] You know the cause, sirs, of my standing here. FIRST CITIZEN. We do, sir; tell us what hath brought you to't. CORIOLANUS. Mine own desert. SECOND CITIZEN. Your own desert? CORIOLANUS. Ay, not mine own desire. FIRST CITIZEN. How! not your own desire! CORIOLANUS. No, sir, 'twas never my desire yet to trouble the poor with begging. FIRST CITIZEN. You must think, if we give you anything, we hope to gain by you. CORIOLANUS. Well then, I pray, your price o' the consulship? FIRST CITIZEN. The price is to ask it kindly. CORIOLANUS. Kindly! sir, I pray, let me ha't: I have wounds to show you, which shall be yours in private. - Your good voice, sir; what say you? SECOND CITIZEN. You shall ha' it, worthy sir. CORIOLANUS. A match, sir. - There's in all two worthy voices begg'd. - I have your alms: adieu. FIRST CITIZEN. But this is something odd. SECOND CITIZEN. An 'twere to give again, - but 'tis no matter. [Exeunt two citizens.] [Re-enter other two citizens.] CORIOLANUS. Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your voices that I may be consul, I have here the customary gown. THIRD CITIZEN. You have deserved nobly of your country, and you have not deserved nobly. CORIOLANUS. Your enigma? THIRD CITIZEN. You have been a scourge to her enemies; you have been a rod to her friends: you have not indeed loved the common people. CORIOLANUS. You should account me the more virtuous, that I have not been common in my love. I will, sir, flatter my sworn brother, the people, to earn a dearer estimation of them; 'tis a condition they account gentle: and since the wisdom of their choice is rather to have my hat than my heart, I will practise the insinuating nod and be off to them most counterfeitly: that is, sir, I will counterfeit the bewitchment of some popular man and give it bountifully to the desirers. Therefore, beseech you, I may be consul. FOURTH CITIZEN. We hope to find you our friend; and therefore give you our voices heartily. THIRD CITIZEN. You have received many wounds for your country. CORIOLANUS. I will not seal your knowledge with showing them. I will make much of your voices, and so trouble you no further. BOTH CITIZENS. The gods give you joy, sir, heartily! [Exeunt citizens.] CORIOLANUS. Most sweet voices! - Better it is to die, better to starve, Than crave the hire which first we do deserve. Why in this wolvish toge should I stand here, To beg of Hob and Dick that do appear, Their needless vouches? custom calls me to't: - What custom wills, in all things should we do't, The dust on antique time would lie unswept, And mountainous error be too highly heap'd For truth to o'erpeer. Rather than fool it so, Let the high office and the honour go To one that would do thus. - I am half through; The one part suffer'd, the other will I do. Here come more voices. [Re-enter other three citizens.] Your voices: for your voices I have fought; Watch'd for your voices; for your voices bear Of wounds two dozen odd; battles thrice six I have seen and heard of; for your voices have Done many things, some less, some more: your voices: Indeed, I would be consul. FIFTH CITIZEN. He has done nobly, and cannot go without any honest man's voice. SIXTH CITIZEN. Therefore let him be consul: the gods give him joy, and make him good friend to the people! ALL THREE CITIZENS. Amen, amen. - God save thee, noble consul! [Exeunt.] CORIOLANUS. Worthy voices! [Re-enter MENENIUS, with BRUTUS and SICINIUS.] MENENIUS. You have stood your limitation; and the tribunes Endue you with the people's voice: - remains That, in the official marks invested, you Anon do meet the senate. CORIOLANUS. Is this done? SICINIUS. The custom of request you have discharg'd: The people do admit you; and are summon'd To meet anon, upon your approbation. CORIOLANUS. Where? at the senate-house? SICINIUS. There, Coriolanus. CORIOLANUS. May I change these garments? SICINIUS. You may, sir. CORIOLANUS. That I'll straight do; and, knowing myself again, Repair to the senate-house. MENENIUS. I'll keep you company. - Will you along? BRUTUS. We stay here for the people. SICINIUS. Fare you well. [Exeunt CORIOLANUS and MENENIUS.] He has it now; and by his looks methinks 'Tis warm at his heart. BRUTUS. With a proud heart he wore his humble weeds. Will you dismiss the people? [Re-enter citizens.] SICINIUS. How now, my masters! have you chose this man? FIRST CITIZEN. He has our voices, sir. BRUTUS. We pray the gods he may deserve your loves. SECOND CITIZEN. Amen, sir: - to my poor unworthy notice, He mocked us when he begg'd our voices. THIRD CITIZEN. Certainly; He flouted us downright. FIRST CITIZEN. No, 'tis his kind of speech, - he did not mock us. SECOND CITIZEN. Not one amongst us, save yourself, but says He us'd us scornfully: he should have show'd us His marks of merit, wounds received for's country. SICINIUS. Why, so he did, I am sure. CITIZENS. No, no; no man saw 'em. THIRD CITIZEN. He said he had wounds, which he could show in private; And with his hat, thus waving it in scorn, 'I would be consul,' says he; 'aged custom But by your voices, will not so permit me; Your voices therefore:' when we granted that, Here was, 'I thank you for your voices, - thank you, - Your most sweet voices: - now you have left your voices I have no further with you:' - was not this mockery? SICINIUS. Why either were you ignorant to see't? Or, seeing it, of such childish friendliness To yield your voices? BRUTUS. Could you not have told him, As you were lesson'd, - when he had no power, But was a petty servant to the state, He was your enemy; ever spake against Your liberties, and the charters that you bear I' the body of the weal: and now, arriving A place of potency and sway o' the state, If he should still malignantly remain Fast foe to the plebeii, your voices might Be curses to yourselves? You should have said, That as his worthy deeds did claim no less Than what he stood for, so his gracious nature Would think upon you for your voices, and Translate his malice towards you into love, Standing your friendly lord. SICINIUS. Thus to have said, As you were fore-advis'd, had touch'd his spirit And tried his inclination; from him pluck'd Either his gracious promise, which you might, As cause had call'd you up, have held him to; Or else it would have gall'd his surly nature, Which easily endures not article Tying him to aught; so, putting him to rage, You should have ta'en the advantage of his choler And pass'd him unelected. BRUTUS. Did you perceive He did solicit you in free contempt When he did need your loves; and do you think That his contempt shall not be bruising to you When he hath power to crush? Why, had your bodies No heart among you? Or had you tongues to cry Against the rectorship of judgment? SICINIUS. Have you Ere now denied the asker, and now again, Of him that did not ask but mock, bestow Your su'd-for tongues? THIRD CITIZEN. He's not confirm'd: we may deny him yet. SECOND CITIZEN. And will deny him: I'll have five hundred voices of that sound. FIRST CITIZEN. I twice five hundred, and their friends to piece 'em. BRUTUS. Get you hence instantly; and tell those friends They have chose a consul that will from them take Their liberties, make them of no more voice Than dogs, that are as often beat for barking As therefore kept to do so. SICINIUS. Let them assemble; And, on a safer judgment, all revoke Your ignorant election: enforce his pride And his old hate unto you: besides, forget not With what contempt he wore the humble weed; How in his suit he scorn'd you: but your loves, Thinking upon his services, took from you Th' apprehension of his present portance, Which, most gibingly, ungravely, he did fashion After the inveterate hate he bears you. BRUTUS. Lay A fault on us, your tribunes; that we labour'd, - No impediment between, - but that you must Cast your election on him. SICINIUS. Say you chose him More after our commandment than as guided By your own true affections; and that your minds, Pre-occupied with what you rather must do Than what you should, made you against the grain To voice him consul. Lay the fault on us. BRUTUS. Ay, spare us not. Say we read lectures to you, How youngly he began to serve his country, How long continued: and what stock he springs of - The noble house o' the Marcians; from whence came That Ancus Marcius, Numa's daughter's son, Who, after great Hostilius, here was king; Of the same house Publius and Quintus were, That our best water brought by conduits hither; And Censorinus, darling of the people, And nobly nam'd so, twice being censor, Was his great ancestor. SICINIUS. One thus descended, That hath beside well in his person wrought To be set high in place, we did commend To your remembrances: but you have found, Scaling his present bearing with his past, That he's your fixed enemy, and revoke Your sudden approbation. BRUTUS. Say you ne'er had done't, - Harp on that still, - but by our putting on: And presently when you have drawn your number, Repair to the Capitol. CITIZENS. We will so; almost all Repent in their election. [Exeunt.] BRUTUS. Let them go on; This mutiny were better put in hazard Than stay, past doubt, for greater: If, as his nature is, he fall in rage With their refusal, both observe and answer The vantage of his anger. SICINIUS. To the Capitol, Come: we will be there before the stream o' the people; And this shall seem, as partly 'tis, their own, Which we have goaded onward. [Exeunt.] ACT III. SCENE I. Rome. A street [Cornets. Enter CORIOLANUS, MENENIUS, COMINIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, Senators, and Patricians.] CORIOLANUS. Tullus Aufidius, then, had made new head? LARTIUS. He had, my lord; and that it was which caus'd Our swifter composition. CORIOLANUS. So then the Volsces stand but as at first; Ready, when time shall prompt them, to make road Upon's again. COMINIUS. They are worn, lord consul, so That we shall hardly in our ages see Their banners wave again. CORIOLANUS. Saw you Aufidius? LARTIUS. On safeguard he came to me; and did curse Against the Volsces, for they had so vilely Yielded the town; he is retir'd to Antium. CORIOLANUS. Spoke he of me? LARTIUS. He did, my lord. CORIOLANUS. How? What? LARTIUS. How often he had met you, sword to sword; That of all things upon the earth he hated Your person most; that he would pawn his fortunes To hopeless restitution, so he might Be call'd your vanquisher. CORIOLANUS. At Antium lives he? LARTIUS. At Antium. CORIOLANUS. I wish I had a cause to seek him there, To oppose his hatred fully. - Welcome home. [To Laertes.] [Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS.] Behold! these are the tribunes of the people; The tongues o' the common mouth. I do despise them, For they do prank them in authority, Against all noble sufferance. SICINIUS. Pass no further. CORIOLANUS. Ha! what is that? BRUTUS. It will be dangerous to go on: no further. CORIOLANUS. What makes this change? MENENIUS. The matter? COMINIUS. Hath he not pass'd the noble and the commons? BRUTUS. Cominius, no. CORIOLANUS. Have I had children's voices? FIRST SENATOR. Tribunes, give way; he shall to the market-place. BRUTUS. The people are incens'd against him. SICINIUS. Stop, Or all will fall in broil. CORIOLANUS. Are these your herd? - Must these have voices, that can yield them now, And straight disclaim their tongues? - What are your offices? You being their mouths, why rule you not their teeth? Have you not set them on? MENENIUS. Be calm, be calm. CORIOLANUS. It is a purpos'd thing, and grows by plot, To curb the will of the nobility: Suffer't, and live with such as cannot rule, Nor ever will be rul'd. BRUTUS. Call't not a plot: The people cry you mock'd them; and of late, When corn was given them gratis, you repin'd; Scandal'd the suppliants for the people, - call'd them Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness. CORIOLANUS. Why, this was known before. BRUTUS. Not to them all. CORIOLANUS. Have you inform'd them sithence? BRUTUS. How! I inform them! COMINIUS. You are like to do such business. BRUTUS. Not unlike, Each way, to better yours. CORIOLANUS. Why, then, should I be consul? By yond clouds, Let me deserve so ill as you, and make me Your fellow tribune. SICINIUS. You show too much of that For which the people stir: if you will pass To where you are bound, you must inquire your way, Which you are out of, with a gentler spirit; Or never be so noble as a consul, Nor yoke with him for tribune. MENENIUS. Let's be calm. COMINIUS. The people are abus'd; set on. This palt'ring Becomes not Rome; nor has Coriolanus Deserv'd this so dishonour'd rub, laid falsely I' the plain way of his merit. CORIOLANUS. Tell me of corn! This was my speech, and I will speak't again, - MENENIUS. Not now, not now. FIRST SENATOR. Not in this heat, sir, now. CORIOLANUS. Now, as I live, I will. - My nobler friends, I crave their pardons: For the mutable, rank-scented many, let them Regard me as I do not flatter, and Therein behold themselves: I say again, In soothing them we nourish 'gainst our senate The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition, Which we ourselves have plough'd for, sow'd, and scatter'd, By mingling them with us, the honour'd number, Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that Which they have given to beggars. MENENIUS. Well, no more. FIRST SENATOR. No more words, we beseech you. CORIOLANUS. How! no more! As for my country I have shed my blood, Not fearing outward force, so shall my lungs Coin words till their decay against those measles Which we disdain should tetter us, yet sought The very way to catch them. BRUTUS. You speak o' the people As if you were a god, to punish, not A man of their infirmity. SICINIUS. 'Twere well We let the people know't. MENENIUS. What, what? his choler? CORIOLANUS. Choler! Were I as patient as the midnight sleep, By Jove, 'twould be my mind! SICINIUS. It is a mind That shall remain a poison where it is, Not poison any further. CORIOLANUS. Shall remain! - Hear you this Triton of the minnows? mark you His absolute 'shall'? COMINIUS. 'Twas from the canon. CORIOLANUS. 'Shall'! O good, but most unwise patricians! why, You grave but reckless senators, have you thus Given Hydra leave to choose an officer, That with his peremptory 'shall,' being but The horn and noise o' the monster, wants not spirit To say he'll turn your current in a ditch, And make your channel his? If he have power, Then vail your ignorance: if none, awake Your dangerous lenity. If you are learn'd, Be not as common fools; if you are not, Let them have cushions by you. You are plebeians, If they be senators: and they are no less When, both your voices blended, the great'st taste Most palates theirs. They choose their magistrate; And such a one as he, who puts his 'shall,' His popular 'shall,' against a graver bench Than ever frown'd in Greece. By Jove himself, It makes the consuls base: and my soul aches To know, when two authorities are up, Neither supreme, how soon confusion May enter 'twixt the gap of both and take The one by the other. COMINIUS. Well, on to the market-place. CORIOLANUS. Whoever gave that counsel, to give forth The corn o' the storehouse gratis, as 'twas us'd Sometime in Greece, - MENENIUS. Well, well, no more of that. CORIOLANUS. Though there the people had more absolute power, - I say they nourish'd disobedience, fed The ruin of the state. BRUTUS. Why shall the people give One that speaks thus their voice? CORIOLANUS. I'll give my reasons, More worthier than their voices. They know the corn Was not our recompense, resting well assur'd They ne'er did service for't; being press'd to the war, Even when the navel of the state was touch'd, They would not thread the gates, - this kind of service Did not deserve corn gratis: being i' the war, Their mutinies and revolts, wherein they show'd Most valour, spoke not for them. The accusation Which they have often made against the senate, All cause unborn, could never be the motive Of our so frank donation. Well, what then? How shall this bisson multitude digest The senate's courtesy? Let deeds express What's like to be their words: - 'We did request it; We are the greater poll, and in true fear They gave us our demands:' - Thus we debase The nature of our seats, and make the rabble Call our cares fears; which will in time Break ope the locks o' the senate and bring in The crows to peck the eagles. - MENENIUS. Come, enough. BRUTUS. Enough, with over-measure. CORIOLANUS. No, take more: What may be sworn by, both divine and human, Seal what I end withal! - This double worship, - Where one part does disdain with cause, the other Insult without all reason; where gentry, title, wisdom, Cannot conclude but by the yea and no Of general ignorance - it must omit Real necessities, and give way the while To unstable slightness: purpose so barr'd, it follows, Nothing is done to purpose. Therefore, beseech you, - You that will be less fearful than discreet; That love the fundamental part of state More than you doubt the change on't; that prefer A noble life before a long, and wish To jump a body with a dangerous physic That's sure of death without it, - at once pluck out The multitudinous tongue; let them not lick The sweet which is their poison: your dishonour Mangles true judgment, and bereaves the state Of that integrity which should become't; Not having the power to do the good it would, For the ill which doth control't. BRUTUS. Has said enough. SICINIUS. Has spoken like a traitor, and shall answer As traitors do. CORIOLANUS. Thou wretch, despite o'erwhelm thee! - What should the people do with these bald tribunes? On whom depending, their obedience fails To the greater bench: in a rebellion, When what's not meet, but what must be, was law, Then were they chosen; in a better hour Let what is meet be said it must be meet, And throw their power i' the dust. BRUTUS. Manifest treason! SICINIUS. This a consul? no. BRUTUS. The aediles, ho! - Let him be apprehended. SICINIUS. Go call the people [Exit BRUTUS.]; in whose name myself Attach thee as a traitorous innovator, A foe to the public weal. Obey, I charge thee, And follow to thine answer. CORIOLANUS. Hence, old goat! SENATORS and PATRICIANS. We'll surety him. COMINIUS. Aged sir, hands off. CORIOLANUS. Hence, rotten thing! or I shall shake thy bones Out of thy garments. SICINIUS. Help, ye citizens! [Re-enter Brutus, with the AEDILES and a rabble of Citizens.] MENENIUS. On both sides more respect. SICINIUS. Here's he that would take from you all your power. BRUTUS. Seize him, aediles. PLEBEIANS. Down with him! down with him! SECOND SENATOR. Weapons, weapons, weapons! [They all bustle about CORIOLANUS.] Tribunes! patricians! citizens! - What, ho! - Sicinius, Brutus, Coriolanus, Citizens! CITIZENS. Peace, peace, peace; stay, hold, peace! MENENIUS. What is about to be? - I am out of breath; Confusion's near: I cannot speak. - You tribunes To the people, - Coriolanus, patience: - Speak, good Sicinius. SICINIUS. Hear me, people: peace! CITIZENS. Let's hear our tribune: peace! - Speak, speak, speak. SICINIUS. You are at point to lose your liberties; Marcius would have all from you; Marcius, Whom late you have nam'd for consul. MENENIUS. Fie, fie, fie! This is the way to kindle, not to quench. FIRST SENATOR. To unbuild the city, and to lay all flat. SICINIUS. What is the city but the people? CITIZENS. True, The people are the city. BRUTUS. By the consent of all, we were establish'd The people's magistrates. CITIZENS. You so remain. MENENIUS. And so are like to do. COMINIUS. That is the way to lay the city flat; To bring the roof to the foundation, And bury all which yet distinctly ranges, In heaps and piles of ruin. SICINIUS. This deserves death. BRUTUS. Or let us stand to our authority, Or let us lose it. - We do here pronounce, Upon the part o' the people, in whose power We were elected theirs, Marcius is worthy Of present death. SICINIUS. Therefore lay hold of him; Bear him to the rock Tarpeian, and from thence Into destruction cast him. BRUTUS. Aediles, seize him! CITIZENS. Yield, Marcius, yield! MENENIUS. Hear me one word; Beseech you, tribunes, hear me but a word. AEDILES. Peace, peace! MENENIUS. Be that you seem, truly your country's friends, And temperately proceed to what you would Thus violently redress. BRUTUS. Sir, those cold ways, That seem like prudent helps, are very poisonous Where the disease is violent. - Lay hands upon him And bear him to the rock. CORIOLANUS. No; I'll die here. [Draws his sword.] There's some among you have beheld me fighting; Come, try upon yourselves what you have seen me. MENENIUS. Down with that sword! - Tribunes, withdraw awhile. BRUTUS. Lay hands upon him. MENENIUS. Help Marcius, help, You that be noble; help him, young and old! CITIZENS. Down with him, down with him! [In this mutiny the TRIBUNES, the AEDILES, and the people are beat in.] MENENIUS. Go, get you to your house; be gone, away! All will be nought else. SECOND SENATOR. Get you gone. CORIOLANUS. Stand fast; We have as many friends as enemies. MENENIUS. Shall it be put to that? FIRST SENATOR. The gods forbid: I pr'ythee, noble friend, home to thy house; Leave us to cure this cause. MENENIUS. For 'tis a sore upon us You cannot tent yourself; be gone, beseech you. COMINIUS. Come, sir, along with us. CORIOLANUS. I would they were barbarians, - as they are, Though in Rome litter'd, - not Romans, - as they are not, Though calv'd i' the porch o' the Capitol. MENENIUS. Be gone; Put not your worthy rage into your tongue; One time will owe another. CORIOLANUS. On fair ground I could beat forty of them. MENENIUS. I could myself Take up a brace o' the best of them; yea, the two tribunes. COMINIUS. But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic; And manhood is call'd foolery when it stands Against a falling fabric. - Will you hence, Before the tag return? whose rage doth rend Like interrupted waters, and o'erbear What they are used to bear. MENENIUS. Pray you be gone: I'll try whether my old wit be in request With those that have but little: this must be patch'd With cloth of any colour. COMINIUS. Nay, come away. [Exeunt CORIOLANUS, COMINIUS, and others.] FIRST PATRICIAN. This man has marr'd his fortune. MENENIUS. His nature is too noble for the world: He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, Or Jove for's power to thunder. His heart's his mouth: What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent; And, being angry, does forget that ever He heard the name of death. [A noise within.] Here's goodly work! SECOND PATRICIAN. I would they were a-bed! MENENIUS. I would they were in Tiber! What the vengeance, could he not speak 'em fair? [Re-enter BRUTUS and SICINIUS, with the rabble.] SICINIUS. Where is this viper That would depopulate the city and Be every man himself? MENENIUS. You worthy tribunes, - SICINIUS. He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock With rigorous hands: he hath resisted law, And therefore law shall scorn him further trial Than the severity of the public power, Which he so sets at nought. FIRST CITIZEN. He shall well know The noble tribunes are the people's mouths, And we their hands. CITIZENS. He shall, sure on't. MENENIUS. Sir, sir, - SICINIUS. Peace! MENENIUS. Do not cry havoc, where you should but hunt With modest warrant. SICINIUS. Sir, how comes't that you Have holp to make this rescue? MENENIUS. Hear me speak: - As I do know the consul's worthiness, So can I name his faults, - SICINIUS. Consul! - what consul? MENENIUS. The consul Coriolanus. BRUTUS. He consul! CITIZENS. No, no, no, no, no. MENENIUS. If, by the tribunes' leave, and yours, good people, I may be heard, I would crave a word or two; The which shall turn you to no further harm Than so much loss of time. SICINIUS. Speak briefly, then; For we are peremptory to dispatch This viperous traitor: to eject him hence Were but one danger; and to keep him here Our certain death: therefore it is decreed He dies to-night. MENENIUS. Now the good gods forbid That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude Towards her deserved children is enroll'd In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam Should now eat up her own! SICINIUS. He's a disease that must be cut away. MENENIUS. O, he's a limb that has but a disease; Mortal, to cut it off; to cure it, easy. What has he done to Rome that's worthy death? Killing our enemies, the blood he hath lost, - Which I dare vouch is more than that he hath By many an ounce, - he dropt it for his country; And what is left, to lose it by his country Were to us all, that do't and suffer it A brand to the end o' the world. SICINIUS. This is clean kam. BRUTUS. Merely awry: when he did love his country, It honour'd him. MENENIUS. The service of the foot, Being once gangren'd, is not then respected For what before it was. BRUTUS. We'll hear no more. - Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence; Lest his infection, being of catching nature, Spread further. MENENIUS. One word more, one word. This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find The harm of unscann'd swiftness, will, too late, Tie leaden pounds to's heels. Proceed by process; Lest parties, - as he is belov'd, - break out, And sack great Rome with Romans. BRUTUS. If it were so, - SICINIUS. What do ye talk? Have we not had a taste of his obedience? Our aediles smote? ourselves resisted? - come, - MENENIUS. Consider this: - he has been bred i' the wars Since 'a could draw a sword, and is ill school'd In bolted language; meal and bran together He throws without distinction. Give me leave, I'll go to him and undertake to bring him Where he shall answer, by a lawful form, In peace, to his utmost peril. FIRST SENATOR. Noble tribunes, It is the humane way: the other course Will prove too bloody; and the end of it Unknown to the beginning. SICINIUS. Noble Menenius, Be you then as the people's officer. - Masters, lay down your weapons. BRUTUS. Go not home. SICINIUS. Meet on the market-place. - We'll attend you there: Where, if you bring not Marcius, we'll proceed In our first way. MENENIUS. I'll bring him to you. - [To the SENATORS.] Let me desire your company: he must come, Or what is worst will follow. FIRST SENATOR. Pray you let's to him. [Exeunt.] SCENE II. Rome. A room in CORIOLANUS'S house. [Enter CORIOLANUS and Patricians.] CORIOLANUS. Let them pull all about mine ears; present me Death on the wheel, or at wild horses' heels; Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock, That the precipitation might down stretch Below the beam of sight; yet will I still Be thus to them. FIRST PATRICIAN. You do the nobler. CORIOLANUS. I muse my mother Does not approve me further, who was wont To call them woollen vassals, things created To buy and sell with groats; to show bare heads In congregations, to yawn, be still, and wonder, When one but of my ordinance stood up To speak of peace or war. [Enter VOLUMNIA.] I talk of you: [To Volumnia.] Why did you wish me milder? Would you have me False to my nature? Rather say, I play The man I am. VOLUMNIA. O, sir, sir, sir, I would have had you put your power well on Before you had worn it out. CORIOLANUS. Let go. VOLUMNIA. You might have been enough the man you are With striving less to be so: lesser had been The thwartings of your dispositions, if You had not show'd them how ye were dispos'd, Ere they lack'd power to cross you. CORIOLANUS. Let them hang. VOLUMNIA. Ay, and burn too. [Enter MENENIUS with the SENATORS.] MENENIUS. Come, come, you have been too rough, something too rough; You must return and mend it. FIRST SENATOR. There's no remedy; Unless, by not so doing, our good city Cleave in the midst, and perish. VOLUMNIA. Pray be counsell'd; I have a heart as little apt as yours, But yet a brain that leads my use of anger To better vantage. MENENIUS. Well said, noble woman! Before he should thus stoop to the herd, but that The violent fit o' the time craves it as physic For the whole state, I would put mine armour on, Which I can scarcely bear. CORIOLANUS. What must I do? MENENIUS. Return to the tribunes. CORIOLANUS. Well, what then? what then? MENENIUS. Repent what you have spoke. CORIOLANUS. For them? - I cannot do it to the gods; Must I then do't to them? VOLUMNIA. You are too absolute; Though therein you can never be too noble But when extremities speak. I have heard you say Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends, I' the war do grow together: grant that, and tell me In peace what each of them by th' other lose That they combine not there. CORIOLANUS. Tush, tush! MENENIUS. A good demand. VOLUMNIA. If it be honour in your wars to seem The same you are not, - which for your best ends You adopt your policy, - how is it less or worse That it shall hold companionship in peace With honour as in war; since that to both It stands in like request? CORIOLANUS. Why force you this? VOLUMNIA. Because that now it lies you on to speak To the people; not by your own instruction, Nor by the matter which your heart prompts you, But with such words that are but rooted in Your tongue, though but bastards and syllables Of no allowance, to your bosom's truth. Now, this no more dishonours you at all Than to take in a town with gentle words, Which else would put you to your fortune and The hazard of much blood. I would dissemble with my nature where My fortunes and my friends at stake requir'd I should do so in honour: I am in this Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles; And you will rather show our general louts How you can frown, than spend a fawn upon 'em For the inheritance of their loves and safeguard Of what that want might ruin. MENENIUS. Noble lady! - Come, go with us; speak fair: you may salve so, Not what is dangerous present, but the loss Of what is past. VOLUMNIA. I pr'ythee now, my son, Go to them with this bonnet in thy hand; And thus far having stretch'd it, - here be with them, - Thy knee bussing the stones, - for in such busines Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant More learned than the ears, - waving thy head, Which often, thus correcting thy stout heart, Now humble as the ripest mulberry That will not hold the handling: or say to them Thou art their soldier, and, being bred in broils, Hast not the soft way which, thou dost confess, Were fit for thee to use, as they to claim, In asking their good loves; but thou wilt frame Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far As thou hast power and person. MENENIUS. This but done Even as she speaks, why, their hearts were yours: For they have pardons, being ask'd, as free As words to little purpose. VOLUMNIA. Pr'ythee now, Go, and be rul'd; although I know thou had'st rather Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf Than flatter him in a bower. [Enter COMINIUS.] Here is Cominius. COMINIUS. I have been i' the market-place; and, sir, 'tis fit You make strong party, or defend yourself By calmness or by absence: all's in anger. MENENIUS. Only fair speech. COMINIUS. I think 'twill serve, if he Can thereto frame his spirit. VOLUMNIA. He must, and will. - Pr'ythee now, say you will, and go about it. CORIOLANUS. Must I go show them my unbarb'd sconce? must I With my base tongue, give to my noble heart A lie, that it must bear? Well, I will do't: Yet, were there but this single plot to lose, This mould of Marcius, they to dust should grind it, And throw't against the wind. - To the market-place: - You have put me now to such a part which never I shall discharge to the life. COMINIUS. Come, come, we'll prompt you. VOLUMNIA. I pr'ythee now, sweet son, - as thou hast said My praises made thee first a soldier, so, To have my praise for this, perform a part Thou hast not done before. CORIOLANUS. Well, I must do't: Away, my disposition, and possess me Some harlot's spirit! My throat of war be turn'd, Which quired with my drum, into a pipe Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice That babies lulls asleep! the smiles of knaves Tent in my cheeks; and school-boys' tears take up The glasses of my sight! a beggar's tongue Make motion through my lips; and my arm'd knees, Who bow'd but in my stirrup, bend like his That hath receiv'd an alms! - I will not do't; Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth, And by my body's action teach my mind A most inherent baseness. VOLUMNIA. At thy choice, then: To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour Than thou of them. Come all to ruin: let Thy mother rather feel thy pride than fear Thy dangerous stoutness; for I mock at death With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list. Thy valiantness was mine, thou suck'dst it from me; But owe thy pride thyself. CORIOLANUS. Pray, be content: Mother, I am going to the market-place; Chide me no more. I'll mountebank their loves, Cog their hearts from them, and come home belov'd Of all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going. Commend me to my wife. I'll return consul; Or never trust to what my tongue can do I' the way of flattery further. VOLUMNIA. Do your will. [Exit.] COMINIUS. Away! The tribunes do attend you: arm yourself To answer mildly; for they are prepar'd With accusations, as I hear, more strong Than are upon you yet. CORIOLANUS. The word is, mildly. - Pray you let us go: Let them accuse me by invention, I Will answer in mine honour. MENENIUS. Ay, but mildly. CORIOLANUS. Well, mildly be it then; mildly. [Exeunt.] SCENE III. Rome. The Forum. [Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS.] BRUTUS. In this point charge him home, that he affects Tyrannical power: if he evade us there, Enforce him with his envy to the people; And that the spoil got on the Antiates Was ne'er distributed. [Enter an AEDILE.] What, will he come? AEDILE. He's coming. BRUTUS. How accompanied? AEDILE. With old Menenius, and those senators That always favour'd him. SICINIUS. Have you a catalogue Of all the voices that we have procur'd, Set down by the poll? AEDILE. I have; 'tis ready. SICINIUS. Have you collected them by tribes? AEDILE. I have. SICINIUS. Assemble presently the people hither: And when they hear me say 'It shall be so I' the right and strength o' the commons,' be it either For death, for fine, or banishment, then let them, If I say fine, cry 'Fine!'- if death, cry 'Death;' Insisting on the old prerogative And power i' the truth o' the cause. AEDILE. I shall inform them. BRUTUS. And when such time they have begun to cry, Let them not cease, but with a din confus'd Enforce the present execution Of what we chance to sentence. AEDILE. Very well. SICINIUS. Make them be strong, and ready for this hint, When we shall hap to give't them. BRUTUS. Go about it. [Exit AEDILE.] Put him to choler straight: he hath been us'd Ever to conquer, and to have his worth Of contradiction; being once chaf'd, he cannot Be rein'd again to temperance; then he speaks What's in his heart; and that is there which looks With us to break his neck. SICINIUS. Well, here he comes. [Enter CORIOLANUS, MENENIUS, COMINIUS, Senators, and Patricians.] MENENIUS. Calmly, I do beseech you. CORIOLANUS. Ay, as an ostler, that for the poorest piece Will bear the knave by the volume. - The honoured gods Keep Rome in safety, and the chairs of justice Supplied with worthy men! plant love among's! Throng our large temples with the shows of peace, And not our streets with war! FIRST SENATOR. Amen, amen! MENENIUS. A noble wish. [Re-enter the AEDILE, with Citizens.] SICINIUS. Draw near, ye people. AEDILE. List to your tribunes; audience: peace, I say! CORIOLANUS. First, hear me speak. BOTH TRIBUNES. Well, say. - Peace, ho! CORIOLANUS. Shall I be charg'd no further than this present? Must all determine here? SICINIUS. I do demand, If you submit you to the people's voices, Allow their officers, and are content To suffer lawful censure for such faults As shall be proved upon you. CORIOLANUS. I am content. MENENIUS. Lo, citizens, he says he is content: The warlike service he has done, consider; think Upon the wounds his body bears, which show Like graves i' the holy churchyard. CORIOLANUS. Scratches with briers, Scars to move laughter only. MENENIUS. Consider further, That when he speaks not like a citizen, You find him like a soldier: do not take His rougher accents for malicious sounds, But, as I say, such as become a soldier, Rather than envy you. COMINIUS. Well, well, no more. CORIOLANUS. What is the matter, That being pass'd for consul with full voice, I am so dishonour'd that the very hour You take it off again? SICINIUS. Answer to us. CORIOLANUS. Say then: 'tis true, I ought so. SICINIUS. We charge you that you have contriv'd to take From Rome all season'd office, and to wind Yourself into a power tyrannical; For which you are a traitor to the people. CORIOLANUS. How! traitor! MENENIUS. Nay, temperately; your promise. CORIOLANUS. The fires i' the lowest hell fold in the people! Call me their traitor! - Thou injurious tribune! Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths, In thy hands clutch'd as many millions, in Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say, Thou liest unto thee with a voice as free As I do pray the gods. SICINIUS. Mark you this, people? CITIZENS. To the rock, to the rock, with him! SICINIUS. Peace! We need not put new matter to his charge: What you have seen him do and heard him speak, Beating your officers, cursing yourselves, Opposing laws with strokes, and here defying Those whose great power must try him; even this, So criminal and in such capital kind, Deserves the extremest death. BRUTUS. But since he hath Serv'd well for Rome, - CORIOLANUS. What do you prate of service? BRUTUS. I talk of that that know it. CORIOLANUS. You? MENENIUS. Is this the promise that you made your mother? COMINIUS. Know, I pray you, - CORIOLANUS. I'll know no further: Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death, Vagabond exile, flaying, pent to linger But with a grain a day, I would not buy Their mercy at the price of one fair word, Nor check my courage for what they can give, To have't with saying Good-morrow. SICINIUS. For that he has, - As much as in him lies, - from time to time Envied against the people, seeking means To pluck away their power; as now at last Given hostile strokes, and that not in the presence Of dreaded justice, but on the ministers That do distribute it; - in the name o' the people, And in the power of us the tribunes, we, Even from this instant, banish him our city, In peril of precipitation From off the rock Tarpeian, never more To enter our Rome gates: I' the people's name, I say it shall be so. CITIZENS. It shall be so, it shall be so; let him away; He's banished, and it shall be so. COMINIUS. Hear me, my masters and my common friends, - SICINIUS. He's sentenc'd; no more hearing. COMINIUS. Let me speak: I have been consul, and can show for Rome Her enemies' marks upon me. I do love My country's good with a respect more tender, More holy and profound, than mine own life, My dear wife's estimate, her womb's increase, And treasure of my loins; then if I would Speak that, - SICINIUS. We know your drift. Speak what? BRUTUS. There's no more to be said, but he is banish'd, As enemy to the people and his country: It shall be so. CITIZENS. It shall be so, it shall be so. CORIOLANUS. You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcasses of unburied men That do corrupt my air, - I banish you; And here remain with your uncertainty! Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts! Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes, Fan you into despair! Have the power still To banish your defenders; till at length Your ignorance, - which finds not till it feels, - Making but reservation of yourselves, - Still your own foes, - deliver you, as most Abated captives to some nation That won you without blows! Despising, For you, the city, thus I turn my back: There is a world elsewhere. [Exeunt CORIOLANUS, COMINIUS, MENENIUS, Senators, and Patricians.] AEDILE. The people's enemy is gone, is gone! CITIZENS. Our enemy is banish'd, he is gone! Hoo! hoo! [Shouting, and throwing up their caps.] SICINIUS. Go, see him out at gates, and follow him, As he hath follow'd you, with all despite; Give him deserv'd vexation. Let a guard Attend us through the city. CITIZENS. Come, come, let's see him out at gates; come. The gods preserve our noble tribunes! Come. [Exeunt.] ACT IV. SCENE I. Rome. Before a gate of the city. [Enter CORIOLANUS, VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, MENENIUS, COMINIUS,and several young Patricians.] CORIOLANUS. Come, leave your tears; a brief farewell: - he beast With many heads butts me away. - Nay, mother, Where is your ancient courage? you were us'd To say extremities was the trier of spirits; That common chances common men could bear; That when the sea was calm all boats alike Show'd mastership in floating; fortune's blows, When most struck home, being gentle wounded, craves A noble cunning; you were us'd to load me With precepts that would make invincible The heart that conn'd them. VIRGILIA. O heavens! O heavens! CORIOLANUS. Nay, I pr'ythee, woman, - VOLUMNIA. Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome, And occupations perish! CORIOLANUS. What, what, what! I shall be lov'd when I am lack'd. Nay, mother, Resume that spirit when you were wont to say, If you had been the wife of Hercules, Six of his labours you'd have done, and sav'd Your husband so much sweat. - Cominius, Droop not; adieu. - Farewell, my wife, - my mother: I'll do well yet. - Thou old and true Menenius, Thy tears are salter than a younger man's, And venomous to thine eyes. - My sometime general, I have seen thee stern, and thou hast oft beheld Heart-hard'ning spectacles; tell these sad women 'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes, As 'tis to laugh at 'em. - My mother, you wot well My hazards still have been your solace: and Believe't not lightly, - though I go alone, Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen Makes fear'd and talk'd of more than seen, - your son Will or exceed the common or be caught With cautelous baits and practice. VOLUMNIA. My first son, Whither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius With thee awhile: determine on some course More than a wild exposture to each chance That starts i' the way before thee. CORIOLANUS. O the gods! COMINIUS. I'll follow thee a month, devise with thee Where thou shalt rest, that thou mayst hear of us, And we of thee: so, if the time thrust forth A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send O'er the vast world to seek a single man; And lose advantage, which doth ever cool I' the absence of the needer. CORIOLANUS. Fare ye well: Thou hast years upon thee; and thou art too full Of the wars' surfeits to go rove with one That's yet unbruis'd: bring me but out at gate. - Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and My friends of noble touch; when I am forth, Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you, come. While I remain above the ground, you shall Hear from me still; and never of me aught But what is like me formerly. MENENIUS. That's worthily As any ear can hear. - Come, let's not weep. - If I could shake off but one seven years From these old arms and legs, by the good gods, I'd with thee every foot. CORIOLANUS. Give me thy hand: - Come. [Exeunt.] SCENE II. Rome. A street near the gate. [Enter SICINIUS, BRUTUS, and an AEDILE.] SICINIUS. Bid them all home; he's gone, and we'll no further. - The nobility are vex'd, whom we see have sided In his behalf. BRUTUS. Now we have shown our power, Let us seem humbler after it is done Than when it was a-doing. SICINIUS. Bid them home: Say their great enemy is gone, and they Stand in their ancient strength. BRUTUS. Dismiss them home. [Exit AEDILE.] Here comes his mother. SICINIUS. Let's not meet her. BRUTUS. Why? SICINIUS. They say she's mad. BRUTUS. They have ta'en note of us: keep on your way. [Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and MENENIUS.] VOLUMNIA. O, you're well met: the hoarded plague o' the gods Requite your love! MENENIUS. Peace, peace, be not so loud. VOLUMNIA. If that I could for weeping, you should hear, - Nay, and you shall hear some. - [To BRUTUS.] Will you be gone? VIRGILIA. You shall stay too[To SICINIUS.]: I would I had the power To say so to my husband. SICINIUS. Are you mankind? VOLUMNIA. Ay, fool; is that a shame? - Note but this, fool. - Was not a man my father? Hadst thou foxship To banish him that struck more blows for Rome Than thou hast spoken words? - SICINIUS. O blessed heavens! VOLUMNIA. Moe noble blows than ever thou wise words; And for Rome's good. - I'll tell thee what; - yet go; - Nay, but thou shalt stay too: - I would my son Were in Arabia, and thy tribe before him, His good sword in his hand. SICINIUS. What then? VIRGILIA. What then! He'd make an end of thy posterity. VOLUMNIA. Bastards and all. - Good man, the wounds that he does bear for Rome! MENENIUS. Come, come, peace. SICINIUS. I would he had continu'd to his country As he began, and not unknit himself The noble knot he made. BRUTUS. I would he had. VOLUMNIA. I would he had! 'Twas you incens'd the rabble; - Cats, that can judge as fitly of his worth As I can of those mysteries which heaven Will not have earth to know. BRUTUS. Pray, let us go. VOLUMNIA. Now, pray, sir, get you gone: You have done a brave deed. Ere you go, hear this, - As far as doth the Capitol exceed The meanest house in Rome, so far my son, - This lady's husband here; this, do you see? - Whom you have banish'd does exceed you all. BRUTUS. Well, well, we'll leave you. SICINIUS. Why stay we to be baited With one that wants her wits? VOLUMNIA. Take my prayers with you. - [Exeunt TRIBUNES.] I would the gods had nothing else to do But to confirm my curses! Could I meet 'em But once a day, it would unclog my heart Of what lies heavy to't. MENENIUS. You have told them home, And, by my troth, you have cause. You'll sup with me? VOLUMNIA. Anger's my meat; I sup upon myself, And so shall starve with feeding. - Come, let's go: Leave this faint puling and lament as I do, In anger, Juno-like. Come, come, come. [Exeunt.] MENENIUS. Fie, fie, fie! SCENE III. A highway between Rome and Antium. [Enter a ROMAN and a VOLSCE, meeting.] ROMAN. I know you well, sir, and you know me; your name, I think, is Adrian. VOLSCE. It is so, sir: truly, I have forgot you. ROMAN. I am a Roman; and my services are, as you are, against 'em: know you me yet? VOLSCE. Nicanor? no! ROMAN. The same, sir. VOLSCE. You had more beard when I last saw you; but your favour is well approved by your tongue. What's the news in Rome? I have a note from the Volscian state, to find you out there; you have well saved me a day's journey. ROMAN. There hath been in Rome strange insurrections: the people against the senators, patricians, and nobles. VOLSCE. Hath been! is it ended, then? Our state thinks not so; they are in a most warlike preparation, and hope to come upon them in the heat of their division. ROMAN. The main blaze of it is past, but a small thing would make it flame again; for the nobles receive so to heart the banishment of that worthy Coriolanus that they are in a ripe aptness to take all power from the people, and to pluck from them their tribunes for ever. This lies glowing, I can tell you, and is almost mature for the violent breaking out. VOLSCE. Coriolanus banished! ROMAN. Banished, sir. VOLSCE. You will be welcome with this intelligence, Nicanor. ROMAN. The day serves well for them now. I have heard it said the fittest time to corrupt a man's wife is when she's fallen out with her husband. Your noble Tullus Aufidius will appear well in these wars, his great opposer, Coriolanus, being now in no request of his country. VOLSCE. He cannot choose. I am most fortunate thus accidentally to encounter you; you have ended my business, and I will merrily accompany you home. ROMAN. I shall between this and supper tell you most strange things from Rome; all tending to the good of their adversaries. Have you an army ready, say you? VOLSCE. A most royal one; the centurions and their charges, distinctly billeted, already in the entertainment, and to be on foot at an hour's warning. ROMAN. I am joyful to hear of their readiness, and am the man, I think, that shall set them in present action. So, sir, heartily well met, and most glad of your company. VOLSCE. You take my part from me, sir; I have the most cause to be glad of yours. ROMAN. Well, let us go together. [Exeunt.] SCENE IV. Antium. Before AUFIDIUS'S house. [Enter CORIOLANUS, in mean apparel, disguised and muffled.] CORIOLANUS. A goodly city is this Antium. City, 'Tis I that made thy widows: many an heir Of these fair edifices 'fore my wars Have I heard groan and drop: then know me not. Lest that thy wives with spits and boys with stones, In puny battle slay me. [Enter a CITIZEN.] Save you, sir. CITIZEN. And you. CORIOLANUS. Direct me, if it be your will, Where great Aufidius lies; is he in Antium? CITIZEN. He is, and feasts the nobles of the state At his house this night. CORIOLANUS. Which is his house, beseech you? CITIZEN. This, here, before you. CORIOLANUS. Thank you, sir; farewell. [Exit CITIZEN.] O world, thy slippery turns! Friends now fast sworn, Whose double bosoms seems to wear one heart, Whose hours, whose bed, whose meal and exercise Are still together, who twin, as 'twere, in love Unseparable, shall within this hour, On a dissension of a doit, break out To bitterest enmity; so fellest foes, Whose passions and whose plots have broke their sleep To take the one the other, by some chance, Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear friends And interjoin their issues. So with me: - My birthplace hate I, and my love's upon This enemy town. - I'll enter; if he slay me, He does fair justice; if he give me way, I'll do his country service. SCENE V. Antium. A hall in AUFIDIUS'S house. [Music within. Enter A SERVANT.] FIRST SERVANT. Wine, wine, wine! What service is here! I think our fellows are asleep. [Exit.] [Enter a second SERVANT.] SECOND SERVANT. Where's Cotus? my master calls for him. - Cotus! [Exit.] [Enter CORIOLANUS.] CORIOLANUS. A goodly house: the feast smells well; but I Appear not like a guest. [Re-enter the first SERVANT.] FIRST SERVANT. What would you have, friend? whence are you? Here's no place for you: pray go to the door. CORIOLANUS. I have deserv'd no better entertainment In being Coriolanus. [Re-enter second SERVANT.] SECOND SERVANT. Whence are you, sir? Has the porter his eyes in his head that he gives entrance to such companions? Pray, get you out. CORIOLANUS. Away! SECOND SERVANT. Away? Get you away. CORIOLANUS. Now the art troublesome. SECOND SERVANT. Are you so brave? I'll have you talked with anon. [Enter a third SERVANT. The first meets him.] THIRD SERVANT. What fellow's this? FIRST SERVANT. A strange one as ever I looked on: I cannot get him out o' the house. Pr'ythee call my master to him. THIRD SERVANT. What have you to do here, fellow? Pray you avoid the house. CORIOLANUS. Let me but stand; I will not hurt your hearth. THIRD SERVANT. What are you? CORIOLANUS. A gentleman. THIRD SERVANT. A marvellous poor one. CORIOLANUS. True, so I am. THIRD SERVANT. Pray you, poor gentleman, take up some other station; here's no place for you. Pray you avoid; come. CORIOLANUS. Follow your function, go, And batten on cold bits. [Pushes him away.] THIRD SERVANT. What, you will not? - Pr'ythee, tell my master what a strange guest he has here. SECOND SERVANT. And I shall. [Exit.] THIRD SERVANT. Where dwell'st thou? CORIOLANUS. Under the canopy. THIRD SERVANT. Under the canopy? CORIOLANUS. Ay. THIRD SERVANT. Where's that? CORIOLANUS. I' the city of kites and crows. THIRD SERVANT. I' the city of kites and crows! - What an ass it is! - Then thou dwell'st with daws too? CORIOLANUS. No, I serve not thy master. THIRD SERVANT. How, sir! Do you meddle with my master? CORIOLANUS. Ay; 'tis an honester service than to meddle with thy mistress. Thou prat'st and prat'st; serve with thy trencher, hence! [Beats him away.] [Enter AUFIDIUS and the second SERVANT.] AUFIDIUS. Where is this fellow? SECOND SERVANT. Here, sir; I'd have beaten him like a dog, but for disturbing the lords within. AUFIDIUS. Whence com'st thou? what wouldst thou? thy name? Why speak'st not? speak, man: what's thy name? CORIOLANUS. [Unmuffling.] If, Tullus, Not yet thou know'st me, and, seeing me, dost not Think me for the man I am, necessity Commands me name myself. AUFIDIUS. What is thy name? [Servants retire.] CORIOLANUS. A name unmusical to the Volscians' ears, And harsh in sound to thine. AUFIDIUS. Say, what's thy name? Thou has a grim appearance, and thy face Bears a command in't; though thy tackle's torn, Thou show'st a noble vessel: what's thy name? CORIOLANUS. Prepare thy brow to frown: - know'st thou me yet? AUFIDIUS. I know thee not: - thy name? CORIOLANUS. My name is Caius Marcius, who hath done To thee particularly, and to all the Volsces, Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may My surname, Coriolanus: the painful service, The extreme dangers, and the drops of blood Shed for my thankless country, are requited But with that surname; a good memory, And witness of the malice and displeasure Which thou shouldst bear me: only that name remains; The cruelty and envy of the people, Permitted by our dastard nobles, who Have all forsook me, hath devour'd the rest, And suffer'd me by the voice of slaves to be Whoop'd out of Rome. Now, this extremity Hath brought me to thy hearth: not out of hope, Mistake me not, to save my life; for if I had fear'd death, of all the men i' the world I would have 'voided thee; but in mere spite, To be full quit of those my banishers, Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge Thine own particular wrongs, and stop those maims Of shame seen through thy country, speed thee straight And make my misery serve thy turn: so use it That my revengeful services may prove As benefits to thee; for I will fight Against my canker'd country with the spleen Of all the under fiends. But if so be Thou dar'st not this, and that to prove more fortunes Th'art tir'd, then, in a word, I also am Longer to live most weary, and present My throat to thee and to thy ancient malice; Which not to cut would show thee but a fool, Since I have ever follow'd thee with hate, Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast, And cannot live but to thy shame, unless It be to do thee service. AUFIDIUS. O Marcius, Marcius! Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my heart A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter Should from yond cloud speak divine things, And say ''Tis true,' I'd not believe them more Than thee, all noble Marcius. - Let me twine Mine arms about that body, where against My grained ash an hundred times hath broke And scar'd the moon with splinters; here I clip The anvil of my sword, and do contest As hotly and as nobly with thy love As ever in ambitious strength I did Contend against thy valour. Know thou first, I lov'd the maid I married; never man Sighed truer breath; but that I see thee here, Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart Than when I first my wedded mistress saw Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars! I tell thee We have a power on foot; and I had purpose Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn, Or lose mine arm for't: thou hast beat me out Twelve several times, and I have nightly since Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me; We have been down together in my sleep, Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat, And wak'd half dead with nothing. Worthy Marcius, Had we no other quarrel else to Rome, but that Thou art thence banish'd, we would muster all From twelve to seventy; and, pouring war Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome, Like a bold flood o'erbear. O, come, go in, And take our friendly senators by the hands; Who now are here, taking their leaves of me, Who am prepar'd against your territories, Though not for Rome itself. CORIOLANUS. You bless me, gods! AUFIDIUS. Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou wilt have The leading of thine own revenges, take Th' one half of my commission; and set down, - As best thou art experienc'd, since thou know'st Thy country's strength and weakness, - thine own ways; Whether to knock against the gates of Rome, Or rudely visit them in parts remote, To fright them, ere destroy. But come in; Let me commend thee first to those that shall Say yea to thy desires. A thousand welcomes! And more a friend than e'er an enemy; Yet, Marcius, that was much. Your hand: most welcome! [Exeunt CORIOLANUS and AUFIDIUS.] FIRST SERVANT. Here's a strange alteration! SECOND SERVANT. By my hand, I had thought to have strucken him with a cudgel; and yet my mind gave me his clothes made a false report of him. FIRST SERVANT. What an arm he has! He turned me about with his finger and his thumb, as one would set up a top. SECOND SERVANT. Nay, I knew by his face that there was something in him; he had, sir, a kind of face, methought, - I cannot tell how to term it. FIRST SERVANT. He had so, looking as it were, - would I were hanged, but I thought there was more in him than I could think. SECOND SERVANT. So did I, I'll be sworn: he is simply the rarest man i' the world. FIRST SERVANT. I think he is; but a greater soldier than he you wot on. SECOND SERVANT. Who, my master? FIRST SERVANT. Nay, it's no matter for that. SECOND SERVANT. Worth six on him. FIRST SERVANT. Nay, not so neither: but I take him to be the greater soldier. SECOND SERVANT. Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that: for the defence of a town our general is excellent. FIRST SERVANT. Ay, and for an assault too. [Re-enter third SERVANT.] THIRD SERVANT. O slaves, I can tell you news, - news, you rascals! FIRST and SECOND SERVANT. What, what, what? let's partake. THIRD SERVANT. I would not be a Roman, of all nations; I had as lief be a condemned man. FIRST and SECOND SERVANT. Wherefore? wherefore? THIRD SERVANT. Why, here's he that was wont to thwack our general, - Caius Marcius. FIRST SERVANT. Why do you say, thwack our general? THIRD SERVANT. I do not say thwack our general; but he was always good enough for him. SECOND SERVANT. Come, we are fellows and friends: he was ever too hard for him; I have heard him say so himself. FIRST SERVANT. He was too hard for him directly, to say the troth on't; before Corioli he scotched him and notched him like a carbonado. SECOND SERVANT. An he had been cannibally given, he might have broiled and eaten him too. FIRST SERVANT. But more of thy news? THIRD SERVANT. Why, he is so made on here within as if he were son and heir to Mars; set at upper end o' the table: no question asked him by any of the senators but they stand bald before him: our general himself makes a mistress of him, sanctifies himself with's hand, and turns up the white o' the eye to his discourse. But the bottom of the news is, our general is cut i' the middle, and but one half of what he was yesterday; for the other has half, by the entreaty and grant of the whole table. He'll go, he says, and sowl the porter of Rome gates by the ears; he will mow all down before him, and leave his passage polled. SECOND SERVANT. And he's as like to do't as any man I can imagine. THIRD SERVANT. Do't! he will do't; for look you, sir, he has as many friends as enemies; which friends, sir, as it were, durst not, look you, sir, show themselves, as we term it, his friends, whilst he's in dejectitude. FIRST SERVANT. Dejectitude! what's that? THIRD SERVANT. But when they shall see, sir, his crest up again, and the man in blood, they will out of their burrows, like conies after rain, and revel all with him. FIRST SERVANT. But when goes this forward? THIRD SERVANT. To-morrow; to-day; presently; you shall have the drum struck up this afternoon: 'tis as it were parcel of their feast, and to be executed ere they wipe their lips. SECOND SERVANT. Why, then we shall have a stirring world again. This peace is nothing but to rust iron, increase tailors, and breed ballad-makers. FIRST SERVANT. Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace as far as day does night; it's spritely, waking, audible, and full of vent. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy; mulled, deaf, sleepy, insensible; a getter of more bastard children than war's a destroyer of men. SECOND SERVANT. 'Tis so: and as war in some sort, may be said to be a ravisher, so it cannot be denied but peace is a great maker of cuckolds. FIRST SERVANT. Ay, and it makes men hate one another. THIRD SERVANT. Reason: because they then less need one another. The wars for my money. I hope to see Romans as cheap as Volscians. They are rising, they are rising. ALL. In, in, in, in! [Exeunt.] SCENE VI. Rome. A public place. [Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS.] SICINIUS. We hear not of him, neither need we fear him; His remedies are tame i' the present peace And quietness of the people, which before Were in wild hurry. Here do make his friends Blush that the world goes well; who rather had, Though they themselves did suffer by't, behold Dissentious numbers pestering streets than see Our tradesmen singing in their shops, and going About their functions friendly. BRUTUS. We stood to't in good time. - Is this Menenius? SICINIUS. 'Tis he, 'tis he. O, he is grown most kind Of late. [Enter MENENIUS BRUTUS. Hail, sir! MENENIUS. Hail to you both! SICINIUS. Your Coriolanus is not much miss'd But with his friends: the commonwealth doth stand; And so would do, were he more angry at it. MENENIUS. All's well, and might have been much better if He could have temporiz'd. SICINIUS. Where is he, hear you? MENENIUS. Nay, I hear nothing: his mother and his wife Hear nothing from him. [Enter three or four Citizens.] CITIZENS. The gods preserve you both! SICINIUS. God-den, our neighbours. BRUTUS. God-den to you all, God-den to you all. FIRST CITIZEN. Ourselves, our wives, and children, on our knees, Are bound to pray for you both. SICINIUS. Live and thrive! BRUTUS. Farewell, kind neighbours: we wish'd Coriolanus Had lov'd you as we did. CITIZENS. Now the gods keep you! BOTH TRIBUNES. Farewell, farewell. [Exeunt Citizens.] SICINIUS. This is a happier and more comely time Than when these fellows ran about the streets Crying confusion. BRUTUS. Caius Marcius was A worthy officer i' the war; but insolent, O'ercome with pride, ambitious past all thinking, Self-loving, - SICINIUS. And affecting one sole throne, Without assistance. MENENIUS. I think not so. SICINIUS. We should by this, to all our lamentation, If he had gone forth consul, found it so. BRUTUS. The gods have well prevented it, and Rome Sits safe and still without him. [Enter an AEDILE.] AEDILE. Worthy tribunes, There is a slave, whom we have put in prison, Reports, - the Volsces with several powers Are enter'd in the Roman territories, And with the deepest malice of the war Destroy what lies before 'em. MENENIUS. 'Tis Aufidius, Who, hearing of our Marcius' banishment, Thrusts forth his horns again into the world; Which were inshell'd when Marcius stood for Rome, And durst not once peep out. SICINIUS. Come, what talk you of Marcius? BRUTUS. Go see this rumourer whipp'd. - It cannot be The Volsces dare break with us. MENENIUS. Cannot be! We have record that very well it can; And three examples of the like hath been Within my age. But reason with the fellow, Before you punish him, where he heard this; Lest you shall chance to whip your information And beat the messenger who bids beware Of what is to be dreaded. SICINIUS. Tell not me: I know this cannot be. BRUTUS. Not possible. [Enter A MESSENGER.] MESSENGER. The nobles in great earnestness are going All to the senate-house: some news is come That turns their countenances. SICINIUS. 'Tis this slave, - Go whip him fore the people's eyes: - his raising; Nothing but his report. MESSENGER. Yes, worthy sir, The slave's report is seconded, and more, More fearful, is deliver'd. SICINIUS. What more fearful? MESSENGER. It is spoke freely out of many mouths, - How probable I do not know, - that Marcius, Join'd with Aufidius, leads a power 'gainst Rome, And vows revenge as spacious as between The young'st and oldest thing. SICINIUS. This is most likely! BRUTUS. Rais'd only, that the weaker sort may wish Good Marcius home again. SICINIUS. The very trick on 't. MENENIUS. This is unlikely: He and Aufidius can no more atone Than violentest contrariety. [Enter a second MESSENGER.] SECOND MESSENGER. You are sent for to the senate: A fearful army, led by Caius Marcius Associated with Aufidius, rages Upon our territories; and have already O'erborne their way, consum'd with fire and took What lay before them. [Enter COMINIUS.] COMINIUS. O, you have made good work! MENENIUS. What news? what news? COMINIUS. You have holp to ravish your own daughters, and To melt the city leads upon your pates; To see your wives dishonour'd to your noses, - MENENIUS. What's the news? what's the news? COMINIUS. Your temples burned in their cement; and Your franchises, whereon you stood, confin'd Into an auger's bore. MENENIUS. Pray now, your news? - You have made fair work, I fear me. - Pray, your news. If Marcius should be join'd wi' the Volscians, - COMINIUS. If! He is their god: he leads them like a thing Made by some other deity than nature, That shapes man better; and they follow him, Against us brats, with no less confidence Than boys pursuing summer butterflies, Or butchers killing flies. MENENIUS. You have made good work, You and your apron men; you that stood so much Upon the voice of occupation and The breath of garlic-eaters! COMINIUS. He'll shake Your Rome about your ears. MENENIUS. As Hercules Did shake down mellow fruit. - You have made fair work! BRUTUS. But is this true, sir? COMINIUS. Ay; and you'll look pale Before you find it other. All the regions Do smilingly revolt; and who resists Are mock'd for valiant ignorance, And perish constant fools. Who is't can blame him? Your enemies and his find something in him. MENENIUS. We are all undone unless The noble man have mercy. COMINIUS. Who shall ask it? The tribunes cannot do't for shame; the people Deserve such pity of him as the wolf Does of the shepherds: for his best friends, if they Should say 'Be good to Rome,' they charg'd him even As those should do that had deserv'd his hate, And therein show'd like enemies. MENENIUS. 'Tis true: If he were putting to my house the brand That should consume it, I have not the face To say 'Beseech you, cease.' - You have made fair hands, You and your crafts! You have crafted fair! COMINIUS. You have brought A trembling upon Rome, such as was never So incapable of help. BOTH TRIBUNES. Say not, we brought it. MENENIUS. How! Was it we? we lov'd him, but, like beasts, And cowardly nobles, gave way unto your clusters, Who did hoot him out o' the city. COMINIUS. But I fear They'll roar him in again. Tullus Aufidius, The second name of men, obeys his points As if he were his officer: - desperation Is all the policy, strength, and defence, That Rome can make against them. [Enter a troop of citizens.] MENENIUS. Here comes the clusters. - And is Aufidius with him? - You are they That made the air unwholesome, when you cast Your stinking greasy caps in hooting at Coriolanus' exile. Now he's coming; And not a hair upon a soldier's head Which will not prove a whip: as many coxcombs As you threw caps up will he tumble down, And pay you for your voices. 'Tis no matter; If he could burn us all into one coal We have deserv'd it. CITIZENS. Faith, we hear fearful news. FIRST CITIZEN. For mine own part, When I said banish him, I said 'twas pity. SECOND CITIZEN. And so did I. THIRD CITIZEN. And so did I; and, to say the truth, so did very many of us. That we did, we did for the best; and though we willingly consented to his banishment, yet it was against our will. COMINIUS. You are goodly things, you voices! MENENIUS. You have made Good work, you and your cry! - Shall's to the Capitol? COMINIUS. O, ay; what else? [Exeunt COMINIUS and MENENIUS.] SICINIUS. Go, masters, get you home; be not dismay'd; These are a side that would be glad to have This true which they so seem to fear. Go home, And show no sign of fear. FIRST CITIZEN. The gods be good to us! - Come, masters, let's home. I ever said we were i' the wrong when we banished him. SECOND CITIZEN. So did we all. But come, let's home. [Exeunt Citizens.] BRUTUS. I do not like this news. SICINIUS. Nor I. BRUTUS. Let's to the Capitol: - would half my wealth Would buy this for a lie! SICINIUS. Pray let's go. [Exeunt.] SCENE VII. A camp at a short distance from Rome. [Enter AUFIDIUS and his LIEUTENANT.] AUFIDIUS. Do they still fly to the Roman? LIEUTENANT. I do not know what witchcraft's in him, but Your soldiers use him as the grace 'fore meat, Their talk at table, and their thanks at end; And you are darken'd in this action, sir, Even by your own. AUFIDIUS. I cannot help it now, Unless by using means, I lame the foot Of our design. He bears himself more proudlier, Even to my person, than I thought he would When first I did embrace him: yet his nature In that's no changeling; and I must excuse What cannot be amended. LIEUTENANT. Yet I wish, sir, - I mean, for your particular, - you had not Join'd in commission with him; but either Had borne the action of yourself, or else To him had left it solely. AUFIDIUS. I understand thee well; and be thou sure, When he shall come to his account, he knows not What I can urge against him. Although it seems, And so he thinks, and is no less apparent To the vulgar eye, that he bears all things fairly, And shows good husbandry for the Volscian state, Fights dragon-like, and does achieve as soon As draw his sword: yet he hath left undone That which shall break his neck or hazard mine Whene'er we come to our account. LIEUTENANT. Sir, I beseech you, think you he'll carry Rome? AUFIDIUS. All places yield to him ere he sits down; And the nobility of Rome are his; The senators and patricians love him too: The tribunes are no soldiers; and their people Will be as rash in the repeal as hasty To expel him thence. I think he'll be to Rome As is the osprey to the fish, who takes it By sovereignty of nature. First he was A noble servant to them; but he could not Carry his honours even: whether 'twas pride, Which out of daily fortune ever taints The happy man; whether defect of judgment, To fail in the disposing of those chances Which he was lord of; or whether nature, Not to be other than one thing, not moving From the casque to the cushion, but commanding peace Even with the same austerity and garb As he controll'd the war; but one of these, - As he hath spices of them all, not all, For I dare so far free him, - made him fear'd, So hated, and so banish'd: but he has a merit To choke it in the utterance. So our virtues Lie in the interpretation of the time: And power, unto itself most commendable, Hath not a tomb so evident as a cheer To extol what it hath done. One fire drives out one fire; one nail, one nail; Rights by rights falter, strengths by strengths do fail. Come, let's away. When, Caius, Rome is thine, Thou art poor'st of all; then shortly art thou mine. [Exeunt.] ACT V. SCENE I. Rome. A public place [Enter MENENIUS, COMINIUS, SICINIUS and BRUTUS, and others.] MENENIUS. No, I'll not go: you hear what he hath said Which was sometime his general; who lov'd him In a most dear particular. He call'd me father: But what o' that? Go, you that banish'd him; A mile before his tent fall down, and knee The way into his mercy: nay, if he coy'd To hear Cominius speak, I'll keep at home. COMINIUS. He would not seem to know me. MENENIUS. Do you hear? COMINIUS. Yet one time he did call me by my name: I urged our old acquaintance, and the drops That we have bled together. Coriolanus He would not answer to: forbad all names; He was a kind of nothing, titleless, Till he had forg'd himself a name i' the fire Of burning Rome. MENENIUS. Why, so! - you have made good work! A pair of tribunes that have rack'd for Rome, To make coals cheap, - a noble memory! COMINIUS. I minded him how royal 'twas to pardon When it was less expected: he replied, It was a bare petition of a state To one whom they had punish'd. MENENIUS. Very well: Could he say less? COMINIUS. I offer'd to awaken his regard For's private friends: his answer to me was, He could not stay to pick them in a pile Of noisome musty chaff: he said 'twas folly, For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt And still to nose the offence. MENENIUS. For one poor grain Or two! I am one of those; his mother, wife, His child, and this brave fellow too- we are the grains: You are the musty chaff; and you are smelt Above the moon: we must be burnt for you. SICINIUS. Nay, pray be patient: if you refuse your aid In this so never-needed help, yet do not Upbraid's with our distress. But, sure, if you Would be your country's pleader, your good tongue, More than the instant army we can make, Might stop our countryman. MENENIUS. No; I'll not meddle. SICINIUS. Pray you, go to him. MENENIUS. What should I do? BRUTUS. Only make trial what your love can do For Rome, towards Marcius. MENENIUS. Well, and say that Marcius Return me, as Cominius is return'd, Unheard; what then? But as a discontented friend, grief-shot With his unkindness? Say't be so? SICINIUS. Yet your good-will Must have that thanks from Rome, after the measure As you intended well. MENENIUS. I'll undertake't; I think he'll hear me. Yet to bite his lip And hum at good Cominius much unhearts me. He was not taken well: he had not din'd; The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then We pout upon the morning, are unapt To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff'd These pipes and these conveyances of our blood With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls Than in our priest-like fasts. Therefore I'll watch him Till he be dieted to my request, And then I'll set upon him. BRUTUS. You know the very road into his kindness And cannot lose your way. MENENIUS. Good faith, I'll prove him, Speed how it will. I shall ere long have knowledge Of my success. [Exit.] COMINIUS. He'll never hear him. SICINIUS. Not? COMINIUS. I tell you he does sit in gold, his eye Red as 'twould burn Rome: and his injury The gaoler to his pity. I kneel'd before him; 'Twas very faintly he said 'Rise'; dismissed me Thus, with his speechless hand: what he would do, He sent in writing after me; what he would not, Bound with an oath to yield to his conditions: So that all hope is vain, Unless his noble mother and his wife; Who, as I hear, mean to solicit him For mercy to his country. Therefore, let's hence, And with our fair entreaties haste them on. [Exeunt.] SCENE II. An Advanced post of the Volscian camp before Rome. The Guards at their station. [Enter to them MENENIUS.] FIRST GUARD. Stay: whence are you? SECOND GUARD. Stand, and go back. MENENIUS. You guard like men; 'tis well: but, by your leave, I am an officer of state, and come To speak with Coriolanus. FIRST GUARD. From whence? MENENIUS. From Rome. FIRST GUARD. You may not pass; you must return: our general Will no more hear from thence. SECOND GUARD. You'll see your Rome embrac'd with fire before You'll speak with Coriolanus. MENENIUS. Good my friends, If you have heard your general talk of Rome And of his friends there, it is lots to blanks My name hath touch'd your ears: it is Menenius. FIRST GUARD. Be it so; go back: the virtue of your name Is not here passable. MENENIUS. I tell thee, fellow, Thy general is my lover: I have been The book of his good acts, whence men have read His fame unparallel'd, haply amplified; For I have ever verified my friends, - Of whom he's chief, - with all the size that verity Would without lapsing suffer: nay, sometimes, Like to a bowl upon a subtle ground, I have tumbled past the throw: and in his praise Have almost stamp'd the leasing: therefore, fellow, I must have leave to pass. FIRST GUARD. Faith, sir, if you had told as many lies in his behalf as you have uttered words in your own, you should not pass here: no, though it were as virtuous to lie as to live chastely. Therefore, go back. MENENIUS. Pr'ythee, fellow, remember my name is Menenius, always factionary on the party of your general. SECOND GUARD. Howsoever you have been his liar, - as you say you have, I am one that, telling true under him, must say you cannot pass. Therefore go back. MENENIUS. Has he dined, canst thou tell? For I would not speak with him till after dinner. FIRST GUARD. You are a Roman, are you? MENENIUS. I am as thy general is. FIRST GUARD. Then you should hate Rome, as he does. Can you, when you have pushed out your gates the very defender of them, and in a violent popular ignorance, given your enemy your shield, think to front his revenges with the easy groans of old women, the virginal palms of your daughters, or with the palsied intercession of such a decayed dotant as you seem to be? Can you think to blow out the intended fire your city is ready to flame in, with such weak breath as this? No, you are deceived; therefore back to Rome, and prepare for your execution: you are condemned; our general has sworn you out of reprieve and pardon. MENENIUS. Sirrah, if thy captain knew I were here he would use me with estimation. SECOND GUARD. Come, my captain knows you not. MENENIUS. I mean thy general. FIRST GUARD. My general cares not for you. Back, I say; go, lest I let forth your half pint of blood; - back; that's the utmost of your having: - back. MENENIUS. Nay, but fellow, fellow, - [Enter CORIOLANUS with AUFIDIUS.] CORIOLANUS. What's the matter? MENENIUS. Now, you companion, I'll say an errand for you; you shall know now that I am in estimation; you shall perceive that a jack guardant cannot office me from my son Coriolanus: guess but by my entertainment with him if thou standest not i' the state of hanging, or of some death more long in spectatorship and crueller in suffering; behold now presently, and swoon for what's to come upon thee. - The glorious gods sit in hourly synod about thy particular prosperity, and love thee no worse than thy old father Menenius does! O my son! my son! thou art preparing fire for us; look thee, here's water to quench it. I was hardly moved to come to thee; but being assured none but myself could move thee, I have been blown out of your gates with sighs; and conjure thee to pardon Rome and thy petitionary countrymen. The good gods assuage thy wrath, and turn the dregs of it upon this varlet here; this, who, like a block, hath denied my access to thee. CORIOLANUS. Away! MENENIUS. How! away! CORIOLANUS. Wife, mother, child, I know not. My affairs Are servanted to others: though I owe My revenge properly, my remission lies In Volscian breasts. That we have been familiar, Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison, rather Than pity note how much. - Therefore be gone. Mine ears against your suits are stronger than Your gates against my force. Yet, for I lov'd thee, Take this along; I writ it for thy sake, [Gives a letter.] And would have sent it. Another word, Menenius, I will not hear thee speak. - This man, Aufidius, Was my beloved in Rome: yet thou behold'st! AUFIDIUS. You keep a constant temper. [Exeunt CORIOLANUS and AUFIDIUS.] FIRST GUARD. Now, sir, is your name Menenius? SECOND GUARD. 'Tis a spell, you see, of much power: you know the way home again. FIRST GUARD. Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your greatness back? SECOND GUARD. What cause, do you think, I have to swoon? MENENIUS. I neither care for the world nor your general; for such things as you, I can scarce think there's any, y'are so slight. He that hath a will to die by himself fears it not from another. Let your general do his worst. For you, be that you are, long; and your misery increase with your age! I say to you, as I was said to, away! [Exit.] FIRST GUARD. A noble fellow, I warrant him. SECOND GUARD. The worthy fellow is our general: he is the rock, the oak not to be wind-shaken. [Exeunt.] SCENE III. The tent of CORIOLANUS. [Enter CORIOLANUS, AUFIDIUS, and others.] CORIOLANUS. We will before the walls of Rome to-morrow Set down our host. - My partner in this action, You must report to the Volscian lords how plainly I have borne this business. AUFIDIUS. Only their ends You have respected; stopped your ears against The general suit of Rome; never admitted A private whisper, no, not with such friends That thought them sure of you. CORIOLANUS. This last old man, Whom with crack'd heart I have sent to Rome, Lov'd me above the measure of a father; Nay, godded me indeed. Their latest refuge Was to send him; for whose old love I have, - Though I show'd sourly to him, - once more offer'd The first conditions, which they did refuse, And cannot now accept, to grace him only, That thought he could do more, a very little I have yielded to: fresh embassies and suits, Nor from the state nor private friends, hereafter Will I lend ear to. - [Shout within.] Ha! what shout is this? Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow In the same time 'tis made? I will not. [Enter, in mourning habits, VIRGILIA, VOLUMNIA, leading YOUNG MARCIUS, VALERIA, and attendants.] My wife comes foremost; then the honour'd mould Wherein this trunk was fram'd, and in her hand The grandchild to her blood. But, out, affection! All bond and privilege of nature, break! Let it be virtuous to be obstinate. - What is that curt'sy worth? or those doves' eyes, Which can make gods forsworn? - I melt, and am not Of stronger earth than others. - My mother bows, As if Olympus to a molehill should In supplication nod: and my young boy Hath an aspect of intercession which Great nature cries "Deny not.' - Let the Volsces Plough Rome and harrow Italy: I'll never Be such a gosling to obey instinct; but stand, As if a man were author of himself, And knew no other kin. VIRGILIA. My lord and husband! CORIOLANUS. These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome. VIRGILIA. The sorrow that delivers us thus chang'd Makes you think so. CORIOLANUS. Like a dull actor now, I have forgot my part and I am out, Even to a full disgrace. Best of my flesh, Forgive my tyranny; but do not say, For that, 'Forgive our Romans.' - O, a kiss Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge; Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss I carried from thee, dear; and my true lip Hath virgin'd it e'er since. - You gods! I prate, And the most noble mother of the world Leave unsaluted: sink, my knee, i' the earth; [Kneels.] Of thy deep duty more impression show Than that of common sons. VOLUMNIA. O, stand up bless'd! Whilst, with no softer cushion than the flint, I kneel before thee; and unproperly Show duty, as mistaken all this while Between the child and parent. [Kneels.] CORIOLANUS. What is this? Your knees to me? to your corrected son? Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach Fillip the stars; then let the mutinous winds Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun,; Murdering impossibility, to make What cannot be, slight work. VOLUMNIA. Thou art my warrior; I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady? CORIOLANUS. The noble sister of Publicola, The moon of Rome; chaste as the icicle That's curded by the frost from purest snow, And hangs on Dian's temple: - dear Valeria! VOLUMNIA. This is a poor epitome of yours, Which, by the interpretation of full time, May show like all yourself. CORIOLANUS. The god of soldiers, With the consent of supreme Jove, inform Thy thoughts with nobleness; that thou mayst prove To shame unvulnerable, and stick i' the wars Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw, And saving those that eye thee! VOLUMNIA. Your knee, sirrah. CORIOLANUS. That's my brave boy. VOLUMNIA. Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself, Are suitors to you. CORIOLANUS. I beseech you, peace: Or, if you'd ask, remember this before, - The thing I have forsworn to grant may never Be held by you denials. Do not bid me Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate Again with Rome's mechanics. - Tell me not Wherein I seem unnatural: desire not To allay my rages and revenges with Your colder reasons. VOLUMNIA. O, no more, no more! You have said you will not grant us anything; For we have nothing else to ask but that Which you deny already: yet we will ask; That, if you fail in our request, the blame May hang upon your hardness; therefore hear us. CORIOLANUS. Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark: for we'll Hear nought from Rome in private. - Your request? VOLUMNIA. Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment And state of bodies would bewray what life We have led since thy exile. Think with thyself, How more unfortunate than all living women Are we come hither: since that thy sight, which should Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with comforts, Constrains them weep, and shake with fear and sorrow; Making the mother, wife, and child, to see The son, the husband, and the father, tearing His country's bowels out. And to poor we, Thine enmity's most capital: thou barr'st us Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort That all but we enjoy; for how can we, Alas, how can we for our country pray, Whereto we are bound, - together with thy victory, Whereto we are bound? alack, or we must lose The country, our dear nurse, or else thy person, Our comfort in the country. We must find An evident calamity, though we had Our wish, which side should win; for either thou Must, as a foreign recreant, be led With manacles through our streets, or else Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin, And bear the palm for having bravely shed Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, son, I purpose not to wait on fortune till These wars determine: if I can not persuade thee Rather to show a noble grace to both parts Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner March to assault thy country than to tread, - Trust to't, thou shalt not, - on thy mother's womb That brought thee to this world. VIRGILIA. Ay, and mine, That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name Living to time. BOY. 'A shall not tread on me; I'll run away till I am bigger; but then I'll fight. CORIOLANUS. Not of a woman's tenderness to be, Requires nor child nor woman's face to see. I have sat too long. [Rising.] VOLUMNIA. Nay, go not from us thus. If it were so that our request did tend To save the Romans, thereby to destroy The Volsces whom you serve, you might condemn us, As poisonous of your honour: no; our suit Is that you reconcile them: while the Volsces May say 'This mercy we have show'd,' the Romans 'This we receiv'd,' and each in either side Give the all-hail to thee, and cry, 'Be bless'd For making up this peace!' Thou know'st, great son, The end of war's uncertain; but this certain, That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit Which thou shalt thereby reap is such a name Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curses; Whose chronicle thus writ: - 'The man was noble, But with his last attempt he wip'd it out; Destroy'd his country, and his name remains To the ensuing age abhorr'd.' Speak to me, son: Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour, To imitate the graces of the gods, To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' the air, And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak? Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man Still to remember wrongs? - Daughter, speak you: He cares not for your weeping. - Speak thou, boy: Perhaps thy childishness will move him more Than can our reasons. - There's no man in the world More bound to's mother; yet here he lets me prate Like one i' the stocks. Thou hast never in thy life Show'd thy dear mother any courtesy; When she, - poor hen, - fond of no second brood, Has cluck'd thee to the wars, and safely home, Loaden with honour. Say my request's unjust, And spurn me back: but if it be not so, Thou art not honest; and the gods will plague thee, That thou restrain'st from me the duty which To a mother's part belongs. - He turns away: Down, ladies: let us shame him with our knees. To his surname Coriolanus 'longs more pride Than pity to our prayers. Down: an end; This is the last. - So we will home to Rome, And die among our neighbours. - Nay, behold's: This boy, that cannot tell what he would have But kneels and holds up hands for fellowship, Does reason our petition with more strength Than thou hast to deny't. - Come, let us go: This fellow had a Volscian to his mother; His wife is in Corioli, and his child Like him by chance. - Yet give us our despatch: I am hush'd until our city be afire, And then I'll speak a little. CORIOLANUS. [After holding VOLUMNIA by the hands, in silence.] O mother, mother! What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope, The gods look down, and this unnatural scene They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O! You have won a happy victory to Rome; But for your son, - believe it, O, believe it, Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd, If not most mortal to him. But let it come. - Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars, I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius, Were you in my stead, would you have heard A mother less? or granted less, Aufidius? AUFIDIUS. I was mov'd withal. CORIOLANUS. I dare be sworn you were: And, sir, it is no little thing to make Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good sir, What peace you'll make, advise me: for my part, I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you; and, pray you Stand to me in this cause. - O mother! wife! AUFIDIUS. [Aside.] I am glad thou hast set thy mercy and thy honour At difference in thee; out of that I'll work Myself a former fortune. [The Ladies make signs to CORIOLANUS.] CORIOLANUS. [To VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, &c.] Ay, by and by; But we'll drink together; and you shall bear A better witness back than words, which we, On like conditions, will have counter-seal'd. Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve To have a temple built you: all the swords In Italy, and her confederate arms, Could not have made this peace. [Exeunt.] SCENE IV. Rome. A public place. [Enter MENENIUS and SICINIUS.] MENENIUS. See you yond coign o' the Capitol, - yond corner-stone? SICINIUS. Why, what of that? MENENIUS. If it be possible for you to displace it with your little finger, there is some hope the ladies of Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him. But I say there is no hope in't: our throats are sentenced, and stay upon execution. SICINIUS. Is't possible that so short a time can alter the condition of a man? MENENIUS. There is differency between a grub and a butterfly; yet your butterfly was a grub. This Marcius is grown from man to dragon; he has wings; he's more than a creeping thing. SICINIUS. He loved his mother dearly. MENENIUS. So did he me: and he no more remembers his mother now than an eight-year-old horse. The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes: when he walks, he moves like an engine, and the ground shrinks before his treading: he is able to pierce a corslet with his eye, talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery. He sits in his state as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids be done is finished with his bidding. He wants nothing of a god but eternity, and a heaven to throne in. SICINIUS. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly. MENENIUS. I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy his mother shall bring from him. There is no more mercy in him than there is milk in a male tiger; that shall our poor city find: and all this is 'long of you. SICINIUS. The gods be good unto us! MENENIUS. No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto us. When we banished him we respected not them; and, he returning to break our necks, they respect not us. [Enter a MESSENGER MESSENGER. Sir, if you'd save your life, fly to your house: The plebeians have got your fellow-tribune And hale him up and down; all swearing, if The Roman ladies bring not comfort home They'll give him death by inches. [Enter a second MESSENGER.] SICINIUS. What's the news? SECOND MESSENGER. Good news, good news; - the ladies have prevail'd, The Volscians are dislodg'd, and Marcius gone: A merrier day did never yet greet Rome, No, not the expulsion of the Tarquins. SICINIUS. Friend, Art thou certain this is true? is't most certain? SECOND MESSENGER. As certain as I know the sun is fire: Where have you lurk'd, that you make doubt of it? Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown tide As the recomforted through the gates. Why, hark you! [Trumpets and hautboys sounded, drums beaten, aand shouting within.] The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes, Tabors and cymbals, and the shouting Romans, Make the sun dance. Hark you! [Shouting within.] MENENIUS. This is good news. I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians, A city full: of tribunes such as you, A sea and land full. You have pray'd well to-day: This morning for ten thousand of your throats Ied not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy! [Shouting and music.] SICINIUS. First, the gods bless you for your tidings; next, Accept my thankfulness. SECOND MESSENGER. Sir, we have all Great cause to give great thanks. SICINIUS. They are near the city? MESSENGER. Almost at point to enter. SICINIUS. We'll meet them, And help the joy. [Exeunt.] SCENE V. Rome. A street near the gate. [Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, VALERIA, &c., accompanied by Senators, Patricians, and Citizens.] FIRST SENATOR. Behold our patroness, the life of Rome! Call all your tribes together, praise the gods, And make triumphant fires; strew flowers before them: Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius, Repeal him with the welcome of his mother; Cry, 'Welcome, ladies, welcome!' - ALL. Welcome, ladies, Welcome! [Exeunt.] SCENE VI. Antium. A public place. [Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, with attendants.] AUFIDIUS. Go tell the lords o' the city I am here: Deliver them this paper; having read it, Bid them repair to the market-place: where I, Even in theirs and in the commons' ears, Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse The city ports by this hath enter'd and Intends t' appear before the people, hoping To purge himself with words: despatch. [Exeunt attendants.] [Enter three or four CONSPIRATORS of AUFIDIUS' faction.] Most welcome! FIRST CONSPIRATOR. How is it with our general? AUFIDIUS. Even so As with a man by his own alms empoison'd, And with his charity slain. SECOND CONSPIRATOR. Most noble sir, If you do hold the same intent wherein You wish'd us parties, we'll deliver you Of your great danger. AUFIDIUS. Sir, I cannot tell: We must proceed as we do find the people. THIRD CONSPIRATOR. The people will remain uncertain whilst 'Twixt you there's difference: but the fall of either Makes the survivor heir of all. AUFIDIUS. I know it; And my pretext to strike at him admits A good construction. I rais'd him, and I pawn'd Mine honour for his truth: who being so heighten'd, He water'd his new plants with dews of flattery, Seducing so my friends; and to this end He bow'd his nature, never known before But to be rough, unswayable, and free. THIRD CONSPIRATOR. Sir, his stoutness When he did stand for consul, which he lost By lack of stooping, - AUFIDIUS. That I would have spoken of: Being banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth; Presented to my knife his throat: I took him; Made him joint-servant with me; gave him way In all his own desires; nay, let him choose Out of my files, his projects to accomplish, My best and freshest men; serv'd his designments In mine own person; holp to reap the fame Which he made all his; and took some pride To do myself this wrong: till, at the last, I seem'd his follower, not partner; and He wag'd me with his countenance as if I had been mercenary. FIRST CONSPIRATOR. So he did, my lord: The army marvell'd at it; and, in the last, When he had carried Rome, and that we look'd For no less spoil than glory, - AUFIDIUS. There was it; - For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him. At a few drops of women's rheum, which are As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour Of our great action: therefore shall he die, And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark! [Drums and trumpets sound, with great shouts of the people.] FIRST CONSPIRATOR. Your native town you enter'd like a post, And had no welcomes home; but he returns Splitting the air with noise. SECOND CONSPIRATOR. And patient fools, Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear With giving him glory. THIRD CONSPIRATOR. Therefore, at your vantage, Ere he express himself or move the people With what he would say, let him feel your sword, Which we will second. When he lies along, After your way his tale pronounc'd shall bury His reasons with his body. AUFIDIUS. Say no more: Here come the lords. [Enter the LORDS of the city.] LORDS. You are most welcome home. AUFIDIUS. I have not deserv'd it. But, worthy lords, have you with heed perus'd What I have written to you? LORDS. We have. FIRST LORD. And grieve to hear't. What faults he made before the last, I think Might have found easy fines: but there to end Where he was to begin, and give away The benefit of our levies, answering us With our own charge: making a treaty where There was a yielding. - This admits no excuse. AUFIDIUS. He approaches: you shall hear him. [Enter CORIOLANUS, with drum and colours; a crowd of Citizens with him.] CORIOLANUS. Hail, lords! I am return'd your soldier; No more infected with my country's love Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting Under your great command. You are to know That prosperously I have attempted, and With bloody passage led your wars even to The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought home Do more than counterpoise a full third part The charges of the action. We have made peace With no less honour to the Antiates Than shame to the Romans: and we here deliver, Subscribed by the consuls and patricians, Together with the seal o' the senate, what We have compounded on. AUFIDIUS. Read it not, noble lords; But tell the traitor, in the highest degree He hath abus'd your powers. CORIOLANUS. Traitor! - How now? AUFIDIUS. Ay, traitor, Marcius. CORIOLANUS. Marcius! AUFIDIUS. Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius! Dost thou think I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name Coriolanus, in Corioli? - You lords and heads o' the state, perfidiously He has betray'd your business, and given up, For certain drops of salt, your city Rome, - I say your city, - to his wife and mother; Breaking his oath and resolution, like A twist of rotten silk; never admitting Counsel o' the war; but at his nurse's tears He whin'd and roar'd away your victory; That pages blush'd at him, and men of heart Look'd wondering each at others. CORIOLANUS. Hear'st thou, Mars? AUFIDIUS. Name not the god, thou boy of tears, - CORIOLANUS. Ha! AUFIDIUS. No more. CORIOLANUS. Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart Too great for what contains it. Boy! O slave! - Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever I was forc'd to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords, Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion, - Who wears my stripes impress'd upon him; that must bear My beating to his grave, - shall join to thrust The lie unto him. FIRST LORD. Peace, both, and hear me speak. CORIOLANUS. Cut me to pieces, Volsces; men and lads, Stain all your edges on me. - Boy! False hound! If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there, That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli: Alone I did it. - Boy! AUFIDIUS. Why, noble lords, Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, 'Fore your own eyes and ears? CONSPIRATORS. Let him die for't. CITIZENS. Tear him to pieces, do it presently: - he killed my son; my daughter; he killed my cousin Marcus; he killed my father, - SECOND LORD. Peace, ho! - no outrage; - peace! The man is noble, and his fame folds in This orb o' the earth. His last offences to us Shall have judicious hearing. - Stand, Aufidius, And trouble not the peace. CORIOLANUS. O that I had him, With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe, To use my lawful sword! AUFIDIUS. Insolent villain! CONSPIRATORS. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him! [AUFIDIUS and the CONSPIRATORS draw, and kill CORIOLANUS,who falls. AUFIDIUS stands on him.] LORDS. Hold, hold, hold, hold! AUFIDIUS. My noble masters, hear me speak. FIRST LORD. O Tullus, - SECOND LORD. Thou hast done a deed whereat valour will weep. THIRD LORD. Tread not upon him. - Masters all, be quiet; Put up your swords. AUFIDIUS. My lords, when you shall know, - as in this rage, Provok'd by him, you cannot, - the great danger Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours To call me to your senate, I'll deliver Myself your loyal servant, or endure Your heaviest censure. FIRST LORD. Bear from hence his body, And mourn you for him. Let him be regarded As the most noble corse that ever herald Did follow to his um. SECOND LORD. His own impatience Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame. Let's make the best of it. AUFIDIUS. My rage is gone; And I am struck with sorrow. - Take him up: - Help, three o' the chiefest soldiers; I'll be one. - Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully; Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one, Which to this hour bewail the injury, Yet he shall have a noble memory. - Assist. [The End, bearing the body of CORIOLANUS. A dead march sounded.] Publication Date: May 29th 2008 https://www.bookrix.com/-bx.shakespeare

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Danielle Nimmo Diary Of A Broken Girl. Publication Date: August 18th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-danninimz

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DeaVah Marie Barnett THE GIRL WHO CRIED MIDDLE SCHOOL This book is dedicated to my great grandma in Jamaica. Keep on living and going strong grandma! Publication Date: November 21st 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-deavah

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-mehmood-hassan-riddle-of-life/

Mehmood Hassan Riddle of life Riddle of life Riddle of life 12 March, 1952. "Dad! look at that wave..! Wow! It is even bigger." It was the 4th birthday of his son so they decided to celebrate it at the beach. It was a lovely day for such an event and the place wasn't too crowded. A light blue painted sky with some clouds floating on it, a cold, whispering but comfortable wind, fresh scented air making you feel alive each time you breath, warm sand healing you inside. What else could be better than that? Excited and vivacious face of his son, wearing a smile worth more than anything, was something he never wanted to end. Watching him collecting seashells with other children, chasing the birds, feeling warm sand on his cute lil feet ,were the noteworthy moments of his life. He was living a dream. A quite prepossessing wife, a 4 years old son, a perfect job. He got all one can wish for. They never thought of expanding, because he wanted to give all his love, attention and luxuries to his only son, Reginald. A cute child,with rounded protruding cheeks, hazel green eyes, blonde hair. A precious gift from heavens. All those memories were so vivid, entering his mind unbiddden. It was just another day for 67 years old, Mr brown, to sit besides the window, staring outside with blank eyes on wrinkled expressionless face, until a tear drop rolled down his cheeks. There comes a point in a person's life when he realize that he can choose his destination but he can't make his fate bend towards it. Sometimes you have to go with a flow. You just can't resist or it will break you within. 11th June, 1968. "Wake up dad! We have to go. They will announce the winner today." said Reginald excitedly "And I already know who the winner is!" Added Mr Brown, with a smile. Another pleasent day it was, sunlight passing through Roman blinds brightened the whole room. The whole house was filled with a delicious smell of Apple cannoman oatmeal. They got ready right after the breakfast. As they were passing through the hall way to the front door, the phone rang. Mr brown picked it up, "Hello Son.. How are you?" it was quite a long time since he heard his voice, his dad was on the other side. "Hi dad! I'm good.. you?" "Hurry up! we are late already..!" Mrs brown said agitatedly as she was waiting outside with Reginald. "Dad I need to go I will call you back later!" said Mr brown, "Son, there is something I need to.." Brown hung up before he could say any further. There wasn't a single seat empty. It was quite a big hall or better be called an arena. Everyone was so enthusiastic about the final winner, especially Mr and Mrs Brown. They couldn't wait to see Reginald on a stage with a winning prize, they were confident about their son. And then it happened, they announced the winner, with a big round of applause, for the best architectural design, it was Reginald. Reginald hugged his dad as soon as he got off the stage. Another best day of Mr Brown's life. An eco of a similar voice brought him back from the valley of his memories. In an instant, lively enviorement of his mind got replaced by air filled with dreadful smell of bleach. A nurse aproched, with some overmedicating pills. He glanced at her, as if he was blaming her for his fate or questioning her his miserable existence , without a blink. It was 12:30 pm, a hot day, sunlight was steaming the room. He got told that someone is here to meet him. His heart skipped a beat. 5ft 8' tall, with pale brown eyes and auburn hair, an immaculately dressed gentleman. But an unfamiliar face for Mr Brown. Walked into the room. "Hello, Mr Brown" He said, wearing a fake smile. "Do I know you? asked Mr Brown. "No, you don't, my name is Kenneth. I have got something for you." His hands reached inner pockets of odd vest. It was an invitation card. "Mr Reginald tried to call you but couldn't reach you so he told me to give it to you." Handing it over to Mr Brown, he said. The honor of your presence is requested at the marriage of Reginald Brown and Linda Hampton Saturday, the seventh of April Nighteen eighty one at half past four in the afternoon Hotel Arena Inn Bouci馻 45 Bilbao, Spain And there was a ticket to Bilbao. 11th September, 1973. "But its a dream job dad, first step to my success!" exclaimed Reginald. "it is at the back of beyond! You can get an ideal job here too, can be with us, with me, with your mom." "Dad I promise I'll call you each and everyday and I'll take you and mom with me as soon as I get a chance." said Reginald, trying to convince. "Okay son.. I'm happy for you." Days, weeks and then months, sometimes promises are hard to keep or people just change their piorities. It's been month since he heard Reginald's voice. The grizzled Mr brown, looked for his glasses. Dialed a number, someone picked up "Hello, Jimena from GGMPU Architects" "I need to talk to Reginald." said Mr Brown "Mr Reginald is not in his office right now, you want to leave a message?" "I'm his dad, When will he be back in the office?" inquired Mr brown. "He keeps his own schedule, but I抣l be sure to have him return your call as soon as possible" Mr brown hung up without saying another word. He looked down with a blank mind. Then glanced at his wife, who was taking her last breaths. "Mr Brown?? Are you alright?" said Kenneth. "I want you to leave right now!!" said Mr Brown bursting with anger. The reaction was quite outrageous but still he managed to gather himself. Kenneth left. He felt blood rush through his spine and then there was darkness all around. 2 years later.. 3rd December 1983. Happiest day for Reginald. The day when Reginald got blessed with a healthy son. A precious gift from heavens.   Publication Date: June 15th 2019 https://www.bookrix.com/-if06932495f5995

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linzey jupiter the girl in tears behind the smiling face behind this girl is a girl thats crying. though no one can see it she is dying. the fear fills her head. she thinks no one is on her side. her against the world. but when she leaves her comfort zone she knows she is loved. but she is draged back by her fear that tells her she is all alone. thats the only time she ever left though she has tried many times. the ones she loves are years apart. she is the one who is behind. the one that wanders alone. the girl that smiles so the fear wont know. the fears can be from the ones she loves, the ones she hates, or the ones inbetweeen. life her worst enemy can only cover the love that her friends and family gives her. but it is strong enough to keep her out of the real world.Her friends don't know. But her hearts silently breaking.She laughs so much,they don't know that shes faking.Although he doesn't see,he probably wouldn't care. She's crying for hours on end.Because her lifes just not fair. Publication Date: July 1st 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-linzeyjoyful1

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-by-frankie-aka-shotdeadfrankie-bloods-girl/

By Frankie aka ShotDeadFrankie Bloods Girl.. Bloods Girl... chapter 1-the bloods girl I walk down the halls of my school. The school for people who have talents, all different talents. People who can sing, dance, theater, and art. I’v been going to this school of about a month now and let me tell you its pretty amazing. We still have some normal classes like math, ELA, History, and Living Environment, but we all so have some other classes. Like there is Drama, Voce, music, Painting/drawing, dance of all types, and a lot more. I’m taking Drama and Painting/Drawing. So you guys know. My name is Storm..and yes I’m a guy. I have brown hair that comes down to my eye brows, bright blue eyes, and an okay body for a 16 year old boy. I’m in to really wired things like zombies and people who have that crazy look but yet are really normal people. When people first see me the think I’m in to the music because of my look. With the tattoos on my feet and the gages in my ears,. I love music but the only thing I can do with it is play an instrument and I’m not very good at that. So I attended Painting/Drawing because ever science I was a little boy I could draw/color really well and it makes me happy. I singed up for Drama because I thought it would be a cool thing and I came to find out that I was okay at it and its pretty fun too. So here I am now. Walking down the empty hall ways of my school. There’s no one in the hall ways because it’s after school and what kid in there right mind would stay here.. Me, I would. Well I mean am. I stayed after because I wanted to get my art drawing done. I was walking down the music hall to get to my locker, when I heard a girl sing the song Daydreamer by Adele. Her voce had sole to it but yet had that punk pop feel to it. I look for the room where she was in and it just happen’d to be by my locker. I look in and see a black haired blue eye girl playing guitar and singing her heart out. I listen’d closer this time. Closer to the song and the words of it. “Daydreamer, sitting on the seat Soaking up the sun he is a real lover, Making up the past And feeling up his girl like he’s never felt her figure before A jaw dropper Looks good when he when he walks, He is the subject of their talk He would be hard to chase, But good to catch And he could change the world with his hands behind his back, Oh You can find him sitting on your doorstep Waiting for the surprise It will feel like he's been there for hours And you can tell that he'll be there for life Daydreamer, with eyes that make you melt He lends his coat for shelter because he's there for you When he shouldn't be But he stays all the same, waits for you, then sees you through There's no way I could describe him All I say is, just what I'm hoping for But I will find him sitting on my doorstep Waiting for the surprise It will feel like he's been there for hours And I can tell that he'll be there for life You can tell he'll be there for life” THe more I listen’d the more I could I got the song. When she singing I can tell that she’s calm, that she’s in a place that she doesn’t get to go to often. She’s doing some thing that she loves. You tell by how much power she puts in her voce.. She stop play the guitar and put it back on the rack. She turned around and saw me. Her blue eyes got big like she was scared. Then they had some thing else in them but I didn’t know what because they where soon taking over by anger. She came out of the room and lets say she’s amazingly pretty. Her black hair had red underneath it her lips where pink and plump with spider bits, her nose perfectly strait with a hop in it, and most of all her eyes. They where a deep dark blue that look’t like the ocean deep, they where coved in black eye liner and her bangs where just touching her long thick eye lashes. She was the most beautiful person I have seen. “What do you think you are doing?” She yelled at me. Her voce..omfg it was amazing!! I just look’t at her not knowing what to say. she rolled her eyes at me and pined me against the wall. Dam for a 5’6 skinnyish girl she’s got some strength on her. “Look here buddy boy, You tell any one the you saw me here or even freaking heared me sing. I will come and find you and I will kill you with my bare hands.” She said. Her eyes where saying she would if she wanted to. I shuck my head “okay I wont tell I swear.” “Good” She let go of me and started to walk away and I saw a black and red bandana hanging on her back pocket. Thats when it hit me. All the red and black her strength. She’s part of the Bloods...One of the worst Gangs out there... Chapter two-My Name is Rain.....[girls point of view] I was running. Thats what I was doing, running from the boy who saw me sining. I can’t believe I was dumb enough to go to that school a hour after it let out. I should have known someone was going to be there. I really hope the gang doesn’t hear about this they would give me hell for it. You see I’m part of a gang called the bloods don’t ask me how I got in because thats a really long story. But I will tell you why I’m in it. I’m in it because my family needs the money, the protecting, and so my little brothers don't get in it. All most every one in the part of town I live in is in the gang but I’m the only girl. I was the only one who had enough guts to do all of the stuff we do. So If I didn’t go in one of my little brothers might have to when they get older, they still have a change to when there older but they know better not to. I stop running because I’m a block away from my house. That school is about 2 or 3 miles away from my naberhood not that far but its a pretty good distends to walk or run. I see my house. Oh thank God! I walk in and see my papa cooking so meat for burritos. “Hey papa, How you doing?” I say with my spanish accent kicking in. Yes I’m spanish and yes I’m mexican. But only half. My papa is full mexican and my mama was white. My papa was a blood when he was around my age but when he meet mama at age 17 he wanted out of it nothing do with it. S they beat him in till he blank out. He is one out of 4 people who did it and he’s the only one who’s still alive. The sad thing is my papa did it for mama but she left after she had my twin brothers. “I’m doing just alright.” Papa said quietly. He was string the meat slowly and all most out in lala land. I know what he’s going to ask next. “You have to go to the hang out don’t you?” Papa hated that I was in the bloods but he knew why I was doing it so he hates it even more. Papa couldn’t get a job after he got out of the bloods because of his tattoos and because of his history. My papa is a good man its just that he did things to help out his family but when he did some thing that no one could forget. I don’t really like being in the gang but it’s just some thing I got to do and I don’t like to go to the hang out and miss family time. I don’t have a chose thou I have to go to the hang out or the gang will start thinking I’m not one of them. “Papa, I have to go plz try not to worry about it.” I said. “Rain, how can I not worry your my little and only girl! The Blood can mess you all up more then it all ready has.” He started to rays his voce. I steer at him my anger coming up. “So you think I’m all ready mess’t up?! You think they changed me?! No papa, they haven’t changed me and they never will. I am me. Your the one who they changed! Your the one who did what they tolled you to do every time they ask’t and your the one who killed the man and ruined that family! Not me, I am not you!” I was steared him in the eyes when I said all of it and I didn’t feel guilty. Papa just steared at me. His eyes showed no emoting, nothing at all. I walk’t out then. I just walk’t out of the house. I can’t stand it when he thinks the Blood is going to mess up my life. I know it kind of is but I’m still me, I’m still the same Rain. He knows I won’t do what he did in the Bloods. The most I have ever done is sold drugs. I’m not going to become a killer like him. It’s about 90 degrease out. It’s the type of day to go swimming and thats what I’m going to do in till I the meeting for the Bloods. The meeting was around 9pm tonight and its 4 now so I have around 4 and 1/2 hours to go swimming. I just need my swimsuit and that is in my room, in the house my father is in. I walk’t around the house and got to the side my window is on and because my house is only 1 story its right near the ground it was easy to sneak in to and out of. I all ways had the window unlock’t so that if I got a call in the middle of the night from one of my blood brothers I could get out with out any one knowing. Once I got in my room with out a sound I when’t to my beach bag. I all ways have it ready just in case i needed to exsacepe. Just to run away from this world that I’m in right know. If I just wanted to disaper with out anyone knowing and that might come sooner then I might want it too. Text: All of the wrighting comes from me. Images: google <3 All rights reserved. Publication Date: April 5th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-shotdeadfrankie

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aniyah LIGHTS CAMRA ACTION dream big chapter one ME The big day Well here at school with my friendz.By the way i go to grayschool highand i hate it here the teacher are mean and there anr mostly mean student that go here.Well here at school there is a talent show and i want to be in it i want to dance and no more being the shy werid girl anymore.so i tell my friends that i am doing the taleant show then the word gets out and then guess what.My worst ennmoy joined the talent show and she is going to be dancing to. she is trying to compet aginst me i said oK may the best one win and the crowed gets to pick who wins. so get the word out.OMG now i am realy nurvous john says its going to be ok. Also dose serria. So what song should i dance off of and when am i going to prictice and what if i frezze on stage what if idont rember the step. i have all these qestions. so maybe i should get started on the dance to day i only have 2 weeks. so i should get started NOW. The first week Well this is the first week and i have some of the dance moves but not all of them i need better moves somthing hat can WOW thc crowd out so they all can cheer for me. So serria what should i do . Well yhu can do flips you everyone loves to see flips.Yea that is a great idea. so let me think what kinds of flips do i know how to do. I knwo how to do aack flip ok you can add that as your BIG FANLEY. yh thats A asome idea that serria for the great advice. No Prob girl i am aways ther for you when you need me. THANKZ GURL! THE BIG DAY Today is the talent show and i am realy nurvouse. I have been taping the beat inside my head for 3hours now. Well now it is the end of the day and i have to get ready for the talent show.Well it is time i am finna go on stage and dance 12123.I WENT out ther and kilt it i was awsome.Then juliya went on stage to dance she was realllyy gud. but i thought to my self i can do this thing. so it was time to annouce the winner i was really nouvouse and comfdent. if i WIN i will get 1000$ check and i contrct to dance. the the HOST said AND THE WINNWER IS.I STOPED AND FROZE. I said it dose not matter if i lose or winn at least i had fun doing it. AND THE WINNER IS....... TO BE CONTINUED Text: Date published april 28 2012 Editing: aniyah All rights reserved. Publication Date: April 29th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-aniyah6

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Sade Squires Angle A story about a girls who lost her mom and dad in a crash and have no one to turn to just when you thought everything was gone she found a family that loved and cared for her when no one would. One day she was walking in the woods trying to find somewhere to read and she finds werid color water she thought is was a good idea to swim in it not think what would happem if she did. She got out the water and her back started to hurt so she went and took a nap.The Next morning her mom woke her up scream when she looked in the mirror she saw wings.Her mom and dad call the cops and took Aice aways.Just when she thought her mom and dad loved her they gave her up in a heart beat, she cried all the way but also thinking how this happen not thinking that she took a sw Publication Date: June 26th 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-brooklyn.barbie

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-fj1e9c663776395_1496742743.5622990131/

امید اسماعیلی پنجره رو به گناه پنجره رو به گناه برگرفته از احساسات غریبانه و آرزوهای دست نیافتنی نسلی است که چوب نسل گذشته خود را خورد. نسلی که همه به آنها به دید نسل سوخته نگریستند، نسلی که نه اجازه شکوفایی یافت و نه فرصتی برای ارائه توانایی های خویش. نسلی که دید و آه کشید، خواست و نگذاشتند، آرزو کرد و آرزویش بر باد رفت. نسلی که دلخوشی اش حرف زدن با خود است! من در گذشته، من از گذشته تخیلی است برگرفته از واقعیت هایی دردناک از روزگار ما و روزگار گذشتگان ما، تخیلی که در قالب خود فریاد حقیقتی است تلخ! بازی خیال شاید تراوش ذهن متشنج من است، ذهنی که حتی ثانیه ای آرامش ندارد. وقتی خواب است خوابش آشفته و وقتی بیدار است چشمانش خفته! امید اسماعیلی ketab - sherkat ketab - ketab.com - ketab corp - entesharat mehrandish - شرکت کتاب خوانندگان گرامی چنانچه در دریافت و خواندن کتاب، مجلات و یلوپیج شرکت کتاب با مشکلی برخورد کردید خوشحال می شویم که ما را آگاه سازید ئسخه دیجیتالی این کتاب با مجوز ناشر اصلی و یا نویسنده و یا هر دو و یا بازماندگان تهیه و در دسترس قرار گرفته است. با تشکر مدیریت شرکت کتاب Ketab.com Email: 1 هر چقدر واسه بیکاری و تنهایی خودم نقشه میکشیدم به هیچ جایی نمی رسیدم، البته نه اینکه به هیچ جایی نرسیده باشم، رسیدم؛ ولی به چیزهایی که دردی از من دوا نمیکرد. الآن نه شغلی دارم و نه زن و بچه و زندگی معمولی شبیه بقیه آدم ها. روز و شبم در اتاق طبقه سوم خونه پدری میگذره، یه اتاق هفت هشت متری که یک پنجره رو به کوچه داره و پر شده از دلتنگیهای من. یک کتابخونه، یک میز، یک تخت، چند قاب عکس و پوستر از شخصیتهایی که روزی دوست داشتم مثل اونها بشم. آلفرد هیچکاک، بروس لی، صادق هدایت، چارلی چاپلین و یک عکس تکی از استن لورل. از چند سال پیش هم برای اینکه تنهایی خودم را پر کنم افتادم دنبال کتابهای قدیمی صادق هدایت، جلال آل احمد، گوهرمراد و نویسنده های دیگه. کتابهاشون را میخریدم و مطالعه میکردم و الآن توی اتاقم یک کوه از این کتابها دارم. کتابهایی که از هر کدوم چیزهایی یاد گرفتم. چیزی که از همه این داستانها و نوشته ها عایدم شد شخصیتی بود که خودم هستم، در همشون خودم را دیدم، گاهی خودم را جای شخصیت بوف کور میذاشتم و گاهی جای معلم نفرین زمین جلال و بیشتر اوقات محرم چوب بدستهای ورزیل گوهرمراد میشدم. همه این شخصیتها خود من بودم و هستم چون همشون را تجربه کردم. ولی منادی الحق داستان حاجی آقا صادق هدایت همیشه در من وجود داشته حتی همین الآن، همیشه خواستم که مستقل فکر کنم، برعلیه سنت های قدیمی و پوچ فریاد زدم، از پیرهای کم عقل و شهوت ران و پول پرست متنفر بودم، از نسلی که باعث شد نسل ما صفتی را دنبال خودش بکشه که شایسته اون نیست بیزارم، ما کنون گشتیم نسلی سوخته ....... بقیه شعر را یادم نیست! همیشه پاسوز دیگران شدیم، برای ما تصمیم گرفتند چیزی نتونستیم بگیم، شغل و عشق و همه چیزمونو ربودند جرأت نکردیم اعتراض کنیم. امروز پیرمردها و مردهای مسن چند شغله و دوباره کار کن تعدادشون از جوانهای شغل دار بیشتره، خرفت های چند زنه تعدادشون از جوانهای متأهل فراتر رفته و فقر و فحشا بیشتر گریبان جوانها را گرفته و داره از پا درشون میاره. مگه گناه ما چی بود که این سرنوشتمون شد، اعتیاد، تن فروشی، بیکاری، مرگ در جوانی، خیانت، آرزوهای بر دل مونده، مدرک های در کوزه، دیدن و خواستن و نتوانستن و خیلی چیزهای دیگه. به هر کسی میگم بیکارم میگه شما جوونا فقط میخوایید پشت میز بشینید، اگه توقعاتتون را کم کنید میتونید کار پیدا کنید. منم بهش میگم پس برای چی 17-18 سال درس خوندم، که برم عملگی! خب اصلا نمیرفتم درس بخونم و از همون اول میرفتم دنبال کار، الآن هم زن و زندگی و شغل داشتم، هم شأن اجتماعی بالا. چون تو جامعه ما هر چقدر بیسوادتر و احمق تر و حیوان تر زندگی بهتر! این را با همه وجودم درک کردم که باید حیوان باشی تا بتونی پیشرفت کنی. باید نطفه حروم باشی تا بتونی به جایی برسی. باید مال دزدی خورده باشی تا بتونی مراتب ترقی را طی کنی. این پیرهای خرفت فقط بلدند حرف مفت بزنند، یکی نیست بهشون بگه پس چرا شماها پشت میز نشین بودید! شماها هم میرفتید عملگی! هر چقدر فکر میکنم نمیتونم نقطه قوتی در ذهن این پیرهای نفهم پیدا کنم. از اول دنبال شکم بودند و زیر شکم! حالا دیگه از زنهاشون سیر شدند افتادند دنبال دخترهای مردم، صیغه می کنند، تن فروش اجاره می کنند، زن جوان میگیرند، بعدشم میگند داریم و میکنیم! از همه بدتر بازنشسته که میشند دوباره میرند سر کار و جای یک جوان بدبخت را میگیرند. دلیل هم دارند برای کارشون! میگند ما تجربه داریم، باید باشیم تا جوانها را درس بدیم! یکی نیست بگه اون روزی که جوان بودید و رفتید سر کار آیا تجربه داشتید؟ آیا پیری بود که بخواد به شما درس بده؟ کار کردید تا تجربه بدست آوردید، جوانهای حالا هم کار میکنند تا تجربه بدست بیارند. دلیل های بی معنی و حال آدم بهم زنی میارند. متنفرم از نسلی که باعث شد نسل ما صفتی را دنبال خودش بکشه که شایسته اون نیست. بگذریم! خونه روبرویی ما، طبقه سومش خالیه. یک پیرمرد کرایه کرده به ماهی یک میلیون و دویست هزار تومان. این اطلاعات را پسر صاحب خونه که از بچگی با هم دوست بودیم به من داده. این پیرمرد هر ماه چهار پنج بار میاد به این خونه. منم دیدمش، چهره سگ را بیشتر از چهره این خرفت میشه تحمل کرد! دارندگی و برازندگی! اومده خونه کرایه کرده برای زیرشکم! چهار پنج باری که در ماه میاد زنگ میزنه واسش دخترهای بزک کرده میفرستند. اگه حساب کنی هر ماه چهار پنج ساعت توی این خونست، برای چهار پنج ساعت ماهی یک میلیون و دویست هزار تومان. حالا شما منصف باشید و خرجهای دیگشو حساب نکنید، خرج دخترهای بزک کرده، خرج خوراکیهای مقوی و چیزهای دیگه. . یادم نمیره میخواستم مغازه بزنم، کرایش ماهیانه چهارصد و پنجاه هزار تومان، ولی نداشتم! میخواستم کار کنم ولی مگه با جیب خالی میشه. کاری که مرتبط به رشته ای که خوندم بود، ولی مگه با دست خالی میشه! پول من کجاست؟ پنجره اتاق من شده مثل پرده سینما! یک فیلم غیراخلاقی که ناخواسته واسه من پخش میشه! بعضی وقتها به این دخترهایی که خودشونو به پول این پیرمرد میفروشند فکر میکنم. ازشون معلومه دهه شصتی اند. دهه سوخته، دهه فقر و نکبت و نسل سوخته. آیا این دخترها به کودکیشون هم فکر میکنند، به روزهایی که پاک بودند و کنار پدر و مادرشون از لذت های بچگی لبریز. آیا این ها هم مثل بقیه ما با نوستالژیهاشون زندگی میکنند، بعید میدونم دیگه چیزی ازشون باقی مونده باشه که بخواند به این چیزها فکر کنند! چند هفته پیش یکیشون را دیدم، داشتم از در خونه خارج میشدم که اومد و رفت زنگ خونه روبرویی را زد. صدای نخراشیده ای که هنوز توی گوشمه و حالم ازش بهم میخوره پرسید کیه؟ اون هم جواب داد منم! در باز شد و رفت داخل. دیگه راه برگشتی نداره! باید خودشو بذاره در اختیار یه کثافت، باید تحمل کنه تا کارش تموم بشه، باید این خفت را به جون بخره تا در ازای اون پول بگیره! پولی که همش مال خودش نیست، یه سهمی را هم خاله یا عمه یا همون دلال ناموس میبره! چند روز پیش هم یک نفر دیگه اومد، عنق بود دلش میخواست زود تموم بشه و بره دنبال کارش. پنجره آشپزخونه خانه روبرویی باز بود، نیمه برهنه اومد داخل آشپزخونه و در یخچال را باز کرد و بست. پیرمرد اومد و بهش گفت پیدا کردی؟ دختره گفت حالا نمیشه کوفتت نکنی! بیا زود کارتو بکن باید برم. پیرمرد خنده کثیفی کرد خنده ای که همه حرفهاش داخلش بود. خنده ای که میگفت خفه شو! تو اومدی اینجا که من ازت لذت ببرم! تو الآن برده منی! تو نوکر پول منی! دختره از خونه رفت بیرون و دوباره با دوتا بطری برگشت. از اینجا به بعدش هم معلومه، تحمل برای پول! امروز هم پیرمرده اومده و منتظره تا عروسکش برسه! منم منتظرم تا دختره برسه و ببینم این بار سفارش اون خرفت چیه. چند سالشه، آیا دهه شصتیه یا مزاجش رفته روی دهه هفتاد! آیا عنقه یا بیخیال، آیا خوشگله یا مثل مردازما. صدای ماشین میاد، یدونه تاکسیه، روی سقفش علامت C.B TAXI داره، اوه! این بار دو تا! دوتا عروسک! بهتون گفتم شاید مزاجش عوض شده! یکیشون که بهش میخوره همون دهه شصتی باشه ولی اون یکی خیلی کوچیکه فکر نکنم بیست سالشم بشه! خیلی بچه اس! چقدر خوشگله! یه مانتوی جلوباز صورتی پوشیده با یک شلوار جین چسبون، یدونه کیف قهواه ای کوچک هم دستشه. شالش کلا افتاده و موهای قهوه ای روشنش معلومه. زیاد بزک نکرده، فکر کنم خودش هم میدونه که این چهره نیازی به بزک نداره! واقعا حیف تو نیست، فکر کنم اون خرفتو ندیده! اگه ببینه یعنی حاضره خودشو در اختیارش بذاره، برگرد دیوونه خواهش میکنم برگرد حیف تو نیست. حیف این بدن نیست که دست اون کثافت نوازشش کنه، حیف این لب های گوشتی نیست که اون لجن .... وای خدا زنگ را زدند. نه نمیخوام صدای اون عوضیو بشنوم، گوشمو میگیرم و سرمو میبرم پایین پنجره و نگاهمو از کوچه میدزدم. حالا که دارم داخل کوچه را نگاه میکنم فقط همون تاکسی را میبینم که منتظره تا مسافرهاش برگردند، فکر کنم دوریالی راننده هم افتاده که این دوتا برای چی اومدند. شاید هم خنگ تر از این حرفها باشه و مثل خیلی های دیگه چشمهاشو کور کرده باشه! پنجره آشپزخونه بسته است و پرده ها هم کشیده. الآن یک ساعت و چهل دقیقه ای میشه که رفتند داخل، فکر کنم خرفت دلش نمیاد از اون دختر دل بکنه، ول کن ماجرا نیست. منم بودم .... نه نه نمیخوام جای اون حیوان باشم. اومدند! چهرشون با قبل هیچ فرقی نمیکنه همون حالت قبل را دارند. سوار تاکسی شدند. از کنار پنجره میام روی تخت میشینم. یکی از دوستهام میگفت اونها خودشون دوست دارند تو چرا حرص میخوری! منم بهش گفتم اگه تو هم دختر بودی دوست داشتی؟ گفت نه. گفتم کسی دوست نداره بازیچه یک حیوان باشه. Publication Date: June 6th 2017 https://www.bookrix.com/-fj1e9c663776395

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-hanne-lemmens-sita-1/

Hanne Lemmens Sita Kids are running around in India, pivoting and dwelling in the crowd and the heat of dusty roads. Eyes are thrown aback in this chaos, anything that moves, lives and begs for rupees. Bare little feet, children holding babies with bobbing heads and plastic bracelets. Red dots and saris, head scarfs and Qu'rans in their hands. Muslims will eat cows, Hindus eat pigs. Christians will eat anything and Jainists don't eat anything with eyes. Reasons suffice to wipe out each others villages. Every week, whole families are decimated because of half truths, quoted from holy books. Muslim men on a bus, reluctantly heading nowhere. Babies thrown into fires. Nuns getting assaulted. Like a fuming elephant, genocide stops for noone. Bright red matted hair that is consumed and dried out by the sun. Like the fruit and meat, glistening on street vendors' tables, rotting away tastefully. Here and there puddles lay on the dry streets, where cows and goats and dogs pass by. Clattering noise resounds against lorries, collapsed brick walls and garbage heaps. Perfumes work their way into my nose, head and memory to take me by surprise again years later, even now still. Cinnamon, gasoline, tea, manure, cyllantro, rice, mango, lysol, festival, lemon with a breeze of wet animal. The streets of Guwahati are an unforgiven attack on your senses. No, I will never forgive you, Guwahati. Survival of the fittest is a golden rule in this breeding nest. Everyone fights or stares to abide. Need it be proven that three men are stronger than an eight year old girl? Six years ago, Sita's clothes and body were ripped open, showing the supreme powers of the perpetrators. Assuming rape and deflowering are no taboo and Sita would have wanted to share this experience, they cut her tongue out of her head. Would Allah still understand her? When they found her, it was obvious that this child had befouled the honor of her Islamic family. That's one thing that most religions agree on: women are at fault. And also, they should know that men are weak. Sita's mother understandably chose between the familie and her daughter and doused Sita with boiling oil. Sita’s body had been destroyed, in her early life. Her face now wrinkled in the eternal grimace of that of a victim. Carved up into pieces and chewed up and spat out like a common beatlenut. She came to live with a follower of the biggest religion that holds altruism in great regard: sister Clara. Jesus in the body of an old nun with round thick glasses who runs an orphanage. That is where I too have arrived now. Albeit in a better position: that of the white tourist. A nostalgic tourist too, since I had given the best of myself as a volunteer in a convent school in nearby Tezpur, two years before. An ungrateful, depressing and fantastic task. One day, when I was visiting Guwahati, I met with sister Clara. Just like that, by coincidence, as most lifechanging meetings happen. Now I'm back, sitting in her orphanage. Which she had built without the support of her church, who didn't share her vision and thus their money. My gaze focuses solely on her while she holds my hand - I am not going anywhere. I will stay and listen to this woman. Forty years ago she was a naive sister from a small village, when she arrived in the chaos of scorching Guwahati. She had been sent here to work in a convent school. One night, in the first few weeks she lived here, she was walking the streets of the roughest part of Guwahati. She saw a woman, a whore, grovelling in the mud, high off beatlenut and drunk off liquor, luring customers. I'll suck your cock for 50 rupees. Clara took her vow as a sister seriously and decided to help this woman. She took her to the convent, bathed her, fed her and talked to her. The other sisters had little sympathy. But this woman was given no chances and many children (probably STD's too, noone knows the mean secrets that lay underneath a filthy sari). After a whole night of sharing, she released this woman back into the real world, convinced she had changed a life. A day later sister Clara was walking down the same street and there she was again, high, offering her services in the mud. Sister Clara says that people are stuck, from birth. So she decided to shift her attention to children. And this orphanage is a gathering place for runaway (or thrown away) girls. It is also the only place in India where recycling is given a chance. The forty-two girls living here shuffle their feet, sing and are hypnotised by my white skin. They stare and touch me, which had already proven to be a constant in India. I allow it, they are allowed too little as it is. Clara takes their hands one by one, pushing them toward me and telling their stories. I see few smiling faces, apart from the younger ones, who don't yet realise the misery they're in. It is an old scaly building, where you can catch the dust in the air with your hands and nose. The rooms reek of rancid adolescent sweat and girls' dreams. I am watching her, Sita, standing before me. She's a tall, thin fourteen year old girl. Her skin and posture show signs of her fateful meeting. I dare to touch her. The arms feel rough like sand paper, almost of a grainy texture. She avoids my gaze. I gently caress her head. Which stands on a long thin neck. Her hair is short, thick and pitch black. I absorb her smell, an unfound, sour and sweaty aroma, like rhubarb that has been laying in the sun for too long. Sister Clara continues and I listen. When Sita entered the orphanage a Muslim six years ago, it was against her will and faith. But up to then, everything else had been against her will and her faith hadn't helped her. Now she had to pray to Jesus and eat wafers. She didn't want to belong here. She didn't feel herself any longer. Was this body still hers? Had it been taken away from her? Her body didn't want to smile. It only wanted to fight the other girls and swim against the current. Maybe to make amends, to assert herself - something she hadn't been able to do when it all happened. Maybe to feel something, anything really. Sister Clara tolerated it and understood, because someone had to. Every day the meals would turn into improvised fighting bouts, verbally (to her extent) and physically, against herself and the girls. She beat and kicked and bit until she bled. After four years of battering, Sita sat at supper one night. Rice stuck to her fingers, curry dripping down her wrist and onto her plate again. No meat, like always in the orphanage. Beside her sat Preety, her arch nemesis, who was in a particularly nasty mood that evening. "You're eating like a bird, Sita, without that tongue. Go on, swallow it whole!". Sita jumped up, grabbed her plate and threw it against the wall, hissing and roaring like a wild animal. She looked at Preety, who seemed to enjoy this display of anger, and grabbed her throat. Preety remained unphased and shouted out: "Sita's a whore! Sita's a whore!". Sita threw herself at Preety, beating and kicking her with fists and knees and feet, until it rained blood. Sister Clara pulled Sita off of Preety and took her to the dormatory on the second floor. She left her there in the dark, sitting up straight on her bed. She looked out the window. Were the bars behind the window build to nip feelings at moments like these in the bud? Open the window and jump. Then she wouldn't feel her skin anymore, always pulling on her arms and belly. The eternal pain which gave her this horrible grimace. The uncontrolled twitching of the stump of her tongue, burning deep into her throat like long hot needles. And down there, the violently used and ruined spot, of which other girls claim it feels wonderful and exciting. No wonders or excitements there, only a ravaged dump, a useless mess. Completely broken and unfixable. She wás a whore, unmarried and no longer a virgin. Just like that, an unplanned meeting had reduced her to a chunk of gray, expired meat. Tears stung her scratched face, fell on her lap. In the haze of the moonlight she saw fresh marks on her arms, Preety's blood on her sore knuckles and under her nails. She lay down and looked up at the fractures and wet spots on the ceiling. The next morning she prayed together with the girls in the school chapel. What is praying but comforting yourself, convincing yourself? Nobody liked or loved her, she found, but maybe God did? Or at least sister Clara? She quivered at that last selfish thought. Morning mass had ended, quietly the girls left the chapel. She descended the high stairs to the refactory. Chattering footsteps as well as sandals resounded against the bricks. The girls stood around the breakfast table. Sister Clara started the prayer, the girls responded: Bless us, oh Lord, and these here gifts we are about to receive from Your bounty. Mary help our children -pray for us. Goodmorning children -goodmorning sister! Now talking was allowed. Eating as well. It was Preety's turn to hand out the food, bulgur with gravy. She had a black eye and a swollen lip, marks that Sita had imprinted her face with. She served Sita silently, who looked at her lap, head bended over. No word on what happened the night before. Nothing was ever resolved. After breakfast the girls got dressed for school in their rooms. They ran to the playground, just like the decent girls arriving, who had families and homes and money. Sita stood alone, as usual, under the great tree on the playground. Shadows of leaves waved playfully over her face. She was tall. A sudden growth spurt had turned her into a helpless giant earlier that year. A thin, crooked branch that rose high above everyone else, obviously much against her wishes. Out of this lonely oasis she concentrated on her sworn enemy, who was playing tag with her many girlfriends. She was it. Preety ran toward Sita, her arm stretched out. All girls stood still and awaited the drama. Really? This early in the morning? Sita stood her ground bravely. Her enemy suddenly tripped over a lost root that had exploded out of the asphalt, and landed before her feet, flat on her stomach. Preety moaned and sat up, holding her bleeding knee. Sita squatted down. Took Preety's leg. Everyone looked on held their breaths, nailed to the ground. Sita went down on her knees and kissed the wound. Preety looked at her, trembling. She took Sita's hand and kissed it. Sita was instantly hit by a wave of redemption. She felt her grimace disappear, her face relax. She looked Preety straight in the eyes and smiled. Text: Hanne Lemmens Images: Kelly De Block Translation: Hanne Lemmens All rights reserved. Publication Date: October 12th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-hannanas

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-shaelyn-ray-car-crash/

Shaelyn Ray Car Crash Car Crash The day Kaia and I,Hayley Grace,wrecked was a tragedy for us all.We were headed for New Mexico for no reason...well there was kind of a reason.I was mad at my step-dad for killing my mom...well he had killed many people.We were driving down a back road.I was applying an extra code of banana-fo fanna lip gloss so my eye's were off the road for awhile.Kaia was screaming but I didn't know why."WHAT!?"I screamed not looking back at the road.I felt her hand grab my banana-fo fanna lip gloss and throw it out my open window.I slammed the little compact-mirror closed.I looked up in-time to see the drop-off that would slam us into a rushing pit of water that would make us drift into the Pacific Ocean."AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"Kaia screamed.I slammed on the brakes but it didn't help."We're going to die."I whispered as the front off the car tipped over the edge."BUCKLE UP!!!"I screamed at Kaia as I grabbed my seat belt...But that didn't help.As we plummeted towards the water I cried really loud,louder than the water that was rushing below.I felt the front of the car hit hard rocks and I thought we'd hit the water...but it was the side of the cliff."OW!!!"Kaia screamed.I looked sideways at her.Her head was on the dashboard and blood dripped onto the floorboard."Kaia?"I asked."Kaia are you awake!?"I panicked."YES!!"she cried.I felt the car tip sideways."Kaia we have to climb out!"I demanded."NO!!WE CAN'T!!!!!!!!!!"she screamed.I felt the car lean forward and start falling again.The car hit something kind of hard,and then I heard a loud SPLASH!I looked out my open window and water started pouring in."AH CLOSE THE WINDOW!!"I heard Kaia scream.I tried but the water stopped me from succeeding."I CAN'T!"I cried.The water swooshed in and I unbuckled my seat belt.I climbed out the window.I swam to the surface and swam to a sturdy looking branch.I held on to it as I watched my car sink with Kaia still in it.Tears streamed down my face and into the water."AHHH!!!!!!!!"I screamed as I looked at my wrist.Blood ran off my wrist to the water and glass was in my wrist right where my veins were."AHHHH!!!"I screamed again.I looked up the side of the cliff and seen tons of branches sticking out of the wall.I started climbing.I reached the top and laid down just as that part of the cliff started to crumble."No...NOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!"I screamed.The part of the cliff fell as I hung to one of the branches.My car was completely under water.I swam to where it had sunk and went under.I seen a blue Mustang at the bottom.I went back up,took a deep breath,and dove under to where I'd seen my car.I went to the passenger side window and knocked-out the glass grabbing Kaia's arm and pulling her out of the car.I swam to the surface with Kaia hanging from my arm.I climbed the side of the cliff.When I reached the top I pulled Kaia away from the cliff...She was dead. Publication Date: June 3rd 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-jasperismine00

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-caitlynn-middle-school-drama/

Caitlynn Middle school drama my life Hi, i'm Caitlynn. I am a typical middle school girl. I have brown hair that comes a little past my shoulders. I am in 7th grade. I am about 5'3". My best firned is Kiaya i just met her this year but her and I have every class together. She is very short she has short black hair. She is pretty cool i mean she is just like me,not normal. My guy bestfriend is Cameron but i call him Cam for short. he is about 5'1". He has black hair and needs glasses but refuses to wear them unless he HAS to. My boyfriends name is Nathan he has short brown hair, has glasses but got contacts. I try to stop by his locker when i can because we are in different cores so i barely ever get to see him. I have known him since the begenning of 6th grade. Him and i have Japanese and French class together i really liked him but i was to afraid to hear his response. But, at the begenning of 7th grade i told him "I kinda like you." he didnt respond (we were messaging eachother on facebook). i said "u there?" he said "ya i'm just thinking." i responded "about what?" "that i like u too." i said "well what happeneds next then?" with a big smile on my face. "Caitlynn will you go out with me?" he asked "Yes." i replied and that is how we came to be a couple. Honestly, him and i really like eachother nothing broke us up yet and there has been alot of crap that has tried to hurt our relationship but nothing has got to it. At school i have a great group of friends Rayne,Kiaya,and Kristen. Kristen is in Nathans core so we only see her in gym. A couple days ago Rayne,Kiaya,and I all got paired up for an algebra assignment that it'd be awesome right? Well it was until we relized we did it all wrong the whole class was calling us stupid,and dumb,and that we were the stupidest people in the whole school and that we shouldn't be on a "smart" core they didn't relize how bad that hurts me. I know it doesn't seem much to you but if you had my life you would understand why it made me cry for days and it came up again today my sister who is 7 she is in 2cd grade. She calls me fat,ugly,stupid and worthless. The only people who ever care or see it is my Grandma Barbara, and my older brother Andrew he writes books about zombies on this (thewalkingdead141414)you should read his book it's good ,but see i made this so I could tell MY story and MY life. Some people don't relize how one word could hurt someone so bad for so long. Ever since last year since people have said i was a Ugly, Stupid, Worthless ext. And my family started treating me different i was cutting myself i FINALLY told my brother about it he told my mom and my mom talked to me about it. Everyone says that it's no big deal that i felt like that it was a stage well it's NOT my parents sent me to a theripist and she kinda helped ,but they didn't allow me to go anymore (my parents). So i started cutting myself and hurting myself i had thoughts of suicide ,but my friends and grandma got me through it I am ONE of the people who deal with this middle school crap and drama ,but i am one of them who at first didn't get to me ,but that has all changed how EVERYONE treats me and how they FEEL about me and the RUMORS they spread they just don't relize that people like me who used to never get messed with started to and they go home and cry everyday NO ONE understands us that is why i wrote this i am going to make it like a journal. No one seems to get me i wish i wasn't so alone. People always tell me it's ok they are just mad at you for some reason ,but i'm like i honestly don't give a rat's crap about them ,but what they say about me they should say it to my face not go around telling otherpeople that. NO if you got something to say to Me or about ME say it to ME!! I just feel like if i was gone no one would notice my best guy friend Cam likes likes me and he says i'm to pretty to have so much crap ,but when i look in the mirror all i see is an Ugly, Fat, Dumb, Worthless Creature people tell me i'm pretty and skinny and smart but i'm not i have a "C' in science and social studies and I am failing algebra ,but the reason i'm failing because this annoying kid i had to sit next to in the beginning of the year would not shut up ,but I asked the teacher if i could move my seat she said yes and i didn't have my glasses at that time either. So my grades have improved ,but my grade was so low it didn't pull it up alot. My parents oh my gosh i can just tell they like my brother and sister better because they get better grades, their prettier than me, never get in trouble as much as me, it's like their perfect to them it's like I AM NOT THEM WHY CAN'T YOU JUST EXCEPT ME FOR ME AND LET ME BE MY OWN PERSON MAYBE I MIGHT NOT GO THE WAY YOU GUYS WANT ME TOO ,BUT I WILL DO WHAT'S BEST FOR ME WHY CAN'T YOU JUST DEAL WITH THAT?!And i wish my dad helped make it easier for us not easier for him. It's like my 14 year old brother and I are the dad of my 7 year old sister. I wish he would care for my feelings too. It's not like when you wanna just smack us acrossed the face we don't wanna just kick u in the shin! When you wanna hit us we wanna hit you too. See we aren't just kids we have feelings and we have oppions too! Care about our feelings, our rules, and our oppions then we'll respect yours! I got to go to bed now it's like 12:30 nighty-night DATE: NOV. 10 actualy NOV 11.now since it's AM nighty-night i will post more tomorrow i guess. Hi it's Caitlynn again. it's 10/10/12 I am already having a terrible day it's sunday so I don't have any school today. I am supposed to go to hunt club for my friend's birthday party ,but my mom isn't letting me because of my grades even though she said i could go yesurday and she let me R.S.V.P. No one sees how hard i'm trying to get my grades up. I study, i'm staying after on wedsday for math tutoring I am going to ask my algebra teacher if I can take the tests i have failed and see if that helps ge my grades up. Publication Date: November 11th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-moonlightdolphin

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-textfreak1-that-thing-inside-of-me/

Textfreak1 That thing inside of me... “My name? Paloma Elizabeth Turner. I am a seven years old, second grader and the best of my class. But that’s not a reason for my classmates to tease me under no circumstances. Actually I am quite popular and everybody likes me, even the teachers. ‘Your laughing is contagious,’ my mom says when I tell her how surprised I am again and again that there’s nobody who dislikes me. Liz Turner, that’s my mother, is a well- payed real estate agent. People all around the world come to her when they are searching for a dwelling place in New York City. My father, Christian Turner, is the head of the famous New York Times. He actually likes this job, but he would like to avoid the ‘brown-nosers’ - his words not mine. Nevertheless at each end of the month he comes home with a pay check and a big smile on his face. My mother earned nearly as much as he does, but she is nine-month pregnant and can’t work any longer. They have even told me the gender: I’m getting a baby brother. Yesterday she went to the hospital. Apparently they need to get my brother out of my mom’s stomach, didn’t tell me the reason, though. The only thing I know is that I will have a little brother in just a few days. I’m the happiest girl in the world! The last important thing I should mention is that the doctors detected a brain tumor in my head five months after I was born. They explained to my parents, who explained this to me when I was four, that it is a malignant tumor and I probably will live until my thirties tops when I’m in luck. You want to know my opinion on that? Well, what doesn’t kill you just makes you stronger! And I won’t let that thing inside of my head take over the control of my life - no. I have a great family, great friends and in a few days I’ll be a sister. I’m the happiest girl in the world!” One week until Christmas: It was when the snow began to fall and the people became frantic, because Christmas was approaching, that Liz Turner gave birth to the latest citizen of New York. At six a.m. the so-far unnamed boy saw the light of day for the very first time. The people inside the delivery room went quiet as the boy did not instantly start crying. Wrapped around the baby’s neck the umbilical cord had put mother and father through a lot lately. They had to do a Cesarean delivery as fast as possible not to risk the newborn’s life. Eyes filled with tears Liz stared at the ceiling, praying to a God she hadn’t always believe in, to show mercy. After seconds of terror the boy finally started crying. An hour away from the hospital in a big New Yorker apartment, Paloma dreamed of the day her parents had told her that she had cancer and how innocent and unknowingly she had been back then. Her reaction was predictable. She cried. Days afterwards she still cried a lot. And then she was tired of it. Paloma made her decision that she would accept the situation she was in and would make the best of it. As her mother offered her daughter to go and see a therapist she refused, because she needed to cope with the situation by herself. And she did. What her parents didn’t know, Paloma never told anybody about her illness, because she wanted to avoid the pitiful glances she would get from then on. Then that dream vanished and little Paloma dreamed of the day her mother and father had told her that she would get a brother. First she thought that her mother only gained weight. But she was six. Now as a seven year old, feeling more mature than ever, she could only laugh about such ridiculous thoughts she once had. Secondly she thought about how much fun she would have with her brother and Paloma felt nothing but joy. When her parents saw that she was excited about having a sibling they decided to give her the task to find a suitable name. Extremely happy she spend the last few months before the delivery searching on the internet or reading books about boy’s names and there meanings. And the last thing Paloma dreamed before she woke up was the fact that she finally found a fitting name. Dawn was breaking, but it wasn’t the luminous light of the sun covered behind grey clouds which made Paloma wake up. As she lay there in her wooden four-poster bed, her head resting on white and pink pillows, she felt something she hadn’t felt for years - and it terrified her. As she opened her tiny blue eyes, the first thing she saw was the snow outside her window. Without averting her eyes from it, Paloma ran her little fingers through the long blonde hair and massaged her temples. Having a racking headache she sat up and moved to the edge of her bed. The light pink wall color hurt her eyes and she bend down to get her socks which were lying in front of her bed where she had taken them off before she went to sleep. Paloma, wearing a violet pyjama, walked through the room into her little bathroom with her hands attached to her temples. Standing in front of the mirror she loosened her hands off her temples and began brushing her teeth. Thereby her tooth gap emerged. Two days ago the baby tooth fall out while Paloma was eating an apple. Of course the tooth fairy was really generous, due to the fact that it was her first one. She stopped brushing her teeth and spit the toothpaste, which tasted like strawberries, into the sink. ‘Tooth fairy, yeah right,’ she thought with a wide smile. What her father didn’t know was when he explained to her what to do with her tooth little Paloma was afraid that the imagination of a stranger coming into her room at night , gave her a sleepless night. Pretending to be asleep she waited for the ‘tooth fairy’ to come, but in the end the only one who came was her father, replacing her tooth by money. After combing her hair she got dressed and tied up her hair with a black hairbow fitting her white dress. Looking into the mirror she thought that she looked quite chic. Intuitively Paloma walked to the steamed-up window and glanced out of it. New York, still asleep, was covered in a white veil of snow. Out of her window Paloma could see nothing but icy snowflakes falling down from the sky. Every now and then a car drove slowly through the deserted streets. Paloma loved snow and winter was her favorite season. She knew that some day she would die in winter and her grave would be covered with white snow flakes and beautiful flowers. Because she had a tumor she wasted more thoughts about death than other kids normally would at her age. Breaking away from the beautiful scene out there the little child walked out of her room without turning around. In the corridor her father stood in front of a mirror, wearing boots and a coat apparently ready to leave. As he noticed his little daughter standing in front of her room with the slight sunlight coming through the door at her back, Christian Turner said hastily: “Paloma hurry up your mother is waiting. She just called. We gotta go to the hospital. The baby arrived two hours ago.” With her heart beating fast, she put on her boots and her black anorak in just a few seconds. A wave of happiness and a thrill of anticipation fulfilled her body. She had become a sister, finally. “Now what are you waiting for? Let’s go,” she opened the door and ran out of the apartment. Pressing the elevator button like mad she waited for her father impatiently. As the elevator approached so did her father and both got on. For Paloma everything seemed like a dream. She didn’t perceive the cool air in the underground garage whipping in her face as they got off the elevator. Nor did Paloma perceive the ride to the hospital which felt like minutes, although it lasted half an hour until they approached the snowy parking place in front of the Pure Spirit Hospital. Opening the car door, Paloma felt a piercing pain which made her tremble as she got out of the car. Fast, she ran her glove-covered hand through her hair, because she didn’t want her father to be concerned. As Christian Turner walked straight towards the hospital entrance, petite Paloma stopped at a little hill of snow. She uncovered her hand and stuck it into the snow. First contact with snow always made Paloma smile. Cautiously she lay her cold hand on her forehead and it gave her a comfortable feeling for a moment. She wished she could have enjoy that beautiful moment a little longer, but then reluctantly she walked into the hospital. “There you are!” her father said when she approached. He took her uncovered hand and looked puzzled as it was cold and wet. “Played in the snow, I guess?” he said with a smile, because he knew his daughter perfectly well. As she nodded he added. “I know that you like winter time and playing in the snow, but you may want to see your little brother now? The nice lady on the reception told me that your mother is still resting and we can’t see her at the moment, but we can go to the newborn nursery.” For one moment Paloma was sad that she couldn’t see her mother and make sure that she was alright and suddenly she felt sick and like passing out any second. Fearing her father would see the slight panic on her face she turned her back on Mr. Turner. ‘Get a hold of yourself,’ she thought angrily. Closing her eyes she took one deep breath and faced her tall brown-haired father again. “You can go. I have to use the bathroom first,” Paloma said, trying not to sound too suspicious. “I can’t let you go on your own, Paloma-” “Yes you can and you will. I am seven and more mature than an eight-year-old!” willing to have an argument, Paloma stared determinedly at her father. To her own surprise he lay his hand on her shoulder and said in a deep voice: “The newborn nursery is on the second floor. Hurry up, I bet your brother wants to meet you.” Astonished, Paloma watched her father adjusting his glasses and getting on the elevator. Christian Turner smiled at his daughter who was standing there motionless in the middle of the entrance hall and tapped on his watch with a finger (signalizing Paloma to hurry up) before the elevator door closed. ‘To use the bathroom,’ was just an excuse to get away from her father. Quickly she ran to the reception where a thin, blond lady was chewing on a pen and staring quite bored at the ceiling. “I’m sorry?” little Paloma said, but the nurse didn’t move. “I’m sorry?” she said a bit louder. Perplexed the young lady stared at her and stopped chewing on her pen. “Now look at you. Aren’t you adorable?” she squeaked and leant over the reception to get a closer look on Paloma. Not knowing how to respond petite Paloma ignored her and asked if she could get a piece of paper and a pen (luckily the nurse did not gave her the pen she had chewed on). With every step Paloma’s headache got worse. Her hands and legs began to shake and she could barely move. She approached an elevator and pressed the button with shaky fingers. Her brain thumped against her skull and Paloma could not see clearly any longer. As the door opened, she stumbled alone into the small room and waited for the doors to close. As they did she fell on her knees and her hands tensed up. In one hand she held the pen tightly and in the other one the sheet of paper. Trying to relax she scribbled a word onto the sheet before she lost her conscience. “For the first time in my life I felt free. Free of all sorrow caused by my illness and free of all thoughts I wasted when I imagined my death. And first and foremost I felt free of all the pitiful glances my family gave me, trying so desperately to hide them. Of course I know that my death will shutter their perfect world they rebuilt when they came to know about my illness, but with every chapter that ends a knew one begins: Mine has finally come to an end, but a new chapter has already begun and hopefully it won’t be haunted by sorrow as mine was. No, I wish the best for my little brother Jacob - it means ‘God will protect you,’ but in his case I will.” Publication Date: August 26th 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-textfreak1

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-chase-kelly-and-savanah-carver-the-tiny-broken-thing/

Chase Kelly, and Savanah Carver The tiny, broken thing But for you, I would answer anything... So... I was walking down my street. And I saw some dude abusing his dog. I remembered his address so I could go back to his house. Later that night, I went to his house and killed him. His girlfriend happened to be there and called the police. So, I killed her too. The police (unfortunately) got me. And they sent me to a mental hospital since I tried to kill them all. They threw me into this giant room that looked like this: Padded room They said it was one of the nicer rooms, I don't know why they put me in there. So, after they put me in there I started trying to get out, blah blah blah. Screaming cus words at them, swearing to kill them and their families etc. And then they friggen tranquilized me. About two days later, I woke up. They said I shouldn't have been down for that long. They tried sending someone in there to talk to me. I think his name was like George. I dunno for sure Anyways, they sent him in there and he started asking all these questions. Like, "What could have caused you to go insane?" "Why did you do it?" "Are you okay?" I didn't answer any of them. I just stared at the floor. Eventually he asked "Why do you think you're here?". I started screaming at him and started choking him. Of course I knew WHY I was there. Stupid George... So, yeah. They got him out of there and told me to straighten up. The next day they sent my dad in there. I tried to stab his eyes out with the pen he had in his pocket. He got out too And I left alone AGAIN Anyways, I few hours later they asked if there was anyone I would like to see. I said my mom.. So, they brought me my mom, and I attempted to kill her too. Almost did.. After that, they said I wasn't allowed to have any visitors until I started acting right. That took about 2 months.. After that they found me trying to kill myself. I had a belt on, Idk why they let me keep it, and I tried to hang myself. THAT'S when they put me in a straight jacket. They left me alone for two weeks They then tried to send another person in there. It was another guy, but I can't remember his name. I kept kicking him since that's all I could do. About 3 months later, they decided to let someone in that I was close to. They told you, to come visit me. They were really afraid to let you in. You didn't know of everything I did before you. So, you were just like "Just let me in." Also, you had no idea that I was in a mental hospital. You haven't heard from me in 5 months. So yeah, they let you in there and they had two really scary looking security guards with you. I didn't scream, cus, bite, kick, etc I just looked at you. And then you sat down next to me and said "Hi." I just said hi back. And then you hugged me and asked "Why are you in here?" I answered "Because I'm messed up." You said "No you're not. Things will get better" I just nodded and started crying. Everyone was like "Whaaaaat?!". So you tried to have a decent conversation with me, but I kept zoning out because I've been stuck in a dark room for 5 months by myself... You stayed for about an hour, and then grandma said you had to go. I didn't want you to leave so when you got up to leave, I started freaking out. I kept yelling things like "If you leave, you won't come back." and "You're just like everyone else." You come back over there, kissed me and said "I promise, I WILL be back." And then left. The next day, you did come back. Just like you said. We talked (or at least attempted to) for a couple minutes each day, and it was feeling better. The guess I would be out of there in a couple weeks. But one day, you came in and told me that you were going somewhere with your family. You said you'd be gone for 2 weeks I reacted fine around you And said "Okay, as long as you come back, I should be okay." And then you left. I was not okay during those two weeks. You came at a certain time everyday, and during that time I would sit by the door and hope for you to walk in. When you didn't I started kicking the wall and swearing. I attempted to escape a couple times I did once, but they just put me back in the same room. They had to chain my feet to the floor. It was not fun. Anyways, there was about 4 days before you came back. I spent those four days just sitting there talking to the wall. I didn't sleep or eat. I just sat up and talked to the wall... So then, once the four days were over, you finally got a chance to visit me. I wanted to run up to the door and hug you, but I was stuck to the floor and my arms were ...yeah. So then, once I saw you, I smiled really big and started crying because I honestly believed you wouldn't come back. Grandma didn't like you coming to see me. She thought I was going to hurt you. She tried multiple times to get you to date someone else and so did the rest of your family. At least that's what you told me in our 5 minute conversations.. But you were always true... But no, even though I was slowly losing my mind, you still came and visited me.. So, a month went by, and you kept visiting me, blah blah blah They said that you should start staying at the hospital with me since you're the only one that I can be around. They just wanted answers from me like, what caused me to do kill and all that. And I wouldn't answer anything for them. But for you, I would answer anything Of course, you were still 14 and you needed grandma's permission to stay She said no... You then went and asked your mom and she approved of you staying. So, you stayed in the room next to me It was a pretty epic room.. Well, they gave you 3 rooms to choose from. One, with an island, and a pool everywhere else. One, with A staircase bed, and one that was white, and normal. You picked the staircase bedroom. Instead of the little closet having clothes, there was a glass wall there so you could see into my room. I was able to talk to you that way. And yeah... So, yeah. You stayed next door and talked to me.. When I needed you, you were there When I needed ANYTHING, you were there. It made me really, really happy So then, about a week or two later, they unchained me. I think I've been in there for about 7 months? I dunno.... They let me out of my straight jacket too, but I still wasn't allowed to leave my room. Now that I wasn't in a straight jacket, you weren't allowed to come in my room. So, I had to still talk to you threw that glass. ANYWAYS. About a year later, I was perfectly normal again... They decided to let me out of my room for once... I haven't been outside in almost 2 years. Damn.... they let me out, and I could finally hug you back The first place I wanted to go was to your room. So I could finally tell you "HEY, IM FREE MUTHAFUCKER" Ok, I didn't exactly say THAT. but you get the point They said they needed to let me go live with someone I could remain calm and happy with. I told them I wanted to stay with you Grandma, again, didn't want me there... She thought I'd go crazy again and kill you all.... The doctor said I should be okay, and if something happens to call them and they'd come get me. They said I needed to be watched for a while and to keep me away from sharp objects. So after that, they let me go And I lived with you. Grandma didn't approve of it but, you had to sleep in the same room as me. Same bed I mean... Because I would sometimes get up and start looking for knifes and stuff So, when I attempted to get up, you were there to tell me to lay back down and all that. And I would. Eventually that stopped too. And, even though it took awhile... We lived happily ever after... Just like we always wanted, right? END. Publication Date: July 13th 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-alois.trancy

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-stephanie-graupner-healing-or-hurting/

Stephanie Graupner Healing or hurting??? A story of a teacher and her suicidal students Amber Renee Fjeldheim the best teacher a suicidal girl could ask for....... :) Dedication This book is for my amazing language arts and English teacher who is leaving us from small town Shirland IL to go to South Dakota. We will miss her so much even if we gave her a hard time because she was so short. Miss Amber Renee Fjeldheim, this is for you. The Accident I was walking down the halls at my new job, so nervous because I didn't know how my students would like me. I was especially waiting for the comments about my height. My name is Amber Renee Fjeldheim, a beautiful name for a beautiful lady if I do say so myself. I'm around 5'0" with dark brown curly hair and blue eyes. I had to get ready for the classes. I wear dresses most of the time with a pair of stylish heels. Let me tell you that I am a crazy shoe lady!!! I once said, "Online shopping is the best and worst thing to ever happen..." As I was completing my tasks to start the day of right, I hadn't noticed anyone in the room when there was one girl sitting there. The thing I didn't know at the time and wouldn't know for a while; she was suicidal. She wrote poems about it and happened to leave a few on my desk the next year. They were amazing so I called her in when my homeroom class was in the library, the eight graders. I asked what it was all about and she started crying. I remember that two or three of the eight grade boys kept coming in and out; seeing her crying. To this day I still wonder and I bet she does too, if they were checking on her or why they kept returning. Anyways she started writing all the poems into a journal, as I suggested. We only talked that once and I'm pretty sure she has started to feel better, but I'm not sure especially since I'm leaving and won't be able to talk anymore with her. Publication Date: July 7th 2013 https://www.bookrix.com/-animaltamer712

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-alada-porter-compromises/

Alada Porter Compromises The Man Who Liked to 'Touch' Her kisses tasted like vinegar and her skin felt like sandpaper under his hands, but it was a compromise. He compromised beauty for compliance. She cried when he hit her, but not too much and not too loud, and when he wrapped his hands around her throat as they were finishing she didn’t struggle and make it hard for him. Unless he asked her to. In return he paid her so she could buy what she wanted, and sometimes, when she was looking especially itchy, he would just flat out hand her a few ounces. It was a fair trade. Some Like It Rough When he had asked her if she liked it rough she had assumed he meant hard and fast, not long and tortuous. But what had she been expecting? “Too damn much.” She sighed into her reflection, picking at the sores around her mouth. She’s just too ugly for the gentle ones; it used to hurt to admit that and in a way it still did. At least she wasn’t running away from the truth, although she wished sometimes that she still had her shame, that she could still look away when she stuck the needle in, but she just can’t. The Secrets We Keep The bed is big enough to pretend. If she just avoids reaching over too far she can almost imagine him sleeping there next to her. Almost. Sometimes he’ll make excuses, but usually he won’t. He knows she’ll never ask where he’s going, or who he’s going there with, because she’s afraid. Afraid of the shadows that appear behind his eyes when he holds her, afraid of those parts of him she just can’t understand. So she just cries by herself those nights, knowing that she will never be able to know or love all of him. She’s better off pretending. Publication Date: April 24th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-mokomonko

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-amanda-forgei-10-ways-to-be-annoying/

Amanda Forgei 10 Ways to Be Annoying Words You Will Need to Know: Target- the person you are annoying WAY #1 The art of POKING Technique: Keep your finger straight and tight. Poke slowly and firmly. Do not make it hurt- hurting is not annoying! Way #2 The art of SPEED TALKING Technique: Talk very fast, so that your target can half understand you. Keep talking for a long time! Way #3 The art of RANDOM TALKING Technique: There isn't much of a technique, but there is a trick- if you don't understand what you're saying, neither will your target! Way #4 The art of RANDOM ANGER Technique: Be angry at random times, then stop for a couple minutes, then continue. Way #5 The art of... ...TO BE CONTINUED! Publication Date: December 13th 2010 https://www.bookrix.com/-momomarshmallow

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-mackinze-smith-the-beginning/

mackinze smith the beginning chapter 1 One day a young girl was walking down the street she sees her best friend. Her best friend was talking to the boy she liked so she walks up and says “hello guys.”They sat there and said “look who showed up”! She ran away crying. When she got home her parents asked “what’s wrong sweetie.” They sat there for a while why they waited for her to stop crying. When she answered them she said “my best friend and the guy I like were being mean and made me cry.”They were sitting there telling her it was going to be fine.the next day she is on her way to school and her best friend runs up to her. When she catches her she says “why did you run away yesterday?” she answer “what do you think the reason is!”. Her friend looked so hurt that it made her sad.that was the last time they talked for two years.then when they were freshmen in high school they were laughing and having so much fun you would have never thought that they hadn’t talked in to years.then they saw two really hot guys walking by them in the hallway.just then her older brother and sister walk up to her and say” hello Alexandia, what is new?”.She looked at them and said “ hi and nothing much” and walked away.the next day one of the hot guys they saw walk by them walked up to her and said “ hello my names jake ,whats yours?”. She answered my names Alexandria nice to meet you jake.” They become friends and then the start dating.a few years down the road she leaves her parents a note: dear mom and dad, i love you and hope you have a nice evening i have a date with jake to night so I wont be home till late tonight.dont worry i wont sleep with him. You guys be safe and have fun we love you . sincerely, Alexandria, Jake when they read this they went looking for her.they found her and jake at a fancy restaurant. they were eating dinner and talking. Alexandria saw her parents and said “ why are you guys here? he was getting me some food then we were going to see a movie.” They looked at her and said “we were worried about you.” Her parents left and they paid the check and went to the movies . Her parents were at a hotel when they showed up at her house so she asked him” would you like to come in?” he answered “ yes I would baby.”they went in her house and sat down. They started kissing and it turned to something else.then her parents walked in and saw them laying on the couch under a blanket. They asked them “whats going on here?”.they were like “nothing nothing at all.” Her parents asked “did you have sex with him on our couch?”she said “ yes and I am so ashamed of it.”her parents started yelling and they slaped her.he ran out of the house and told his parents what happened.his parents sat there mouths wide open and shocked. The next day she was at school and had a black eye  the teacher saw her eye and asked “did your parents hit you?”he walks up and see her and hears the teachers question.he says “ Alexandria tell the teacher what happened last night and all of it.” So she tells the teacher “ my parents hit me because I had sex with my boyfriend.” The teacher gasps and says “ oh poor darling.”she gets taken from her parents and goes and lives with her teacher named Mrs.Harper.she takes a pregnancy test and it comes up positive.she tells mrs.harper about it and mrs. Harper says “ we will take care of it when you have it and jake will have to help you with the baby.” So they are at school the next day and she pulls jake over to a coner and says “jake I am pregnant and I need your help with the baby.” He is like “what? Seriously I am going to be a dad?”(smiling). Then mrs.harper comes around the coner and sees them and she asks “did you tell him.” He answers “ yes she told me everything.” They started smilling and hugging.the next day everybody was staring at them and one preson came up to them and asked “ is it true your going to be parents?” they answered her “yes we are.” A few months later her stomach was really big. She was going to the doctor and she ran into her mother and father. They saw her and started following her, She went to Mrs.Harper's house. Mrs.harper saw them followimg her and asked “why are you following my daughter?”. They answered “ shes pur daughter and you have no right to keep us from her ”. then Alexandria and jake walk in and see them. She tries to run out the front door but jake stoped her.she started screaming “ let me go! “ . he said “ no you have to face them.” The next week she is at the doctor with jake and mrs.harper. they found out that she was going to have twins. Then they went home and jake got down on one knee and asked her “ will you marry me”. She jumped up through her arms around him and said “ yes yes yes yes yes!”it was late so jake slept at her house on the chouch a few months later they are on there way to school and she says “ jake its time!” he says “ are you sure?” she yells “yes!” he calls “ mrs. Harper and the school and says” we wont be in today Alexandria and me are heading to the hospital because she is in labor” .when they got to the hospital the doctors ran her to a room .then they took her to the dillivery room they start prepimg her for delivery.when mrs harper got there she had delivered the babys. The babys were both boys. Mrs.harper was so happy she went through with the pregnancy. They named their two baby boys Ravell and Damon. A few days after they came home from the hospital Alex's friend Lily came by and saw all four of them. Alex and Lily talked for a long time. As soon as she left Jake said "Alex we need to talk.", Alex answered " yes we do." chapter 2: the secrets reveled They sat down to talk. they said at the same time "i have something to tell you." then jack said " you go first ", Alex said " k, well i have been keeping a secret and it's kinda a big secret...... well i dont know were to start. but i am not normal i-i-i-i-i-i a-am a ummm a well dont freak out please, you know what i am a werewolf." Jake just sat there mouth opened, wide eyed, shocked. When he regained his composer he said " well what i have to tell you is that i am a deimi-god." she sat there and just looked at him. she had wondered why his mother was never around.now she new why she never meet his mother.they finanlly had no secrets with each other.so they talked for a little while longer. when it was about 6 am they stoped talking. alex fell asleep on Jake's shoulder. then he fell asleep but it wasn't long before their baby boys woke up. they went in and got them out of their cribs. after that they went down the stairs and made them their bottles. the boys ate then they got changed and burbed. when ravell and jaz were asleep they put them in their beds and closed the door. when they got back down stairs and she kissed him. just then Jake leaned in to kiss her again when mrs. harper came in and was super shocked. then she coughed and they broke apart.it was now about 8am. the babys were now waking up again.they went and got them and brought them down stairs. when they were all down stairs s growl and a whole bunch of shoots were fired. alex went to look out the window and it shattered and there stood a pure grey wolf with bright green eyes.jack took the boys to the other room and asked mrs. harper to watch them, but when he came back in the room were he left alex she was no were to be found. thyats when everyone heard the growling and they looked outsude and two wolves were fighting. one they hadnt seen it was pure white except around its eyes,on its paws, the tip of its tail that were all black. they also noticed what looked like a black cresent moon on its shoulder with a black dot in front of it, some blak strips on its back.s the wolves fought theyy noticed the grey one was tiring. then when they thought the grey one was going to loose the white and black one got up off of the grey one. instead of it running off it attacked the white one when she turned around.the grey one tried to take her down but couldnt and with one futile atmept he lunged for jake. he missed though because he never made it near him. she bit into his throat and pulled and the grey wolf was dead and his coat was tinted crimson red.the female wolf turned toward them and she shifted, in the wolfs place knelt alex everyone in the house gasped as they ushered her into the house. Mrs. harper was just shocked. Jake wouldnt let her go he just held her naked body in his arms.shuddenly she gasped and that drew everyones attention to the ingerys. on her back were he had set his hand there was a giant gash and it was bleeding badly. jake started freaking out when he saw it. alex said to get some gauze, an ace wrap,and rubbing alcohol. mrs. harper handed the supplies to jake and he started with the rubbing alcohol, then he put the gauze on it, he wraped the ace wrap around her body to hold the gauze securly to her back.the next day they went to hang out with some of their friends and he pulled her into a hug and she gasped and everyine asked her what was wrong and she just said nothing.after a few hours of talking they went home. when they got home they played with there two sons.then after they were feed everyone went to bed. a few months later their twins raveall and damon were walking. the only difference about raveall and damon is there eyes.damons eyes are a neon blue, raveall has percing grey eyes. Alex has the same grey eyes as Ravell , Jake's eyes are a pretty green. Damon's eyes suprised everyone that saw them. As the two boys grew the became close. Alex and Jake grew closer too.( please leave comments on my grammar and spelling. THANKS!) Publication Date: October 16th 2013 https://www.bookrix.com/-kinze15

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-nya-johnson-just-have-faith/

Nya Johnson Just Have Faith Chapter 1 Publication Date: September 10th 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-pat3nc3446

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-true-vampire-witch-mystery-in-my-cosy-little-town/

true.vampire.witch Mystery in my cosy little town CHAPTER 1 "Hey! Jane where are you going in such a hurry? We started for school way to early." Tess, my best friend said. "I don't know. I just needed to walk I guess." I said. "What’s wrong Edward getting on your nerves again?" She asked, wondering if my 17 year old brother was acting like a two year old again. "Who else could get me so worked up?" I asked with a bitter edge to my voice. "What he do this time?" "Oh the usual," I said so she could hear me, and then added under my breath "Just trying to piss me off and make me have a fit. It seems so funny to him and Jessy,” (my other 17 year old brother) “to pick on a 15 year old girl." "Your brother is cute you think he would---" "No!" I said so fiercely and suddenly that it made her jump about a foot off of the pavement and caused her eyes to get so wide they were about the size of bowling balls. "Geese, it was just a stray thou---," "What do you see in him, he's just a boy who is---?" "A total hunk! How could you not see that?" She seemed completely baffled by the idea that I couldn't see what every other girl saw in him. "Maybe because, oh, I don't know I live with him." I said starting to get really irritated with her. "Tess you of all the girls who have asked him out should know by now that he doesn't date." "So," She said flinching at the memories. "'If at first you don't succeed try, try again' that’s my motto." She said proud that she could remember the saying right this time. I tried so hard not to but I couldn't help myself, I burst out laughing. She looked at me resentfully, and with a little bit of an edge in her tone she asked "What is so funny." Struggling to keep myself under control I said, "I thought your motto was 'grill cheese is best with wheat not wry'" and I burst out laughing again. She just stared at me and scowled, then mumbled "That’s my food motto." "Ok," I said still giggling. Then I heard my watch chime and looked down and then looked up my eyes wide, in a high voice I said "We're going too late!" Tess shook her head and said "This is exactly why I didn't want to go for this so called walk with you, you always make us late when you’re mad at your brother." She said sounding a little ticked off at me, as usual. "Sorry" I said a little embarrass because I knew she was right. This will give Edward and Jessy another thing to laugh about; I don't get what those boys think is so funny about a tenth grader being late to school when she is pissed at them. "UGH! THAT’S JUST GRATE!!!!!!!! I am so going to kill them when I get home." I said so mad that I almost ran to school to go into their class and kill them with my bear hands. "Late again I see." "Sorry Mr. Mason I was on my way when---" "Don't give any excuses just take your seat and I'll see you after class." "Yes sir" gosh I hate this teacher he's so uptight he never gives me a break. I can't wait to get home when I can sweetly pummel both of my brothers to death. Just when I think that nothing could get any worse of cores, it does. "Jane! Wait up," Tess said a little out of breath from running after me. I laughed without hummer. "Were you late today?" I asked getting madder by the minuet. "Yes." she said her voice little guarded, "Um... why?" "Because every time I'm late I get in trouble for it, do you?" I asked still fuming. "No" she said understanding now and off guard. That caught me off guard "Oh," I said dumb founded "Um... why?" I was still in shock. "I don't know Mrs. Jackson just likes me I guess, and because she understands having to help out a friend when they're upset. She said that she had a friend whose sister was like your brother" she finished saying brother with a little too much warmth, and then adding a sigh, that didn't help my mood at all then stopped talking probably daydreaming about Edward. UGH! Even thinking his name makes me madder then heck. I snapped my fingers to get her attention "HEY! Stay on topic here." "What? Oh, sorry," She said a little ashamed of herself, knowing that I knew what she was thinking of. I smiled letting her know that she was right "Well,” I said still smiling "I've got to go home and beat my brothers to death." "Ok" Tess said giggling "Bye, see ya tomorrow." "Yah see ya." I said walking away giggling as well. When I got home I lost all of my happy attitude, I went straight to my room when I wanted to go to Edward and Jessy’s room to wreck some stuff of theirs, but instead I ended up in my room..... crying? That was a shock even for me, let alone Edward and Jessy. They came in looking guilty "Are you ok Jay-Jay?" (My nick name when they try to make me feel better) I let out a blood curdling scream that broke my third mirror and made them both cover their ears, then I started throwing things at them I threw one thing that was heavy and hard and heard it brake against the wall when I missed them and they both retreated to the hallway where I heard Jessy say "I told you, you shouldn’t have done that, it really made her upset, and you and I both know that it takes a lot to make Jane cry." Then there was a long pause where Edward thought about what Jessy had just said "Yeah, you're right. I guess I should apologize." "No! Really?" Jessy said sarcasm strongly detected in his voice. I giggled quietly despite myself. When Edward came in to apologize I threw something else at him, and he quickly retreated. "I'm not going back in there. You better go get Heather." Edward said sounding mad because he knew Heather would chew his butt for making me cry. Heather is my older sister who is also my best friend and can make me happy even when no one else can. "I wish I could..." Jessy stopped "But..." Edward asked impatiently wanting oh so very badly to get the chewing part over and done with. "She and mom went to the store to the grocery store." "Well... is Sue here?"(My other older sister) Edward asked knowing that wouldn't work, but also sounding a bit relieved that he might not get his butt chewed. "Yeah, but you know that, that won't work." Jess said Yeah, but it's worth a shot." "Ok, but you’re telling her what happened. I'm going to call her though." Jess said a little smug. "Why?" Edward asked a little perplexed. “ ’Cause I am not going to be here when Heather gets back." Sue came in with some cookies and warm milk (my favorite snack) and asked if I was ok. I sniffed “Can I come in?” Sue asked. "Yeah I guess." Still wanting to pummel my brothers but lost my strength to. "Hey, Sue can I ask you something?" "You just did." She said with one small laugh. "Sue." "Sorry Jane. Ok what do want to ask?" "I was wandering... if you could... still tell Heather?" I said the last three words a little faster than needed. "Oh you bet I will, in fact I already did." She whispered the last three words, than she stopped and asked what Jess and Ed. (their nick names) did. "I don't want to tell you." I said my cheeks turning bright red with anger and embarrassment. "That bad huh?" "Yeah ." Then I heard Edward and Jessy snickering in the hall. I jumped out of bed with my cup of milk and Sue’s cup and went out and said "What's so funny boys?" I asked so, so, oh so very, very mad and they stopped once they heard my voice. "Um...um” They said in unison, I laughed with no humor what so ever. Then I threw the milk that I was hiding behind my back in their faces. I then said again without humor "Oh, now I see, ha, ha, ha." I went back to my bed leaving them both splutter and spit the milk out. Sue looked at me smiling and said with fake sadness. "Did you leave any fun for me and Heather? Speaking of which..." She said looking at her watch "She should be coming through the door right about..." "EDWARD, JESSY WHERE ARE YOU?!" "Now." Sue finished after Heather bellowed the five threatening words. Sue and I both heard the two boys gulp, while we were giggling, and then we both said in unison and loud enough for only the boys to here "Oooooo, you guys are in trouble." "Big time," I added with one more giggle. Sue sighed, “Maybe i should try to calm her down "Why?” I said wining, “It’s fun to watch her abuse the boys." I said sort of pouting not wanting them to get off that easy. "Yeah, I know I just wanted to at least pretend i care!” At that we both burst out laughing. When we heard Heather yelling at the boys we got deathly quiet listening to the screaming. "...AND ONCE I LEAVE YOU JUST THINK THAT YOU CAN HARRASS JANE THAT’S NOT GOING TO FLY WITH ME." "But we were just--” Edward started to say in a small voice but was cut off with a mocking tone. “Just what? Just having fun, getting her back. For what, what did she do to you...?” I couldn't place the voice; I stopped listening long enough to realize that Sue was gone. That was the voice that I just heard. Then I went back to listening and heard the little squeak that was what was right now left of the hilarious jokesters. When I heard the door open I knew it was my turn to tell her what they did to me. So I took a deep breath and started to tell her what they did starting with when I got in the shower and what came out of the faucet was not water… and let’s just say it stunk really bad. When I finished telling Heather what happened she was fuming, and I actually felt sorry for Edward and Jessy, but karma always catches up with you and in this family karma catches up with you really fast so we try not to do anything that we will regret. So I try very hard not to do things that will catch up to me in a bad way, but you can’t help it sometimes. I came out of my “happy place” and heard someone or two someone’s yelp in pain and noticed that Heather was gone and an evil smile broke out on my face when I realized who the yelps belonged too. Knowing that I shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as I am I reluctantly decided to help the boys even though they deserve whatever Heather is doing to them, but they’re going to owe me big time for this so they can’t do anything to me or I’d tell Heather and let her take care of them. By the time I got there Heather had both the boys hanging by their feet from the ceiling. I hid behind the wall for a little but couldn’t take it anymore and ran and got my camera, like I said sometimes I just can’t help myself. I walked out with my camera and laughed and then Edward said, “Call her off please” he said sounding as if all hope was lost because it was up me. “Yeah pl- pl- please call her off we’re really sorry.” Jessy said. I knew he was but I knew Edward well enough to know that he’d say he was sorry but wouldn’t mean it so I pretended to think about it. I stole a glance at Heather who was smiling viciously at me and nodded. (It was as if she knew what I was thinking) I told the boys what my terms were if I was going to let them off the hook I had a few things listed: 1. I get to take a picture of them like this and put it on the internet 2. They have to wear dresses and makeup and I get to take a picture and put that on the internet too. 3. Can’t play mean tricks on me anymore. And last but not least: 4. They have to shower in what they made shower in for one whole school day, without a real shower until the end of that school day. So they can get a taste of what it felt like to have that done to you. They reluctantly agreed afraid of what Heather might do to them if they didn’t. So I got some of my revenge but that was just the beginning of it. Chapter 2 The next morning I had a very bad headache so I had my new maids, in dresses, get me an aspirin and some water. Tess my other annoyance sometimes but you gotta love them, when she came over after school to see what the heck was going on with me so I told her and she laughed when she saw Jessy, but when she saw Edward she scowled so hard I thought her face was going to permanently stay that way but when I explained why I dressed him up like that she let up and gave a little giggle. “So…” she said still unsure of how to react to seeing her knight in shining armor in a dress “Seriously what did they do that made Heather allow you to do this to them?” “Do you really wanna know?” I said a little unsure of whether to tell her or not in the end I ended up telling her, like usual. “NO WAY, THEY HOOKED THE SHOWER UP TO THE GARBAGE DISPOSLE?!” she said in a voice I’ve never heard her use, it was pure discussed. “THAT’S DISCUSTING!!” “Yeah think.” I said getting a little annoyed “I’m the one who had to bath in it for all of 5 seconds because, it took a that long for the shower to get the garbage out of the head and then of course as a normal reaction I looked up to see why the shower was not working and it got all over my face it was gross!” I squealed disgust strongly detected in my voice. “So are you going to school tomorrow?” she asked still uneasy to see Edward like that. “Of course I’m probably going to be better for that dumb test Mr. Mason is planning and I missed the review. UGH, it always happens to me!” I said so mad that had such a stupid, mean teacher. “I’m sure he’ll give you an extra day to study.” Tess said sympathetically. “Maybe” I said doubtfully. “He expects you to be ready even if you were sick the day before, if you’re not sick the day of the test he’ll expect you to take it that day. Man Tess if only I had your teacher then I wouldn’t have to worry too much about the test but it worked out like this so now I have a test to take tomorrow.” Just then my cell rang and guess who it was Jessy and Edward hiding in the Men’s room begging not asking but begging to take off the dresses just for school but I said no. This is ganna be the best day of my life to see them get so embarrassed I can’t wait till tomorrow, but then again I’m ganna have to take that test. Oh well getting an F won’t be that bad because of what the boys will have to endure, and I get to witness it ALL! When Tess left I forgot to tell her to bring the most important part of my plan and it involved pictures and the internet. “Tess I just had to call you before school today.” I said excitement clear within my voice. “What’s so important Jane that you had to call me now, it’s so early I could’ve slept for another twenty minutes.” She said a little anger in her tired voice. “Bring your camera today!” I said all my excitement clear in my voice. “Why?” She said sounding more interested. “Just bring it.” I said almost pleading, almost. “I promise you’ll laugh until your lungs implode!” “Well… O.K.” She said a little bit of suspicion in her voice. “Hey, Jane.” Tess said out of breath “Sorry I’m late I missed my mom this morning.” “That’s O.K.” I said so exited for today’s event. It took us a half hour to get to school today because the crossing guard was sick and the cars were not stopping for us. I was late again today shocker there, but there was a real shocker today. We got a new student. He was dressed like a Goth person, but a very cute Goth at that, he wore a black T-shirt, black jeans, black leather jacket and the most gorgeous dark black hair. It wasn’t greasy like most of the guys here who have black hair; it was spiky and really hot. The seat next to me was the only one left in the class because I was not popular at all and I wasn’t expecting to even be talked to by this really hot guy, so when my Science teacher Mr. Mattson told him to sit next to me I expected him to just like everyone else take one look at me and tense knowing that I may be the one to totally decimate there social life if they even talked to me. He didn’t though he walked toward me and then stopped except he didn’t tense he stopped and smiled. I was so shocked at this that I couldn’t do anything so I just smiled back. By the time he sat down I got my senses back and said to myself he just doesn’t know about you being the leper of the school yet, so don’t do anything stupid, don’t do anything stupid. He looked at me and I just glanced to make it look like I wasn’t that interested and was just looking at him like everyone in the school looks at a new student. I didn’t think he would talk to me and I was right, at least for the moment. I glanced around and it looked like he was the new fling all the girls were staring and I could tell that Maria (the girl who thinks she is all that and no guy can resist her if she tried to get him) was ready to get him alone and flirt and try to get him to ask her out. I knew she was going to do that because she was applying her really red lipstick to make her lips look fuller and in her words “more kissable.” “O.K. class,” Mr. Mattson said “… we are going to do a lab today on how plants develop without light. Your lab partner is going to be the person sitting next to you!” I could hear the excitement in his voice. OH GOD! I thought. “I will give you your plants and you need to find a way to get together this weekend and do the lab. IF you have no way of getting together see me after class, and I will figure out what you will do for your lab then.” “Jane, I know how you like to work alone but you will have to work with Stephen, O.K.?” I nodded in response. Chapter 3 The bell finally rang and I got all my stuff and was heading to the door when a hand touched my shoulder I felt and electric current type shock zing through my body. I screamed and dropped all my stuff and turned around slowly and it was him who had touched me and I had to make a fool of myself by screaming. I bent down quickly to try to avoid looking him in the eye I stayed down and was saying sorry over and over again. I glanced up and I could tell he was trying not to laugh, my temper flared. He bent over and tried to help me pick up my books but because of him trying not to laugh at me, my temper was still very high and I snapped. “You’re helping me why?” I said angry giving him my most piercing glare. He immediately lost all hummer in his eyes and he mumbled sorry. I felt bad that I snapped “Sorry.” I said feeling kind of stupid. “I’m just not used to having people help me it’s usually the complete opposite.” I said. “It’s O.K.” He said. He seemed very understanding. “No it’s not O.K., I’m sorry. It’s just ugh…” I had to think about what I was going to say next. “I’m… I’m the leper of the school, O.K.? If you didn’t notice nobody talks to me if they’re doing anything to me they are trying to humiliate me and most of the time they succeed. I just wasn’t expecting anyone to touch me and your hand kind of shocked me … literally” god i sounded stupid, so when I saw a hint of shock in his eyes at least I think it was shock, it could’ve been anger too. I sighed “I’m rambling, sorry.” I said. I could feel my face getting hot so I grabbed my books and left. “Sorry I’ve got to go, I’m going to be late for class.” “And why would that be a problem?” He asked. I could tell he was about to laugh or giggle or whatever guys call giggling but I told him anyway kind of like how I talk to Tess. “Because I’m always late to class I can’t be late again.” At this he laughed. “Hey would you stop.” I said pouting a little. “Sorry. You better go if you don’t want to be late.” He said “Yeah, I probably should.” I said reluctant but still knowing that he was right. “Hey what’s your name again?” I asked hoping he wouldn’t think that I was sounding desperate. He looked down I didn’t know if he didn’t want to tell me or if he was scared about what I would think about his name. “My name is Stephen.” He said it more or less reluctant. “I can’t remember yours either, what is it?” “Umm…, my name is Jane.” I said my embarrassment flaring because I had to think about what my name was. “Oh.” He said “That’s a pretty name. Well you wanna come over sometime so we can…?” I think I fainted, in fact I know I fainted because I woke up in the nurse’s office in his arms while he was waiting for the nurse to be available. I groaned. He looked down and smiled. “Well,” He said. “I guess I don’t have to worry about you being in a coma then!” He said with a chuckle. “Ugh!” I said so embarrassed. I can’t believe I fainted. He chuckled again. “So...” “So what!” I said exasperated. “Whoa, whoa, calm down. I was just ganna ask what made you faint, did you not eat breakfast or something?” He asked sounding kind of worried. Come on Jane don’t say anything stupid. “Yeah I didn’t have breakfast.” I told him. “Yeah that’s it.” I mumbled. Thinking about the hot flash of pain that slammed into my body before i blacked out, or fainted or whatever. “What?” He said. “Huh? Oh, I said Yeah I didn’t have breakfast this morning.” “Oh, O.K.” he said. “So are you ganna come over tomorrow? For the project I mean” “Umm…” I felt light headed all i wanted to do was sleep. NO! You’re NOT going to faint again, breath, breath. “I’ll give you a call. If you give me your number!” I said praying to god I didn’t sound too hopeful. “Yeah, here it is.” He handed it to me, he sounded really excited that I had taken his offer, but it was a different kind of excited. I didn’t know why he sounded so excited though. It’s me Jane the leper of the school, I wander what he’s up to? I came home to two brothers pelted with food and other things, probably garbage. “OH MY GOD!” I was laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe. Both of them looked pissed. Finally calming down a little, at least enough so that I could gasp in air. I asked what the hell had happened to them and they just glared at me. I smiled triumphantly and walked into my bedroom to call Tess and tell her about Stephen. “Hello!” Tess answered her cell on the second ring, most likely expecting a call from me. “Hey, Tess it’s…” I didn’t even finish before her chatter started. “Yeah Jane I know it’s you I saw on my caller I.D., OH MY GOD did you see him he is so HOT!! YOU. ARE. SO. LUCKY!” She was screaming at me like she was insane and I was deaf. She was excited for me a hot guy talking to me was a big deal and she knew it. “Tess, Tess, TESS!” I screamed at her trying to get her to stop talking she’s been talking for over an hour. “WHAT? GEEZE!” She screamed back. “GOOD GOD! You’ve been talking for over an hour.” “Really?” Shock was in her voice. “OMG! I’M LATE!” “Late for what?” “I was supposed to meet my mom at the Mall ten minutes ago!” I heard a click and then the line went dead, I listened to the dial tone for like three minutes before I hung it up. “HEY, EDWARD JESSY!” I yelled to them. “WHAT DO YOU WANT NOW YOU LITTLE NO GOOD ROTTEN---,” I cut Edward off, “JUST GET UP HERE!” I could hear him mumbling all the way up the stairs. I didn’t hear Jessy though. “What do you want?” Edward growled looking like he was really tiered he had huge dark circles under his eyes and his face looked all sunken in so did Jessy’s. “I’ve a proposition for you two,” I said with a vicious smile of my face. “What is it?” Edward and Jessy asked interested. “You two and I are even if---,” “Oh here comes the if,” Edward interrupted disgusted. “If you don’t mess with my lab partner when he comes over,” I said he really fast but they both seemed to still hear it. “He?” They both repeated. “Yes he! Now if you don’t mind I have to call him to schedule a time to go over to his house first.” “Ooooo, Jay-Jay’s got herself a boyfriend,” Edward laughed viciously. “Hey Edward watch it would you, I don’t want to wear these to school again tomorrow,” Jessy said worry on his face. My face broke into a smile as I remembered something else, “And, Edward this is mainly for you.” “What is it?” He asked cautiously. My smile widened, “You have to ask someone out for me.” His face became more tiered then it already was, “Who?” He asked not sounding excited at all. “Tess,” I said happily “And you have to act like you want to and that you enjoy your time, get it, got it, good.” He looked taken aback. I just dismissed them by saying “Now if you excuse me I have a phone call to make,” Chapter 4 I first planed on calling Stephen then Tess, who would be ecstatic to hear me tell her that I overheard the conversation of Edward planning to ask her out. “Hello?” Stephen’s voice came on the other end of the line. “Hello Stephen, umm, I wanted to ask when you wanted to get together this weekend, for the project I mean. “Oh, umm, you can come over now if you want,” He said kind of quickly. “Umm… I need to ask, but I’d love to!” I said my voice so much calmer then I felt inside. My stomach was full of butterflies and they were jumping up into my throat. "Just one sec," I said still flustered. "Heather I'm going over to my science partners house." "Ok! He or she? Be home from her house before dinner." "It's a he and ok." I said he fast hoping she wouldn't hear it, but as usual she did. “Parents ganna be home?” “YUP!” "When you come home tell me everything!" She said sounding ready to kill if needed. "No promises." I said while I climbed out of my window. I usually save this escape route for when Edward and Jessy are planning something and I find out about it, but it's good for this too. I put my cell back up to my ear, "Ok I'm back Stephen, and I'm on my way." I said sounding way calmer then I felt. "Great!" He said not even trying to hide his excitement. I could swear that I heard him say, my first insider, but it was probably my imagination. “Stephen? Where do you live?” “99th central 4256 boulevard lane.” “Ok, be there soon!”   Chapter 5 Hey!" I said cheerfully, "Do you have any idea's for the science project yet?" "No," he said not sounding like that's what he wanted to talk about at all. Becoming perky again he said, "I was hoping you would have." "That’s ok, I’ve got loads!" I kinda squeaked I hope he hadn’t noticed, he didn't seem to have. "Ok so let's hear them." "Ok as long as you don't laugh at any of them." "I make no promises," He said giving me a chuckle. "Ugh, fine I have no choice anyway 'cause we have to do the project!" I said exasperated. He chuckled as I knew he would when I told him my idea and stops short when I said we should do a project on blood. "Each of us pricks our finger and then explain how we found out our blood types!" I finished in a rush that was my best idea. "Ok... but where are we going to do the pricking and storing and stiff?" He asked, he was tense and was trying but failing to hide it. I giggled, "Are you afraid of blood!" I was still giggling. "No!" He was NOT afraid or just doing an awesome job at acting. I thought I saw a hint of worry in his eyes for what I don't know. "No I'm not I-- I just want to get a good grade is all, so we have to know where to keep the stuff right?" "Ok...?" I was starting to think something was up. We went up to his room and his mom came to check on us periodically, I thought nothing of it just a mother being a mother until I started to notice every time she came in she gave this look, I brushed it off as a warning look but my skin still got goose bumps. I looked at the clock and saw that I only had ten minutes to get home in time for dinner! "AH CRAP!" I said exasperated. "What's up?" He said swiftly moving to my side. "I'm supposed to be home in ten minutes and my house is at least fifteen-twenty minutes from here!" I lied hoping he would offer to drive me home. "Hey don't freak I'll give you a ride." He said smiling. "Thanks so much, 'Kay let's go!" I was running out the door and stopped dead when I saw what kind of car he had. It was the Vintage-G Porch convertible!” "How did you get that car!?" I said in awe and suspicion. "Oh this peace o’ junk?" He said acting like it was a car from the dinosaur ages. "Did you just call the care that isn't coming out until next year a piece of "junk"?"" "What this car has been out for three years in Germany, why hasn't it been here?" he asked in awe then answering his own question, because Americans have to make shit so damn expensive and make it one mile per two gallons." He said like I wasn't there or like I wasn't an American. I brushed off the insult, "Well I really need to get home or I will be in sooo much trouble!" "Well we don’t want that now do we? Then I can't see you for a while." he said with his cute sarcastic smile. “Yeah, now if you excuse me we really need to get going.” “Oh, right! Come on lets go.” He said quickly. When I got in the car I was instantly overwhelmed by his smell. It didn’t smell like Ax or Old spice or the normal crap boys wear, it smelled of nature and comfort, a relaxing scent I leaned my head back and breathed deeply several times. We got home quicker then I would have liked, but his goodbye was very formal until I got out of the car. “Here let me get that for you.” He said moving quickly to the other side of the car to hold the door open for me. “Thank you, kind sir.” I said with a curtsy. Chuckling he said, “Ma lady, have a nice day.” Then he hugged me I was shocked but I liked it, I sat there breathing him in and then reluctantly he let go. “Promise me something, be careful!” He seemed very protective as he looked at my house with uncertain eyes. “I promise,” I said, brushing off the look of hatred I know I saw flash in his eyes when he looked at my house. “Ok then, see you tomorrow,” He said back to his normal self. “Am I coming over again tomorrow?” I asked “No, aren’t you going to be at school tomorrow?” He sounded worried. I laughed, “Of course wouldn’t miss it for the world!” I waved at the car till it was out of sight. I felt like crawling in a hole and dyeing god I was so obvious oh well even if I did scare him off it wouldn’t really hurt I’m used to it. Chapter 6 “Hey I’m home!” I said to Heather. “Ha, I can see that and how was your study date?” I went up to give her a hug and she breathed deeply and froze. She looked like she was ganna kill something or someone and at that moment it seemed like it was ganna be me! “Are you ok?” I asked timidly, her look was frightening me and I’m not easily frightened. I could swear her eyes became pure black. She looked like she was holding her breath but she said calmly, “Yes quite all right, thank you. Now go take a shower please,” She was not acting normally. “Ok,” I said immediately. As I was walking up the stairs I thought to myself she’s never said quite alright, where did that come from? I just got into the shower when my phone rang. I ignored it; i had just had shampoo in my hair when it rang again. I got out of the shower to get it, annoyed now. I was assuming it was Tess, I answered and it was a guy’s voice. “Hello?” He said “Hello, can I help you?” I said putting on my best sales person’s voice. “Um, who is this?” He asked. “Um I’m sorry but that’s the wrong question, you called me,” I said, really smart mouthy. “Ha ha, hi Jane,” oh it was Stephen. “So… sup,” I said laughing. “Nut tin much, ha ha!” he said laughing non-chalantly. “OK…?” I said dragging out the word. “OK what?” “Well why did you call me?” “Oh…” he sounded disappointed “would you rather i didn’t?”I laughed “No, I don’t mind you calling. Just you called at a bad time I was in the shower.” “Oh really?” I could hear the smirk in his voice I rolled my eyes, “You wish little boy.” “Hmm, your point being,” he murmured dreamily. “Also I’m pretty sure I’m older and bigger then you are” “Umm, that’s not perverted at all, and not talking about age nor height” I said playfully. He chuckled said he just wanted to hear my voice before he went to sleep and then we hung up and went to sleep; or at least I did.   Chapter 7 I woke up to a roar of engine and a whisper through my brain that I brushed off. I bolted out of bed and to the window. Guess who was sitting on the hood of his car smiling up at me. I rolled my eyes, quickly got dressed and ran down the stairs out the door. "Hey beautiful" he said as he gave me a hug he smelled amazing. "Hey" I said staring into his amazing eyes. I was wondering what was going on with this kid we meet for a couple a days and now he is like a perfect guy for me! It seems to good to be true... that usually means it is. I ignored my instincts and got into his car,looking out the window I saw Heather, Jessie and Edward staring at the car and I swear I heard them growl and not like a father would growl for his daughter when she went out with a boyfriend, but like an animal growl when a stranger is getting to close to its territory. I also saw all of there eyes flash red blood red, I think. Text: true.vampire.witch All rights reserved. Publication Date: March 4th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-true.vampire.witch

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-moriah-peterson-sazzaphraz-the-movie-3/

Moriah peterson SAZZAPHRAZ THE MOVIE 3 LEGEND OF THE STAR WARRIORS CHAPTER ONE: Lilyjam arrives Officer Roland walked down the black damp sidewalk; as he patroled the streets of newberry town. the lighted poles that hung over him were all blown out by the previous storm yesterday, although the flashlight he held formed scary shifting shadows on the walls of houses and gas stations; he remained calm and collective, he even attempted to whistle as he strutted down the wet pavement; but after several failures he finally said "dang it" and walked on. a few moments later and Roland began to hear footsteps behind him, he turned back and stared into a dark ally a few feet away, he shone his light over it. but it barely even cut through the billowing shadow that the allyway was made off. "that's strange" he said. "not at all...now let me pass" a voice spoke from the dark. "who was that?" "never mind who i am. just let me pass" it spoke again. Roland slowly put his hand to the gun on his side, "i'm afraid i can't let u pass. as a registered police officer of...the...newberry...union...oh my god" his heart nearly jumped out of his chest, who he saw was someone to be feared. an old man came from under the blanket of shadow, a white beard stretched from his chin to his waist; clothed with a long blue starred robe and a tall pointed hat. Roland recognized right away who it was. "lily Jam" "hello again" he smiled at him. Roland pulled at his gun but LIly jam thrust his hand and blew him back with a burst of wind. the officer landed in the bay, where a few feet away out at sea. Lilyjam's apprentice Scorcerer tulip butter awaited on a boat. "watch and learn!" lilyjam shouted to him. He turned towards the town and raised his arms high in the air, blue energy began to pour out of his hands and started to surround the entire area. Officer jackson peered out the dusty and clouded window just in the corner of the office. he shifted his feet occasionally to keep them from aching, he had been standing there for over two hours now watching over the neighborhood. Officer King however was at his desk shuffling through stacks of paper, bank reciets, apartment bills, mortgage payments, and even verizon security bills. the thought had just occured to him, "what the heck is all this doing here?" he shoved the mountain of papers to the side and laying on the middle of the desk under all the mess was an arrest warrant; for Gad khareets. he scowled at the peice of document and slowly picked it up, he read over it and sighed. "if only" Jackson twisted his brow and stared even closer at the window, "uh...King, i think i see something" "is it Gad?" "no, it's someone else" as he looked out at the strange figure; his vision soon became clear. it was an old man with a long white beard and i'd rather not go over the description again so i'll just say, he saw Lilyjam. "oh no" he was in shock. "what is it?" King asked him. "it's Lilyjam" he said turning from the window, "oh crap" get all the units on him now, every ablebody cop in this city. this guy is dangerous and his apprentice is relativly stupid." several police cars sped across the corner of the gas station and off towards the target. Lily had hands raised in the air still, the force field that had begun to spread; engulfed the entire city. Meanwhile his apprentice Tulip butter rowed his boat to the shore, once he tied it there at the bay he ran off to assist Lilyjam. it was a long moment before Lilyjam realized he was at his side, when he noticed lilyjam let out a loud yelp and stepped to the side. "i thought i told you to watch and learn!" he shouted at him. "i watched, i learned, and now i'm here to help" "i don't need your help" he looked in front of him and saw the police force were on their way to stop him. "actually i may need your help. annihilate them" "righto!!" Tulip butter shouted and ran off towards them. as the cars drove closer, one of the cops peered out his side window; seeing some young man running for them. "is that a boy?" one of the officer's asked. "get out of the way you're gonna get run over!!!!" roland shouted out the window. tulip butter did not do as told, he stoped in his tracks in front of the racing vehicle. he raised his wand ahead of him and and a rush of wind blasted past the them, Roland felt the air whip at his face, but the car was launched back into the air. "AAHH!!!" the police screamed inside as they were blown backward and finally landed on top of a survey building. "whoa!" Roland awed. the radio clicked on and tuned mysteriously to the music channel with the song "i believe in magic" the two officers merely sat there, faces startled and scared. "yeah that's how i'm feeling right about now" said Roland referring to the song. Publication Date: January 11th 2010 https://www.bookrix.com/-winghero15

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-lauren-n-short-bliss/

Lauren N Short Bliss short story Chapter 1: Alone I've always been alone. I've only had 1 friend that stood by me since kindergarten after my parents committed suicide. The handsome and rich doctor and the stay-at-home mom who was just gorgeous, what problems would they have? Me, I was the problem. I was always endangered because of my parent's money, their line of work, and greedy people. So, one day, my parents stabbed each other' heart's with knives but before that, they told why they were going to die and tha I had to be strong no matter what happens. That was when I was 6. Chapter 2: My "Family" My new family, the "Bliss Family", are a stuck-up bunch of preppy sluts and a jock. My so-called mother hasn't had a steady boyfriend since her divorce before I came along. My slutty "sister" is a girl who thinks she's WAY HOTTER than most girls just because she's popular, a cheerfollower ( not leader ), and dates the second most popular jock in school. My brother is the SECOND ONLY PERSON who gets me. He's the most popular jock, gets all the girls, and is liked by everyone. My total opposite. So, my family consists of a slutty mom (Kristina), a slutty sister (Emily), my total opposite of a brother (Jake), and me, the outcast (Crystal). Welcome to my family and welcome to my life. Publication Date: July 13th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-loloxemo

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-alexis-o-dell-my-one-and-only-mate-in-process/

Alexis O Dell My One And Only Mate *In Process* This book is dedicated to my friend Bailey! She helped me with some edits and stuff like that! So big thanks too Bailey! How it all started. It all started, when Jasmine was in the woods looking for her dog. She saw a wolf and hide behind a tree. The wolf turned into human form. It was her best friend Tyler. She gasped. Tyler could hear her but he ignored it because he had no clothes on. He changed into a wolf again and ran off. Like Nothing Happened.  Chapter 1 It was summer time, Jasmine looked at her clock it said "11 O' Clock." She was late for her job. She got up and got dressed into her work clothes. She went downstairs. She lives by herself. Her mom and dad pasted away last year and she hasn't fully recovered from that tragic night but her best friend Tyler has gotten her to open up a little bit. Tyler and Jasmine were just babies when they first met. Jasmine's mom knew Tyler's mom. Tyler has been there for Jasmine. For example when Jasmine got drunk and almost had sex with a scumbag. He saved her. Jasmine has a little crush on Tyler but she doesn't tell him. That might ruin their friendship. She thought to herself "I'm not even good enough from him." She just shock her head and said "NO, Don't think that!"  Then she ignored the thought and just got her phone and left for work. She was there at "11:30." The boss saw her and gave her a evil glare look. Then her boss just looked away from her and handed her a rag. She washed the tables down nice and neatly. The boss was amused by the way she did that so nice and neat. Then her boss gave her 2 plates to bring to table 8. She took the plates and brought them to table 8.  Publication Date: December 29th 2014 https://www.bookrix.com/-sq257c96e22c545

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William Shakespeare King John PERSONS REPRESENTED KING JOHN. PRINCE HENRY, his son; afterwards KING HENRY III. ARTHUR, Duke of Bretagne, son to GEFFREY, late Duke of Bretagne, the elder brother to King John. WILLIAM MARSHALL, Earl of Pembroke. GEOFFREY FITZ-PETER, Earl of Essex, Chief Justiciary of England. WILLIAM LONGSWORD, Earl of Salisbury. ROBERT BIGOT, Earl of Norfolk. HUBERT DE BURGH, Chamberlain to the King. ROBERT FALCONBRIDGE, son to Sir Robert Falconbridge. PHILIP FALCONBRIDGE, his half-brother, bastard son to King Richard I. JAMES GURNEY, servant to Lady Falconbridge. PETER OF POMFRET, a prophet PHILIP, King of France. LOUIS, the Dauphin. ARCHDUKE OF AUSTRIA. CARDINAL PANDULPH, the Pope's legate. MELUN, a French lord. CHATILLON, Ambassador from France to King John. ELINOR, Widow of King Henry II and Mother to King John. CONSTANCE, Mother to Arthur. BLANCH OF SPAIN, Daughter to Alphonso, King of Castile, and Niece to King John. LADY FALCONBRIDGE, Mother to the Bastard and Robert Falconbridge. Lords, Citizens of Angiers, Sheriff, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, Attendants and other Attendants. SCENE: Sometimes in England, and sometimes in France. ACT I. SCENE 1. Northampton. A Room of State in the Palace. [Enter KING JOHN, QUEEN ELINOR, PEMBROKE, ESSEX, SALISBURY, and others, with CHATILLON.] KING JOHN. Now, say, Chatillon, what would France with us? CHATILLON. Thus, after greeting, speaks the King of France, In my behaviour, to the majesty, The borrow'd majesty of England here. ELINOR. A strange beginning: - borrow'd majesty! KING JOHN. Silence, good mother; hear the embassy. CHATILLON. Philip of France, in right and true behalf Of thy deceased brother Geffrey's son, Arthur Plantagenet, lays most lawful claim To this fair island and the territories, - To Ireland, Poictiers, Anjou, Touraine, Maine; Desiring thee to lay aside the sword Which sways usurpingly these several titles, And put the same into young Arthur's hand, Thy nephew and right royal sovereign. KING JOHN. What follows if we disallow of this? CHATILLON. The proud control of fierce and bloody war, To enforce these rights so forcibly withheld. KING JOHN. Here have we war for war, and blood for blood, Controlment for controlment; - so answer France. CHATILLON. Then take my king's defiance from my mouth, The farthest limit of my embassy. KING JOHN. Bear mine to him, and so depart in peace: Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France; For ere thou canst report I will be there, The thunder of my cannon shall be heard: So, hence! Be thou the trumpet of our wrath, And sullen presage of your own decay. - An honourable conduct let him have: - Pembroke, look to 't. Farewell, Chatillon. [Exeunt CHATILLON and PEMBROKE.] ELINOR. What now, my son! Have I not ever said How that ambitious Constance would not cease Till she had kindled France and all the world Upon the right and party of her son? This might have been prevented and made whole With very easy arguments of love; Which now the manage of two kingdoms must With fearful bloody issue arbitrate. KING JOHN. Our strong possession and our right for us. ELINOR. Your strong possession much more than your right, Or else it must go wrong with you and me: So much my conscience whispers in your ear, Which none but heaven and you and I shall hear. [Enter the Sheriff of Northamptonshire, who whispers to Essex.] ESSEX. My liege, here is the strangest controversy, Come from the country to be judg'd by you, That e'er I heard: shall I produce the men? KING JOHN. Let them approach. - [Exit SHERIFF.] Our abbeys and our priories shall pay This expedition's charge. [Re-enter Sheriff, with ROBERT FAULCONBRIDGE and PHILIP, his bastard Brother.] What men are you? BASTARD. Your faithful subject I, a gentleman Born in Northamptonshire, and eldest son, As I suppose, to Robert Falconbridge, - A soldier by the honour-giving hand Of Coeur-de-lion knighted in the field. KING JOHN. What art thou? ROBERT. The son and heir to that same Falconbridge. KING JOHN. Is that the elder, and art thou the heir? You came not of one mother then, it seems. BASTARD. Most certain of one mother, mighty king, - That is well known; and, as I think, one father: But for the certain knowledge of that truth I put you o'er to heaven and to my mother: - Of that I doubt, as all men's children may. ELINOR. Out on thee, rude man! thou dost shame thy mother, And wound her honour with this diffidence. BASTARD. I, madam? no, I have no reason for it, - That is my brother's plea, and none of mine; The which if he can prove, 'a pops me out At least from fair five hundred pound a-year: Heaven guard my mother's honour and my land! KING JOHN. A good blunt fellow. - Why, being younger born, Doth he lay claim to thine inheritance? BASTARD. I know not why, except to get the land. But once he slander'd me with bastardy: But whe'er I be as true begot or no, That still I lay upon my mother's head; But that I am as well begot, my liege, - Fair fall the bones that took the pains for me! - Compare our faces and be judge yourself. If old Sir Robert did beget us both, And were our father, and this son like him, - O old Sir Robert, father, on my knee I give heaven thanks I was not like to thee! KING JOHN. Why, what a madcap hath heaven lent us here! ELINOR. He hath a trick of Coeur-de-lion's face; The accent of his tongue affecteth him: Do you not read some tokens of my son In the large composition of this man? KING JOHN. Mine eye hath well examined his parts, And finds them perfect Richard. - Sirrah, speak, What doth move you to claim your brother's land? BASTARD. Because he hath a half-face, like my father; With half that face would he have all my land: A half-fac'd groat five hundred pound a-year! ROBERT. My gracious liege, when that my father liv'd, Your brother did employ my father much, - BASTARD. Well, sir, by this you cannot get my land: Your tale must be how he employ'd my mother. ROBERT. And once despatch'd him in an embassy To Germany, there with the emperor To treat of high affairs touching that time. The advantage of his absence took the King, And in the meantime sojourn'd at my father's; Where how he did prevail I shame to speak, - But truth is truth: large lengths of seas and shores Between my father and my mother lay, - As I have heard my father speak himself, - When this same lusty gentleman was got. Upon his death-bed he by will bequeath'd His lands to me; and took it, on his death, That this, my mother's son, was none of his; And if he were, he came into the world Full fourteen weeks before the course of time. Then, good my liege, let me have what is mine, My father's land, as was my father's will. KING JOHN. Sirrah, your brother is legitimate; Your father's wife did after wedlock bear him; And if she did play false, the fault was hers; Which fault lies on the hazards of all husbands That marry wives. Tell me, how if my brother, Who, as you say, took pains to get this son, Had of your father claim'd this son for his? In sooth, good friend, your father might have kept This calf, bred from his cow, from all the world; In sooth, he might; then, if he were my brother's, My brother might not claim him; nor your father, Being none of his, refuse him. This concludes, - My mother's son did get your father's heir; Your father's heir must have your father's land. ROBERT. Shall then my father's will be of no force To dispossess that child which is not his? BASTARD. Of no more force to dispossess me, sir, Than was his will to get me, as I think. ELINOR. Whether hadst thou rather be a Falconbridge, And like thy brother, to enjoy thy land, Or the reputed son of Coeur-de-lion, Lord of thy presence and no land beside? BASTARD. Madam, an if my brother had my shape And I had his, Sir Robert's his, like him; And if my legs were two such riding-rods, My arms such eel-skins stuff'd, my face so thin That in mine ear I durst not stick a rose Lest men should say 'Look where three-farthings goes!' And, to his shape, were heir to all this land, Would I might never stir from off this place, I would give it every foot to have this face; I would not be Sir Nob in any case. ELINOR. I like thee well: wilt thou forsake thy fortune, Bequeath thy land to him, and follow me? I am a soldier, and now bound to France. BASTARD. Brother, take you my land, I'll take my chance: Your face hath got five hundred pound a-year; Yet sell your face for fivepence and 'tis dear. - Madam, I'll follow you unto the death. ELINOR. Nay, I would have you go before me thither. BASTARD. Our country manners give our betters way. KING JOHN. What is thy name? BASTARD. Philip, my liege, so is my name begun; Philip, good old Sir Robert's wife's eldest son. KING JOHN. From henceforth bear his name whose form thou bear'st: Kneel thou down Philip, but rise more great, - Arise Sir Richard and Plantagenet. BASTARD. Brother by the mother's side, give me your hand: My father gave me honour, yours gave land. - Now blessed be the hour, by night or day, When I was got, Sir Robert was away! ELINOR. The very spirit of Plantagenet! - I am thy grandam, Richard; call me so. BASTARD. Madam, by chance, but not by truth; what though? Something about, a little from the right, In at the window, or else o'er the hatch; Who dares not stir by day must walk by night; And have is have, however men do catch: Near or far off, well won is still well shot; And I am I, howe'er I was begot. KING JOHN. Go, Falconbridge; now hast thou thy desire: A landless knight makes thee a landed squire. - Come, madam, - and come, Richard; we must speed For France, for France, for it is more than need. BASTARD. Brother, adieu. Good fortune come to thee! For thou wast got i' th' way of honesty. [Exeunt all but the BASTARD.] A foot of honour better than I was; But many a many foot of land the worse. Well, now can I make any Joan a lady: - 'Good den, Sir Richard:' - 'God-a-mercy, fellow:' - And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter: For new-made honour doth forget men's names: 'Tis too respective and too sociable For your conversion. Now your traveller, - He and his toothpick at my worship's mess; - And when my knightly stomach is suffic'd, Why then I suck my teeth, and catechize My picked man of countries: - 'My dear sir,' - Thus leaning on mine elbow I begin, - 'I shall beseech you' - that is question now; And then comes answer like an ABC-book: - 'O sir,' says answer 'at your best command; At your employment; at your service, sir:' - 'No, sir,' says question 'I, sweet sir, at yours: And so, ere answer knows what question would, - Saving in dialogue of compliment, And talking of the Alps and Apennines, The Pyrenean and the river Po, - It draws toward supper in conclusion so. But this is worshipful society, And fits the mounting spirit like myself: For he is but a bastard to the time, That doth not smack of observation, - And so am I, whether I smack or no; And not alone in habit and device, Exterior form, outward accoutrement, But from the inward motion to deliver Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age's tooth; Which, though I will not practise to deceive, Yet, to avoid deceit, I mean to learn; For it shall strew the footsteps of my rising. - But who comes in such haste in riding-robes? What woman-post is this? hath she no husband That will take pains to blow a horn before her? [Enter LADY FALCONBRIDGE, and JAMES GURNEY.] O me, 'tis my mother! - w now, good lady! What brings you here to court so hastily? LADY FALCONBRIDGE. Where is that slave, thy brother? where is he That holds in chase mine honour up and down? BASTARD. My brother Robert? old Sir Robert's son? Colbrand the giant, that same mighty man? Is it Sir Robert's son that you seek so? LADY FalcoNBRIDGE. Sir Robert's son! Ay, thou unreverend boy, Sir Robert's son: why scorn'st thou at Sir Robert? He is Sir Robert's son, and so art thou. BASTARD. James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave awhile? GURNEY. Good leave, good Philip. BASTARD. Philip - sparrow! - James, There's toys abroad: - anon I'll tell thee more. [Exit GURNEY.] Madam, I was not old Sir Robert's son; Sir Robert might have eat his part in me Upon Good-Friday, and ne'er broke his fast. Sir Robert could do well: marry, to confess, Could not get me; Sir Robert could not do it, - We know his handiwork: - therefore, good mother, To whom am I beholding for these limbs? Sir Robert never holp to make this leg. LADY FALCONBRIDGE. Hast thou conspired with thy brother too, That for thine own gain shouldst defend mine honour? What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave? BASTARD. Knight, knight, good mother, - Basilisco-like; What! I am dubb'd; I have it on my shoulder. But, mother, I am not Sir Robert's son: I have disclaim'd Sir Robert and my land; Legitimation, name, and all is gone: Then, good my mother, let me know my father, - Some proper man, I hope: who was it, mother? LADY FalcoNBRIDGE. Hast thou denied thyself a Falconbridge? BASTARD. As faithfully as I deny the devil. LADY FALCONBRIDGE. King Richard Coeur-de-lion was thy father: By long and vehement suit I was seduc'd To make room for him in my husband's bed: - Heaven lay not my transgression to my charge! - Thou art the issue of my dear offence, Which was so strongly urg'd, past my defence. BASTARD. Now, by this light, were I to get again, Madam, I would not wish a better father. Some sins do bear their privilege on earth, And so doth yours; your fault was not your folly: Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose, - Subjected tribute to commanding love, - Against whose fury and unmatched force The aweless lion could not wage the fight Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hand: He that perforce robs lions of their hearts May easily win a woman's. Ay, my mother, With all my heart I thank thee for my father! Who lives and dares but say, thou didst not well When I was got, I'll send his soul to hell. Come, lady, I will show thee to my kin; And they shall say when Richard me begot, If thou hadst said him nay, it had been sin: Who says it was, he lies; I say 'twas not. [Exeunt.] ACT II. SCENE 1. France. Before the walls of Angiers. [Enter, on one side, the ARCHDUKE OF AUSTRIA and Forces; on the other, PHILIP, King of France, LOUIS, CONSTANCE, ARTHUR, and Forces.] KING PHILIP. Before Angiers well met, brave Austria. - Arthur, that great forerunner of thy blood, Richard, that robb'd the lion of his heart, And fought the holy wars in Palestine, By this brave duke came early to his grave: And, for amends to his posterity, At our importance hither is he come To spread his colours, boy, in thy behalf; And to rebuke the usurpation Of thy unnatural uncle, English John: Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither. ARTHUR. God shall forgive you Coeur-de-lion's death The rather that you give his offspring life, Shadowing their right under your wings of war: I give you welcome with a powerless hand, But with a heart full of unstained love, - Welcome before the gates of Angiers, duke. LOUIS. A noble boy! Who would not do thee right? AUSTRIA. Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss, As seal to this indenture of my love, - That to my home I will no more return, Till Angiers, and the right thou hast in France, Together with that pale, that white-fac'd shore, Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides, And coops from other lands her islanders, - Even till that England, hedg'd in with the main, That water-walled bulwark, still secure And confident from foreign purposes, - Even till that utmost corner of the west Salute thee for her king: till then, fair boy, Will I not think of home, but follow arms. CONSTANCE. O, take his mother's thanks, a widow's thanks, Till your strong hand shall help to give him strength To make a more requital to your love! AUSTRIA. The peace of heaven is theirs that lift their swords In such a just and charitable war. KING PHILIP. Well then, to work: our cannon shall be bent Against the brows of this resisting town. - Call for our chiefest men of discipline, To cull the plots of best advantages: We'll lay before this town our royal bones, Wade to the market-place in Frenchmen's blood, But we will make it subject to this boy. CONSTANCE. Stay for an answer to your embassy, Lest unadvis'd you stain your swords with blood: My Lord Chatillon may from England bring That right in peace which here we urge in war; And then we shall repent each drop of blood That hot rash haste so indirectly shed. KING PHILIP. A wonder, lady! - lo, upon thy wish, Our messenger Chatillon is arriv'd. [Enter CHATILLON.] What England says, say briefly, gentle lord; We coldly pause for thee; Chatillon, speak. CHATILLON. Then turn your forces from this paltry siege, And stir them up against a mightier task. England, impatient of your just demands, Hath put himself in arms: the adverse winds, Whose leisure I have stay'd, have given him time To land his legions all as soon as I; His marches are expedient to this town, His forces strong, his soldiers confident. With him along is come the mother-queen, An Ate, stirring him to blood and strife; With her her neice, the Lady Blanch of Spain; With them a bastard of the king's deceas'd: And all the unsettled humours of the land, - Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries, With ladies' faces and fierce dragons' spleens, - Have sold their fortunes at their native homes, Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs, To make a hazard of new fortunes here. In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er Did never float upon the swelling tide To do offence and scathe in Christendom. [Drums beat within.] The interruption of their churlish drums Cuts off more circumstance: they are at hand; To parley or to fight: therefore prepare. KING PHILIP. How much unlook'd-for is this expedition! AUSTRIA. By how much unexpected, by so much We must awake endeavour for defence; For courage mounteth with occasion: Let them be welcome, then; we are prepar'd. [Enter KING JOHN, ELINOR, BLANCH, the BASTARD, PEMBROKE, Lords, and Forces.] KING JOHN. Peace be to France, if France in peace permit Our just and lineal entrance to our own! If not, bleed France, and peace ascend to heaven, Whiles we, God's wrathful agent, do correct Their proud contempt that beats his peace to heaven! KING PHILIP. Peace be to England, if that war return From France to England, there to live in peace! England we love; and for that England's sake With burden of our armour here we sweat. This toil of ours should be a work of thine; But thou from loving England art so far That thou hast under-wrought his lawful king, Cut off the sequence of posterity, Outfaced infant state, and done a rape Upon the maiden virtue of the crown. Look here upon thy brother Geffrey's face: - These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of his: This little abstract doth contain that large Which died in Geffrey; and the hand of time Shall draw this brief into as huge a volume. That Geffrey was thy elder brother born, And this his son; England was Geffrey's right, And this is Geffrey's: in the name of God, How comes it then, that thou art call'd a king, When living blood doth in these temples beat, Which owe the crown that thou o'er-masterest? KING JOHN. From whom hast thou this great commission, France, To draw my answer from thy articles? KING PHILIP. From that supernal judge that stirs good thoughts In any breast of strong authority, To look into the blots and stains of right. That judge hath made me guardian to this boy: Under whose warrant I impeach thy wrong; And by whose help I mean to chastise it. KING JOHN. Alack, thou dost usurp authority. KING PHILIP. Excus, - it is to beat usurping down. ELINOR. Who is it thou dost call usurper, France? CONSTANCE. Let me make answer; - thy usurping son. ELINOR. Out, insolent! thy bastard shall be king, That thou mayst be a queen, and check the world! CONSTANCE. My bed was ever to thy son as true As thine was to thy husband; and this boy Liker in feature to his father Geffrey Than thou and John in manners, - being as like As rain to water, or devil to his dam. My boy a bastard! By my soul, I think His father never was so true begot: It cannot be, an if thou wert his mother. ELINOR. There's a good mother, boy, that blots thy father. CONSTANCE. There's a good grandam, boy, that would blot thee. AUSTRIA. Peace! BASTARD. Hear the crier. AUSTRIA. What the devil art thou? BASTARD. One that will play the devil, sir, with you, An 'a may catch your hide and you alone. You are the hare of whom the proverb goes, Whose valour plucks dead lions by the beard: I'll smoke your skin-coat an I catch you right; Sirrah, look to 't; i' faith I will, i' faith. BLANCH. O, well did he become that lion's robe That did disrobe the lion of that robe! BASTARD. It lies as sightly on the back of him As great Alcides' shows upon an ass: - But, ass, I'll take that burden from your back, Or lay on that shall make your shoulders crack. AUSTRIA. What cracker is this same that deafs our ears With this abundance of superfluous breath? KING PHILIP. Louis, determine what we shall do straight. LOUIS. Women and fools, break off your conference. - King John, this is the very sum of all, - England and Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, Maine, In right of Arthur, do I claim of thee: Wilt thou resign them, and lay down thy arms? KING JOHN. My life as soon: - I do defy thee, France. Arthur of Bretagne, yield thee to my hand; And out of my dear love, I'll give thee more Than e'er the coward hand of France can win: Submit thee, boy. ELINOR. Come to thy grandam, child. CONSTANCE. Do, child, go to it' grandam, child; Give grandam kingdom, and it' grandam will Give it a plum, a cherry, and a fig. There's a good grandam! ARTHUR. Good my mother, peace! I would that I were low laid in my grave: I am not worth this coil that's made for me. ELINOR. His mother shames him so, poor boy, he weeps. CONSTANCE. Now, shame upon you, whe'er she does or no! His grandam's wrongs, and not his mother's shames, Draws those heaven-moving pearls from his poor eyes, Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee: Ay, with these crystal beads heaven shall be brib'd To do him justice, and revenge on you. ELINOR. Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven and earth! CONSTANCE. Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and earth! Call not me slanderer: thou and thine usurp The dominations, royalties, and rights, Of this oppressed boy: this is thy eldest son's son, Infortunate in nothing but in thee: Thy sins are visited in this poor child; The canon of the law is laid on him, Being but the second generation Removed from thy sin-conceiving womb. KING JOHN. Bedlam, have done. CONSTANCE. I have but this to say, - That he is not only plagued for her sin, But God hath made her sin and her the plague On this removed issue, plagu'd for her And with her plague, her sin; his injury Her injury, - the beadle to her sin; All punish'd in the person of this child, And all for her: a plague upon her! ELINOR. Thou unadvised scold, I can produce A will that bars the title of thy son. CONSTANCE. Ay, who doubts that? a will, a wicked will; A woman's will; a canker'd grandam's will! KING PHILIP. Peace, lady! pause, or be more temperate: It ill beseems this presence to cry aim To these ill-tuned repetitions. - Some trumpet summon hither to the walls These men of Angiers: let us hear them speak Whose title they admit, Arthur's or John's. [Trumpet sounds. Enter citizens upon the walls.] FIRST CITIZEN. Who is it that hath warn'd us to the walls? KING PHILIP. 'Tis France, for England. KING JOHN. England for itself: - You men of Angiers, and my loving subjects, - KING PHILIP. You loving men of Angiers, Arthur's subjects, Our trumpet call'd you to this gentle parle. KING JOHN. For our advantage; therefore hear us first. These flags of France, that are advanced here Before the eye and prospect of your town, Have hither march'd to your endamagement; The cannons have their bowels full of wrath, And ready mounted are they to spit forth Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls: All preparation for a bloody siege And merciless proceeding by these French Confronts your city's eyes, your winking gates; And, but for our approach, those sleeping stones That as a waist doth girdle you about, By the compulsion of their ordinance By this time from their fixed beds of lime Had been dishabited, and wide havoc made For bloody power to rush upon your peace. But, on the sight of us, your lawful king, - Who, painfully, with much expedient march, Have brought a countercheck before your gates, To save unscratch'd your city's threatn'd cheeks, - Behold, the French, amaz'd, vouchsafe a parle; And now, instead of bullets wrapp'd in fire, To make a shaking fever in your walls, They shoot but calm words folded up in smoke, To make a faithless error in your ears: Which trust accordingly, kind citizens, And let us in, your king; whose labour'd spirits, Forwearied in this action of swift speed, Craves harbourage within your city-walls. KING PHILIP. When I have said, make answer to us both. Lo, in this right hand, whose protection Is most divinely vow'd upon the right Of him it holds, stands young Plantagenet, Son to the elder brother of this man, And king o'er him and all that he enjoys: For this down-trodden equity we tread In war-like march these greens before your town; Being no further enemy to you Than the constraint of hospitable zeal In the relief of this oppressed child Religiously provokes. Be pleased then To pay that duty which you truly owe To him that owes it, namely, this young prince: And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear, Save in aspect, hath all offence seal'd up; Our cannons' malice vainly shall be spent Against the invulnerable clouds of heaven; And with a blessed and unvex'd retire, With unhack'd swords and helmets all unbruis'd, We will bear home that lusty blood again Which here we came to spout against your town, And leave your children, wives, and you, in peace. But if you fondly pass our proffer'd offer, 'Tis not the roundure of your old-fac'd walls Can hide you from our messengers of war, Though all these English, and their discipline, Were harbour'd in their rude circumference. Then, tell us, shall your city call us lord In that behalf which we have challeng'd it? Or shall we give the signal to our rage, And stalk in blood to our possession? FIRST CITIZEN. In brief: we are the King of England's subjects: For him, and in his right, we hold this town. KING JOHN. Acknowledge then the king, and let me in. CITIZEN. That can we not; but he that proves the king, To him will we prove loyal: till that time Have we ramm'd up our gates against the world. KING JOHN. Doth not the crown of England prove the king? And if not that, I bring you witnesses, Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England's breed, - BASTARD. Bastards, and else. KING JOHN. To verify our title with their lives. KING PHILIP. As many and as well-born bloods as those, - BASTARD. Some bastards too. KING PHILIP. Stand in his face, to contradict his claim. FIRST CITIZEN. Till you compound whose right is worthiest, We for the worthiest hold the right from both. KING JOHN. Then God forgive the sin of all those souls That to their everlasting residence, Before the dew of evening fall, shall fleet, In dreadful trial of our kingdom's king! KING PHILIP. Amen, Amen! - Mount, chevaliers; to arms! BASTARD. Saint George, that swinged the dragon, and e'er since Sits on his horse' back at mine hostess' door, Teach us some fence! - Sirrah [To AUSTRIA.], were I at home, At your den, sirrah, with your lioness, I would set an ox-head to your lion's hide, And make a monster of you. AUSTRIA. Peace! no more. BASTARD. O, tremble, for you hear the lion roar. KING JOHN. Up higher to the plain; where we'll set forth In best appointment all our regiments. BASTARD. Speed, then, to take advantage of the field. KING PHILIP. It shall be so; - [To LOUIS.] and at the other hill Command the rest to stand. - God and our right! [Exeunt severally.] [After excursions, enter a French Herald, with trumpets, to the gates.] FRENCH HERALD. You men of Angiers, open wide your gates And let young Arthur, Duke of Bretagne, in, Who, by the hand of France, this day hath made Much work for tears in many an English mother, Whose sons lie scatter'd on the bleeding ground; Many a widow's husband grovelling lies, Coldly embracing the discolour'd earth; And victory, with little loss, doth play Upon the dancing banners of the French, Who are at hand, triumphantly display'd, To enter conquerors, and to proclaim Arthur of Bretagne England's king and yours. [Enter an ENGLISH HERALD, with trumpets.] ENGLISH HERALD. Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells: King John, your king and England's, doth approach, Commander of this hot malicious day: Their armours, that march'd hence so silver-bright, Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood; There stuck no plume in any English crest That is removed by a staff of France, Our colours do return in those same hands That did display them when we first march'd forth; And, like a jolly troop of huntsmen, come Our lusty English, all with purpled hands, Dy'd in the dying slaughter of their foes: Open your gates and give the victors way. FIRST CITIZEN. Heralds, from off our towers, we might behold, From first to last, the onset and retire Of both your armies; whose equality By our best eyes cannot be censured: Blood hath bought blood, and blows have answer'd blows; Strength match'd with strength, and power confronted power: Both are alike, and both alike we like. One must prove greatest: while they weigh so even, We hold our town for neither; yet for both. [Enter, on one side, KING JOHN, ELINOR, BLANCH, the BASTARD, and Forces; at the other, KING PHILIP, LOUIS, AUSTRIA, and Forces.] KING JOHN. France, hast thou yet more blood to cast away? Say, shall the current of our right run on? Whose passage, vex'd with thy impediment, Shall leave his native channel, and o'erswell With course disturb'd even thy confining shores, Unless thou let his silver water keep A peaceful progress to the ocean. KING PHILIP. England, thou hast not sav'd one drop of blood In this hot trial, more than we of France; Rather, lost more: and by this hand I swear, That sways the earth this climate overlooks, Before we will lay down our just-borne arms, We'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms we bear, Or add a royal number to the dead, Gracing the scroll that tells of this war's loss With slaughter coupled to the name of kings. BASTARD. Ha, majesty! how high thy glory towers When the rich blood of kings is set on fire! O, now doth Death line his dead chaps with steel; The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs; And now he feasts, mousing the flesh of men, In undetermin'd differences of kings. - Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus? Cry, havoc, kings! back to the stained field, You equal potents, fiery-kindled spirits! Then let confusion of one part confirm The other's peace: till then, blows, blood, and death! KING JOHN. Whose party do the townsmen yet admit? KING PHILIP. Speak, citizens, for England; who's your king? FIRST CITIZEN. The King of England, when we know the king. KING PHILIP. Know him in us, that here hold up his right. KING JOHN. In us, that are our own great deputy, And bear possession of our person here; Lord of our presence, Angiers, and of you. FIRST CITIZEN. A greater power than we denies all this; And till it be undoubted, we do lock Our former scruple in our strong-barr'd gates; King'd of our fears, until our fears, resolv'd, Be by some certain king purg'd and depos'd. BASTARD. By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers flout you, kings, And stand securely on their battlements As in a theatre, whence they gape and point At your industrious scenes and acts of death. Your royal presences be rul'd by me: - Do like the mutines of Jerusalem, Be friends awhile, and both conjointly bend Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town: By east and west let France and England mount Their battering cannon, charged to the mouths, Till their soul-fearing clamours have brawl'd down The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city: I'd play incessantly upon these jades, Even till unfenced desolation Leave them as naked as the vulgar air. That done, dissever your united strengths, And part your mingled colours once again: Turn face to face, and bloody point to point; Then, in a moment, fortune shall cull forth Out of one side her happy minion, To whom in favour she shall give the day, And kiss him with a glorious victory. How like you this wild counsel, mighty states? Smacks it not something of the policy? KING JOHN. Now, by the sky that hangs above our heads, I like it well. - France, shall we knit our powers, And lay this Angiers even with the ground; Then, after, fight who shall be king of it? BASTARD. An if thou hast the mettle of a king, - Being wrong'd, as we are, by this peevish town, - Turn thou the mouth of thy artillery, As we will ours, against these saucy walls; And when that we have dash'd them to the ground, Why then defy each other, and, pell-mell, Make work upon ourselves, for heaven or hell! KING PHILIP. Let it be so. - Say, where will you assault? KING JOHN. We from the west will send destruction Into this city's bosom. AUSTRIA. I from the north. KING PHILIP. Our thunder from the south Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town. BASTARD. O prudent discipline! From north to south, - Austria and France shoot in each other's mouth: I'll stir them to it.[Aside.] - Come, away, away! FIRST CITIZEN. Hear us, great kings: vouchsafe awhile to stay, And I shall show you peace and fair-fac'd league; Win you this city without stroke or wound; Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds That here come sacrifices for the field: Persever not, but hear me, mighty kings. KING JOHN. Speak on with favour; we are bent to hear. FIRST CITIZEN. That daughter there of Spain, the Lady Blanch, Is niece to England: - look upon the years Of Louis the Dauphin and that lovely maid: If lusty love should go in quest of beauty, Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch? If zealous love should go in search of virtue, Where should he find it purer than in Blanch? If love ambitious sought a match of birth, Whose veins bound richer blood than Lady Blanch? Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth, Is the young Dauphin every way complete, - If not complete of, say he is not she; And she again wants nothing, to name want, If want it be not, that she is not he: He is the half part of a blessed man, Left to be finished by such a she; And she a fair divided excellence, Whose fulness of perfection lies in him. O, two such silver currents, when they join Do glorify the banks that bound them in; And two such shores to two such streams made one, Two such controlling bounds, shall you be, kings, To these two princes, if you marry them. This union shall do more than battery can To our fast-closed gates; for at this match, With swifter spleen than powder can enforce, The mouth of passage shall we fling wide ope, And give you entrance; but without this match, The sea enraged is not half so deaf, Lions more confident, mountains and rocks More free from motion; no, not Death himself In mortal fury half so peremptory As we to keep this city. BASTARD. Here's a stay That shakes the rotten carcase of old Death Out of his rags! Here's a large mouth, indeed, That spits forth death and mountains, rocks and seas; Talks as familiarly of roaring lions As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs! What cannoneer begot this lusty blood? He speaks plain cannon, - fire and smoke and bounce; He gives the bastinado with his tongue; Our ears are cudgell'd; not a word of his But buffets better than a fist of France. Zounds! I was never so bethump'd with words Since I first call'd my brother's father dad. ELINOR. Son, list to this conjunction, make this match; Give with our niece a dowry large enough; For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie Thy now unsur'd assurance to the crown, That yon green boy shall have no sun to ripe The bloom that promiseth a mighty fruit. I see a yielding in the looks of France; Mark how they whisper: urge them while their souls Are capable of this ambition, Lest zeal, now melted by the windy breath Of soft petitions, pity, and remorse, Cool and congeal again to what it was. FIRST CITIZEN. Why answer not the double majesties This friendly treaty of our threaten'd town? KING PHILIP. Speak England first, that hath been forward first To speak unto this city: what say you? KING JOHN. If that the Dauphin there, thy princely son, Can in this book of beauty read 'I love,' Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen; For Anjou, and fair Touraine, Maine, Poictiers, And all that we upon this side the sea, - Except this city now by us besieg'd, - Find liable to our crown and dignity, Shall gild her bridal bed; and make her rich In titles, honours, and promotions, As she in beauty, education, blood, Holds hand with any princess of the world. KING PHILIP. What say'st thou, boy? look in the lady's face. LOUIS. I do, my lord, and in her eye I find A wonder, or a wondrous miracle, The shadow of myself form'd in her eye; Which, being but the shadow of your son, Becomes a sun, and makes your son a shadow: I do protest I never lov'd myself Till now infixed I beheld myself Drawn in the flattering table of her eye. [Whispers with BLANCH.] BASTARD. [Aside.] Drawn in the flattering table of her eye! - Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her brow, And quarter'd in her heart! - he doth espy Himself love's traitor! This is pity now, That, hang'd, and drawn, and quarter'd, there should be In such a love so vile a lout as he. BLANCH. My uncle's will in this respect is mine. If he see aught in you that makes him like, That anything he sees, which moves his liking I can with ease translate it to my will; Or if you will, to speak more properly, I will enforce it easily to my love. Further, I will not flatter you, my lord, That all I see in you is worthy love, Than this, - that nothing do I see in you, Though churlish thoughts themselves should be your judge, - That I can find should merit any hate. KING JOHN. What say these young ones? - What say you, my niece? BLANCH. That she is bound in honour still to do What you in wisdom still vouchsafe to say. KING JOHN. Speak then, Prince Dauphin; can you love this lady? LOUIS. Nay, ask me if I can refrain from love; For I do love her most unfeignedly. KING JOHN. Then do I give Volquessen, Touraine, Maine, Poictiers, and Anjou, these five provinces, With her to thee; and this addition more, Full thirty thousand marks of English coin. - Philip of France, if thou be pleas'd withal, Command thy son and daughter to join hands. KING PHILIP. It likes us well. - Young princes, close your hands. AUSTRIA. And your lips too; for I am well assur'd That I did so when I was first assur'd. KING PHILIP. Now, citizens of Angiers, ope your gates, Let in that amity which you have made; For at Saint Mary's chapel presently The rites of marriage shall be solemniz'd. - Is not the Lady Constance in this troop? I know she is not; for this match made up Her presence would have interrupted much: Where is she and her son? tell me, who knows. LOUIS. She is sad and passionate at your highness' tent. KING PHILIP. And, by my faith, this league that we have made Will give her sadness very little cure. - Brother of England, how may we content This widow lady? In her right we came; Which we, God knows, have turn'd another way, To our own vantage. KING JOHN. We will heal up all; For we'll create young Arthur Duke of Bretagne, And Earl of Richmond; and this rich fair town We make him lord of. - Call the Lady Constance: Some speedy messenger bid her repair To our solemnity: - I trust we shall, If not fill up the measure of her will, Yet in some measure satisfy her so That we shall stop her exclamation. Go we, as well as haste will suffer us, To this unlook'd-for, unprepared pomp. [Exeunt all but the BASTARD. The Citizens retire from the Walls.] BASTARD. Mad world! mad kings! mad composition! John, to stop Arthur's title in the whole, Hath willingly departed with a part; And France, - whose armour conscience buckled on, Whom zeal and charity brought to the field As God's own soldier, - rounded in the ear With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil; That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith; That daily break-vow, he that wins of all, Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids, - Who having no external thing to lose But the word maid, cheats the poor maid of that; That smooth-fac'd gentleman, tickling commodity, - Commodity, the bias of the world; The world, who of itself is peised well, Made to run even upon even ground, Till this advantage, this vile-drawing bias, This sway of motion, this commodity, Makes it take head from all indifferency, From all direction, purpose, course, intent: And this same bias, this commodity, This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word, Clapp'd on the outward eye of fickle France, Hath drawn him from his own determin'd aid, From a resolv'd and honourable war, To a most base and vile-concluded peace. - And why rail I on this commodity? But for because he hath not woo'd me yet: Not that I have the power to clutch my hand When his fair angels would salute my palm; But for my hand, as unattempted yet, Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich. Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail, And say, There is no sin but to be rich; And being rich, my virtue then shall be, To say, There is no vice but beggary: Since kings break faith upon commodity, Gain, be my lord! - for I will worship thee. [Exit.] ACT III. SCENE 1. France. The FRENCH KING'S tent. [Enter CONSTANCE, ARTHUR, and SALISBURY.] CONSTANCE. Gone to be married! gone to swear a peace! False blood to false blood join'd! gone to be friends! Shall Louis have Blanch? and Blanch those provinces? It is not so; thou hast misspoke, misheard; Be well advis'd, tell o'er thy tale again: It cannot be; thou dost but say 'tis so; I trust I may not trust thee; for thy word Is but the vain breath of a common man: Believe me, I do not believe thee, man; I have a king's oath to the contrary. Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me, For I am sick and capable of fears; Oppress'd with wrongs, and therefore full of fears; A widow, husbandless, subject to fears; A woman, naturally born to fears; And though thou now confess thou didst but jest, With my vex'd spirits I cannot take a truce, But they will quake and tremble all this day. What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head? Why dost thou look so sadly on my son? What means that hand upon that breast of thine? Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum, Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds? Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words? Then speak again, - not all thy former tale, But this one word, whether thy tale be true. SALISBURY. As true as I believe you think them false That give you cause to prove my saying true. CONSTANCE. O, if thou teach me to believe this sorrow, Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die; And let belief and life encounter so As doth the fury of two desperate men, Which in the very meeting fall and die! - Louis marry Blanch! O boy, then where art thou? France friend with England! what becomes of me? - Fellow, be gone: I cannot brook thy sight; This news hath made thee a most ugly man. SALISBURY. What other harm have I, good lady, done, But spoke the harm that is by others done? CONSTANCE. Which harm within itself so heinous is, As it makes harmful all that speak of it. ARTHUR. I do beseech you, madam, be content. CONSTANCE. If thou, that bid'st me be content, wert grim, Ugly, and slanderous to thy mother's womb, Full of unpleasing blots and sightless stains, Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious, Patch'd with foul moles and eye-offending marks, I would not care, I then would be content; For then I should not love thee; no, nor thou Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown. But thou art fair; and at thy birth, dear boy, Nature and fortune join'd to make thee great: Of nature's gifts thou mayst with lilies boast, And with the half-blown rose; but Fortune, O! She is corrupted, chang'd, and won from thee; She adulterates hourly with thine uncle John; And with her golden hand hath pluck'd on France To tread down fair respect of sovereignty, And made his majesty the bawd to theirs. France is a bawd to Fortune and king John - That strumpet Fortune, that usurping John! - Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forsworn? Envenom him with words; or get thee gone, And leave those woes alone, which I alone Am bound to under-bear. SALISBURY. Pardon me, madam, I may not go without you to the kings. CONSTANCE. Thou mayst, thou shalt; I will not go with thee: I will instruct my sorrows to be proud; For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout. To me, and to the state of my great grief, Let kings assemble; for my grief's so great That no supporter but the huge firm earth Can hold it up: here I and sorrows sit; Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it. [Seats herself on the ground.] [Enter KING JOHN, KING PHILIP, LOUIS, BLANCH, ELINOR, BASTARD, AUSTRIA, and attendants.] KING PHILIP. 'Tis true, fair daughter; and this blessed day Ever in France shall be kept festival: To solemnize this day the glorious sun Stays in his course and plays the alchemist, Turning, with splendour of his precious eye, The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold: The yearly course that brings this day about Shall never see it but a holiday. CONSTANCE. [Rising.] A wicked day, and not a holy day! What hath this day deserv'd? what hath it done That it in golden letters should be set Among the high tides in the calendar? Nay, rather turn this day out of the week, This day of shame, oppression, perjury: Or, if it must stand still, let wives with child Pray that their burdens may not fall this day, Lest that their hopes prodigiously be cross'd: But on this day let seamen fear no wreck; No bargains break that are not this day made: This day, all things begun come to ill end, - Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change! KING PHILIP. By heaven, lady, you shall have no cause To curse the fair proceedings of this day. Have I not pawn'd to you my majesty? CONSTANCE. You have beguil'd me with a counterfeit Resembling majesty; which, being touch'd and tried, Proves valueless; you are forsworn, forsworn: You came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood, But now in arms you strengthen it with yours: The grappling vigour and rough frown of war Is cold in amity and painted peace, And our oppression hath made up this league. - Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjur'd kings! A widow cries: be husband to me, heavens! Let not the hours of this ungodly day Wear out the day in peace; but, ere sunset, Set armed discord 'twixt these perjur'd kings! Hear me, O, hear me! AUSTRIA. Lady Constance, peace! CONSTANCE. War! war! no peace! peace is to me a war. O Lymoges! O Austria! thou dost shame That bloody spoil: thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward! Thou little valiant, great in villainy! Thou ever strong upon the stronger side! Thou Fortune's champion that dost never fight But when her humorous ladyship is by To teach thee safety! - thou art perjur'd too, And sooth'st up greatness. What a fool art thou, A ramping fool, to brag, and stamp. and swear Upon my party! Thou cold-blooded slave, Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side? Been sworn my soldier? bidding me depend Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength? And dost thou now fall over to my foes? Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame, And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs! AUSTRIA. O that a man should speak those words to me! BASTARD. And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. AUSTRIA. Thou dar'st not say so, villain, for thy life. BASTARD. And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. KING JOHN. We like not this: thou dost forget thyself. KING PHILIP. Here comes the holy legate of the Pope. [Enter PANDULPH.] PANDULPH. Hail, you anointed deputies of heaven! - To thee, King John, my holy errand is. I Pandulph, of fair Milan cardinal, And from Pope Innocent the legate here, Do in his name religiously demand Why thou against the church, our holy mother, So wilfully dost spurn; and, force perforce Keep Stephen Langton, chosen Archbishop Of Canterbury, from that holy see? This, in our foresaid holy father's name, Pope Innocent, I do demand of thee. KING JOHN. What earthly name to interrogatories Can task the free breath of a sacred king? Thou canst not, cardinal, devise a name So slight, unworthy, and ridiculous, To charge me to an answer, as the pope. Tell him this tale; and from the mouth of England Add thus much more, - that no Italian priest Shall tithe or toll in our dominions: But as we under heaven are supreme head, So, under him, that great supremacy, Where we do reign, we will alone uphold, Without the assistance of a mortal hand: So tell the pope, all reverence set apart To him and his usurp'd authority. KING PHILIP. Brother of England, you blaspheme in this. KING JOHN. Though you and all the kings of Christendom Are led so grossly by this meddling priest, Dreading the curse that money may buy out; And by the merit of vile gold, dross, dust, Purchase corrupted pardon of a man, Who in that sale sells pardon from himself; Though you and all the rest, so grossly led, This juggling witchcraft with revenue cherish; Yet I, alone, alone do me oppose Against the pope, and count his friends my foes. PANDULPH. Then by the lawful power that I have, Thou shalt stand curs'd and excommunicate: And blessed shall he be that doth revolt From his allegiance to an heretic; And meritorious shall that hand be call'd, Canonized, and worshipp'd as a saint, That takes away by any secret course Thy hateful life. CONSTANCE. O, lawful let it be That I have room with Rome to curse awhile! Good father Cardinal, cry thou amen To my keen curses: for without my wrong There is no tongue hath power to curse him right. PANDULPH. There's law and warrant, lady, for my curse. CONSTANCE. And for mine too: when law can do no right, Let it be lawful that law bar no wrong: Law cannot give my child his kingdom here; For he that holds his kingdom holds the law: Therefore, since law itself is perfect wrong, How can the law forbid my tongue to curse? PANDULPH. Philip of France, on peril of a curse, Let go the hand of that arch-heretic, And raise the power of France upon his head, Unless he do submit himself to Rome. ELINOR. Look'st thou pale, France; do not let go thy hand. CONSTANCE Look to that, devil; lest that France repent And, by disjoining hands, hell lose a soul. AUSTRIA. King Philip, listen to the cardinal. BASTARD. And hang a calf's-skin on his recreant limbs. AUSTRIA. Well, ruffian, I must pocket up these wrongs, Because - BASTARD. Your breeches best may carry them. KING JOHN. Philip, what say'st thou to the cardinal? CONSTANCE. What should he say, but as the cardinal? LOUIS. Bethink you, father; for the difference Is, purchase of a heavy curse from Rome, Or the light loss of England for a friend: Forgo the easier. BLANCH. That's the curse of Rome. CONSTANCE. O Louis, stand fast! The devil tempts thee here In likeness of a new uptrimmed bride. BLANCH. The Lady Constance speaks not from her faith, But from her need. CONSTANCE. O, if thou grant my need, Which only lives but by the death of faith, That need must needs infer this principle, - That faith would live again by death of need! O then, tread down my need, and faith mounts up; Keep my need up, and faith is trodden down! KING JOHN. The king is mov'd, and answers not to this. CONSTANCE. O be remov'd from him, and answer well! AUSTRIA. Do so, King Philip; hang no more in doubt. BASTARD. Hang nothing but a calf's-skin, most sweet lout. KING PHILIP. I am perplex'd, and know not what to say. PANDULPH. What canst thou say, but will perplex thee more, If thou stand excommunicate and curs'd? KING PHILIP. Good reverend father, make my person yours, And tell me how you would bestow yourself. This royal hand and mine are newly knit, And the conjunction of our inward souls Married in league, coupled and link'd together With all religious strength of sacred vows; The latest breath that gave the sound of words Was deep-sworn faith, peace, amity, true love, Between our kingdoms and our royal selves; And even before this truce, but new before, - No longer than we well could wash our hands, To clap this royal bargain up of peace, - Heaven knows, they were besmear'd and overstain'd With slaughter's pencil, where revenge did paint The fearful difference of incensed kings: And shall these hands, so lately purg'd of blood, So newly join'd in love, so strong in both, Unyoke this seizure and this kind regreet? Play fast and loose with faith? so jest with heaven, Make such unconstant children of ourselves, As now again to snatch our palm from palm; Unswear faith sworn; and on the marriage-bed Of smiling peace to march a bloody host, And make a riot on the gentle brow Of true sincerity? O, holy sir. My reverend father, let it not be so! Out of your grace, devise, ordain, impose, Some gentle order; and then we shall be bless'd To do your pleasure, and continue friends. PANDULPH. All form is formless, order orderless, Save what is opposite to England's love. Therefore, to arms! be champion of our church, Or let the church, our mother, breathe her curse, - A mother's curse, - on her revolting son. France, thou mayst hold a serpent by the tongue, A chafed lion by the mortal paw, A fasting tiger safer by the tooth, Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold. KING PHILIP. I may disjoin my hand, but not my faith. PANDULPH. So mak'st thou faith an enemy to faith; And, like a civil war, sett'st oath to oath, Thy tongue against thy tongue. O, let thy vow First made to heaven, first be to heaven perform'd, - That is, to be the champion of our church. What since thou swor'st is sworn against thyself And may not be performed by thyself: For that which thou hast sworn to do amiss Is not amiss when it is truly done; And being not done, where doing tends to ill, The truth is then most done not doing it: The better act of purposes mistook Is to mistake again; though indirect, Yet indirection thereby grows direct, And falsehood falsehood cures, as fire cools fire Within the scorched veins of one new-burn'd. It is religion that doth make vows kept; But thou hast sworn against religion, By what thou swear'st against the thing thou swear'st; And mak'st an oath the surety for thy truth Against an oath: the truth thou art unsure To swear, swears only not to be forsworn; Else what a mockery should it be to swear! But thou dost swear only to be forsworn; And most forsworn, to keep what thou dost swear. Therefore thy latter vows against thy first Is in thyself rebellion to thyself; And better conquest never canst thou make Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts Against these giddy loose suggestions: Upon which better part our prayers come in, If thou vouchsafe them; but if not, then know The peril of our curses fight on thee, So heavy as thou shalt not shake them off, But in despair die under the black weight. AUSTRIA. Rebellion, flat rebellion! BASTARD. Will't not be? Will not a calf's-skin stop that mouth of thine? LOUIS. Father, to arms! BLANCH. Upon thy wedding-day? Against the blood that thou hast married? What, shall our feast be kept with slaughter'd men? Shall braying trumpets and loud churlish drums, - Clamours of hell, - be measures to our pomp? O husband, hear me! - ay, alack, how new Is husband in my mouth! - even for that name, Which till this time my tongue did ne'er pronounce, Upon my knee I beg, go not to arms Against mine uncle. CONSTANCE. O, upon my knee, Made hard with kneeling, I do pray to thee, Thou virtuous Dauphin, alter not the doom Forethought by heaven. BLANCH. Now shall I see thy love: what motive may Be stronger with thee than the name of wife? CONSTANCE. That which upholdeth him that thee upholds, His honour: - O, thine honour, Louis, thine honour! LOUIS. I muse your majesty doth seem so cold, When such profound respects do pull you on. PANDULPH. I will denounce a curse upon his head. KING PHILIP. Thou shalt not need. - England, I will fall from thee. CONSTANCE. O fair return of banish'd majesty! ELINOR. O foul revolt of French inconstancy! KING JOHN. France, thou shalt rue this hour within this hour. BASTARD. Old Time the clock-setter, that bald sexton Time, Is it as he will? well, then, France shall rue. BLANCH. The sun's o'ercast with blood: fair day, adieu! Which is the side that I must go withal? I am with both: each army hath a hand; And in their rage, I having hold of both, They whirl asunder and dismember me. Husband, I cannot pray that thou mayst win; Uncle, I needs must pray that thou mayst lose; Father, I may not wish the fortune thine; Grandam, I will not wish thy wishes thrive: Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose; Assured loss before the match be play'd. LOUIS. Lady, with me: with me thy fortune lies. BLANCH. There where my fortune lives, there my life dies. KING JOHN. Cousin, go draw our puissance together. - [Exit BASTARD.] France, I am burn'd up with inflaming wrath; A rage whose heat hath this condition, That nothing can allay, nothing but blood, - The blood, and dearest-valu'd blood of France. KING PHILIP. Thy rage shall burn thee up, and thou shalt turn To ashes, ere our blood shall quench that fire: Look to thyself, thou art in jeopardy. KING JOHN. No more than he that threats. - To arms let's hie! [Exeunt severally.] SCENE 2. The same. Plains near Angiers [Alarums. Excursions. Enter the BASTARD with AUSTRIA'S head.] BASTARD. Now, by my life, this day grows wondrous hot; Some airy devil hovers in the sky And pours down mischief. - Austria's head lie there, While Philip breathes. [Enter KING JOHN, ARTHUR, and HUBERT.] KING JOHN. Hubert, keep this boy. - Philip, make up: My mother is assailed in our tent, And ta'en, I fear. BASTARD. My lord, I rescu'd her; Her highness is in safety, fear you not: But on, my liege; for very little pains Will bring this labour to an happy end. [Exeunt.] SCENE 3. The same. [Alarums, Excursions, Retreat. Enter KING JOHN, ELINOR, ARTHUR, the BASTARD, HUBERT, and LORDS.] KING JOHN. [To ELINOR] So shall it be; your grace shall stay behind, So strongly guarded. - [To ARTHUR] Cousin, look not sad; Thy grandam loves thee, and thy uncle will As dear be to thee as thy father was. ARTHUR. O, this will make my mother die with grief! KING JOHN. Cousin [To the BASTARD], away for England; haste before: And, ere our coming, see thou shake the bags Of hoarding abbots; imprison'd angels Set at liberty: the fat ribs of peace Must by the hungry now be fed upon: Use our commission in his utmost force. BASTARD. Bell, book, and candle shall not drive me back, When gold and silver becks me to come on. I leave your highness. - Grandam, I will pray, - If ever I remember to be holy, - For your fair safety; so, I kiss your hand. ELINOR. Farewell, gentle cousin. KING JOHN. Coz, farewell. [Exit BASTARD.] ELINOR. Come hither, little kinsman; hark, a word. [She takes Arthur aside.] KING JOHN. Come hither, Hubert. O my gentle Hubert, We owe thee much! within this wall of flesh There is a soul counts thee her creditor, And with advantage means to pay thy love: And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished. Give me thy hand. I had a thing to say, - But I will fit it with some better time. By heaven, Hubert, I am almost asham'd To say what good respect I have of thee. HUBERT. I am much bounden to your majesty. KING JOHN. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet: But thou shalt have; and creep time ne'er so slow, Yet it shall come for me to do thee good. I had a thing to say, - but let it go: The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day, Attended with the pleasures of the world, Is all too wanton and too full of gawds To give me audience: - if the midnight bell Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth, Sound on into the drowsy race of night; If this same were a churchyard where we stand, And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs; Or if that surly spirit, melancholy, Had bak'd thy blood and made it heavy-thick, Which else runs tickling up and down the veins, Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes, And strain their cheeks to idle merriment - A passion hateful to my purposes; - Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes, Hear me without thine ears, and make reply Without a tongue, using conceit alone, Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words, - Then, in despite of brooded watchful day, I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts: But, ah, I will not! - yet I love thee well; And, by my troth, I think thou lov'st me well. HUBERT. So well that what you bid me undertake, Though that my death were adjunct to my act, By heaven, I would do it. KING JOHN. Do not I know thou wouldst? Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye On yon young boy: I'll tell thee what, my friend, He is a very serpent in my way; And wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread, He lies before me: dost thou understand me? Thou art his keeper. HUBERT. And I'll keep him so That he shall not offend your majesty. KING JOHN. Death. HUBERT. My lord? KING JOHN. A grave. HUBERT. He shall not live. KING JOHN. Enough! - I could be merry now. Hubert, I love thee; Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee: Remember. - Madam, fare you well: I'll send those powers o'er to your majesty. ELINOR. My blessing go with thee! KING JOHN. For England, cousin, go: Hubert shall be your man, attend on you With all true duty. - On toward Calais, ho! [Exeunt.] SCENE 4. The same. The FRENCH KING's tent. [Enter KING PHILIP, LOUIS, PANDULPH, and Attendants.] KING PHILIP. So, by a roaring tempest on the flood A whole armado of convicted sail Is scattered and disjoin'd from fellowship. PANDULPH. Courage and comfort! all shall yet go well. KING PHILIP. What can go well, when we have run so ill. Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost? Arthur ta'en prisoner? divers dear friends slain? And bloody England into England gone, O'erbearing interruption, spite of France? LOUIS. What he hath won, that hath he fortified: So hot a speed with such advice dispos'd, Such temperate order in so fierce a cause, Doth want example: who hath read or heard Of any kindred action like to this? KING PHILIP. Well could I bear that England had this praise, So we could find some pattern of our shame. - Look who comes here! a grave unto a soul; Holding the eternal spirit, against her will, In the vile prison of afflicted breath. [Enter CONSTANCE.] I pr'ythee, lady, go away with me. CONSTANCE. Lo, now! now see the issue of your peace! KING PHILIP. Patience, good lady! comfort, gentle Constance! CONSTANCE. No, I defy all counsel, all redress, But that which ends all counsel, true redress, Death, death: - O amiable lovely death! Thou odoriferous stench! sound rottenness! Arise forth from the couch of lasting night, Thou hate and terror to prosperity, And I will kiss thy detestable bones; And put my eyeballs in thy vaulty brows; And ring these fingers with thy household worms; And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust, And be a carrion monster like thyself: Come, grin on me; and I will think thou smil'st, And buss thee as thy wife! Misery's love, O, come to me! KING PHILIP. O fair affliction, peace! CONSTANCE. No, no, I will not, having breath to cry: - O, that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth! Then with a passion would I shake the world; And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice, Which scorns a modern invocation. PANDULPH. Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow. CONSTANCE. Thou art not holy to belie me so; I am not mad: this hair I tear is mine; My name is Constance; I was Geffrey's wife; Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost: I am not mad: - I would to heaven I were! For then, 'tis like I should forget myself: O, if I could, what grief should I forget! - Preach some philosophy to make me mad, And thou shalt be canoniz'd, cardinal; For, being not mad, but sensible of grief, My reasonable part produces reason How I may be deliver'd of these woes, And teaches me to kill or hang myself: If I were mad I should forget my son, Or madly think a babe of clouts were he: I am not mad; too well, too well I feel The different plague of each calamity. KING PHILIP. Bind up those tresses. - O, what love I note In the fair multitude of those her hairs! Where but by a chance a silver drop hath fallen, Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends Do glue themselves in sociable grief; Like true, inseparable, faithful loves, Sticking together in calamity. CONSTANCE. To England, if you will. KING PHILIP. Bind up your hairs. CONSTANCE. Yes, that I will; and wherefore will I do it? I tore them from their bonds, and cried aloud, 'O that these hands could so redeem my son, As they have given these hairs their liberty!' But now I envy at their liberty, And will again commit them to their bonds, Because my poor child is a prisoner. - And, father cardinal, I have heard you say That we shall see and know our friends in heaven: If that be true, I shall see my boy again; For since the birth of Cain, the first male child, To him that did but yesterday suspire, There was not such a gracious creature born. But now will canker sorrow eat my bud, And chase the native beauty from his cheek, And he will look as hollow as a ghost, As dim and meagre as an ague's fit; And so he'll die; and, rising so again, When I shall meet him in the court of heaven I shall not know him: therefore never, never Must I behold my pretty Arthur more! PANDULPH. You hold too heinous a respect of grief. CONSTANCE. He talks to me that never had a son. KING PHILIP. You are as fond of grief as of your child. CONSTANCE. Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then have I reason to be fond of grief. Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do. - I will not keep this form upon my head, [Tearing off her head-dress.] When there is such disorder in my wit. O Lord! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son! My life, my joy, my food, my ail the world! My widow-comfort, and my sorrows' cure! [Exit.] KING PHILIP. I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her. [Exit.] LOUIS. There's nothing in this world can make me joy: Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man; And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste, That it yields nought but shame and bitterness. PANDULPH. Before the curing of a strong disease, Even in the instant of repair and health, The fit is strongest; evils that take leave On their departure most of all show evil; What have you lost by losing of this day? LOUIS. All days of glory, joy, and happiness. PANDULPH. If you had won it, certainly you had. No, no; when Fortune means to men most good, She looks upon them with a threatening eye. 'Tis strange to think how much King John hath lost In this which he accounts so clearly won. Are not you griev'd that Arthur is his prisoner? LouIS. As heartily as he is glad he hath him. PANDULPH. Your mind is all as youthful as your blood. Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit; For even the breath of what I mean to speak Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub, Out of the path which shall directly lead Thy foot to England's throne; and therefore mark. John hath seiz'd Arthur; and it cannot be That, whiles warm life plays in that infant's veins, The misplac'd John should entertain an hour, One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest: A sceptre snatch'd with an unruly hand Must be boisterously maintain'd as gain'd: And he that stands upon a slippery place Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up: That John may stand then, Arthur needs must fall: So be it, for it cannot be but so. LOUIS. But what shall I gain by young Arthur's fall? PANDULPH. You, in the right of Lady Blanch your wife, May then make all the claim that Arthur did. LOUIS. And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did. PANDULPH. How green you are, and fresh in this old world! John lays you plots; the times conspire with you; For he that steeps his safety in true blood Shall find but bloody safety and untrue. This act, so evilly borne, shall cool the hearts Of all his people, and freeze up their zeal, That none so small advantage shall step forth To check his reign, but they will cherish it; No natural exhalation in the sky, No scope of nature, no distemper'd day, No common wind, no customed event, But they will pluck away his natural cause And call them meteors, prodigies, and signs, Abortives, presages, and tongues of heaven, Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John. LOUIS. May be he will not touch young Arthur's life, But hold himself safe in his prisonment. PANDULPH. O, sir, when he shall hear of your approach, If that young Arthur be not gone already, Even at that news he dies; and then the hearts Of all his people shall revolt from him, And kiss the lips of unacquainted change; And pick strong matter of revolt and wrath Out of the bloody fingers' ends of john. Methinks I see this hurly all on foot: And, O, what better matter breeds for you Than I have nam'd! - The bastard Falconbridge Is now in England, ransacking the church, Offending charity: if but a dozen French Were there in arms, they would be as a call To train ten thousand English to their side: Or as a little snow, tumbled about Anon becomes a mountain. O noble Dauphin, Go with me to the king: - 'tis wonderful What may be wrought out of their discontent, Now that their souls are topful of offence: For England go: - I will whet on the king. LOUIS. Strong reasons makes strong actions: let us go: If you say ay, the king will not say no. [Exeunt.] ACT IV. SCENE 1. Northampton. A Room in the Castle. [Enter HUBERT and two Attendants.] HUBERT. Heat me these irons hot; and look thou stand Within the arras: when I strike my foot Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth And bind the boy which you shall find with me Fast to the chair: be heedful: hence, and watch. FIRST ATTENDANT. I hope your warrant will bear out the deed. HUBERT. Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you; look to't. - [Exeunt ATTENDANTS.] Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you. [Enter ARTHUR.] ARTHUR. Good morrow, Hubert. HUBERT. Good morrow, little prince. ARTHUR. As little prince, having so great a tide To be more prince, as may be. - You are sad. HUBERT. Indeed I have been merrier. ARTHUR. Mercy on me! Methinks no body should be sad but I: Yet, I remember, when I was in France, Young gentlemen would be as sad as night, Only for wantonness. By my christendom, So I were out of prison, and kept sheep, I should be as merry as the day is long; And so I would be here, but that I doubt My uncle practises more harm to me: He is afraid of me, and I of him: Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son? No, indeed, is't not; and I would to heaven I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert. HUBERT. [Aside.] If I talk to him, with his innocent prate He will awake my mercy, which lies dead: Therefore I will be sudden and despatch. ARTHUR. Are you sick, Hubert? you look pale to-day: In sooth, I would you were a little sick, That I might sit all night and watch with you: I warrant I love you more than you do me. HUBERT. [Aside.] His words do take possession of my bosom. - Read here, young Arthur. [Showing a paper.] [Aside.] How now, foolish rheum! Turning dispiteous torture out of door! I must be brief, lest resolution drop Out at mine eyes in tender womanish tears. - Can you not read it? is it not fair writ? ARTHUR. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect. Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes? HUBERT. Young boy, I must. ARTHUR. And will you? HUBERT. And I will. ARTHUR. Have you the heart? When your head did but ache, I knit my handkerchief about your brows, - The best I had, a princess wrought it me, - And I did never ask it you again; And with my hand at midnight held your head; And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time, Saying 'What lack you?' and 'Where lies your grief?' Or 'What good love may I perform for you?' Many a poor man's son would have lien still, And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you; But you at your sick service had a prince. Nay, you may think my love was crafty love, And call it cunning. - do, an if you will: If heaven be pleas'd that you must use me ill, Why, then you must. - Will you put out mine eyes, These eyes that never did nor never shall So much as frown on you? HUBERT. I have sworn to do it! And with hot irons must I burn them out. ARTHUR. Ah, none but in this iron age would do it! The iron of itself, though heat red-hot, Approaching near these eyes would drink my tears, And quench his fiery indignation, Even in the matter of mine innocence; Nay, after that, consume away in rust, But for containing fire to harm mine eye. Are you more stubborn-hard than hammer'd iron? An if an angel should have come to me And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes, I would not have believ'd him, - no tongue but Hubert's. HUBERT. [Stamps.] Come forth. [Re-enter Attendants, with cords, irons, &c.] Do as I bid you do. ARTHUR. O, save me, Hubert, save me! my eyes are out Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men. HUBERT. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here. ARTHUR. Alas, what need you be so boist'rous rough? I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. For heaven sake, Hubert, let me not be bound! Nay, hear me, Hubert! - drive these men away, And I will sit as quiet as a lamb; I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, Nor look upon the iron angerly: Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, Whatever torment you do put me to. HUBERT. Go, stand within; let me alone with him. FIRST ATTENDANT. I am best pleas'd to be from such a deed. [Exeunt Attendants.] ARTHUR. Alas, I then have chid away my friend! He hath a stern look but a gentle heart: - Let him come back, that his compassion may Give life to yours. HUBERT. Come, boy, prepare yourself. ARTHUR. Is there no remedy? HUBERT. None, but to lose your eyes. ARTHUR. O heaven! - that there were but a mote in yours, A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair, Any annoyance in that precious sense! Then, feeling what small things are boisterous there, Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. HUBERT. Is this your promise? go to, hold your tongue. ARTHUR. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes: Let me not hold my tongue, - let me not, Hubert; Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue, So I may keep mine eyes: O, spare mine eyes, Though to no use but still to look on you! - Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold And would not harm me. HUBERT. I can heat it, boy. ARTHUR. No, in good sooth; the fire is dead with grief, Being create for comfort, to be us'd In undeserv'd extremes: see else yourself; There is no malice in this burning coal; The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out, And strew'd repentant ashes on his head. HUBERT. But with my breath I can revive it, boy. ARTHUR. An if you do, you will but make it blush, And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert. Nay, it, perchance will sparkle in your eyes; And, like a dog that is compell'd to fight, Snatch at his master that doth tarre him on. All things that you should use to do me wrong, Deny their office: only you do lack That mercy which fierce fire and iron extends, Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses. HUBERT. Well, see to live; I will not touch thine eye For all the treasure that thine uncle owes: Yet I am sworn, and I did purpose, boy, With this same very iron to burn them out. ARTHUR. O, now you look like Hubert! all this while You were disguised. HUBERT. Peace; no more. Adieu! Your uncle must not know but you are dead; I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports: And, pretty child, sleep doubtless and secure That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world, Will not offend thee. ARTHUR. O heaven! I thank you, Hubert. HUBERT. Silence; no more: go closely in with me: Much danger do I undergo for thee. [Exeunt.] SCENE 2.The same. A Room of State in the Palace. [Enter KING JOHN, crowned, PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, and other LORDS. The KING takes his State.] KING JOHN. Here once again we sit, once again crown'd, And look'd upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes. PEMBROKE. This once again, but that your highness pleas'd, Was once superfluous: you were crown'd before, And that high royalty was ne'er pluck'd off; The faiths of men ne'er stained with revolt; Fresh expectation troubled not the land With any long'd-for change or better state. SALISBURY. Therefore, to be possess'd with double pomp, To guard a title that was rich before, To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful and ridiculous excess. PEMBROKE. But that your royal pleasure must be done, This act is as an ancient tale new told; And, in the last repeating troublesome, Being urged at a time unseasonable. SALISBURY. In this, the antique and well-noted face Of plain old form is much disfigured; And, like a shifted wind unto a sail, It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about; Startles and frights consideration; Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected, For putting on so new a fashion'd robe. PEMBROKE. When workmen strive to do better than well, They do confound their skill in covetousness; And oftentimes excusing of a fault Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse, - As patches set upon a little breach Discredit more in hiding of the fault Than did the fault before it was so patch'd. SALISBURY. To this effect, before you were new-crown'd, We breath'd our counsel: but it pleas'd your highness To overbear it; and we are all well pleas'd, Since all and every part of what we would Doth make a stand at what your highness will. KING JOHN. Some reasons of this double coronation I have possess'd you with, and think them strong; And more, more strong, when lesser is my fear, I shall indue you with: meantime but ask What you would have reform'd that is not well, And well shall you perceive how willingly I will both hear and grant you your requests. PEMBROKE. Then I, - as one that am the tongue of these, To sound the purposes of all their hearts, - Both for myself and them, - but, chief of all, Your safety, for the which myself and them Bend their best studies, - heartily request The enfranchisement of Arthur, whose restraint Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent To break into this dangerous argument, - If what in rest you have in right you hold, Why then your fears, - which, as they say, attend The steps of wrong, - should move you to mew up Your tender kinsman, and to choke his days With barbarous ignorance, and deny his youth The rich advantage of good exercise? That the time's enemies may not have this To grace occasions, let it be our suit That you have bid us ask his liberty; Which for our goods we do no further ask Than whereupon our weal, on you depending, Counts it your weal he have his liberty. KING JOHN. Let it be so: I do commit his youth To your direction. [Enter HUBERT.] Hubert, what news with you? PEMBROKE. This is the man should do the bloody deed; He show'd his warrant to a friend of mine: The image of a wicked heinous fault Lives in his eye; that close aspect of his Doth show the mood of a much-troubled breast; And I do fearfully believe 'tis done What we so fear'd he had a charge to do. SALISBURY. The colour of the king doth come and go Between his purpose and his conscience, Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set. His passion is so ripe it needs must break. PEMBROKE. And when it breaks, I fear will issue thence The foul corruption of a sweet child's death. KING JOHN. We cannot hold mortality's strong hand: - Good lords, although my will to give is living, The suit which you demand is gone and dead: He tells us Arthur is deceas'd to-night. SALISBURY. Indeed, we fear'd his sickness was past cure. PEMBROKE. Indeed, we heard how near his death he was, Before the child himself felt he was sick: This must be answer'd either here or hence. KING JOHN. Why do you bend such solemn brows on me? Think you I bear the shears of destiny? Have I commandment on the pulse of life? SALISBURY. It is apparent foul-play; and 'tis shame That greatness should so grossly offer it: So thrive it in your game! and so, farewell. PEMBROKE. Stay yet, Lord Salisbury, I'll go with thee And find th' inheritance of this poor child, His little kingdom of a forced grave. That blood which ow'd the breadth of all this isle Three foot of it doth hold: - bad world the while! This must not be thus borne: this will break out To all our sorrows, and ere long, I doubt. [Exeunt LORDS.] KING JOHN. They burn in indignation. I repent: There is no sure foundation set on blood; No certain life achiev'd by others' death. - [Enter a MESSENGER.] A fearful eye thou hast: where is that blood That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks? So foul a sky clears not without a storm: Pour down thy weather: - how goes all in France? MESSENGER. From France to England. - Never such a power For any foreign preparation Was levied in the body of a land. The copy of your speed is learn'd by them; For when you should be told they do prepare, The tidings comes that they are all arriv'd. KING JOHN. O, where hath our intelligence been drunk? Where hath it slept? Where is my mother's care, That such an army could be drawn in France, And she not hear of it? MESSENGER. My liege, her ear Is stopp'd with dust; the first of April died Your noble mother; and as I hear, my lord, The Lady Constance in a frenzy died Three days before; but this from rumour's tongue I idly heard, - if true or false I know not. KING JOHN. Withhold thy speed, dreadful occasion! O, make a league with me, till I have pleas'd My discontented peers! - What! mother dead! How wildly, then, walks my estate in France! - Under whose conduct came those powers of France That thou for truth giv'st out are landed here? MESSENGER. Under the Dauphin. KING JOHN. Thou hast made me giddy With these in tidings. [Enter the BASTARD and PETER OF POMFRET.] Now! What says the world To your proceedings? do not seek to stuff My head with more ill news, for it is full. BASTARD. But if you be afear'd to hear the worst, Then let the worst, unheard, fall on your head. KING JOHN. Bear with me, cousin, for I was amaz'd Under the tide: but now I breathe again Aloft the flood; and can give audience To any tongue, speak it of what it will. BASTARD. How I have sped among the clergymen, The sums I have collected shall express. But as I travell'd hither through the land, I find the people strangely fantasied; Possess'd with rumours, full of idle dreams. Not knowing what they fear, but full of fear; And here's a prophet that I brought with me From forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I found With many hundreds treading on his heels; To whom he sung, in rude harsh-sounding rhymes, That, ere the next Ascension-day at noon, Your highness should deliver up your crown. KING JOHN. Thou idle dreamer, wherefore didst thou so? PETER. Foreknowing that the truth will fall out so. KING JOHN. Hubert, away with him; imprison him; And on that day at noon, whereon he says I shall yield up my crown, let him be hang'd. Deliver him to safety; and return, For I must use thee. [Exit HUBERT with PETER.] O my gentle cousin, Hear'st thou the news abroad, who are arriv'd? BASTARD. The French, my lord; men's mouths are full of it; Besides, I met Lord Bigot and Lord Salisbury, - With eyes as red as new-enkindled fire, And others more, going to seek the grave Of Arthur, whom they say is kill'd to-night On your suggestion. KING JOHN. Gentle kinsman, go And thrust thyself into their companies: I have a way to will their loves again: Bring them before me. BASTARD. I will seek them out. KING JOHN. Nay, but make haste; the better foot before. O, let me have no subject enemies When adverse foreigners affright my towns With dreadful pomp of stout invasion! Be Mercury, set feathers to thy heels, And fly like thought from them to me again. BASTARD. The spirit of the time shall teach me speed. KING JOHN. Spoke like a sprightful noble gentleman! [Exit BASTARD.] Go after him; for he perhaps shall need Some messenger betwixt me and the peers; And be thou he. MESSENGER. With all my heart, my liege. [Exit.] KING JOHN. My mother dead! [Re-enter HUBERT.] HUBERT. My lord, they say five moons were seen to-night; Four fixed, and the fifth did whirl about The other four in wondrous motion. KING JOHN. Five moons! HUBERT. Old men and beldams in the streets Do prophesy upon it dangerously: Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths: And when they talk of him, they shake their heads, And whisper one another in the ear; And he that speaks doth gripe the hearer's wrist; Whilst he that hears makes fearful action With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes. I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus, The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool, With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news; Who, with his shears and measure in his hand, Standing on slippers, - which his nimble haste Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet, - Told of a many thousand warlike French That were embattailed and rank'd in Kent. Another lean unwash'd artificer Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death. KING JOHN. Why seek'st thou to possess me with these fears? Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death? Thy hand hath murder'd him: I had a mighty cause To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him. HUBERT. No had, my lord! why, did you not provoke me? KING JOHN. It is the curse of kings to be attended By slaves that take their humours for a warrant To break within the bloody house of life; And, on the winking of authority, To understand a law; to know the meaning Of dangerous majesty, when perchance it frowns More upon humour than advis'd respect. HUBERT. Here is your hand and seal for what I did. KING JOHN. O, when the last account 'twixt heaven and earth Is to be made, then shall this hand and seal Witness against us to damnation! How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds Make deeds ill done! Hadst not thou been by, A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd, Quoted and sign'd to do a deed of shame, This murder had not come into my mind: But, taking note of thy abhorr'd aspect, Finding thee fit for bloody villainy, Apt, liable to be employ'd in danger, I faintly broke with thee of Arthur's death; And thou, to be endeared to a king, Made it no conscience to destroy a prince. HUBERT. My lord, - KING JOHN. Hadst thou but shook thy head or made pause, When I spake darkly what I purpos'd, Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face, As bid me tell my tale in express words, Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break off, And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me: But thou didst understand me by my signs, And didst in signs again parley with sin; Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent, And consequently thy rude hand to act The deed which both our tongues held vile to name. - Out of my sight, and never see me more! My nobles leave me; and my state is brav'd, Even at my gates, with ranks of foreign powers; Nay, in the body of the fleshly land, This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath, Hostility and civil tumult reigns Between my conscience and my cousin's death. HUBERT. Arm you against your other enemies, I'll make a peace between your soul and you. Young Arthur is alive: this hand of mine Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand, Not painted with the crimson spots of blood. Within this bosom never enter'd yet The dreadful motion of a murderous thought; And you have slander'd nature in my form, - Which, howsoever rude exteriorly, Is yet the cover of a fairer mind Than to be butcher of an innocent child. KING JOHN. Doth Arthur live? O, haste thee to the peers, Throw this report on their incensed rage, And make them tame to their obedience! Forgive the comment that my passion made Upon thy feature; for my rage was blind, And foul imaginary eyes of blood Presented thee more hideous than thou art. O, answer not; but to my closet bring The angry lords with all expedient haste: I conjure thee but slowly; run more fast. [Exeunt.] SCENE 3. The same. Before the castle. [Enter ARTHUR, on the Walls.] ARTHUR. The wall is high, and yet will I leap down: - Good ground, be pitiful and hurt me not! - There's few or none do know me: if they did, This ship-boy's semblance hath disguis'd me quite. I am afraid; and yet I'll venture it. If I get down, and do not break my limbs, I'll find a thousand shifts to get away: As good to die and go, as die and stay. [Leaps down.] O me! my uncle's spirit is in these stones: - Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones! [Dies.] [Enter PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, and BIGOT.] SALISBURY. Lords, I will meet him at Saint Edmunds-Bury; It is our safety, and we must embrace This gentle offer of the perilous time. PEMBROKE. Who brought that letter from the cardinal? SALISBURY. The Count Melun, a noble lord of France, Whose private with me of the Dauphin's love Is much more general than these lines import. BIGOT. To-morrow morning let us meet him then. SALISBURY. Or rather then set forward; for 'twill be Two long days' journey, lords, or e'er we meet. [Enter the BASTARD.] BASTARD. Once more to-day well met, distemper'd lords! The king by me requests your presence straight. SALISBURY. The King hath dispossess'd himself of us. We will not line his thin bestained cloak With our pure honours, nor attend the foot That leaves the print of blood where'er it walks. Return and tell him so: we know the worst. BASTARD. Whate'er you think, good words, I think, were best. SALISBURY. Our griefs, and not our manners, reason now. BASTARD. But there is little reason in your grief; Therefore 'twere reason you had manners now. PEMBROKE. Sir, sir, impatience hath his privilege. BASTARD. 'Tis true, - to hurt his master, no man else. SALISBURY. This is the prison: - what is he lies here? [Seeing Arthur.] PEMBROKE. O death, made proud with pure and princely beauty! The earth had not a hole to hide this deed. SALISBURY. Murder, as hating what himself hath done, Doth lay it open to urge on revenge. BIGOT. Or, when he doom'd this beauty to a grave, Found it too precious-princely for a grave. SALISBURY. Sir Richard, what think you? Have you beheld, Or have you read or heard, or could you think? Or do you almost think, although you see, That you do see? could thought, without this object, Form such another? This is the very top, The height, the crest, or crest unto the crest, Of murder's arms: this is the bloodiest shame, The wildest savagery, the vilest stroke, That ever wall-ey'd wrath or staring rage Presented to the tears of soft remorse. PEMBROKE. All murders past do stand excus'd in this; And this, so sole and so unmatchable, Shall give a holiness, a purity, To the yet unbegotten sin of times; And prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest, Exampled by this heinous spectacle. BASTARD. It is a damned and a bloody work; The graceless action of a heavy hand, - If that it be the work of any hand. SALISBURY. If that it be the work of any hand? - We had a kind of light what would ensue. It is the shameful work of Hubert's hand; The practice and the purpose of the king: - From whose obedience I forbid my soul, Kneeling before this ruin of sweet life, And breathing to his breathless excellence The incense of a vow, a holy vow, Never to taste the pleasures of the world, Never to be infected with delight, Nor conversant with ease and idleness, Till I have set a glory to this hand, By giving it the worship of revenge. PEMBROKE. and BIGOT. Our souls religiously confirm thy words. [Enter HUBERT.] HUBERT. Lords, I am hot with haste in seeking you: Arthur doth live; the king hath sent for you. SALISBURY. O, he is bold, and blushes not at death: - Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone! HUBERT. I am no villain. SALISBURY. Must I rob the law? [Drawing his sword.] BASTARD. Your sword is bright, sir; put it up again. SALISBURY. Not till I sheathe it in a murderer's skin. HUBERT. Stand back, Lord Salisbury, - stand back, I say; By heaven, I think my sword's as sharp as yours: I would not have you, lord, forget yourself, Nor tempt the danger of my true defence; Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget Your worth, your greatness, and nobility. BIGOT. Out, dunghill! dar'st thou brave a nobleman? HUBERT. Not for my life: but yet I dare defend My innocent life against an emperor. SALISBURY. Thou art a murderer. HUBERT. Do not prove me so; Yet I am none: whose tongue soe'er speaks false, Not truly speaks; who speaks not truly, lies. PEMBROKE. Cut him to pieces. BASTARD. Keep the peace, I say. SALISBURY. Stand by, or I shall gall you, Falconbridge. BASTARD. Thou wert better gall the devil, Salisbury: If thou but frown on me, or stir thy foot, Or teach thy hasty spleen to do me shame, I'll strike thee dead. Put up thy sword betime: Or I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron That you shall think the devil is come from hell. BIGOT. What wilt thou do, renowned Falconbridge? Second a villain and a murderer? HUBERT. Lord Bigot, I am none. BIGOT. Who kill'd this prince? HUBERT. 'Tis not an hour since I left him well: I honour'd him, I lov'd him, and will weep My date of life out for his sweet life's loss. SALISBURY. Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes, For villainy is not without such rheum; And he, long traded in it, makes it seem Like rivers of remorse and innocency. Away with me, all you whose souls abhor Th' uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house; For I am stifled with this smell of sin. BIGOT. Away toward Bury, to the Dauphin there! PEMBROKE. There tell the king he may inquire us out. [Exeunt LORDS.] BASTARD. Here's a good world! - Knew you of this fair work? Beyond the infinite and boundless reach Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death, Art thou damn'd, Hubert. HUBERT. Do but hear me, sir. BASTARD. Ha! I'll tell thee what; Thou'rt damn'd as black - nay, nothing is so black; Thou art more deep damn'd than Prince Lucifer: There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this child. HUBERT. Upon my soul, - BASTARD. If thou didst but consent To this most cruel act, do but despair; And if thou want'st a cord, the smallest thread That ever spider twisted from her womb Will serve to strangle thee; a rush will be a beam To hang thee on; or wouldst thou drown thyself, Put but a little water in a spoon And it shall be as all the ocean, Enough to stifle such a villain up. I do suspect thee very grievously. HUBERT. If I in act, consent, or sin of thought, Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath Which was embounded in this beauteous clay, Let hell want pains enough to torture me! I left him well. BASTARD. Go, bear him in thine arms. - I am amaz'd, methinks, and lose my way Among the thorns and dangers of this world. - How easy dost thou take all England up! From forth this morsel of dead royalty, The life, the right, and truth of all this realm Is fled to heaven; and England now is left To tug and scamble, and to part by the teeth The unow'd interest of proud-swelling state. Now for the bare-pick'd bone of majesty Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest, And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace: Now powers from home and discontents at home Meet in one line; and vast confusion waits, As doth a raven on a sick-fallen beast, The imminent decay of wrested pomp. Now happy he whose cloak and cincture can Hold out this tempest. - Bear away that child, And follow me with speed: I'll to the king; A thousand businesses are brief in hand, And heaven itself doth frown upon the land. [Exeunt.] ACT V. SCENE 1. Northampton. A Room in the Palace. [Enter KING JOHN, PANDULPH with the crown, and Attendants.] KING JOHN. Thus have I yielded up into your hand The circle of my glory. PANDULPH. [Give KING JOHN the crown.] Take again From this my hand, as holding of the pope, Your sovereign greatness and authority. KING JOHN. Now keep your holy word: go meet the French; And from his holiness use all your power To stop their marches 'fore we are inflam'd. Our discontented counties do revolt; Our people quarrel with obedience; Swearing allegiance and the love of soul To stranger blood, to foreign royalty. This inundation of mistemper'd humour Rests by you only to be qualified. Then pause not; for the present time's so sick That present medicine must be ministr'd Or overthrow incurable ensues. PANDULPH. It was my breath that blew this tempest up, Upon your stubborn usage of the pope: But since you are a gentle convertite, My tongue shall hush again this storm of war And make fair weather in your blustering land. On this Ascension-day, remember well, Upon your oath of service to the pope, Go I to make the French lay down their arms. [Exit.] KING JOHN. Is this Ascension-day? Did not the prophet Say that before Ascension-day at noon My crown I should give off? Even so I have: I did suppose it should be on constraint; But, heaven be thank'd, it is but voluntary. [Enter the BASTARD.] BASTARD. All Kent hath yielded; nothing there holds out But Dover Castle: London hath receiv'd, Like a kind host, the Dauphin and his powers: Your nobles will not hear you, but are gone To offer service to your enemy; And wild amazement hurries up and down The little number of your doubtful friends. KING JOHN. Would not my lords return to me again After they heard young Arthur was alive? BASTARD. They found him dead, and cast into the streets; An empty casket, where the jewel of life By some damn'd hand was robb'd and ta'en away. KING JOHN. That villain Hubert told me he did live. BASTARD. So, on my soul, he did, for aught he knew. But wherefore do you droop? why look you sad? Be great in act, as you have been in thought; Let not the world see fear and sad distrust Govern the motion of a kingly eye: Be stirring as the time; be fire with fire; Threaten the threatener, and outface the brow Of bragging horror: so shall inferior eyes, That borrow their behaviours from the great, Grow great by your example, and put on The dauntless spirit of resolution. Away, and glister like the god of war When he intendeth to become the field: Show boldness and aspiring confidence. What, shall they seek the lion in his den, And fright him there? and make him tremble there? O, let it not be said! - Forage, and run To meet displeasure farther from the doors, And grapple with him ere he come so nigh. KING JOHN. The legate of the pope hath been with me, And I have made a happy peace with him; And he hath promis'd to dismiss the powers Led by the Dauphin. BASTARD. O inglorious league! Shall we, upon the footing of our land, Send fair-play orders, and make compromise, Insinuation, parley, and base truce, To arms invasive? shall a beardless boy, A cocker'd silken wanton, brave our fields, And flesh his spirit in a warlike soil, Mocking the air with colours idly spread, And find no check? Let us, my liege, to arms; Perchance the cardinal cannot make your peace; Or, if he do, let it at least be said They saw we had a purpose of defence. KING JOHN. Have thou the ordering of this present time. BASTARD. Away, then, with good courage! yet, I know Our party may well meet a prouder foe. [Exeunt.] SCENE 2. Near Saint Edmunds-bury. The French Camp. [Enter, in arms, LOUIS, SALISBURY, MELUN, PEMBROKE, BIGOT, and soldiers.] LOUIS. My Lord Melun, let this be copied out And keep it safe for our remembrance: Return the precedent to these lords again; That, having our fair order written down, Both they and we, perusing o'er these notes, May know wherefore we took the sacrament, And keep our faiths firm and inviolable. SALISBURY. Upon our sides it never shall be broken. And, noble Dauphin, albeit we swear A voluntary zeal and an unurg'd faith To your proceedings; yet, believe me, prince, I am not glad that such a sore of time Should seek a plaster by contemn'd revolt, And heal the inveterate canker of one wound By making many. O, it grieves my soul That I must draw this metal from my side To be a widow-maker! O, and there Where honourable rescue and defence Cries out upon the name of Salisbury! But such is the infection of the time, That, for the health and physic of our right, We cannot deal but with the very hand Of stern injustice and confused wrong. - And is't not pity, O my grieved friends! That we, the sons and children of this isle, Were born to see so sad an hour as this; Wherein we step after a stranger-march Upon her gentle bosom, and fill up Her enemies' ranks - I must withdraw and weep Upon the spot of this enforc'd cause - To grace the gentry of a land remote, And follow unacquainted colours here? What, here? - O nation, that thou couldst remove! That Neptune's arms, who clippeth thee about, Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyself, And grapple thee unto a pagan shore, Where these two Christian armies might combine The blood of malice in a vein of league, And not to spend it so unneighbourly! LOUIS. A noble temper dost thou show in this; And great affections wrestling in thy bosom Doth make an earthquake of nobility. O, what a noble combat hast thou fought Between compulsion and a brave respect! Let me wipe off this honourable dew That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks: My heart hath melted at a lady's tears, Being an ordinary inundation; But this effusion of such manly drops, This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul, Startles mine eyes and makes me more amaz'd Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors. Lift up thy brow, renowned Salisbury, And with a great heart heave away this storm: Commend these waters to those baby eyes That never saw the giant world enrag'd, Nor met with fortune other than at feasts, Full of warm blood, of mirth, of gossiping. Come, come; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deep Into the purse of rich prosperity As Louis himself: - so, nobles, shall you all, That knit your sinews to the strength of mine. - And even there, methinks, an angel spake: Look, where the holy legate comes apace, To give us warrant from the hand of heaven And on our actions set the name of right With holy breath. [Enter PANDULPH, attended.] PANDULPH. Hail, noble prince of France! The next is this, - King John hath reconcil'd Himself to Rome; his spirit is come in, That so stood out against the holy church, The great metropolis and see of Rome: Therefore thy threatening colours now wind up, And tame the savage spirit of wild war, That, like a lion foster'd up at hand, It may lie gently at the foot of peace And be no further harmful than in show. LOUIS. Your grace shall pardon me, I will not back: I am too high-born to be propertied, To be a secondary at control, Or useful serving-man and instrument To any sovereign state throughout the world. Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars Between this chastis'd kingdom and myself, And brought in matter that should feed this fire; And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out With that same weak wind which enkindled it. You taught me how to know the face of right, Acquainted me with interest to this land, Yea, thrust this enterprise into my heart; And come ye now to tell me John hath made His peace with Rome? What is that peace to me? I, by the honour of my marriage-bed, After young Arthur, claim this land for mine; And, now it is half-conquer'd, must I back Because that John hath made his peace with Rome? Am I Rome's slave? What penny hath Rome borne, What men provided, what munition sent, To underprop this action? Is't not I That undergo this charge? Who else but I, And such as to my claim are liable, Sweat in this business and maintain this war? Have I not heard these islanders shout out, 'Vive le roi!' as I have bank'd their towns? Have I not here the best cards for the game, To will this easy match, play'd for a crown? And shall I now give o'er the yielded set? No, no, on my soul, it never shall be said. PANDULPH. You look but on the outside of this work. LOUIS. Outside or inside, I will not return Till my attempt so much be glorified As to my ample hope was promised Before I drew this gallant head of war, And cull'd these fiery spirits from the world, To outlook conquest, and to will renown Even in the jaws of danger and of death. - [Trumpet sounds.] What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us? [Enter the BASTARD, attended.] BASTARD. According to the fair play of the world, Let me have audience; I am sent to speak: - My holy lord of Milan, from the king I come, to learn how you have dealt for him; And, as you answer, I do know the scope And warrant limited unto my tongue. PANDULPH. The Dauphin is too wilful-opposite, And will not temporize with my entreaties; He flatly says he'll not lay down his arms. BASTARD. By all the blood that ever fury breath'd, The youth says well. - Now hear our English king; For thus his royalty doth speak in me. He is prepar'd; and reason too he should: This apish and unmannerly approach, This harness'd masque and unadvised revel This unhair'd sauciness and boyish troops, The king doth smile at; and is well prepar'd To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms, From out the circle of his territories. That hand which had the strength, even at your door, To cudgel you, and make you take the hatch; To dive, like buckets, in concealed wells; To crouch in litter of your stable planks; To lie, like pawns, lock'd up in chests and trunks; To hug with swine; to seek sweet safety out In vaults and prisons; and to thrill and shake Even at the crying of your nation's crow, Thinking this voice an armed Englishman; - Shall that victorious hand be feebled here That in your chambers gave you chastisement? No: know the gallant monarch is in arms And like an eagle o'er his aery towers To souse annoyance that comes near his nest. - And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts, You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb Of your dear mother England, blush for shame; For your own ladies and pale-visag'd maids, Like Amazons, come tripping after drums, - Their thimbles into armed gauntlets chang'd, Their needles to lances, and their gentle hearts To fierce and bloody inclination. LOUIS. There end thy brave, and turn thy face in peace; We grant thou canst outscold us: fare thee well; We hold our time too precious to be spent With such a brabbler. PANDULPH. Give me leave to speak. BASTARD. No, I will speak. LOUIS. We will attend to neither. - Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of war, Plead for our interest and our being here. BASTARD. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry out; And so shall you, being beaten: do but start And echo with the clamour of thy drum, And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd That shall reverberate all as loud as thine: Sound but another, and another shall, As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear, And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder: for at hand, - Not trusting to this halting legate here, Whom he hath us'd rather for sport than need, - Is warlike John; and in his forehead sits A bare-ribb'd death, whose office is this day To feast upon whole thousands of the French. LOUIS. Strike up our drums, to find this danger out. BASTARD. And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt. [Exeunt.] SCENE 3. The same. The Field of Battle. [Alarums. Enter KING JOHN and HUBERT.] KING JOHN. How goes the day with us? O, tell me, Hubert. HUBERT. Badly, I fear. How fares your majesty? KING JOHN. This fever that hath troubled me so long Lies heavy on me; - O, my heart is sick! [Enter a MESSENGER.] MESSENGER. My lord, your valiant kinsman, Falconbridge, Desires your majesty to leave the field And send him word by me which way you go. KING JOHN. Tell him, toward Swinstead, to the abbey there. MESSENGER. Be of good comfort; for the great supply That was expected by the Dauphin here Are wreck'd three nights ago on Goodwin Sands. This news was brought to Richard but even now: The French fight coldly, and retire themselves. KING JOHN. Ay me! this tyrant fever burns me up And will not let me welcome this good news. - Set on toward Swinstead: to my litter straight; Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint. [Exeunt.] SCENE 4. The same. Another part of the same. [Enter SALISBURY, PEMBROKE, and others.] SALISBURY. I did not think the king so stor'd with friends. PEMBROKE. Up once again; put spirit in the French; If they miscarry, we miscarry too. SALISBURY. That misbegotten devil, Falconbridge, In spite of spite, alone upholds the day. PEMBROKE. They say King John, sore sick, hath left the field. [Enter MELUN wounded, and led by Soldiers.] MELUN. Lead me to the revolts of England here. SALISBURY. When we were happy we had other names. PEMBROKE. It is the Count Melun. SALISBURY. Wounded to death. MELUN. Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold; Unthread the rude eye of rebellion, And welcome home again discarded faith. Seek out King John, and fall before his feet; For if the French be lords of this loud day, He means to recompense the pains you take By cutting off your heads: thus hath he sworn, And I with him, and many more with me, Upon the altar at Saint Edmunds-bury; Even on that altar where we swore to you Dear amity and everlasting love. SALISBURY. May this be possible? may this be true? MELUN. Have I not hideous death within my view, Retaining but a quantity of life, Which bleeds away even as a form of wax Resolveth from his figure 'gainst the fire? What in the world should make me now deceive, Since I must lose the use of all deceit? Why should I then be false, since it is true That I must die here, and live hence by truth? I say again, if Louis do will the day, He is forsworn if e'er those eyes of yours Behold another day break in the east: But even this night, - whose black contagious breath Already smokes about the burning crest Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun, - Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire; Paying the fine of rated treachery Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives, If Louis by your assistance win the day. Commend me to one Hubert, with your king; The love of him, - and this respect besides, For that my grandsire was an Englishman, - Awakes my conscience to confess all this. In lieu whereof, I pray you, bear me hence From forth the noise and rumour of the field, Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts In peace, and part this body and my soul With contemplation and devout desires. SALISBURY. We do believe thee: - and beshrew my soul But I do love the favour and the form Of this most fair occasion, by the which We will untread the steps of damned flight; And like a bated and retired flood, Leaving our rankness and irregular course, Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'd, And calmly run on in obedience Even to our ocean, to our great King John. - My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence; For I do see the cruel pangs of death Right in thine eye. - Away, my friends! New flight, And happy newness, that intends old right. [Exeunt, leading off MELUN.] SCENE 5. The same. The French camp. [Enter LEWIS and his train.] LOUIS. The sun of heaven, methought, was loath to set, But stay'd, and made the western welkin blush, When the English measur'd backward their own ground In faint retire. O, bravely came we off, When with a volley of our needless shot, After such bloody toil, we bid good night; And wound our tattrring colours clearly up, Last in the field, and almost lords of it! [Enter a MESSENGER.] MESSENGER. Where is my prince, the Dauphin? LOUIS. Here: - what news? MESSENGER. The Count Melun is slain; the English lords By his persuasion are again falln off: And your supply, which you have wish'd so long, Are cast away and sunk on Goodwin Sands. LOUIS. Ah, foul shrewd news! - beshrew thy very heart! - I did not think to be so sad to-night As this hath made me. - Who was he that said King John did fly an hour or two before The stumbling night did part our weary powers? MESSENGER. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord. LOUIS. Keep good quarter and good care to-night; The day shall not be up so soon as I, To try the fair adventure of to-morrow. [Exeunt.] SCENE 6. An open place in the neighborhood of Swinstead Abbey. [Enter the BASTARD and HUBERT, meeting.] HUBERT. Who's there? speak, ho! speak quickly, or I shoot. BASTARD. A friend. - What art thou? HUBERT. Of the part of England. BASTARD. Whither dost thou go? HUBERT. What's that to thee? Why may I not demand Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine? BASTARD. Hubert, I think. HUBERT. Thou hast a perfect thought: I will, upon all hazards, well believe Thou art my friend that know'st my tongue so well. Who art thou? BASTARD. Who thou wilt: and if thou please, Thou mayst befriend me so much as to think I come one way of the Plantagenets. HUBERT. Unkind remembrance! thou and eyeless night Have done me shame: - brave soldier, pardon me, That any accent breaking from thy tongue Should scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. BASTARD. Come, come; sans compliment, what news abroad? HUBERT. Why, here walk I, in the black brow of night, To find you out. BASTARD. Brief, then; and what's the news? HUBERT. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible. BASTARD. Show me the very wound of this ill news; I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it. HUBERT. The king, I fear, is poison'd by a monk: I left him almost speechless and broke out To acquaint you with this evil, that you might The better arm you to the sudden time, Than if you had at leisure known of this. BASTARD. How did he take it; who did taste to him? HUBERT. A monk, I tell you; a resolved villain, Whose bowels suddenly burst out: the king Yet speaks, and peradventure may recover. BASTARD. Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty? HUBERT. Why, know you not? The lords are all come back, And brought Prince Henry in their company; At whose request the king hath pardon'd them, And they are all about his majesty. BASTARD. Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven, And tempt us not to bear above our power! - I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night, Passing these flats, are taken by the tide, - These Lincoln washes have devoured them; Myself, well-mounted, hardly have escap'd. Away, before! conduct me to the king; I doubt he will be dead or ere I come. [Exeunt.] SCENE 7. The orchard of Swinstead Abbey. [Enter PRINCE HENRY, SALISBURY, and BIGOT.] PRINCE HENRY. It is too late: the life of all his blood Is touch'd corruptibly, and his pure brain, - Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling-house, - Doth, by the idle comments that it makes, Foretell the ending of mortality. [Enter PEMBROKE.] PEMBROKE. His Highness yet doth speak; and holds belief That, being brought into the open air, It would allay the burning quality Of that fell poison which assaileth him. PRINCE HENRY. Let him be brought into the orchard here. - Doth he still rage? [Exit BIGOT.] PEMBROKE. He is more patient Than when you left him; even now he sung. PRINCE HENRY. O vanity of sickness! fierce extremes In their continuance will not feel themselves. Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts, Leaves them invisible; and his siege is now Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds With many legions of strange fantasies, Which, in their throng and press to that last hold, Confound themselves. 'Tis strange that death should sing. - I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death; And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings His soul and body to their lasting rest. SALISBURY. Be of good comfort, prince; for you are born To set a form upon that indigest Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude. [Re-enter BIGOT and Attendants, who bring in KING JOHN in a chair.] KING JOHN. Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room; It would not out at windows nor at doors. There is so hot a summer in my bosom That all my bowels crumble up to dust; I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen, Upon a parchment; and against this fire Do I shrink up. PRINCE HENRY. How fares your majesty? KING JOHN. Poison'd, - ill-fare; - dead, forsook, cast off; And none of you will bid the winter come, To thrust his icy fingers in my maw; Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course Through my burn'd bosom; nor entreat the north To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips, And comfort me with cold: - I do not ask you much; I beg cold comfort; and you are so strait, And so ingrateful, you deny me that. PRINCE HENRY. O, that there were some virtue in my tears, That might relieve you! KING JOHN. The salt in them is hot. - Within me is a hell; and there the poison Is, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize On unreprievable condemned blood. [Enter the BASTARD.] BASTARD. O, I am scalded with my violent motion And spleen of speed to see your majesty! KING JOHN. O cousin, thou art come to set mine eye: The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd; And all the shrouds, wherewith my life should sail, Are turned to one thread, one little hair: My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, Which holds but till thy news be uttered; And then all this thou seest is but a clod, And module of confounded royalty. BASTARD. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward, Where heaven he knows how we shall answer him; For in a night the best part of my power, As I upon advantage did remove, Were in the washes all unwarily Devoured by the unexpected flood. [The KING dies.] SALISBURY. You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear. My liege! my lord! - But now a king, - now thus. PRINCE HENRY. Even so must I run on, and even so stop. What surety of the world, what hope, what stay, When this was now a king, and now is clay? BASTARD. Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind To do the office for thee of revenge, And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven, As it on earth hath been thy servant still. - Now, now, you stars that move in your right spheres, Where be your powers? Show now your mended faiths; And instantly return with me again, To push destruction and perpetual shame Out of the weak door of our fainting land. Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought; The Dauphin rages at our very heels. SALISBURY. It seems you know not, then, so much as we: The Cardinal Pandulph is within at rest, Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin, And brings from him such offers of our peace As we with honour and respect may take, With purpose presently to leave this war. BASTARD. He will the rather do it when he sees Ourselves well sinewed to our defence. SALISBURY. Nay, 'tis in a manner done already; For many carriages he hath despatch'd To the sea-side, and put his cause and quarrel To the disposing of the cardinal: With whom yourself, myself, and other lords, If you think meet, this afternoon will post To consummate this business happily. BASTARD. Let it be so: - And you, my noble prince, With other princes that may best be spar'd, Shall wait upon your father's funeral. PRINCE HENRY. At Worcester must his body be interr'd; For so he will'd it. BASTARD. Thither shall it, then: And happily may your sweet self put on The lineal state and glory of the land! To whom, with all submission, on my knee, I do bequeath my faithful services And true subjection everlastingly. SALISBURY. And the like tender of our love we make, To rest without a spot for evermore. PRINCE HENRY. I have a kind soul that would give you thanks, And knows not how to do it but with tears. BASTARD. O, let us pay the time but needful woe, Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs. - This England never did, nor never shall, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them: nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true. [Exeunt.] Publication Date: May 29th 2008 https://www.bookrix.com/-bx.shakespeare

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-elkah-quince-growing-up-street-ways/

Elkah Quince Growing Up Street Ways Chapter 1 My name is Janey I am 16. I’ve been in rehab for 2 months now reassessing my entire life. I’ve come to the conclusion that all the fragments of my life are tears in the curtains of reality. This is how my life has gone. “Mum” I screamed as my brother dragged me away from the scene of my mother and father fighting. He grabbed a syringe of strange liquid and pushed the needle into my vein as I kicked and screamed. The room started spinning as it always did when they drugged me. It was dark when I woke up. I’d been shoved behind some garbage bins in an alley. I sat up slowly my head was pounding. I could smell rotting food scraps and feel the slimy garbage bags against my back. I walked out of the alley still dizzy from the drugs. I looked up at a sign above the busy road “Sydney” I gasped nearly falling knowing that I was from Alice Springs. Tears started to blur my vision as I leant against the wall. My belly growled hungrily as I smelt food. I looked down the street and saw a take away shop with people walking in and out at a rapid pace. A woman with a packet of chips walked past me briskly the smell of the chips made my stomach gurgle and my mouth water. I walked slowly towards the shop rubbing my dirty hands on my jeans. The smell of hot oil deep fried chips and squid rings cooked to a perfect mouth watering crisp with that lush chewy centre filled my nose. I stepped in carefully and almost fainted. All the food smelt so good and I hadn’t eaten in about two days. Mum and dad often forgot to feed us and we had no money for our own food. But that was then; I was on my own now. The shop was packed I couldn’t see the counter and nobody could see me. I snaked my hand slowly towards a packet of Smith’s chips and grabbed them. I slowly pulled them gently off the rack then turned and ran. I headed for the door when ‘CRACK’ I ran straight into a bikie, I looked up. His long brown hair was pulled back into a pony tail that reached half way down his back I looked at his face and was surprised to see that he was clean shaven and only 20 at the oldest he grabbed my shoulder roughly and squatted down in front of me. “Are you lost?” he asked in a voice that was smooth and even but was tainted with a deep understanding. I nodded shaking visibly beneath his grip he held my hand and placed a twenty dollar note in it “not all people are cruel” he said kindly “where are you from?” “A...A...Alice Springs” I replied shakily “Well that is a long way away. Where are your parents?” “H.... home my brother used to drug me when they were fighting so I wouldn’t have to see. My dad probably left me here so he didn’t have to put up with me anymore.” I hung my head and looked at my feet. He stood up “oi Jim put a packet of Smiths on my tab for this little lady” he yelled and left the shop. I stared after his leather clad back as he headed down the street occasionally the head lights of a passing care would outlining him then he’d be gone again. I ran in the opposite direction still shaking from my encounter with the biker man. The last encounter id had with a biker had resulted in me being drugged and rapped, when I was 7 years old. I’d only just stopped having the nightmares. I kept running until my legs ached and my lungs were on fire. I was at a small park in the middle of Sydney. Sitting on one of the benches I tore open my packet. I started eating handful after handful of those salty chips they were so good I finished the packet quickly and put it in the bin. I stood up slowly stretching a crick in my back before getting starting to walk again. A smell caught my attention it was the smell of alcohol I was only eleven but I’d had my fair share of drinking to numb the pain of my parents fighting and my constant nightmares and the flashback of the beatings I used to get. I could see the source of the smell a group of 13 to 15 year old boys were drinking around a fire pot I walked slowly, carefully getting closer to them. One of them turned and saw me “hey look what we got here boys a little run away” he slurred beckoning me closer to the fire. I stumbled forward slowly “hi” I said shyly coming closer to the group. “Wanna drink?” a boy with scraggy dark hair and nicely tanned skin asked handing me a bottle. I sniffed at it and took a mouthful it burnt the back of my throat painfully and I started coughing and gagging. “’ay Rats don’t ‘ive her da strong stuff ya’ll kick out ‘er pretty lil’ lights” said another of the gang he looked to be around 14 or 15 he had straight teeth and a nice smile that filled his eyes “ya ‘k?” he asked me his voice full of concern. I nodded coughing again he handed me a bottle of water and a lemon “ suck on da lemon then fill ya mouth with water it’ll ‘elp” I did as he told me and felt better instantly “What was that?” I asked “Straight ‘n’ pure vodka” laughed the one they called Rats “Normally the ‘oung girls like you can’t stand dat stuff they tummies puke it up instantly” laughed the boy who’d given me the water I shrugged “I’ve been drinking since I was about 7 I think it was” I stepped shyly closer to the boy who had just spoken to me. “Who are you?” I asked the boy with the water. “we” he said loudly gesturing to his band of boys “we is da adults worsetest nightmare we are da defiance of juveniles” he finished proudly as the boys hooted and whistled loudly “I is Tiger leader of dese cut throat ‘un aways, and you is?” “I’m Janey” I replied quietly “Well Janey” he chuckled “ya is now one of us” he grinned evilly and I shrank away from him slightly “and ta celebrate a joint of our finest pot” I watched as Rats started digging in a bag he pulled out something that looked slightly like a cigarette “what's that” I whispered watching him put it in his mouth and light it as if it were just a smoke. “Dat a joint” tiger whispered back “What’s a joint?” everybody must have heard me ask because they turned to stare at me “betcha she aint never heard of no morphine neither” said a tall boy with blonde hair and 3 lip rings on one half of his mouth “I have actually my brother used to force it into me” I said huffily crossing my arms and glaring at the boy roughly “lay off da pretty gal slime” said rats “Well? What is it?” I asked again “Marijuana” said the boy called slime just as it was passed my way. I put it carefully in my mouth and breathed in the strange smoke a few times then passed it on everyone started laughing and we all went a little light headed. Rats and Slime started dancing together and poor Tiger started kissing the boy next to him thinking it was a girl I had never laughed so much in my life the boys face was horrified as if somebody was trying to feed him a bucket full of mucus with a ladle. A few hours later after we’d settled down I was introduced to the rest of the boys besides Rats and Tiger. There was Samson who was gay and had joined the gang because his parent where homophobic and had thrown him out of his home. He had gentle brown eyes that slopped slightly, hinting at a Japanese origin. His hair was short and spiked out around his head sharply, his lips where full and his teeth were white and straight he looked like he should have been a model. Then there was Lion whose large green eyes seemed to be alive with movement just like a jungle they were lush and deep like untouched paradise. His hair was golden in the firelight and it curled out around his head like a lion’s mane hinting where his name had come from. He spoke with a quiet and gentle voice that had a hidden viciousness behind it. There was a set of twins by the names of Ghost and Takehito both names had been chosen by them. Takehito I was told never spoke to anyone but Ghost. Ghost had pure white hair which seemed natural because his eyebrows were also white he had deep red lips and dark haunted eyes that he lined in eyeliner which made him appear mysterious he had a slow way of speaking but a fast jittery way of moving just like a sparrow in flight. Takehito had a very girl like body with a small waist and gently sloping hips. His face was different to Ghosts in many ways they had the same eyes but his cheek bones where higher and less sharp. His hair was dark and long tied back in a plait the reached to his lower back, when it got caught in the firelight his hair seemed to be a mix of black and blonde with a hint of red. And last of all there was Slime he was pale with freckles and his pink hair seemed out of place among the other boys. His three lips rings sat on the left side of his mouth and his septum piercing hung crooked in his nose when he grinned you could see his lost teeth his lip rings where black purple then pink and all a different type of ring. He had and evil snare which he seemed to use only on me when I approached him. After the fire had died I went back to the gang’s place which was an old warehouse near downtown Sydney. It was warm but gloomy inside and we all just crashed in any bed we could find. That was my first night in Sydney. I was 9 years old. Staying in a warehouse, with boys in downtown Sydney. Chapter 2 I could hear crashing noises like people walking around in the dark. I opened my eyes slowly they felt strange and sluggish. It was dark, like midnight. I rolled over slowly and fell off of my bed. Sitting up slowly my head started swimming and my sight blurred slightly. There was movement from the bed I’d fallen off of. “Tiger?” I called my voice thick with sleep there came a slightly muffled reply. As if I’d woken up whoever had been in the bed with me. “oi lass keep it downs a lil wouldn’t ya I is trying to sleeps up ‘ere,” came lions voice as he peeked his curly head over the edge of the bed. he was still in the same top he had worn yesterday that smelt slightly like smoke. “Sorry Lion,” I said yawning “say did we ya know do anything we shouldn’t of.” “Lassie I wouldn’t stand for none of these here boys even looking at an ‘oungen like you that way,” he said slightly hurt. “Sorry you go back to sleep,” I said quietly as he lay back down. I crawled to what looked like a door and looked down. A set of steps was set into the wall and went down 3 flights before coming into contact with the floor of the warehouse. I walked down the stairs quietly as I could but they creaked and groaned under my light weight. I got to the floor and turned to what seemed like a bathroom door and opened it. There standing naked and wet in the middle of the room was Takehito only he wasn’t a he, it was a she. She had a towel around her body and her hair hung in limp curls to her waist. Her eyes were shocked and afraid as I stood there gawking. “You’re not a boy?” I said tipping my head to the side watching her. Her hands snaked out as she dragged me into the bathroom “Please please please don’t tell the boys,” she begged me in a voice that sounded like the first snowfall of winter. “I won’t Takehito, I promise on my life,” I said taking her hands slowly. “Thankyou,” she said hugging me tightly against her. “No wonder you never speak your voice is so beautiful,” I smiled at her. She blushed and pushed me back out of the room and shut the door. I was still a little shocked from the encounter with Takehito. I started looking around for the kitchen and noticed that even with 3 floors to rest on everyone except for Lion Tiger and I seem to sleep on the ground floor, on the couches or bean bags that were scattered around. The kitchen was just a large room with two sinks, cupboards, a fridge, and a cook top stove. I opened the fridge to find it completely empty I slammed it shut sighing heavily. Shrugging I walked back to the stairs. Just as Tiger was starting his way down “isn’t there any food in this place?” I whispered up to him. He grinned and threw me down a bag of apples. “Dat’s ya brekkie,” he grinned walking back up the stairs to his room. “Thank you!” I called up to him a little too loudly. “Shut up,” came Slime’s voice from the couch as a pillow slammed into the back of my head I picked it up and slowly stalked over to Slime. I raised the pillow above my head and slammed it down on his sleeping face. He reached up trying to take a swing at me, but I dodged and ran back up to Lion’s room. I’ve now been staying with the gang for three days. Every night we drink and smoke weed, some of the other boys use ecstasy and ice. But they would never let me touch the harder drugs which they did. I slept in Lion’s room most nights on one side of the bed in a sleeping bag completely separate from him. Some nights I would sleep in Takehito and Ghosts room, they would sing Japanese lullabies that their mother had taught them. I started to notice and watch how members of the group interacted and how they looked at each other. Poor Samson who was gay seemed to be in love with Takehito. That would have been hard for him because he didn’t know that Takehito was a female. Everyone thought that Takehito was gay too or bi sexual as they called it because they had seen her kissing girls. I asked Takehito what she was and she said that she was pansexual “What’s that?” i remember asking “It’s where you don’t mind which gender you just fall in love with somebody for who they are inside it doesn’t matter what they look like it’s all about soul and personality,” I smiled kissed her cheek and went to help tiger repair his bed which had broken last night somehow. It was a relaxed life with the gang we rarely had jobs other than to repair broken things hunt down money in gutters or clean up the bottles we left anywhere. That was until the accident..... Chapter 3 It was just an average day foggy from the harbour with the sun shining weakly through the grey mist. Tiger and I were on the roof fixing up some tiles that had fallen off. Somebody shouted from the ground, it was Ghost saying that Takehito had gone into town. I was looking over the city holding the roofs peak carefully as if I had been born to live on a roof. “Pigs on the way” yelled Tiger spotting a cop car heading our way “hide!” he yelled down. I scuttled through the skylight on to the platform but Tiger didn’t follow there was a scream and the sound of tiles falling and shattering. “Help Janey” I climb out of the skylight again fast to see tiger hanging on the edge of the roof with his hands “Hang on crap, Lion” I screamed out his name louder than the rest of the sentence I let myself slide down most of the roof and caught at one of the few exposed rafters I grabbed Tigers wrist and tried to pull him up but all I could do was help him stay up a bit better I wasn’t strong enough. “LION!” I screamed again struggling with Tigers weight as his body dangled 4 stories above the harsh pavement “don’t let go please Lions coming” I started crying as I held on tightly. “I’m sorry Janey” he whispered as his fingers slipped off the edge “take care of Ghost and Takehito tell Takehito I love her.” he let go everything started going in slow motion. He fell slowly down through the air the cop car pulled up just as he hit the ground his body bounced as every bone in his body broke blood spurted from his mouth and limbs as the pavement mangled his beautiful face. The blood pooled slowly around him slowly the cops where shocked as one of them called the ambulance the other looked up at me on the roof. Chapter 4 All the gang stood huddled in front of the police only I had watched Tiger die. Lion had only seen him after his body had settled on the bed heading for the morgue. I had found Takehito and told her Tigers last words, she cried in my arms. The police had raided the house and only found our alcohol. They couldn’t find the drugs that where hidden in the floor of Tigers room. Only Tiger and I had ever known how to get it out of his floor. Takehito was sitting near me, her hair was a tangled mess from fighting with Lion, he hadn’t fought back but he had needed to deflect her from his face. He was scratched and bleeding slightly. Everyone knew now that Takehito was a girl Samson was holding her. Even though he was gay he still loved her. He was telling her this and that he’d always love her even if she was a girl. If it hadn’t been a sad occasion I have a feeling he would have been teased for sure. The police had brought us out the front of the warehouse. We’d never stolen anything, the only thing we could get in trouble for was underage drinking but that wasn’t too bad. Takehito and Ghost where trying to persuade the police that they didn’t need to go into an orphanage. Samson was calling his family, and Lion was being interviewed. I was hiding behind Slime who was protecting me from the police. He may have hated me, but he didn’t want to see me taken back to my abusive family. He had been abused as a kid too, drugs had been tried on him and his step father and mother used to beat him. He’d been hospitalised several times because of them. “We need to send her back to her family” said a young police officer to Slime “NO!” he shouted “I WON’T LET HER GO BACK TO THEM.” “Do you want to become her guardian then?” said a young woman with short red plaits and a porcelain face. “If it stops her going back to that abuse yes I’ll take her” “Very well” she said handing him some papers. “you’ll get child rights and money every week” “Thanks” he muttered snatching the papers. After all the commotion Slime and I had moved what little possessions we had into a small one bedroom apartment. We had the bedroom set up with bunk beds single on top double on the bottom. Slime usually left me to myself he brought home food and some drinks every day we only brought food to eat on that day. Usually it was chips or fish if we had enough money every now and again we would get KFC but that was very rare. One day Slime never came home, I sat on the couch for three days reading book after book. But he never came home, I was alone again. Publication Date: July 3rd 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-sakusabi

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-anna-can-039-t-we-go-back/

Anna Can't We Go Back? It was a normal morning, the sun high in the sky as Ian sat at the table drinking his coffee and reading the paper; but something seemed out of the ordinary, a strange feeling in his gut wouldn't go away. He stretched out after laying the paper on the table, staring out the window as his hand ran down his stomach. "Oh, what to do today?" Ian asked nobody in particular, his dog tilted his head up at him. Ian stood up, picked up his cup and placed it into the sink before heading off to the bathroom. After showering, he shaved and dressed for a jog; it was a nice sunny morning he might as well do something good for himself. His outfit consisted of an under armour shirt and gym shorts with comfortable running sneakers. "I'd take you with me, Ted but it's one hot morning" Ian said as he patted the dogs head, he simply groaned and laid back down; he showed no interest in wanting to have gone for a run anyways. After locking up the place Ian started his jog, running down the path towards the main street and to the left; keeping a steady pace as he got into town. Wiping his forehead from sweat he finally slowed down as he noticed a beverage stand, a man yelling 'Cold drinks, soda, water, get a drink!' Ian couldn't lose, he glanced both ways of the busy New York city roads, people were zooming past paying no attention to him. After two minutes, they were forced to stop as the light turned red and pedestrians were allowed crossing. He ran quickly over the crosswalk, continuing until he had gotten to the man with the drinks. "I'd like a water please" Ian stated, fishing in his pocket for his wallet. "Two dollars and fifty" The man said like he was at an auction; Ian had no doubt he had side jobs like that with how loud and jumbled he was talking yet strangely you could understand him. After handing over the money, Ian opened the drink and chugged it, wiping his mouth once half the bottle was gone. "Thanks" Ian said before closing the bottle and returning to the same pace he had once been at. Glancing at the road as he ran he noticed a car stopped in the middle of the road, the driver staring straight ahead with a blank look to him. It seemed strange. As cars honked past him, Ian stopped and stared at the car, slowly walking closer to it. The man turned his head and stared at Ian, screaming incoherently before smacking his head against the wheel of the car. Ian jumped as he kept going, blood splashing every where as the man started smacking his face harder and harder eventually the air-bag popped out and suffocated him between it and the seat. Ian's eyes widened before backing away from the car; whatever was wrong with that man he didn't want to happen to him in case it was contagious. Cars in the road started to stop every which way, some over the crosswalk while others in random spots causing regular drivers to crash into them. One by one Ian noticed them doing the same thing as the man who just killed himself had done. 'I have to get out of here' Ian thought to himself before sprinting off towards his home. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him. Once safely inside Ian locked the doors up and pet Ted, sighing in relief that whatever was going on hadn't reached him...yet. He was terrified, it was something he could not see, it was something attacking everybody and whatever it was was spreading fast. Ian ran to his computer, bringing up the browser, he quickly typed in 'What could cause someone to want to kill themself?' He knew he wouldn't get a wide range of answers. Things such as 'Depression, loss of a loved on, diseases' popped up as results, sighing he knew he was at a dead end. What could he type in? 'People driving who end up stopping and banging their heads against whatever they could' Hell, that wouldn't work, what would come up? This was the internet he was talking about and people ran the internet. He rubbed his temples, he could go to a hospital and ask them but who knew if they would even know what was going on. He had even seen people break their heads out the window at one point. He had to find answers and he had to find them fast. Ian turned off his computer and turned away, pacing through the living room as he thought it through. This was strange, obviously nothing had ever happened like this before because he would have heard about it, right? It seemed ridiculous, this entire thing wasn't real, he was dreaming. Yeah, it was a terrible nightmare and he was going to awaken from this at some point. He was satisfied at the way he faked himself, made himself believe in a false reality but was rudely awakened once the phone rang. Ian picked it up and said a mumbled 'hello?' into the receiver, he was still baffled. "Hey hun" His mother said reluctantly on the other end. "Oh, hi ma" Ian said, shifting his weight from his right foot to his left. "Have you seen the news?" His mom asked, Ian turned towards the television. 'The t.v.!' It flashed through Ian's mind as he thought 'duh!' He hadn't ever thought about looking at the news for what was going on. "No not yet but I will, I'll call you back" Ian said swiftly, hanging up the phone before she had a chance to reply. He tripped over the foot rest that was a compliment to the couch as he rushed towards the television, turning it on he flipped through the channels before he finally landed on the one that would tell him what was going on. "An epidemic as broken loose! Biggest we have ever seen, thousands dead as a plague wipes through major cities and slowly drift into smaller ones. Stay away from any water system, all water has been poisoned and oceans are carrying this deadly disease. It eats your skin away, your insides will burn, other symptoms are rashes or the irrisistable urge to kill yourself in any possible way, save yourself!" The man explained, Ian's eyes widened as he remembered the bottle of water he had purchased from the man not long ago. 'Am I poisoned?' Ian thought to himself, he looked back at Ted who laid on the ground, he prayed he hadn't filled his bowl that morning. "Ted" Ian said cautiously, he slowly crept towards him as he watched the sleeping dogs figure. He raised his head and stared at him, wagging his tail. Ian sighed in relief, slowly running his hand along the dogs side. "We need to get out of here" Ian said as he ran to grab the dogs leash, normally he wouldn't need it but now he had to keep the dog from drinking any water that he could. Ian hooked Ted then ran outside, the dog happily followed at his side. He stuck the dog in the car then hopped in himself, speeding away making sure to dodge main roads; he didn't want an accident. Once it was inevitable that he had to go through a major town, he carefully drove around large masses of cars, smoke drifted toward the skies from many of them. Ian took in the sight, glancing from car to car as he saw bodies strewn in every direction; it was like nothing he had ever seen before. Ted whined from the back seat as Ian continued driving, he glanced back at his pup as Ted looked back, wagging his tail. Ian drove passed the town, driving for hours until his car ran out of gas in a tiny place three hours from his home. He got out of the car, bringing Ted along with him as he slowly walked through it, trying to find somebody. "Hello?" Ian yelled out, a man walked onto the porch of a small store, loading a shotgun. Ian gulped lightly then quickly explained himself. "I'm from the city, I don't want any trouble, there's just a huge problem going on with the water and I wanted to know if here was safe or not" Ian explained, the man walked into the sun and stared at him, he was scruffy looking with a long beard. "You're welcome to stay but the water is no safer here than there, ya know" The man stated the obvious but was in no mood to say more as he walked back into the store. Ian nodded as he took Ted and looked around more, towards the back of the town was a large storage shed; two floors with rotted boards falling off on the outside. It hadn't been used in what seemed like years. Ian opened the door and led Ted inside, he sat down on a small bale of hay as Ted sniffed around. "How are we going to survive this one, Ted?" Ian asked, Ted simply glanced up at him, tilting his head before returning to smelling things once again. He didn't care. Ian laid back, putting his arms under his head, after an hour he finally fell into a deep slumber. He awoke in the morning, stiff and sore from the hay. He sat up and groaned, rubbing his neck trying to remember where he was. In one instant he remembered everything from the previous day, he swore softly. He looked around the small area for his dog, spotting him a few feet behind him on the hay. "Hi Ted" Ian said with a smile, the dog didn't look up, he moved closer and ran his hand along the furry body if his companion, clumps of fur and blood coated his hand. Tears filled his eyes as he stared at his appendage, blinking them away; some slid down his cheeks. He dropped his head before he got up and left the storage barn, looking around the town. He tried to avoid anyone and this task would be easier than he thought it was going to be; buildings were on fire. Ian watched the flames dance, they were hypnotic as he slowly walked closer to them, the feeling he had gotten the day before returned to him. It was a normal morning, the sun was blindingly bright in the sky, the weird feeling in his gut just wouldn't go away as he stepped into the flame and banged his head against the wall, laughing menacingly as his blood slid down his face and the flames ate away at his skin. Text: It's a little fast but it's for the contest, hope you enjoy. All rights reserved. Publication Date: June 8th 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-schizo

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-candyroses-is-a-love-story/

candyroses is a love story candyroses no one really except my dog and my friends Text: me All rights reserved. Publication Date: October 23rd 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-candyroses

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-tyler-c-brown-terrorization/

Tyler C. Brown Terrorization The Beginning My name is Jingle Ederson, most people call me Princess Sparklefuck. That has been my nick name since 8th grade. Although I don’t sparkle and I'm nowhere near close to being a princess, considering I am a guy and not a girl and I wear dark and calm colors and not bright and obnoxious out wear.  It started off around the summer going into ninth grade. The High School! A dreadful place where people hear rumors of fights and bullying. I was scared! My second cousin Joseph Ederson was two grades ahead of me, so I knew I would have someone to go to if I needed help fitting in or if I was being pushed around. Joey, as my family called him, was a very big guy. He played football and baseball, and he was the biggest guy on both teams! He went through one football season without getting tackled once! He had the highest batting average with a .297 on his baseball team for three years! He wasn’t very good with his school work though, he passed, but just barely. I wasn’t worried about getting bullied, and it’s all because everyone knew we were cousins and couldn’t stand a chance against him in a fight!  The summer going into high school was wild for me! Joey and me were really close, so he “brought me under his wing” as he would call it and brought me to the parties and the high school life. He tried to get me to wear cool clothing from places like Pac Sun and Billabong, but I wasn’t interested in the items they had there. I decided to stay with my style of Spencers and Hot Topic, the bright colors and summer theme just never interested me. Most of the parties we had gone to were late night into morning and sometimes even the next day! They all had drugs and alcohol though, and when I saw this I was interested.  Joey had introduced me to some of the drugs at these parties a month before actually letting me to go to one of them. The most common drug he let me use was marijuana. When I smoked the brown plant wrapped in the thin cloth like paper I felt alive and alert. I felt great emotion and energy, which is something I don’t usually have. My Rising After we were back into school and going to these parties weekly, unlike the summer where we went to these parties daily. We all understood that our education was needed in life and that we shouldn't miss school to miss information we may need later in life. We walked through the halls dreadfully and painfully just longing to get out and get the the latest and greatest party where we could feel alive with the help of our numbing drugs and intoxicating alcoholic beverages.  Joey was a Junior only being in 11th grade, two grades above me. He kept supplying me when parties were canceled or we couldn't attend parties. He gave me the thrilling supply of drugs and alcohol. As we sit out on his porch looking into the dark night feeling numb from the high of the drugs and the buzz of the alcohol, we talk about the recent parties and the parties to come.  That's ALL we talked about! We used to talk about how we were doing in school, how his sport situation was going, or the latest video games. Now it felt as if we lost our connection, or if we just changed our great connection to a connection where we had no care in the world we were numb and happy. I guess everything was fine, but it didn't feel like it. It felt as if time were just a blur now and that everything I knew was changing. My social status in school was changing to be a "cool kid" because of the football players, baseball players and jocks I have been hanging out with because of my second cousin. Along with hanging out with the "cool kids" these parties and the drugs and alcohol have also boosted my social status. Everything felt ackward, but at the same time it also felt so right! BLEH BLEH BLEH BLEH NO! Text: Tyler Brown Images: Google All rights reserved. Publication Date: April 8th 2013 https://www.bookrix.com/-tylerbossbrown

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-destiny-no-turning-back/

Destiny No turning back Chapter 1 June 1st Dear Diary, As you may know I am pregnant and I have no idea what to do. It all happened about a week ago when I saw Mike cheating on me, I went over to his house to tell him. I saw him through the window making out with another girl. That other girl was my best friend. So Mike has no idea i'm pregnant and I have no intention of telling him either. June 5th Oh, Diary today was the worst,I saw mike in the hallway and he pretended like nothing happened. I wanted to hit him, but I held myself back. I can't believe he would act like that.UGH! June 15 Sorry I haven't written in a while but I have been so busy to write much of anything at the moment. So much has happened and I can't write all of it down . First my friend(the one that I cought) Said that Mike made her make out with him(Lier). so I have been doing everything that I can to avoid her. Also I am starting to get a little bigger then I used to be, Why can't life be easy? Chapter 2 June 27th I found out that I'm due on April 2ed and I have to wait another couple of months to see if it's a boy of girl. I still haven't told my mom, because she will freak out and I can't deal with that right now. I haven't told Mike yet and I hope I never will have to tell him. I hate how much bigger i've gotten and I can't wait to get the baby out of my stomach. July 3ed I can't really keep out with writing in you as I could because I have so much stuff I have to do and I don't have anyone to help me. I wish life was like the people in the movies who get pregnant, but sadly it isn't. July 20th Haven't written in awhile I have been really busy. Some people found out that I was preggers and now the whole school knows! So I just didn't have the heart to write in you .Also Mike found out that I was pregers and he wants nothing to do with the baby,so I don't expect any help form him . I am starting to show more and more. I just want to get rid of the baby so I can move on with my life. Augest 12th I have been so busy picking out stuff for the baby, I had to get a job because my mom won't help me, because she thinks the baby is the biggest mistake I have ever made. Then we got into a really big fight because I feel the exact opposite. My baby is no mistake, he or she was a surprise. So now I am living in my friends house with no support from my mother. Chapter 3 September 3ed I found out today at the doctors that I am having a girl. I was going to tell Mike but I figured he really didn't care so I decided against it. I have quit using meth when I found I was going to have a baby. Every once in a while I want to use but I decide against it for the better of my baby. September 20th I Felt my baby kick! I am so excited!!!! I can't wait to see her when she comes out. I always talk to my baby, I found out that they can recognize the mom's voice. SO CUTE. To bad the daddy won't be here to see the baby come out. I was really hopping that my baby wouldn't be with out a daddy. October 5th I have decided to go with my friends to a halloween party. I figure why can't I have a little fun for once in a while. Chapter 4 November 1st What have I done? I was there at the party having a really good time when someone handed me a drink. I thought that one little drink couldn't hurt the baby. One turned into a lot and now I have to go to the doctor to see if I hurt the baby or not. I am such a BAD MOMMY! November 8th Everything seemed to be ok. I didn't harm her in anyway the doctor said that she would be ok. I hope he was right. As of today I will not drink another drink until she is born. December 1st I can't wait until the baby is born. I want to give her everything that my mom couldn't give me. As a child my mother never got me anything for Christmas because we couldn't afford it. So I am going to get my baby everything that she needs and wants. December 25th My mother and I haven't made up and I am still living with my friend. I am sad that she won't spend Christmas with me or my baby. I really wish she would understand that keeping the baby is my choice not hers. Chapter 5 January 3ed I am SO big! I have decided on a name for my baby. I am going to name her Grace Marie Thompson. I love that name and I want everyone to be there when she is born. I am soooo happy. January 18th I am so scared to have my baby. I want everything to go right. I called my mother and told her that I wanted her to be there when Grace was born. She said that she would! I am so happy because I don't know a thing about baby's. February 17th I have been getting things like clothing and diapers for my baby. I really want her dad to be there but I have decided not to invite him because if he doesn't want to be part of my baby's life then he isn't worth it. March 20th The date is closing in so fast! I am scared because I think that it is going to hurt and I don't want it to hurt. I have packed my bag to get ready to go. March 25th I am in the hospitle because the baby is early and I am scared because I don't think they are supposed to came early. Got to go doctors here Chapter6 March 30th I am back from the hospitle and I am with my baby. She was born on the 26th at 7am. I hope I can be a good mother to the baby. I am so tired and I will talk to you later I have a baby to take care of. :) April 2ed I have gotten no sleep in the past 2 days! I had to take some of my stash of meth to keep from falling asleep while Grace is awake. I know I said that I was done with meth, but I just really needed it, and it can't hurt to take a little right.? April 10th Grace is asleep and I figured that I might as well take the time to write in you. I am still taking meth(just to stay awake though) and I feel like such a good mommy. I spend all of my free time with Grace. I brought her to school once and she had a blast! I have to go I think that she is waking up. April 23ed I am a horriable person! My mom had to go out so she couldn't watch grace while I slept. So I was playing with her and I laid her down for her nap. I thought that it wouldn't hurt if I took a nap. My mom wakes me up and I thought that she was gone. As it turns out my baby had gotten out of her crib and was stuck in the bathroom! I feel like such a bad person! I could of seriously hurt my baby because of all the meth I had taken I crashed, I will never let that happen again.Ever! May 1st I took Grace outside to play in the grass, while I played with her. We had a great time and I thought that she was the cutest thing just playing in the grass and looking at the trees. It was the best time that I had ever had. May 8th Took some meth to stay awake and I played with the baby. I think that I need some time away from her. So I am going out tonight with my friends and my mom is babysitting. May 10th I had the best time with my friends I need to do it more often. I am thinking about going out tonight! :) Chapter 7 May 17th I have gone out with my friends all this week and I kinda feel bad that I haven't spent much time with my baby, but she's got my mom so everything is okay. June 2ed I can't believe my mom! she is leaving so I have to watch my baby. not that I don't love my baby, but I need some me time. June 8th My friends came over while my mom was at work, we smoked and hung out. I wish everyday could be like that. June 17th I think I am addicted to meth! I can't stop using and I don't know why. I had to pawn off some of my stuff to buy more meth I needed the meth though. Chapter 8 June 27th I can't stop using and I feel like such a bad person. I spend all of my free time with my baby, and she enjoys being around me. I think that I really need to give of meth before I do Something really stupid. July 4th I am taking the baby to see the fireworks and smoke some meth. I am excited to take my baby somewhere I think that she will enjoy. July 5th I really screwed up! I was at the fireworks with me baby And I didn't see that she was headed to the water... and I just barely heard her cry. So I saved her from the water and I had to explain to my mom what had happened. She Was PISSED! July 7th I went out and I pissed my mom off by doing it thought but i think that she will get over it. I need some time for me and the meth. Chapter 9 September 1st I don't know where the time has gone. I am still living with my mom and my baby is starting to walk. I look so different then I once was. My hair is nasty because I just stopped caring, and my face is pale and skinny. September 8th My mom has filed for custady of my baby. She thinks that I am in unfit mother to be raising a child!!!! That Bitch!! Grace isn't hers! I am a fit parent and I will prove it to my mom. Chapter 10 October 3ed My mom is still going to file for custady of my baby. She hasn't changer her mind. She found out that I sold some of the baby clothing for meth and she is set on getting custady of my baby. She won't get it though I will make of that. October 20th Tomarrow is the court day and I will see if I get to keep my baby or not. Mom will never get custady of my child I will make sure of that tonight... October 21st Today is the court date and my mom is a no show. I get to keep my baby and my can say nothing about it. I have to get out of here and I know exactly where to go where they can never touch my baby. October 27th I had to do what I had to do. I killed my mom and ran off with my baby, I told her she would never get the chance to have my baby. We are wanted because I ran off with the baby, and the system wants my baby they will never have her. We are on our way to New York to live with a friend of mine, at the moment the bus is a a gas station and I am smoking some meth. I will never give up my baby. I will kill anyone to protect my baby... November 7th As it turns out my baby has some issues that I didn't know about. All she does is CRY! I can't get her to stop, so I went to the doctor and found out that it was because of the meth I took while I had the baby. She will have defects when she gets older you can sorta tell right now but not really. It turns out that they will be much worse when she gets older. So I screwed up on giving my baby a good start in life and now because of what I did she will pay the price. November 16th All I want to do is cry! They found my mom and are looking for me so I need to keep the baby safe and with me. They have no idea what will happen and I think it might be bad but all I can do is hope that the baby will be safe. I feel like a terrabile parent but I need my meth right now and the baby is asleep so it will be okay right.... November 17th I awoke to the baby crying and I feel horrable for letting her cry. I fell asleep at 6 and noe its4 in the morning I wonder how long she had been crying for. I change her and feed her and put her back to bed. I can't go on like this for much longer I am so depressed all the time and I don't think that I can handle it much longer....I need to consider my options and I need to do it fast. December 1st There was a knock at my door today. It was the police and I was charged with the murder of my mother. So they took the baby and I am all alone in my cell right now. I am thinking of all the thinks that I will be missing like her birthdays and her first christmas. I want to see her so badly but I can't and I have 7 years to figure out what to do. I cannot see my Grace and I probally never will I miss her so much and I want to see her so bad. She got a nice foster family I hear so she will be well cared for and I am attending meeting for my addiction so if all goes well I will be a better parent the next time. Publication Date: April 23rd 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-destiny316

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-iamme-13-stuck-in-the-moments-after/

Iamme.13 Stuck In The Moments After... Barely Making It. Just Breath Breathing in the damp air that surrounds me, I see a dark allyway that looks like a living hellhole...Hmmm seems like something I might acctually enjoy. I take a few steps toward it when I see the flash of a small car's headlights... Those few moments changed my life forever. *** I live a very complicated,misundrstood life. Yes, I go to school at Hamith School of Music, Yes I have crazy friends who like to annoy me, but I also have the biggest secret ever. It isn't like any plain out girl-getting-all-gougou eyes-for-guys secret though...It's a real secret, the kind people acctually Want to hear, but what makes it so special is it is my secret...and I want to share it with you. My secret started out when I was fourteen, when everything was starting to get complicated... Girls would call me names like "trashy hoe" or "trailor trash" or just flat out call me a whore, but the truth was...I hadn't even ever had a boyfriend much less be sleeping with them! It hurt, but I had to learn that The Bitches and their drama wasn't anything I needed to worry about. But one day I had had enough and my feelings exploded... I'm not much of a talker and I'm certainly not all that good at backtalking, but that day something just went off in my head... His name was Shane Malcom. He had dark hair that didn't even quite touch his eyebrows, beautiful green-blue eyes that you clould almost get lost in, and a body any girl would drull over...well except for me and I hated him and it just so happened he hated me to, so when he came into the GIRLS locker room holding a video camera, I kinda decided to hate him even more and my furry I already had for him exploded! The next thing I knew I was walking straight up to him with my fist clenched at my sides ready for him to say one word to me. But the only thing that came out of his mouth was... "Wow nice rack Jay!" I could feel the heat on my face as I stooped quickly to throw my towel around my waist scense it had some how fallen off in the rush of everything. I ran as quickly as I could to grab my clothes and out the door I was, but the last image I caught of the scene was of Shane Malcom... holding his video camera in his right hand,,, smileying after me. I had to keep telling myself to calmdown before anyone seen me crying, but I couldn't help it. I was completly humiliated! But I guess that just goes to show what the real Jade Carter is about. I've know Shane scence I was two and we use to be best friends, but that was before he started to like the popular kids and before he got on the football team, but most importantly that was before he turned into a total jerk. Just Follow Your Haert It's the day after the totaly embarrasing one and I have yet another problem...I missed the bus. Not like I really care though, but my house is like 14 blocks from the school and i'll be good to make it there by second period. So I get up out of bed, but the first thing that catches my attention is the pictureframe on my nightstand. It's a picture of me and my mom stnding out by the lake that I once swamin during the summer, but when I was 8 my mother got lung cancer and died when I was 10 and a half. I miss her so much and honestly she's the only thing that keeps me going everyday. After I take a few moments just to enjoy the picture I had to get up and go. So I got my faded jeans on and brushed my wild dark brown hair and out the door I went. *** When I finally got to school it was at the begging of second period and of course it just had to be the class I have with Shane... And it also just so happens that he sits right beside me. When I walked through the doors everyone looked straight at me, but I kept my head high and my feet steady as I slowly walked down the isles to my seat in the far back corner. The first thing that pops into my head is, first off Shane must to have sent that video to everyone and two I should really slap him. I'm not going to of course, but I do give a wicked go to hell look at him. After I sit down he starts whispering to me... "Hey Jay..."He whispers softly. "Jay...Please don't be mad at me."He says southingly to me. "Jade Melondy Carter I know you hear me."He says louder than before and when he does the teacher looks up from behind his big planing book. "Is there a problem Mr.Malcom?"He says with impatience in his voice. "No sir..." Shane says quietly. The teacher slowly lets his eyes travel back to his book, but as soon as he does Shane rips out a piece of paper from his notebook he's always writing in and scribbles something down. He looks up from the paper every now and then to "pretend" he's paying attention, but when he's finally finished he looks at me and hands me the paper... "Jade Please wait till after class to read it and don't let anybody else read it,Ok?" I just slowly node my head yes and the bell rings to go to fourth, but before I get out the door Shane grabs me by the arm. "Jade,...I'm sorry"He says it with so much seriousness in his eyes and patience in his features that I just couldn't help to believe him, so what I did then was something I never would have even guessed would happen to me, but I took the note out of my pocket that He wrote Me and read every word of it...takeing all of it straight to my haert... *** Dear Jade, First off, I really want to say that I didn't know you where going to be in that locker room...And that I'm really sorry for not coming after you, but I figured you already so mad at me.I can't stand to see you mad or hurt. I know this is huge for you because this a really big deal for me, but I reallly just wanted to say that I want to be friends with you again Jade... I don't care if you even act like it at school, but I want to go back to the way things wear when I told you everything and you cared for me and most importantly...So you wont hate me anymore...I love you Jade even if I don't show it I do and I know it's a crapy way to say it in a note, but you just make me so nerves, I couldn't even dream of telling you in person untill I knew how you felt about me, so please Jade just...Tell me what you want and I can do it for you, I promise... As I lay in my bed that night I think of everything...Trying to figure everything out and get things organized so I'll know what to do, but as I lay there my mind keeps wondering to that one person...that makes me feel like I'm loved. I think about him for a long while untill this little glimmer of hope shines through and I believe that he loves me, but the thing is that I'm not so sure if I'm in love with him to...I guess I just gotta follow my haert and maybe it'll tell me what to do. Just Do It! Buzzzzzz, Buzzzzzz, Buzzzzzz! That's my alarm clock going off. It kinda gets on my nerves, but I gotta deal with it ya know? Well anyways it's Saturday today so I can sleep in... *** I wake with a start. Or did something wake me? Yes, I think so. I can feel someone watching me very intently, like the eyes of a hulk fixing to strike his pray. My eyes are still closed and I can just feel the un errie presence around me. I slowly lift up my head and there standing in the middle of my tossled, dirty room was Shane Malcom... Standing there with pitch black eyes and teeth that were so sharp looking I just kneew something was up... "Shane?" I whisper softly because I'm not fully awake. "Yes, love?" And before I knew what was happing I was in his arms and he was striking my hair with the most gentalist touch. I fell almost imediatly under his spell. "Shane, what are you doing?" I ask letting out a kind of histerical laugh. "What you wanted...'To have just one person hold me and at least act like they care.'"He said. "But I'm not ralyy acting like I care because Honestly? I really do care about how you feel." I smile at him weakly. "I can't believe you remember me telling you that. When did I tell you that? In like 8th grade wasn't it?" He just smiled shyly. "Yea. And look at us now Seniors..." I looked into his eyes and said,"Why did you wait so long?" "Because I knew you hated me for being such a jer Publication Date: January 9th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-iamme.13

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-rena-e-simone-jones-my-last-meal/

Rena`e Simone Jones My Last Meal Artwork cover is from website - http://www.smh.com.au - I do not own the rights to this public picture. The red dust blew up around me, settling on my hair and shoulders. I couldn’t muster the energy to brush it off; I was malnourished and dehydrated. I hadn’t eaten for days, my stomach seemed permanently glued to my spine; it gave another ominous sounding gurgle. I glanced around, trying to notice the landmarks. Had I passed these before? I only hoped that I was not going in circles in this barren desert. The trees offered little hope. Even they looked hungry, spindly branches and dried leaves bowed to the ground in hopeless defeat. My shoes are little more than rags, half covering my blistered feet, my face and arms also blistered from the relentlessly bright sun. I thought about what had gotten me into this dreaded position. I am a tourist in this beautiful island country, even the red desert looks ruggedly stunning, as I drove along the long Nullabor Plain. My plan had been to drive from South Australia to Western Australia, where my fellow tourists had caught the plane. I thought this would be the ultimate Australian experience, the chance to prove to my family back home that I was daring and brave. I am not feeing too brave right now, in fact I'm feeling decidedly weak. Who would have thought that this country would have to power to break your soul? I have known for the past two days that I would probably die. There is that faint hope, however, that I would make it to one of the few roadhouses along the way. That hope was all gone now. I knew, and my stomach knew, that I would not make it beyond the next few hours unless I found food or water. The horizon is shimmering in front of me, I feel like I'm underwater and no more trees made a break in the view. My sweat dries the instant it seeps out of my pores and my cracked lips tasted of salt. All I could think about now is water and food. I stumble and fall over, landing hard on the ground. What had tripped me up, my own feet? Looking around myself slowly, I saw a mound of fur. I had missed it because the colour had blended into the red dust covering the ground. What the hell was it? At the moment I didn’t care, all I could think was that I am starving. I crawled over to the animal and dug my fingers hard into the furry mound. I pulled back and came away with streaming red meat. I shoved it in my mouth and chewed. It tasted raw, but delicious to my fevered mind. I ate until I was full. The fluids from the animal had also helped to quench my thirst a bit. I had enough strength now to stand up and take a good look at the animal, to see what I've eaten. I had ate what?! It was a bloody kangaroo. I fought hard to keep the bile from rising, but it was no good. Everything I had just eaten came right back up in a painful and wet mess. Not only had I just lost the food I desperately needed, I didn’t think I could go back to the kangaroo and consciously eat the raw, and possibly, spoiled meat. I turned around and stared into the red horizon. It would be freezing in a few hours once darkness descended; a weird paradox for a scorching desert. I knew without the ability to eat, even when I was starving, that I wouldn’t go past beyond this night. I was so exhausted I could only dredge up the faintest sense of grief and sadness. My legs finally gave up and collapsed on me. The red sand came up to meet me, a harsh unforgiving grave, as I knew that it would be. This would be my final resting place. No one would ever find my bleached and eroded bones: they don’t know where I am. It would still be a few days before my fellow travellers would miss me. One of my regrets is that my parents will waste the rest of their lives wondering where I am, or if I am still alive. I’ll also never have my own family, build a career or form new and lasting relationships with friends. I can only hope that there is such a thing as reincarnation, and that I can come back and live life a different way. My throat is parched and I can’t even feel my tongue anymore. The pain is fading away from my blistered skin and sores on my feet, as the cold of the night arrives. I can barely feel the caress of the wind now howling around me. I close my eyes and fall into the darkest of nights. Publication Date: November 17th 2009 https://www.bookrix.com/-renaesimone

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-jazzy-why-can-039-t-i-end-it-all/

Jazzy Why can't I end it all I dint think head ever find me Prolog I move from place to place wandering if I'll ever actually get to stay longengph to have friends. How do I live life knowing I'm not truly happy? How do I live knowing I don't get my mom in my arms? How do I know I truly have friends when I feel like I do not have any? How do I have empty ness inside me telling me to stand up and say how I really feel I do as others say and say what they want to hear wihli I don't have the curege to stand up for myself. How am I indikiar hoping no one will look at me? How do I dream a perfect life but can't get it. Do I really belong hear or do I belong in a world of hate that's going on in my life. How then do I live knowing I want to die inside because no one knows who I really am and how I always feel down and dipresst when everyone assumes I'm happy. So how do I really know you love me when you can't look into my eyes and see im hurting inside and that I don't want to be hear. And yet some how I have friends that arnt really my freinds. How is it why can't I come to a conclution. Why do I get picked on when I want to save the world and it's problems. Why can't I come to the conclution to end my life is it because I know my family loves me yet they still don't know me or is it me liking the pain asking for the brake down I need to end it all by swallowing the bottole of piles and down myself into nothing ness. Am I crazy or mad how can I live with myself knowing I'm a frode of not being who I want to be or knowing I want to die how can I halo myself this is how my story goses listen carfully and u will see for I will only tell this story once to u and then no more H How it all began My mom met this guy named jack he claimed to have said he loved her but from we're I'm standing I don't think so. They were in high school they had me a age 17 hu mom then dropped outt of school to care for me but the jack the jack a** dint care he drroped out with her as soon as they get maried now I'm thinking mom what have u done right now I knows this might be boring right now just stick with me hear. So there fine wright wrong the prick starts to beat my mom now u would think she would leave the man but no instead she clamins she really loves him who in there wright mind love a abusive guy like him. Jack is always drinking and smoking with his freinds while mom dose all the work. After a year she is still withhim mom then has another baby that makes 2 kids in the hous she can badly around what now she does no give a dam she still loves him agh. Skip ahed my mom has my brother four years later she still hasent learnd so one day he comes in and thretin to kill my mom me and my sister and my brother are really scared were crying heas yelling so my mom finely makes the right chose by telling him I have to go get some more diapers so she instead goes to my ants and calls the cops I'm thinking it's about dam time I was four and I knew this was so rong of her but all I did was be the older sis thinking there my responsibility. We go back to get our stuff cops are there he then thretins to kill us so we're all scared except my mom who knows hill be there a long time. A year vise by we're on the steet living in churches andfreinds homes I'm still not liking this I'm so no happy yet am In a way so yer go by we almost get too ken away we get separated I now live with my ant and my bother and sis live with my cussin my mom lives now in yellow stone working as a dish washer. Sorry it. May have been boring rate tehe bu I had to get throu that so I can now start my story At the age of 10 Sisters are so!!!! We settled down and found a house now my mom has found another guy. I personally think there is something odd about this guy. Yesterday he seemed to be careful around us all it seemed and be more nice I'm now concerned for everyone he spent the night and is now Ganja live with us at least he has a job. I woke up to my sister hitting me it the face as she slept we don't get our own room except my brother lucky duck. Stop hitting me or I'm Ganja tell mom now and u don’t want her up in here! I shout in her ear. What the hell I'm sleeping hear leave me alone she shouts just as bad as I am. MOM sis is hitting me a gene I yell in her face and smirk. She shuts up and glares at me while mom comes in. You 2 needs to be nicer to each other now both of u get up now so I can help your brother and new step dad out or u are grounded end of story now go get ready for the day mom said in a bad mood now which means we have to get our own breakfast. My sis stomps of as I get ready for today with a blue tank top and some short shorts with my matching blue vans which were not that much. As I got my bowl of cereal my sis comes stomping in with her teddy bare shouting why did u change my bears outfit. I tell her I don't touch her and she stomps away about ready to punch someone. She is so stupid last week she said I did the same thing she has issues with her bear when she changes his clothes. I’m so tired of being the normal one yet I feel like an outcast at school I hate how people make fun of me just because I’m the white girl in a Hispanic school when I am really one of them i just look white like my mom but my real father was Hispanic to so I’m half and half. I go outside and clime over the fence to the naboores house as I get to the ground staci yells in my ear about time u got hear lets test out my new pool we hug excitedly and change in her room some of my cloths ar in there when I need to get away from my dumb life. As we get in her new pool we see some of my brothers friends staring it’s like they don’t have a life. Then they started out of no ware whispering and laphing now I’m mad so me and her grab are towels do the same thing tell they walk off. Ok that was weierd staci said in a whisper ya that was weird why are we whispering i say whispering for no aperint reason. I don’t now I though the little boys were listening she said you’re stupid now let’s get wet and pardy away from my life. Publication Date: February 18th 2013 https://www.bookrix.com/-jazzy8762

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-paulina-zielaskiewicz-love-rips-your-lungs-out/

Paulina Zielaskiewicz love rips your lungs out How do you tell when your loved one is gone? Well you can’t tell when they are gone because you will never feel it. When i was a little girl just think the little one on the side of the corridors every lunchtime, not even one person came up to me, when i was all lonely. people like that are called no hearted stows lovers. People don’t give a dam about you, oh I forgot to tell you my name was Kelly Rix and i was 6 years old back then i lived in a big town called Washington in USA. A place where you don’t get respect and give respect well that’s what some thought but not my mum she was a great person always on the right to reach and never let go until one day till she had to let go of my hand there was no more mum i love you or can u swing me! She had died when i was only 7 years old she died of cancer breast cancer my dad didn’t want to tell me until i was 10 years old. 5 years later (Dad) Kelly you’re going to be late for your new school (Kelly) ok I’m coming dad jezz just wait a second pleas. Ok Hun don’t be late, finally your down where was you oh in my room thinking of the old times when i was bullies in my old schools dad i don’t want to be bullied again i just want to live a happy life for once i don’t want no mum ding or kids bulling i just had enough of that ok finish you drink and get in the car i promise no think will go wrong. 8:30am School bell rings And here we go again! Teacher picks me up to give me a new time table for the month and takes me to my new class. Nock come in the teacher said. Everyone looks at me like I’m some skank bag or something i didn’t even do any think to get that un respected looks from every one, oh hold on yeh i was from Washington it’s a bit different there i had to move because my dad travels round the world to see if he can find a good job ,somewhere. Oh and guess where we are right now? Yes you were right Stratford in California hoe lame is that. So any way let’s get back to that thing ok everyone was looking at me and steering like i have no idea what i was or let me say who i was , so the teacher sat me down to this guy i don’t know him but yes he was fit so i was finishing my English work that we had to do about Rome and Juliette, then he asked me hi how rood of me not to ask you your name oh that’s ok don’t worry any way my name is Alex, Alex Joshing oh are you like one of the popular kids in school oh gosh no i so hate them thinking that there are all it yeh i so get you sometimes you just can’t fit in. (bell rings for lunchtime) so who do had round with at lunch time?... Alex! Hmm.. Yeh what did you was i said who do you had out with at lunchtime? Oh just 2 other kids Den and Amanda oh cool can i meat them yes shore. Oh let me just tell you Den is gay so just don’t use him as a laugh joke pleas oh dam no way i am like that ok thanks. 2 hours later school finishes Bye Den Alex and Amanda Bye Kelly do you want me to walk you home...? Hmm OMG you scared me Alex. But yeh you can walk me home. Cool so how do you like school? well not very much, why? I used to get bullied at school and then year later my mum died so it’s hard to live that way. Oh I’m so sorry Kelly (they hug) Kelly are you ok? Yeh I’m fine i got used to that now Alex leans toward Kelly and he kisses her and... You call that love at first sight Kelly never had a kiss before so that a first to find friends and boyfriend to on the same day. How cool is that? So Alex err...? Yeh err... see you in school i ran to my room and fell on my bed and then thought OMG! I just had my first kiss. And just made some cool mates all in one day! (Dad calls her down for a cup of tea) darling are you coming down for a cup of tea? Yes dad I’m coming wait 1 second pleas. Ok but i have to talk to you about something very important (Kelly walks doe the stairs) yes dad? Well you know before your mother died. Yeh i didn’t tell you that she wanted you to have this. (it was a beautiful ring that my mum had put on when i was born) oh dad are you sure that i can have this? Yah darling i am sure your mother wanted you to have this on your 16th birthday but i thought i might give it to you now but dad my birthday is in OMG! It’s in 5 days! I’m so exited can i invite 3 of my mates over pleas? Well she didn’t practically say yes but who gives a dam i want my mates to come over and stay for my birthday. So i did tell they and then it went all over the school and everyone wanted to come to my birthday! I was in big trouble but if that got me to getting more friend they hell yes i want everyone to come over. It was a day of my birthday the 17th on July and this the day everyone is coming to my birthday what do i tell my dad? The next book is coming out soon Publication Date: July 1st 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-paulina1

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-sarah-rhudy-she-sees-us-holly/

Sarah Rhudy She sees us, Holly All my loves Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be afraid of your own guardian? Ever been curious what it felt like to be hit by your own mother? Well have you? If you have I encourage you to countinue on with your reading, if you haven't I advise you to exit out of this book and go read another one less grusome and horrifying. What? You still want to read? Very well...but again I shall warn you that what you are about to read is a horrifying story about to children, their abusive mother and one terrible night. It was around two o'clock on a cold Wednesday afternoon, when seven year old Holly walked through the door of her small apartment and into her tiny living room. Her older sister Mary-Anne, was already home, working on a science project that her annoying teacher had given her two day earlier. Holly walked infront of her sister and sat on her knees. "When do you think Mama's gunna get home?" She asked a little afraid. "I don't know, but I hope it isn't soon. I'd like to finish the solar system before I get as blue as Neptune." Holly laughed, even though she knew that it wasn't a joke. The beatings started right when their mother walked through that door. With her tired face and angered eyes. Holly usually blamed herself for the beatings and secretly she knew her sister did too. "I don't want her to come home." Holly said, taking out her math homework. "Neither do I, but she has to come back some time." Mary-Anne sighed and scribbled somthing on her paper. "Sadly," Holly says, and begans on her math. As the girls worked on their homework their mother, Kendall, was on her way home, mad and stressed as ever. She was going through which girl she would beat first and which girl would get it last. See Kendall used to never beat on her children, it never even crossed her mind to do such an evil thing. But then all that changed when their father, Hery, left them without any notice or warning. Instead of blaming the constint arguing and yelling, she blamed the two innocent girls that were sitting in their room wondering where their father went. Kendall walked up the stairs of her apartment building and finally to her apartment. Before she slipped her key in she looked at her neghibor's apartment door. She walked over to the door and knocked. After no answer she walked back over to her apartment and unlocked the door. "I'm home!" Kendall yelled. Holly and Mary-Anne froze in their spots. The girls quickly put away their homework and shut their mouths closed. "What? No hello mom?" Kendall challanged. The girls kept their mouths shut as they eyed their mother cautiously. "Well then, that's how it is. Just allow me to change and then we will have a nice dinner shall we?" Then Kendall walked out of the living room and into her room. Suprised, the girls changed quick glances before bolting to the bathroom to wash their hands and go back to the living room. When their mother returned she laughed at the girls and walked into the kitchen, where she prepaird nasty Hamburger Helper. She set up the table and invited the skeptically girls to the table. They sat next each other across the table from their mother who was smileing innocently. "So girls how was school?" The girls sat their motiionless and quite as they both debated if they should say anything or not. "Girls?" No answer, Kendall started to get angry "Answer me when I am talking to you!" She screamed. Afraid, Mary-Anne was the first to talk. "Good," She says quickly. "Anything important?" "I have a science project due," "When?" "Today," Mary-Anne whispered. "And did you turn it in?" Kendall asked. "No," Kendall slammed her fork down and looked at Mary-Anne with pure hate. "Why not!?" Kendall yelled and she sprung up and grabbed Mary-Anne by the hair. She dragged her to the living room and slammed her to the ground. "Why didn't you do what your were told!?" She slapped Mary-Anne in the face and she screamed in pain. Kendall then started punching Mary-Anne non-stop. Mary-Anne, then got enough breath to scream: "Run Holly!" And Holly listened. She sprung up and hide in a nearby closet. She heard her mother yell and run towards the closet and try to open it, but on the other side Holly was holding the door shut. "Damn it, Holly! Open this door!" Kendall screamed. Holly screamed and gripped the handle tight. Then she heard her oler sister yell and a large thud against the wall. Kendall stopped trying to get into the closet and was somewhere else. With a shakey nerves, Holly slowly opened the door only to see Mary-Anne pinned to the floor as Kendall punched and hit her continually. The hurt was unbearble to Mary-Anne, she could feel and hear her insides scream with her as her own mother punched and smacked her. "Stop!" Holly yelled. But Kendall didn't listen and kept beating her child, with no reason at all. Holly had enough of this madness and ran to the wall phone in the kitchen and without hesitation she dialed 911. It rang three times before a strong man's voice came up on the other end. "911, what's your emergacy?" "Hello? My mother is beating us!" She yelled. "Ma'am please calm down and tell me what's going on." The man said sternly. "My Mama, she is beating us..." Holly said a little more calmer but still had a little shakeiness embedded into her voice "She's beating you?" The policeman asked. "Yes yes, please just hurry!" Holly screamed. "Alright, alright. We are on our way." "Ok," Holly says as she watches her mom and sister brawl in the living room. "STOP IT!" Holly screamed as she dropped the phone and ran to go help her sister. "Bring it" her mother said holding her sister by her hair. She threw her down on the wooded table and went after Holly. Mary-Anne was lying on the floor with a bloody nose, crying her eyes out. Holly was running around the apartment screaming and yelling at her mother to stop. But of course Kendall didn't stop, because all she saw was her ex-husband in her daughters. Which made everything worse. Mary-Anne stood up and ran after her mother, she jumped on her back, immediatly knocking Kendall down. Then she grabbed Holly's hand and dragged her to a closet. She pushed her in and held the doorknob. They both heard Kendall scream and yell from the other side of the door and finally they heard nothing. They let go of the door and opened it. That's when Mary-Anne grabbed Holly's and and ran out into the hallway, and hide behind the curtains in their mother's room. They stayed there forever. And since they were near a window, they saw that day had turned into night. Holly had calmed down a bit since she knew she had called the police and they were on their way, but Mary-Anne on the other hand, was shaking like crazy. She had never seen her mother like this. Everything she had seen her mother do wasn't so bad. But this, this was awful. They where both tired so they were holding onto eachother so they wouldn't fall over passed out. Kendall, is in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee thinking on how to tourte her poor daughters. That's when she saw the large kitchen knifes sitting perfectly on the counter. The girls were almost half asleep when they heard the loud sierns outside. Holly smiled and looked outside. That's when she saw three men standing outside with hand guns creeping their way up to the room. "We're gunna be okay!" Holly cried. But she spoke to soon because their mother's door was kicked down and instead of the police officer's face, they saw their mother's with a glisting object in her hand. Holly felt Mary-Anne tense up as the pushed up in their hiding place. Mary-Anne peeked out to see if her mother was staring at them. And she was. Afraid Mary-Anne leaned down and whispered: "She sees us, Holly" The curtain pulled back. Screams and gun shots filled the air, as the two girls fell to the ground...dead. Publication Date: July 3rd 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-pureindividual

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-zoey-stark-z-s-learning-to-love/

Zoey.Stark Z.S Learning To Love To all the wonderful authors I read on here and off of here. My Boo Yeah I know you think this is some stupid vampire story with a stupid love story interest right? Wrong, no this is about me and my crazy life. I am not a supernatural-mythical what not, I am just a regular 17 year old who just likes to say ‘bite me’ a lot. Apparently, that’s what I am known for now. Whatever I don’t care. Oh my name is Holland Aubree Hemmings, I am very well known I don’t wanna say popular because I think it’s like saying I rule the school and I don’t that’s the principal’s job. I am just I guess you can say different, because I am really outgoing, I really don’t care what people think of me, and I do a lot of crazy stuff. My living situation well that’s just different too, I live in my own condo, because both of my parents are filthy fucking rich and wanted to get me out the house soon as they could. I was in boarding schools for the longest but I finally got out of that when I started my freshman year that’s when mommy and daddy dearest decided I was ready to face the world and put me in private school. Which by the way isn’t much different the only difference is, is I actually get to go home at the end of the day. There’s one thing I love about living on my own, parties whenever I wanna have them. Yeah your probably thinking what about your neighbors, I don’t have any I am at the very top of the building and there’s one whole floor between me and my ‘neighbor’. Now you know about my wonderful life as me so let’s get on with the story that would either kill me or make me a better person. On with the story...I wake up with my Iphone’s alarm going off like crazy so I slide my screen to shut it off. I get up looking a mess but I some how swing my feet onto the floor. I look at my phone and saw it was 5:30am, I was just like fuck school. I get up and go get a shower washing my hair and body letting the warm water consume my body. After getting out and drying off I go to my closet and look for a outfit to wear for the day, I look at the back put on some lace underwear and my bomb bra from Victoria secrets even though I really don’t need it. Then find my blue jean skinny jeans that are pre-ripped and have lace where the holes are I slide those on and look for a white tank top and put that on. I will find a shirt after I get done with my hair and makeup. I look at my face in the mirror even though it’s like close to flawless, like seriously that’s probably the only thing my parents have done right for me is give me my amazing looks. I get my piercing blue eyes from my mom along with my high cheek bones and from my dad I get my perfect wavy light brown hair and my perfect shaped lips. Now my figure who knows where I get that from probably my Aunt Ida, I am a perfect hour class, my boobs are amazing there double d’s, my butt is perfectly round and kind of big I guess you could say, and my tummy is flat but a little toned along with my arms. You could say I was really blessed with my looks and body. The funny thing about it I play no sports at school I only skateboard when I wanna and go to the gym every now and then. Anyhow, I blow dry my hair on a low setting then do my makeup which does not take too long the longest part about it is getting the cat eyeliner right. Then I finish off putting a light lip-gloss on and go pick out a shirt. I pick out my side cut out t-shirt that is royal blue with white lettering that says 'Mad Or Nah?’ on it. I head to the kitchen and get an apple and grab my keys off the counter. I head downstairs, I take the stairs like I always do in the mornings it’s a good way to wake me up. After going down 12 flights of stairs I roll my eyes at myself like always do and get into my full size pick-up crank it up and drive out the lot into the streets. I needed to stop at starbucks first I was in need of a Java chip. I get to starbucks in record time because it’s literally only down the street away from my building I order a grande and after about a 10 minute wait I get my coffee and head to school. The school is a 10 minute drive from starbucks by then though my phone kept going on so I picked it up with my blutooth in my truck. “Hello?” I said. “Babe where are you?” My boo asked me. No he’s not my boyfriend he’s my boo because we are not labeling ourselves that because of the whole not wanting to be tied down thing. Which by the way was my idea because I don’t wanna get emotionally attached to some guy who is probably going to end up going his own way anyways. “Boo I literally just parked.” I told him. “Oh, I see your truck. I’ll be there in a minute.” He said. Sounded like he was running too, which is cute I might add because he was like THE athlete at our school so any girl could have him if he’d let them. But he does not because he keeps telling me he’s going to stay loyal to yours truly, even if I am not loyal. Which by the way in the 2 years we’ve been fooling around I have not even “talked” to a guy like that. He use to be the play boy the school back in Freshman and Sophomore year, he got all the girls literally, he slept with half the school, when I transferred to the school in my Sophomore year everyone said I had changed his short temper play boy ways. Which was weird because I wasn’t wanting anything serious in the beginning we were just friends we hung out a lot watched movies cuddled, about a month into it he had stop seeing any other girl besides me. I felt special in a way but I still wasn’t ready for a serious relationship, together we are each others and that’s it. Anyways when he hops in the truck and hangs up I smile. “Good morning, beautiful.” He says to me smiling. “Good morning, handsome.” I say back. “Why didn’t you reply to my texts this morning?” He asked me. “Crap, boo I am sorry you know how I am in the mornings.” I said to him giving him that I am really sorry face. “It’s okay baby girl.” He kisses me deeply which catches me off guard. I kiss him back deeply though but stops it mid kiss. “We should stop before we start something we can’t finish.” I said to him. Oh, did I mention he took my virginity at prom last year I know so cliche but whatever. It was the best night of my life and ever since then we have been hooking up. “Okay babe. So are you ready for winter break?” He asked me. “Yes I am very much ready for winter break. What about you?” I asked him also. “Yeah I am baby girl. I am ready to spend everyday with you.” He said to me. “Aww baby.” I said smiling at him. “Baby instead of going away this break can we just stay at my place.” I asked him. He usually plans something for us since his parents are always so busy with the family business that all they do is send him one gift and some money. And that’s his Christmas, me on the other hand loves celebrating it so I make sure I find him the perfect gifts and we always decorate where ever we are and we even get a small tree and put our presents under there. “Baby, are you sure? We always go away for Christmas.” He said. “Yeah I know, I just want to have Christmas at home for once.” I said to him. “Okay baby. That’s fine with me.” He said smiling. “Let’s get to class.” I said to him. So we got out the truck and went to class. I am going to spare you the details of how quadratic equations help for factoring equations. And how girls still hate the fact that me and Weston are together. I will tell you why they hate that me and Weston are together, he’s literally the perfect man. Weston Michael Aurelio Novak has dark black hair with beautiful sunflower eyes I like to call them they are blue with specs of yellow-green and brown around the pupil, and his body is just beyond perfection, he has broad shoulders, with a hard as rock six pack, he has some nice toned muscles but not overly muscled, and he’s 6'7'’. So yeah, he’s very much the best looking guy at the school and well his family is pretty wealthy. He fell for me in our sophomore year and ever since he won’t let me go. He loves me, but I feel like I am incapable of love. Ever since I don’t really know what love is, love to me is buying something for someone and them loving it so that means they love you. I didn’t think I knew true love till I met Weston he’s made a difference in me and I love it. He’s really showed me how to love and I didn’t think it was possible to love someone as much as I love Weston. He makes my day better and he’s always there for me but in the end I am just scared he’s going to leave. Who knows what’s going to happen though. This being our last year in high school and it’s basically half way over. Anyways at the end of the day I was honestly just ready to go home and relax with Weston by the end of the day. I get out of my last class of the day I go straight to my truck and leave. When I get to my building I go straight up to my condo and crash onto the couch. Weston comes in a little later after that lays on top of me and starts kissing me deeply. “Now we can start something we can finish.” He whispers on to my lips. He starts kissing all over my neck making me slightly moan. “Boo are you sure want to like right now?” I said to him. “Oh baby I am sure.” He says while kissing down my body taking his shirt off. He slides his hand up my shirt and grabs my breast and starts massaging it slowly making me moan more. He took my shirt off fast as he could, he was kissing my neck making me moan which made him moan, which just made me want him even more. “I want you now.” I said to him whispering in his ear. Next thing I know he was taking his pants and boxers off, then he slips my pants and panties off kissing down my body and back up. I moaned loudly starting to become impatient when he finally entered me. I moaned loudly wanting him deeper in me, he figured it out and went deeper inside me.... The Morning After ydd I woke up on the couch with strong hands around my waist. I looked up and saw Weston sleeping peacefully also felt something in me still I looked down and found out we fell asleep while he was still in me. I blushed but then I started grinding against him. He moaned a little holding me tighter. I kissed his neck then started sucking on it when he didn’t respond. He groaned moving his hand down to my butt, he gave it a good squeeze telling me I needed to stop before he took over. I looked up at him and started kissing him waiting for him to respond back, finally he did and he smashed his lips against mine biting my bottom lip softly wanting entrance into my mouth. I eventually gave it to him. I stop the kiss mid kiss.  "Baby, we need to go get me the morning after pill." I said to him.  "Why?" He asked.  "Because you came in last night and I don't think we are ready to parents." I said to him. "I would love to be the father of our child." He said to me. Which shocked me very much.  "Baby that would mean in 9 months and 2 weeks we would have a screaming ruggrat around here." I said to him still appalled that he said that. "No we would have one in a house. It would be our house." He said to me smiling. Oh boy, what does this boy have going through his mind.  "Weston, we have not even put a label on ourselves, why do you think we should have a baby?" I asked him very confused.  "Because I think that's one of the many things I could do to prove to you I know you are the one and only for me. To prove to you, I am never going to want to leave you." He said kissing me softly.  "You think having a baby will proof that you will never leave me?" I asked him.  "Yeah, I think it would be some really great proof." He said.  "It could be but I am still going to go get the morning after pill." I said to him. We weren't ready to be parents and he knows it.  "We could be parents. You would make a great mom." He said to me holding me in his arms.  "I don't think we are ready to be parents." I said to him.  "I don't agree with you. But okay, if you don't want to be a mom yet that's up to you." He said to me kissing the top of my head.  "We will go get the pill later." I said to him kissing him on the lips softly.  "I don't want to go with you to get it. I don't agree with it." He saidi to me grabbing for his boxers getting up some. "That's fine." I said getting up and going to the shower.  "Your not going to invite me to take one with you?" He questioned me while watching my ass walk to the bathroom.  "No, you want to be an ass then you can be a dirty ass." I said getting into the bathroom. "Baby, don't be like that." He said walking into bathroom with me.  "Be like what? Like my boo is being an asshole because I am not doing something he wants." I said to him turning the shower on. He came up behind me and grabbed my waist. He pulled me to him and started kissing on my neck. "I'm sorry baby. I just want you to realize how important you are to me. How important to me it would be to start a family with you." He said to me still kissing on my neck.  "Boo, we aren't even 18 yet. We haven't graduated. There's so much to do before we can start a family." I said to him trying to show him my reasoning for why I am not ready for a family.  "Okay, let's do this math. In two weeks, you would just actually be pregnant, in a month you would be four weeks pregnant turning 18, then in five months you'd be five months pregnant and we will be graduating. We could do this." He said to me, trying to show me his reasoning for things.  "You are prepared to take on all the responsibilities of a boyfriend and father?" I questioned him.  "I'm more than ready to take on the responsibilities of a husband and father." He said kissing my neck again.  "Let's just take a shower and relax for the day." I said to him steeping into the shower. I was more than ready to drop the subject. I knew the best way to do so is distract him with my body and a warm shower. Once he got into the shower he pulled me to him again and had us both under the hot water stream.  "I love you." He whispered into my ear.  "I love you." I said to him turning around in his arms. He looked into my eyes, it's true I love him, he loves me, we could give a baby everything it needs, and its not like I planned on doing much more than becoming someones trophy wife eventually. I rather it be his. I guess I will let God decide what he thinks should happen. If I get pregnant, I just get pregnant. We took a hot shower, cleaning each other, and holding each other. We eventually got out of the shower and got dressed. While I was doing this all I could think about was this next month is going to be a rough break...                                        -Couple of Hours Later...- I decided to leave without Weston, I needed some time by myself. Things were going to get so complicated in the next month if I got pregnant. I'm not sure how either of our parents would react. I mean mine would just send me money and all my old baby stuff, tell me to get a nanny, tell me now I have to get married, and send me job opportunities I can do at home. It wouldn't be the worst thing ever. I always wanted to be a better mom than my own and Weston is a great man. I would love to have a future with him, the scary part is the future is never promised. Fuck it, I thought to myself, I want Weston to be in my life for as long as I can keep him in my life, and I want to have his baby. I came to this realization as I was looking on the feminine isle and I picked up a pregnancy test and not the morning after pill. I bought the test and a baby bottle, I had a really cool idea for when I took the test. I went back to my place and hid the bag somewhere I knew Weston wouldn't look. Weston was in bed taking a nap when I got back. I snuck in bed with him and curled up into his arms. And fell asleep.  Eventually Weston woke up and began to kiss me. I woke up smiling at him and kissed him back.  Text: ALL MINE Images: ALL MINE Editing: ALL MINE Translation: ALL MINE All rights reserved. Publication Date: April 20th 2017 https://www.bookrix.com/-zoey.stark

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-author-unknown-the-darkest-days/

Author Unknown The Darkest Days Will she survive? For all the people that think life is just a big blur, or even people that think life is too slow. The people that want to give up or even the people that need help. Find a way. There's always a way. The First Entry Back in the corner once again, lonely and forgotten...very condemned. When will I see the other side? The other side? A better side? Without pain, without weakness, without storms, without bleakness. How many days are there left in the countdown? The countdown whithin death itself? The countdown in which I, possibly, take a life? Whether my own or a creature's is not under judgement. For I know the wish I want and the chaos I bring.   I close my notebook with a sigh. My first entry of the day in this damned journal is over with. I sit in my debate class silently wondering why I have to put up with people. Humans in general. I was using one of my sorry excuses again of course, but I can't help that my feelings change so easily. My idiotic teacher droned on and on, I raised my hand impatiently. "Sir, can I go to the library?" My voice echoed around the room, sounding like a silent plea for help to have any reason to get out of this class. With a sigh he answered, "Yes, thats fine go ahead." I hurriedly packed my bag and left. Before I left I honestly wanted to say 'Fuck you all! And have a bad day.' Then that would lead to me sitting in an office waiting on an ass whooping when I got home. I took a turn down the long hallway and started to get into my own world as different thoughts popped into my head. The usual what am I eating for dinner? was a good one to have and ceases to surprise me. I don't eat too much though. I'm not anorexic don't get me wrong, but I'm just not usually hungry, and the fact that I haven't eaten any lunch at school for the past 3 months doesn't sound too great either. As I see the library come in to view I can't help but get a little excited of my safe haven. DON'T CALL ME A DORK. It's just a place where I can run away from everything and it makes me feel like I can still live as I want without the surge of pain every two seconds.  I honestly think I found a way through the pain. A type of getaway not physically, but mentally. So far its worked, but I get too deep into depression for it to always work. I should try writing in my journal about that. Ways to release the pain. Ways to not cry yourself to sleep every night. Ways to... I don't know... Maybe another entry. Just to keep my therapist at bay. I sat down at a table and opened my journal to a clean blank page.                                           Days Away -A Few Months Later-       How can you seriously say that you know me, when I don't fully know myself, yet? Take the fact that I'm still drowning while everyone around me is breathing. I have to find a way out on my own. No one knows my brain, no one knows my pain, no one knows ME. If they did, if they even glanced at was found in my mind. Sorry to say, it wouldn't be pretty.     I closed my journal once again. Summer is almost over even though the days are still hot and the sun still says hello above my head. I figured a trip into my mind writing my thoughts in my journal wouldn't hurt, even if it was only for a little while. Not only am I a library freak, but I am also a band freak. Band camp starts tomorrow and the dying heat filled with heated attitudes aren't two things that make a great mix. Will I survive? I don't know.  I'm thinking all of this to myself as I walk into my nicely temperatured room. I keep my air conditioner on a good 69. Yeah, say its childish of me to keep it that way? No its childish of you to think that way. 69 always makes me think of Ying and Yang, my favorite symbol. For me it's a symbol of equality. I wish the world could be even close to that.  I stare at the many posters glued, taped, and even tacked onto my sky blue wall. I sigh as I notice some spots are empty and blank, I don't like that. Many pictures, writings, and even drawings fill my walls and I like it that way, when I see an empty spot, its like a blur in my vision, the only spot I see through all the hundreds of colors found there. Its kind of how my brain works, I look at everything, but also look at one thing. Focus, but unfocused you could say. "Take me to Neverland Peter Pan, its the only way I can get away from this hell." I silently whisper to myself as I turn onto my back laying on my bed. I stare up at the ceiling wondering what life is going to bring me for tommorrow, whether it will be up or down, happy or sad, mad or glad. I always had a thing for wanting to see the future, but I may speak of that some other time. The future... No one knows what it truly beholds, I just can't help but hope it holds patience and love at the end of the harships and struggles. I think that's what everyone wants... Had to give you a glimpse of what I think about from time to time. Speaking of time, another journal entry sounds about right to do now... Publication Date: August 23rd 2014 https://www.bookrix.com/-nicki112898

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-mena-ashmawi-our-little-secret/

Mena Ashmawi Our little secret Just ours. Shh. Lucy, an average school girl. She is always bullied by a boy called Jake... She despises his girlfriend and his girlfriend hates her.. Yet she saved her. Mark, the most popular boy in the school, helps her, and they become friends. Her pet, Coco, has always been there for her. However, when she leaves Coco with Mark, and ditches them both for her friends... Will they ever forgive her for everything she put them through? For lying? For teasing? For changing? What will happen for the prom dance? If he forgives her... Will he still trust her? Just a clue~ Oh, Hello again ! ^^ How are you all?   Obviously, your wondering what this book is going to be about.. Well, let me tell you something.    This book that your about to read is a non-fiction book. It's true. If you read my previous book, you would understand alot more than starting with this book...    "Broken for the night"    Read that first, however if you read it...                  Dare to flick the page and see what happens next :3                                         You have my luck. Why she have to go?  -Mark-   I would kneel down, looking down at Coco. I done a small sigh, sliding my hand against the side of his ear "Hey.. I don't know why she left... You know why? She said your name was... pooch?" Coco would bark, signalling to me that it wasn't. "Umm.. Chocolate?"    -Bark-   "Chip?"   -Bark-     "Aberombie. Ace Action Aardwolf Aang Ayar Aarod Aaron  Apollo Abbott Abednego Abel Abenster Abercrombie  Abraham Ace Acer Achilles Achimus Ackley  Acrobat Ad lib Adamore Adler Abe Aman Ace  Achilles Alfalfa Alger Akhri Alex  Admira Admiral Admiral Kirk Adonis Bob Bobby Bobo Boboo      Bocephus Bocephus Bocephus Banjo bhulakar Batisa Bankai banner Baracus Barkeley barkers Barkley Barkly Barky Barley Barnaby Barney Baron Barry Barstow Bart Basher Bashtin Basil Batman Baunzo Baxter Bay Baylin ba      Bachi Bam Bam Baron Bear Beauwolf BECKY tANK Bellas Bently Blacky Bleau Boom Boom Boomer Boosie Boz Dawg Broona Brutis BrutusKai Buba Buddy Budweiser      Byte Bayonet Baytovan Bayurg Bazel Bazooka Beamer Bean Beanie Babe Beans Bear Bearsley Beasley Beastie Beau Beau Beauford  Beaumont Beauregard Beaux Beavis Bebo Becker Beckett Bee Beebee Beebo Beefcake Beefy Bar-"      Coco just sat there, looking at me. I was blabbing on and on and on about what his name was, saying all the names i could think of from A-Z. I suddenly stopped, then screeched "Coco!"    Coco marked in delight, pouncing into the air. I laughed "Sorry, Boy, i had to say all the names." I sniggered, sitting myself onto the ground. I leaned forward, giving a kiss to his muzzle. Coco barked, smiling. Despite that i was putting a smile on my face.. Inside i was hurting.How could she do this to me? After everything i have done for you lucy.. I have tried to take care of you, i swear... I tried to be your friend. But you left me. Why? Am i not good enough... Now i know what you have been going through..                                                   Sadness. Lonliness...                                                               Depression.      All over again.   What just happened?  I woke up to a sudden bang. What the hell?   I looked around, and then noticed that i had slept.. Slept in her house, with Coco by my side. But wait, What was the bang?   -Hehe!-   Huh?   -HAHAHA!-   What the..    -HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!-    "Alright who the hell is laughing?" I growled. I got up, walked out into the corridor and noticed someone...    "Lucy?! Whst the hell are you holding?!" she tumbled to the left and then shrieked "I LOVE JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE!!" She had a drink in her hand...               Damn it. she was drunk.   She took a step forward, and nearly fell flat on her face. I yowled, jumping straight forward to catch her. She firmly pushed me off and then yowled "I don't need your help, Martin!"    "Martin?"    "YES, DRAKE!"    "Drake?"    "Are you deaf, Mansy?"    "Who the heck is Mansy?"    "You, silly boy!" she sniggered, pushing me to the side. "Oh and..." She looked at me    "Nutella." She fell backwards, falling flat on her back. The drink fell, spilling all over the place. She had fainted.   "Stupid girl!" I hissed. I couldn't take it anymore. It has only been one day, and she had only been with her 'Friends' For one stupid day as well, and my and her life is a living hell! Like, Really Lucy?!   I groaned, leaving the drink and everything as i picked her up, placing her over my shoulder. I carried her up the stairs and placed her onto the bed. even Coco was disgusted by the smell of the alcahol. He jumped down from next to her, curling under my feet. What had happened... Was this my fault?   Should i have taken care of her?                                    She is going to wake up and everything...                                             Is going to end.  I wasn't ditched, Right?   Publication Date: March 21st 2016 https://www.bookrix.com/-oz74e03b2b2ab65

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-tabitha-stout-my-life-as-a-child/

Tabitha Stout My life as a child A true story of me I dedicate this story too my grandma who really never cared. The day I told myself I cannot control my anger anymore. It was a cloudy, rainy day, I was living in a little town called Wright City, It’s not quite as little as some people think it is but it’s small. Well anyways I was just about 10 years old when I finally realized my anger was to a certain extent that I could not control it. My mother was in the kitchen cooking dinner, and my brother and grandma were in the Living room watching television. I could not quite understand why I was scrubbing the kitchen and dining room floor with a tooth brush. Finally it caught my attention I was being treated like Cinderella. I always used too get called names by my “loving grandma” (I mean this sarcastically). I could not stand being the only grandchild of hers that does everything for her and yet still gets called names. Well that day I was sick of doing everything for her, She really got too me with me having too scrub the kitchen floor with a tooth brush. I told her that was it I have had enough! She said ok then you can go too the bathrooms next and scrub those floors. I was so ticked off I could have hit her but I did not. I respect my elders very much so. I said yes mam and then got too work. I really did not want too do so many things as a child but I had no choice other than to listen. My grandma is in control of everything so I told myself to watch it or I could get in big trouble. I was really terrified of this woman. She is like the wicked witch of the west but more evil. I just wanted too shoot myself and end it there but I did not want too let her know that. I was going through so much for being so young. I had not stand a chance in this world I told myself. But then I turned too God and asked too be forgiven of what I have said. I never really found out if God had forgiven me or not but I always thought he has. I could barely be a human I thought too myself if God will not forgive me. So I just moved on with my life. The next day I could barely talk I had such a big clump of guilt in my throat. But I had also cried for 3 hours that night too cause I have never been so hurt in my life. My grandma kept the name calling going all day. I was just so ready too end my life right then and there. So I went too the bathroom and tried over dosing on some pills of my moms. I had too miss like a week of school just because my mom had me admitted into a behavioral health unit. I could not stand some of the people there but I thought it was better than home. So I was really good in the BHU that I got out a couple of days later. I cried too go back because I felt more love in there three days than what I did at home my whole life. I got too go back the same day I got out but this time I stayed in there for 5 days because I returned two hours after I was released. This time it was not so much fun but too me it was better than home still. I thought I was insane for thinking that but I went with what I felt was right. When I got out this time I did not go back in because I was ready too try and make my life a lot better with my grandma at home. I tried so hard but nothing worked she was still her cranky old self and I was practically ruined by her. We started babysitting my cousin the day after that and I was made too change and bathe her. But I was used too this from the experience I had of taking care of her when I was 7 years old, I changed diapers, fed her, bathed her then too. I was never appreciated by anyone for doing such an awesome job. But I give myself credit for being a better mother than what anyone in my family ever was. I do not have any kids of my own but when I do I will be a lot better of a mother than anyone in my whole family. I have been treated like a slave since my uncle Corey died. Its like my grandma blames me for him having cancer but I know for a fact its not my fault. But the main reason I know she hates my guts is not just because she has told me but also because I share a birthday with my grandpa and he passed away when I was 6 weeks old. My mom said since then she has never loved me like a family member. She practically swore to herself that if she loves me she will be cursed or something like that because I was never properly loved by her. I wish she would understand how I feel. I feel betrayed, hated and left too die alone in the darkness of my own sorrow. But I know better because if that did not happen too my grandma and I was a better person it would not happen too me.. I love my grandma till this day no matter how much she hates me I will always love her. We do have some really good moments as we try too understand each other but I really miss the way we were before my uncle passed away. Although I never had any children I still know what pain she is going through too cope with her grief of losing a husband and children. She has lost so many children in her life I think she would be a lot worse than what she is. All together she has lost 6 children, She had two miscarries, lost one son of diabetes, one of cancer, and she also had to born but they died like ten minutes later. I can honestly say I feel really bad for my Grandma. Not only is she cranky but as the older she gets the worst health she gets into. Most old people I know get healthier as they get older. No offense too the old people I love you all dearly. I never really understood the reason my grandma never really loved me as much as she loved her other grandchildren all I do for her still today I get treated like trash form her. She is still my grandma and the older I get the less I care what she says too me because it’s the closer I am too moving out. Publication Date: September 15th 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-stouttr74

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-emmi-j-howder-forgive-my-sins-friends-dont-last-forever/

Emmi J. Howder Forgive My Sins: Friends Dont Last Forever The Start... The Start... it was the start of the new school year WITHOUT rude pesky Brice Williams.At the begining the summer Kanani Akina moved from Hawaii all the way to Inadiana to get away fromn him but he followed her now he got expelled for shooting a teacher and trying to kill Kanani. Even though she left her family to live with Emmi Howder and her 3 daughters she couldn't go back. She met a new girl named Sam. Brice told everyone in the WHOLE school she killed the principle. The Field Trip... they went on a field trip with the school. she sat next to the gottest boy in school Matt. Celina, Kanani's friend, walked up and said "whatcha doin love birds" matt looked at Kanani in discust and got up and sat with his friends. wow some cool firld trip said Kanani. she went home upset and just layed low until the next day. when she say her so called best friend she just wanted to strangle her!! A Fantasy Kanani knew she had never really loved Matt, it was just a fantasy. Now she was focused on the dude that asked her to the dance. he was somewhAT CUTE. then it changed Matt went up to her and told her that his girld friend just broke up with him, and he wanted to go out with Kanani. Kanani's jaw dropped. YES, YES,YES she screamed. i thought i loved him but i didnt want to seam dumb with him not loving me ya know... Payback From Celina the news got around that the two where dating and Celina was furious she always LOVED LOVED LOVED him. she was going to get some serious payback. she came up with a plan to make it look like matt was cheating on her and then matt would realise his feeling for celina. the next day celina asked matt for help to kill a bug when kanani walked in celina grabbed his arm and smiled and started acting like she was talking to him. Matt didnt even see Kanani standing there.then celina payed Matt 30$ not to talk to Kanani for the rest of the day. kanani was furious. she went to bed angry with him she thought he was using her. Publication Date: April 15th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-amazing.love.17

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-za-039-quealia-b-bloody-but-beautiful/

Za&#39;Quealia B. Bloody But Beautiful The Three We Are Falling From Heaven I dedicate this book to my dearest frind Emily who tragically died R.I.P Emily. Chapter 1 “Maybe they needed to be wanted! Blame the family, blame the bully, blame it on me, maybe they needed to be wanted!” loud music sounded from Zoiy’s bedroom as she lay in her bed staring up at her wall. Within about 10-seconds Zoiy’s mother busted into Zoiy’s room nearly pulling the door off of its hinges. “Turn that non-sense off now!” Zoiy’s mom said with a liquor bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Zoiy nearly had a heart attack when her mother invaded her space. “Yes, Mama.” Zoiy said turning down her black oval shaped radio. “What’s wrong with you girl?” Zoiy’s mom said pausing for a second to look at Zoiy. “Didn’t I tell you that I was having company?” Zoiy’s mom said walking over to her daughter’s dresser, leaning on it as if her life depended on it. “I’m sorry mom I won’t do it again.” Zoiy said bowing her head as she sat on her plush, purple bed. “Sure you won’t.” Zoiy’s mom said closing the door behind her. Zoiy began to quietly sob into her tear stained pillow once she had realized that her mother had left her room. She laid there for at least an hour tossing and turning gnawing on the thought that her mom was having “Company” quite often. Zoiy didn't know her father, and he grandparents lived in Minnesota, and she didn't know anyone else. Suddenly her door bell began to ring; she rolled her eyes at the thought of her mom's "company". Zoiy hesitated to get out of the bed as she slowly walked towards the front door. She opened the door only a crack to see a Caucasian man she never seen. He had black hair smoothed to the black. He had hazel eyes, and pale lips. He wore a black suit; Zoiy began to wonder why he would want her mother. Her mother was an alcoholic who had 6 kids and couldn't take care of them or herself. She was sucked out of her thoughts when the man said "Is your mom here?" "Yes, who are you?" Zoiy said looking this strange man up and down. "You’re not one of her normal 'visitors'." looking at him suspiciously. “I’m Michael, and what do you mean not one of her normal visitors?” Michael said raising an eyebrow. “You should know if you know my mom.” She said pausing for a second “My mom...” “Zoiy, are you harassing Michael?!” Zoiy’s mom said running down the stairs in her dingy pink robe. She rudely shoved me out of the way and opened up the door with a wide smile. “Hello, Michael.” She said walking close to him pulling his tie. “Please do come in.” She said pulling him into the living closing the door being him. She walked into to the kitchen “Would you like something to drink?” She said reaching for a cup. “Yes, thank you.” He said fixing his tie. She stamped into her room not wanting to hear a thing from her. She jumped onto her bed hitting the play power button on her radio. She began to play drowning pool tear away and she turned it up until everything in her room began to shake. She stared at the ceiling wondering what was wrong with her and why didn’t her dad want her or why her mom didn’t like her. She could hear her mom screaming for her to turn down her music but now she could care less what her mom said. It was around 11:00 p.m. and Zoiy began to fall asleep. Zoiy woke up with a massive headache; she looked down at her arm where there were several cuts. She couldn’t remember a thing all she remembered was walking into the bathroom pissed off and the she blacked out. As she tried to recap her night she pulled out her clothes for school. She grabbed some black ripped jeans, a red and black plaid shirt and a white tank top. She laid her clothes on her bed and found her black converse. She took her clothes into the bathroom and took a shower and dressed, Zoiy then teased her hair and put a tiara in it. She went into her room, grabbed her backpack and phone. Zoiy quietly tried to leave the apartment without her mom hearing her. She slowly opened the door and walked out closing it softly behind her. Publication Date: December 18th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-idream.fame99

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-c-kelemen-hit-me-with-your-best-shot/

C Kelemen Hit Me With Your Best Shot For the person who made this picture rights to them and the BRAVE ones Beat Me Up. (Chris’s POV.)  Martin Luther king had a dream, a dream that he never lived long enough to see. Abraham Lincoln lived just long enough to miss the end to slavery. A gun ended their lives as it has for many others. Some have no reason for gunning down millions of people. Then again there is always a reason but maybe we just don’t know or understand it. Thoughts like this run through my head a lot now. I open my eyes to the blinding light of  the classroom and look down to my notebook. The class was reviewing how to solve by factoring and my notes were hardly understandable. some just said: b = - then > # r - or if d + then both -  sometimes I wonder how I understand my notes. As I start doing the homework for tonight the bell finally rings. As I exit class I’m already getting pushed through the hallways. My locker being on the opposite side of the school always led to this plus what happened a while ago. When I reach my locker I always end up having to hide in a corner for a while before there is any space for me to get to my locker. The whispers about me still pass around the school. The few that are brave enough to actually tell them to me will be here soon. If I wasn’t a good student I probably would have left school without my books but I am a good student.  The area finally clears and I go to my locker and open it up right before someone slams the door. “Hey loser! Why don’t you just kill yourself? I mean the other terrorists did so why didn’t you?” Mrs. popular said. Ahh, Stally the worst of the worst. Don’t let her name fool you. She could actually make you believe that it is the new trend. She liked saying she changed her name to it but I already knew the truth and I have only been here a few months.   The truth was that her dad wanted Stacy and her mom wanted Sally so they combined it to stop arguing. She was the image of popular, she had blonde hair so blonde it looked white in a half up half down style with braids running along the sides. She applied her makeup as if it was only to hide the layer of skin she had. I could tell what she used from my years of dance. She had on foundation, a light layer of baby blue eye shadow, a rosy pink blush, mascara, black eyeliner, and lipstick that was only slightly darker than the color of her lips.   “yeah pig why don’t you run home crying the whole way,” a boy named Drake said. He was the obvious jock. Six pack being showed off by the tightest shirt one could find and always could be found picking on a nerd, me included. Then Stally’s brother the soccer star Alec, his name mix was Alex and Alac I believe he got the better deal, yelled, “watch out the nerd might get you!” and all the popular kids laughed at that one. But none of that hurt as much now. Then someone shoved me into a locker and then Alec walked over to me and leaned in to me and whispered loud enough for the others to hear, “I don’t think so murderer.”  Then my eyes went wide as I saw who was behind the group. The kids already knew this wasn’t my response to them and looked behind them to see my brother who had rage in his eyes. Most of the group dispersed except for Stally, Alec, Drake, and Ash a brown haired girl who applied makeup to hide her face and was best friends with Stally. As my brother got closer I knew his reaction would be bad and started thinking of excuses to save them from being torn apart when I saw my teacher Donne.    Then I knew exactly what to do. “Mr. Donne!” I shouted, “I have a question on the essay we have to do?” The rest scrammed so they didn’t get in trouble and Donne turned around and started walking towards me. I grabbed my brother’s shirt collar so he couldn’t chase the others. “Yes, Mrs. …” Donne replied even he didn’t know my name. “Christina, um… I was just wondering if you want it double spaced or not?” I questioned “No.” he answered and left.   I turned around and opened my locker to grab my stuff. English… I need the book we are reading. Social Studies… essay on the atomic bomb, so I need my… binder. Science… we have a worksheet to fill in so I need my… folder. Health… today is the last day so I just need to bring my stuff home. Spanish… we have work on the internet that we could do for extra credit. Math… I need my textbook and notebook. Okay that is every class, I think. I Turned to my brother, “lets go,” I told him.  The car ride was so quiet and I really didn’t want to be the one to brake it but I knew if he kept thinking about what happened things could get worse. “Drew, It was nothing, don’t worry about it,” I breathed out.   (Drew’s POV) It was not nothing, it was never ever nothing. It hurts me more than it hurts her sometimes I think, but the way others treat her is completely wrong and some of the teachers even joined in. I didn’t want to leave her alone at that school and go to college, but I was left with no choice. “You could move closer to me you know. Mom wouldn’t mind Chrissy,” I told my sister. I have a darker colored skin than her. Then add to that I tans so easily that I become even darker. My sister, well she has a regular tan I think and a wavy chocolate brown hair color. She thankfully doesn’t wear make up and dresses appropriately for her age. On the other side she has good enough body that she still looks hot in what she wears which makes me want her with me more. I can’t protect her from the boys that come up to her in another state.  “I know but you can’t always protect me. If things get worse though I’ll go to you and follow you like a puppy dog. That a deal.” Chrissy bargained. “That is a deal. Give them hell, okay!” I said. We got home on the same level of serenity. Something that would be important, especially with the chaos going on at home. The screaming could be heard a block away.   “No, to the left not the right!”                                                 “I already brought it that way!”                                                 “The pizza is going to get cold!”                                     “We’re leaving tonight you better be ready!”                                                 “If you touch that your dead!”                                                 “No! Not the mangos!”   We both were breaking out in laughter as we drove up the driveway. “Home sweet home,” Chrissy innocently squeaked between laughter, while a smile slid up her face. I looked at her, took a breath, nodded, and answered, “Yup!” Enjoying the P’s pop.  Text: Me Images: Google And artist All rights reserved. Publication Date: June 11th 2013 https://www.bookrix.com/-r16ckelemen

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-timothy-carstensen-colors-of-joy/

Timothy Carstensen Colors of Joy Jamie turned back to his bed. "But..." He felt a twinge of darkness well up inside of him. His only advantage over others who had friends, who had good foster families, and those who had real families, was that he never got distracted by them. 'He could succeed alone' was his motto, was his creed. He saw the word "But..." resting just beyond is peripheral, a wisp of grey. Sean didn't know what he was thinking about. He was older, and was in the situation too, not having a foster family, not having a real family, but Sean was normal. And normal orphans still had others to help them. Not like him. He was alone. But that was his advantage, no one to lead him, but no one to mislead him or distract him. And even now as Sean was back in the group home, his older foster family was coming back for him. The black shadows rose and boiled around him. Sean interjected, "It's ok. It's only one weekend, and we're not too far. We can always skype you in for an interview too." His words rose in his own unique ribbons, shades of green interweaving with each other, cutting through the shadow. Jamie knew Sean had mistaken his hesitation as a fear he'd had before, but not anymore, the fear that adoptive parents would come and request an interview when he was gone, and he would miss the chance for a family. He didn't want a family though. He wanted to be alone. A small part of him rebelled though, pleaded for him to get out of the stifling orphanage and have a weekend to pretend to be normal. He finally decided to go, and watched in satisfaction as the ribbon of grey dissipated. "Yeah, I can go." After all, he needed a break, and as lonesome as he was, he'd never get the chance again. Sean grinned, and for a second he shimmered slightly. "Awesome! We can leave on friday, then. I'll ask Bernie." He walked back to his bunk. "What should I bring?" "Don't worry about bringing much. We don't have much to pack here anyway, and you can always use my stuff." That was tuesday night, and today was friday. Jamie sat in the school room, staring at the teacher, at the kids. The teacher was lecturing on history, and Jamie watched his words, intertwining orange and brown oscillating through the room and fading slowly. He noticed the movement of the kids, one bouncing his knee and tapping his heel impatiently, giving off the shadow of an impatient red glow. Another two were busily scratching out notes, the sounds of their pencils rising up from their desks as a tan haze. Jamie wondered about Sean. He just came in a week ago, and had gotten situated rather quickly. He didn't notice him until the day after he'd arrived at the group home, in the caf. Jamie had sat alone in the corner, seemingly ostracized by the rest. He wasn't offended by it, either. He'd gotten used to being alone, and had grown comfortable with the darker colors that rose inside of him in response to his loneliness. Being alone meant he had less distractions, and less distractions meant he could succeed. He didn't need anybody else, anyway, and felt nervous when he was joined. The colors and the sensations he encountered while watching others often distracted him and posed embarrasing. He was better off alone, staring at the empty space above the other orphans and listening to the music of their voices, watching the colors it produced. Some days it was a confusing jumble of colors all matted together, like a spill of twenty paints on a piece of paper, but most of the time it was a beatifully dynamic pattern, leaping and writhing bright colors with a smooth undercurrent of earth tones and the ripples of royal blue and purple hues. He was engrossed in the colors, as usual, when Sean had appeared, almost out of the blue. His voice cut through the colors and dissapated them, a mellow combination of green shades. Jamie never saw just one color, but different combinations of shades. He admired the green, and then Sean spoke again, and Jamie realized he was being addressed. "Sorry, what was that?" "I was just wondering... is anyone sitting here?" "Um, no, just me. Why?" Jamie watched his words, as green ribbons, rise and sway in the air, spinning out with hints of yellow and creating a vibrant, dynamic pattern. "Cool." He sat at the table and began eating. The word rose from him like a shot of navy blue, rippling slightly, merging with the green, and when they crossed, creating new lines of aquamarine. "Who are you?" Jamie asked, eventually. "I'm Sean. You?" Jamie watched the words, pulsing in the air, spining and spreading out. Eventually they faded and he pulled himself back to the conversation. "I'm Jamie." And the friendship began. Jamie rarely ever had a messmate (his synesthesia always kept him absent-minded, distant... he'd get distracted by the colors... and never had one that was actually interested in him anyway. He'd been there almost three weeks, but he'd been between foster homes for more than a month at a time before. Sean didn't try to avoid him either, but hung out with him during recess at school, sat with him on the van ride back to the group home, and spent time with him afterwards. He learned that Sean had been bouncing from family to family for several years, and now one family had left him at the group home for a week but were coming back for him. Sean also learned about him. He explained why he was always spacing, why he was always distant. The colors that he saw from people's emotions, their words, their music, they engrossed him, distracted him, hijacking his attention as if it were by force. That's also why he always did poorly in school. How could he focus on anything with so many colors and sounds flooding the room? Sean sympathized. He imagined the synesthasia like Jamie saw it, not like a disability but like a wonderful gift. He would sit beside Jamie, like someone blind, and ask him what colors he was seeing. When they turned on music, Sean would turn to Jamie to ask which music looked the most beautiful, and often Jamie pointed him to his favorites, orchestral, pop, or rock classical. They always filled the air with huge ribbons and swaths of rainbow colors, shifting and pulsing with every note, every beat, creating such a breathtaking living art. He tried to watercolor what he saw for Sean, but he couldn't capture it. By the time he started painting, the colors would fade and dissipate, and he was left with an empty canvas. And then, Sean got news of the family returning from him, and had asked Jamie to join him. Jamie didn't want to leave the home, in case another family might come, but he knew he'd rather spend a weekend with another orphan than alone with a foster family anyway. Especially someone he knew like Sean. So he agreed, and tonight they were leaving. He remembered that right now he was in school, and suddenly returned to his work. He tried to finish the rest of the assignment in the allotted time, but it was futile. Once again, he'd allowed himself to be distracted. Oh well. It's not like he could pull up his grades anyway, at this point. At the end of school he gathered his books and headed off immediately for the van. It wasn't hard to leave the small groups of kids talking after the last period. Most of them were just waiting for their perfect parents to pick them up in their perfect cars, headed to their perfect homes. The thought made him sick. Part of him always wanted to yell bitterly, "Why me? Why did my parent's have to abandon me to the state after I was just so old no one would want me? Why did I have to be the freak that never could pay attention to anything?" He knew that even normal orphans could befriend the other kids, but he couldn't even befriend the normal orphans. The thoughts, the words rose in his through like the burning of bile, and he saw them even without him saying them as dark shadows moving in the sky. But another part of him was filled with disgust at the kids, how they could have everything and look down on the orphans, look down on him. It's not like he chose to be lonely. The shadows merged in his mind, swirled and shifted. But he suppressed the thoughts, as he always did. The van had to leave the school pretty quickly to get back to the group home on schedule. He continued toward the van, his face down. He'd continue fighting as he always had. Nobody would want to help him, or befriend him. He had to fight his way through life alone, and he could do it. He'd just leave everyone else behind like they all left him behind, and he could succeed. He just couldn't let anything succeed in getting in his way. At the van was several of the other orphans already, but Jamie had to look around before he could spot Sean approaching. "Hey, Sean!" he called. "Hey!" Sean reached the bus. "Ya ready for tonight?" "Definitely! When do we leave?" "As soon as we get home. They'll be here soon." "Sweet!" Jamie liked the word sweet. It swirled up when he spoke it, white and bright blue twisting and spreading out, like a vortex of energy. He found himself using it for fun, just to see it. But for now they waited on the ride to the home, packed what they had in two cases, and grabbed their cases in their free hands, as Sean pulled him along outside into the parking lot. They ran out into the lot and a silver SUV pulled up from the right. The window rolled down, and a man stuck his head out of the window. "Hey Sean, Jamie! Hop in!" "And we're off!" Jamie grinned. "Yup! Meet Mr. Kelly. He already knows you!" Sean grinned. "Cool! So where exactly are we going?" "Home, actually," replied Mr. Kelly. Sean interjected, "We've got some stuff planned for tomorrow, but for tonight we eat in and stay up late!" "I'm all for that!" Jamie continued. He'd thought of eating out, but hoped against it. He'd rather embarrass himself to foster parents of a friend than to complete strangers. After the hour and a half ride, they pulled up to the house. It was a rather small compared to the bulk of buildings in the group home. The driveway led up to a garage, and part of it split off to behind the the house. Mr. Kelly opened the garage, and they pulled in. He shut off the car, and the boys piled out. "Wow!" Jamie burst, immediately. He retorted to Sean, "You didn't tell me they had a convertible!" Sean grinned. "Hey, how else would we hang out tomorrow if not in style!" Jamie laughed, half incredulous. "Sweet!" He watched the white bolt bounce off of the car and fill the room, with the bright blue undertones trailing it. He admired the car as they passed, a yellow car with a black stripe down the top, and the word SHELBY on the back with the crest of a snake. Sean gave him a quick tour of the house, that ended as they entered the bedroom with their cases. Jamie paused to look around. There were two beds set out, one of them against a corner of a wall and directly beside a large window, the pane being drummed by the rain. On the opposite side of the room from the window was a large desk and a shelf, and opposite the beds were bookshelves and a large closet. "Which bed is yours?" "The window bed. But we can trade if you want the window." "Can we open the window?" Jamie looked out. "In the morning. But at night it's too cold. We could open it a crack though." "I think I'd really like the window bed, then. Where should I put my stuff?" He put the case on his bed. "I only use the dressers on the far side of the room. You can use the other ones." "Haha! I don't need THAT many!" "You sure? You have such a huge case!" They laughed, and heard Mrs. Kelly calling them for dinner. Jamie saw the notes linger on the air as an urgent red shadow with brighter white undertones, rotating into stripes like a candy cane. "I guess we'll unpack after," Sean shrugged. He headed out the door, and paused. "Oh, we've gotta wash up!" They hurried down the hall, and Sean washed up and left."I'll be down in the kitchen." Jamie arrived just as Mr. Kelly took a seat and Mrs. Kelly welcomed him. He sat beside Sean at the table and paused to take in the menu. There was a steaming pot roast that Mrs. Kelly was finishing slicing, as well as a dark green salad with cranberries and nuts, and on the other side of the table there were warm, fragrant rolls and pickled beets with a large fruit salad, in a fluffy thick green cream. He paused, inhaling the fragrance, and seeing the scents as a mosaic of colors, a dark pink for the salad, a handful of shades of blue and green for the fruit salad, a sharp uncomfortable orange shade for the beets, and crowned with the overpowering brown and white tinged with silver of the roast. He beamed. Sean watched his face light up, and glanced at Mr. Kelly, and they bowed their heads. Jamie followed suit, and after they gave thanks, they dug in. There wasn't much conversation during the dinner, but they talked a little. Jamie learned that Mr. Kelly was an attorney, and a little more about them, and they learned a little bit more about him. He didn't take any of the beets, but found the roast to be juicy and full of flavor, and the salad was tangy and nutty, but by far the best was the fruit salad, with melon and strawberry and pineapple and kiwi and banana... he found out the cream was a lime/marshmallow cream that he couldn't get enough of until he was full. Afterwards, the Kelly's retired early, and after finishing unpacking, Sean showed Jamie to several of the games on his computer, and they played a few times multiplayer on the two computers, one upstairs in the den and the others downstairs in the office. Jamie was new to the shooter games, but he got a hold of it quickly, finding that the sounds from the games could be used to track back the presence of the other characters. He soon caught up to Sean's skill, to Sean's dismay. "How do you keep finding me?" Sean finally interrupted. "I don't get it!" Jamie laughed. "I just recognize your colors following you wherever you go. Maybe you are making too much noise." Sean played slower and more cautiously, and the colors faded, but Jamie remained a strong enough opponent to stay neck and neck with Sean's score throughout the competition. Finally the game ended, and the two returned to the bedroom. "I still don't get it! How do you get so good so fast? It took me forever to get that sneaky, and I can't even faze you!" Jamie laughed. Sean's semi-sarcastic frustration rose in billows of mirthful, dancing pale yellow. "I dunno, maybe it's just the colors!" "Lucky!" Sean laughed too. "But it's late, and we're getting up early tomorrow morning." They got in bed, and after asking Sean, Jamie opened the window a crack. Not so much that the cold began affecting them, but enough so he could hear the sounds outside. He watched the almost whispering wind, rolling waves of light and sharp shades of blue, and the slightly louder songs of the crickets, providing ripplingly rising bars of shades of purple, tinged alternately with yellow and brown. He recognized the songs of the crickets as similar colors to the sounds he could see from violins and stringed instruments. He eventually closed his eyes, and the colors faded slightly, thought the sounds continued long after he had fallen asleep. The morning dawned clear, and the sun rose bright, and Jamie woke from the flowing, bouncing and bubbling yellow, pink, and bright blues of the birds chirping from down the street. He slid to the side of his bed and looked out. The morning shadows stretched out from each house as the sun rose beyond the hillscaped horizon, and he felt the soft breeze still swimming in through the crack in the window. He slipped out of bed and changed, seeing the silver flashes of dishes being rattled downstairs. He started to walk downstairs, paused and gave a quick and bright blue "Wake up, sleepyhead!" to Sean, who was beginning to stir, and entered the kitchen. Mrs. Kelly was already up, packing a few sandwiches and two bags of chips into a large basket. "Good morning!" Her voice rose from her like a small explosion of cyan colors, miscing with two other colors rising. He noticed the swarming olive and teal shades growing through the room before he recognized them. She was making eggs for breakfast! He saw several other colors, and recognized them as he smelled the bacon, cheese and sausage with the eggs too. "They look good!" he exclaimed. "You mean they smell good?" Mrs. Kelly corrected. "Their all still covered." "Well, their colors look good." Mrs. Kelly looked confused. "Just to me, I guess. I'm a Synesthete." "A Synesthete?" "Yeah. I see colors for smells and sounds. It's not like I can't hear them or smell them. I just see colors too." "Ah." Mrs. Kelly paused, and continued. "What color is my voice?' Jamie laughed. No one had ever just believed him that fast until he'd told Sean, and the first thing Sean had said after was "What color is my voice?" "What's so funny?" Mrs. Kelly looked perplexed. "Oh, nothing." Jamie caught her eye and continued. "I just never get that response from people, and Sean was the first who said it that way. Not many people take me at face value like that." "I have a feeling there's more to you than your face value." Mrs. Kelly winked at him, then called up. "Breakfast!" Jamie found breakfast to fly by fast, each fare colored to his liking. The Kellys and Sean talked of a picnic by the lake, and Sean pulled him from the table as he finished to get him a swimsuit and towel. They chose to bring a football and a frisbee, and by the time they'd returned, the Kellys had finished hitching a trailer to the yellow and black convertible. It wasn't until they were on the road that Jamie recognized the Jetski on the small trailer. "A Jetski! Is it yours?" he queried Mr. Kelly. "Sure is! But for today it's both of yours. Just be careful, Sean." "Oh, I will!" Sean looked to Jamie, grinning from ear to ear. "I didn't think he'd let us bring it!" "You didn't tell me you guys had a jetski!" "I didn't tell you we were having eggs for breakfast either, doesn't mean we won't." Sean winked mischeviously. "Don't worry, the surprises are all good!" They got to the lake soon, after the short, yet fast (and to Jamie, colorful) trip in the convertible, and found it almost empty. There were a handful of cars on the far side, but the lake was huge, and Mr. Kelly simply pulled the convertible and the jetski onto the grass, and around the bend slightly. There was a rise, and he stopped the car for the others to pile out and sean to remove the cover off the jetski and unstrap it from the bottom before he began backing the jetski into the lake. The boys abandoned their sandals and shirts on their towels, and swam out to remove the jetski, and soon they were on it, Sean at the front, and revving it on. "Hold on," Sean grinned, and shifted. The engine caught, and sped out into the lake. Jamie latched onto Sean, and watched the spray, the wind, and the scent of the water, each with its own color rising from the lake, and parting violently from the jet ski. He watched it boil away behind them, rising and bubbling as the water underneath foamed and frothed in their wake. He whooped, a bright red mingled with yellow flash that quickly faded behind them. Sean pulled in a little closer to the shore, and increased the speed, weaving side to side to stay a safe distance from the shallows. He laughed. "Fun, right?" "Are you kidding me? This is awesome!" The words rose and fell behind them into a chaotic palette. Jamie hesitated, and yelled, "SWEET!" The word exploded from his mouth, sending flaming white and bright blue, shooting upward and outward all around the jetski, and quickly curving behind them as they continued speeding forward. He laughed with Sean. They continued rocketting around the lake, Sean concentrating on steering, and Jamie enjoying the speed, the feel, and the color of the ride. Sean began speeding around several outcroppings, and continued the conversation. "How long have you been at the home?" "About a month." Jamie knew that was far too long. Usual turnovers at the group home were quicker, only a few days, maybe a week, between foster homes. Not everybody wanted a absent minded, forgetful kid. "Oh." Jamie continued. "But it's not all bad. At least there's more kids in the same boat here. It's not like you're, well, alone." Being around people who weren't orphans, who had perfect families and perfect lives made him uncomfortable, and that didn't always have to do with his synesthesia. Sean continued driving around a corner to a larger part of the lake. He changed the subject. "Would you like to drive?" "Drive? The jetski? Sure!" He slowed down, and stood. "You stand on the left side, and I'll lean to the right, and you can squeeze in front of me." He pulled the jetski around into the deeper part of the lake, and scooted back, leaning to the right. Jamie slipped around him, and sat in front. The jetski bobbed side to side, but they stayed upright. Sean still had his right hand on the handlebar, and directed Jamie to take the clip tied to his right hand and tie it to his own hand. "What for?" "It shuts off the engine if the driver falls out. Kind of like a key." "Oh." Jamie tied it to his wrist, and then, at Sean's direction, he revved the jetski again and shot forward. Sean grabbed on and whooped, and he joined in. He liked yelling; the colors were so much more powerful, swooping up and forward, and yet they were going fast enough to leave them behind. Jamie weaved side to side like Sean had, and laughed. "This is so SWEET!" he yelled again. They followed the shoreline around the larger part of the lake, and Sean eventually switched with him again, taking the lead. "This is so awesome! The Kellys are great! I wish we all got foster families as awesome as this one!" When Sean was silent, he remembered the questions about the home, and continued with another. "Why are you wondering about the group home?" "Well, there's something I have to tell you. I suppose now is as good as ever." "What is it?" Jamie detected a strange tone, a strange shade, and he tried to figure it out. "Well, I'm not an orphan." Sean caught himself. "At least, I'm not going to be one for very long." He slowed the jetski down. "What do you mean? You're not 18 yet." "No, its... The Kellys are adopting me." Jamie felt darkness well up in him. "That's..." He struggled. Why would he bring me here then? Why would he tell me that? He tried to reconcile his image of Sean as his friend with the swelling shadows that he used to identify those who had families. "You're wondering why I'm doing all this?" He paused. "Because I want to give someone else what they gave me." Jamie froze. "What? No!" This wasn't right! It wasn't supposed to be like this! He was supposed to prove that he didn't need anybody. He didn't need a family. He didn't need... Who would ever give him a family anyway? He was too old! "No?" Sean was confused, and his grey confused "No?" rose and spiraled through the shadows rising around Jamie. Jamie fought. Everything he'd always built up, the bitterness against those who were better off, the bitterness he fed every time he came back from a foster family, every time he waited for another at the home, every time he met someone only to later be avoided by them at school. "It's not fair! It's not supposed to be like this!" Sean was upset. "I'm sorry. I thought you'd want to." He turned the Jetski back towards the car, and sped back. Jamie struggled. Everything he'd built up led to him fighting this. Nobody could ever adopt him, nobody could ever befriend him, nobody could ever want to help him. He had to prove that he could do it on his own. That was how it had always been. He felt Seans frustration in front of him, and realized that he had been befriended. He remembered Sean, and later Mrs. Kelly, asking him what color their voices were. He remembered Sean wanting him to share the weekend with them. He muffled a scream, a gutteral yell from the pit of his soul that spread out black, but slowly lightened. It was different now. It was all wrong. Somebody had befriended him, had wanted to help him, had wanted him to be a part of their lives. His fight was over. He yelled again, agonizingly, and they drew in close enough for the Kellys to see them, but not close enough for them to hear the boys. "Wait," Jamie said, and Sean slowed down. Sean didn't turn around, but he could see the colors of the pain that Sean was muffling. He fought, he struggled. Everything he had built up to keep him going, everything he had struggled for, he overturned it in his mind. He struggled, and it showed as a tear ran down his face from his eyes, shut hard. He grunted, and panted, opening his eyes. He could have a second chance. He could start over. He clung to Sean. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." His face ran wet with pain, but he forced the black to flee from him with the water from his eyes. Sean sighed, then slowed the jetski. He spun half around, keeping his right hand on the handlebar, his eyes shining. "It's ok." He grabbed Jamie with his left hand, and held him tight. "I'm sorry," Jamie repeated, and Sean cut him off. "It's ok." "Can I still..." Sean interrupted him. "Of course." Jamie broke down, but eventually composed himself. Every tear he'd shed before brought flashes of painful orange, but now, they were pale yellow, a soothing yellow that brought him comfort, cheer, gladness... He began laughing at this even in his tears, and sean began as well, as he turned to the controls. Jamie hung on, as Sean sped towards land, and Jamie laughed, laughed hard. The colors of the laughter shined and glistened in the wind, pale yellow mixed with gold and green, lime green, but they combined and sparked a dozen shades, a cacophany of colors rising and falling behind them, too beautiful for Jamie to recognize. He realized everything he'd worked for, everything he'd built himself up for was over, there was a new adventure now. He knew it would still be a long time before the Kelly family was together, and even when it was, there would be a lot more pain and a lot more trouble before he could feel this way again, but even now, he knew that he was happy, and he would have never had this happiness otherwise. He was greater than happy, he was ecstatic, he was blissfull he was... And he recognized the colors finally. They were colors he couldn't remember seeing before, but he now knew what they were, and he knew he would see them again. They replaced the darkness he'd harbored inside of him for so long, and escaped with his laughter. They were the colors of joy, and no matter how much pain and hardship he would feel from this point on, he knew he would see them again and again. Publication Date: August 17th 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-timothy.carstensen

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-shyenne-kirkwood-lithium/

Shyenne Kirkwood *Lithium* CHAPTER 1 (Singing) "Lithium, The sound that your heart makes when it, Beats..." Mercy sang this melody over and over again until it was lodged in her brain for good. She loved writing new songs, Mercy was an undiscovered Artist and Vocalist, technically she was an undiscovered superstar at 15 years old. She was good at almost everything she did. Like getting her heart trampled by boys because she wouldn't sleep with them. Everyone would always call her a whore and if they didn't say it, they were thinking it! Mercy was a virgin, she didn't plan on having sex or doing many sexual activities because she thought everything, or just about everything, that was sexual was disgusting!! "Mercy! Jace is here." Maddison, Mercys mother, called up the stairs. "Send him up please." Mercy yelled out the door. Jace. Oh Jace. He was so gorgeous with his shoulder-length bleach blonde hair and his dazzling bright blue eyes. He hypnotized her every chance he got with those eyes. Of corse, Jace being an 18-year old boy, would want some sexual things but Mercy never gave in. She was determined to keep her ground, even if he threatened to dump her. 'Oh well, if he dumps me because I wont have sex with him then bye bye.' she would always tell herself. "Hey beautiful." Jace said as he entered her bedroom. "Happy six months." "Aww! you too baby!" Mercy squealed. "Here." he said and handed her a small golden box. "Open it." he told her. Mercy opened the box and inside was silver locket necklace. "Now open the locket.." he instructed. She did and there was a picture of him on one side and her on the other. "AW! I love you Jace! It's so beautiful!!" she exclaimed. "Kinda like you?" he asked her a (funny) notorical question. "Mhmm, sure." she said and they laughed. "I have to go because you know how my mom is...but I'll see you At school tomorrow right?" he asked and then kissed her. "Duh." she said and laughed, "I love you." "I love you too." CHAPTER 2 Mercy got to school *finally* and put her stuff in her locker. She was walking around a corner and turned around. She caught a glimpse of Jace and Sabrina..she turned back around. Mercy couldn't believe her eyes. Was Jace groping her?! Was he taunting her lips with his? Just as he went in to kiss the little backstabbing harlet, she walked up to him. "What the fuck is going on here?!" she yelled which startled Sabrina. "What the fuck does it look like?!" Sabrina yelled back. "It's not what you think Mercy..." Jace said in a panic. "Well then you wanna explain it?" Mercy snapped at him. Jace was silent, so she turned her attention to her "best friend". "What do you think your doing?" Mercy asked in a heartbroken tone. "Well I thought I was getting ready to kiss Jace but then you interupted.." Sabrina said in a -throw it back in your face- way. "Oh is that what you thought?!" Mercy asked her even though she wasn't counting on a reply. She grabbed Sabrina by her hair and smashed her face into the locker. Sabrina screamed "Get this bitch off me!" Jace went up and grabbed Mercy, so she punched him too. Then she picked Sabrina up by her throat and held her high in the air. "Is that what you fucking thought BITCH?!" and slammed her face into the locker again. Just then, the Principle came and grabbed Mercy and started to drag her down the hallway. "What the fuck is your excuse Jace?!" She screamed. "...I love you..." he said sort of quietly. Mercy grabbed the silver locket and threw it at him. "Oh yeah?! Well then I hope her lips and A-cup boobs were worth it you asshole! Happy six months!" Mercy paced the office, crying furious tears. 'what is wrong with him?!' she kept repeating in her head. Her mom came and picked her up. "What happened?" she asked when they left the school parking lot. Mercy didn't say anything. She just starred out of the window crying silent, heartbroken tears. After a while, Mercy found her voice.. "He lied..." CHAPTER 3 Mercy layed on her bed all day and could think of nothing else but the stupid "She doesn't know" look on his face, or the "idgaf" look on hers. She got up and punched her solid oak door over 20 times. She felt nothing. Her whole body had become numb a while ago. "Are you alright?" Angelina, her younger sister, asked as she rushed into Mercy's room, just to find her on her bed again. "Are you okay?" she asked again. "I'm fine!" she yelled. "Your bleeding..." Angel said. Her tone pointed out that she was concerned. "I'll live," Mercy said irritated. "Mom!" Angel yelled. Maddison came running in. "What? Is she okay?" she asked. "Her hand is bleeding," Angel said and pointed to Mercy's right hand. "Now that you mention it, it kinda really hurts..." Mercy said meekly. "Get in the car. We need to get X-rays." her mother said. Mercy layed there under the X-ray machine. The doctor tryed to read just her hand. "Ouch!!" Mercy exclaimed, "Don't!" she said and glared at her. "Sorry." she said. They took the X-rays and asked them to wait in the waiting room. After 30 minutes passed, she came out and told Maddison that Mercy shattered all the bones in her hand. That night Mercy was careful with her cast covered hand. She layed down slowly. As soon as she was relaxed and comfortable, she cried. She let out small shrieks. A couple of months past and everyday at school was a nightmare, everything was about it, including Sabrina's face. (: Mercy walked down the hall and after every class, she saw Jace and Sabrina either kissing, holding hands, or hugging. She couldn't handle it anymore. Every night she cried herslef to sleep. "Mercy," she heard someone say behind her when she left second hour to go to the bathroom. As soon as she heard it, she dreaded leaving class. He had a lisp. It was Jace. "What?" she said without turning around. "Are you okay?" he asked. "Really?! Am I okay?!" she yelled. "I'm fucking perfect! Couldn't be better, and it helps seeing you two being retartedly sexual after every class!" "I'm sorry." he said. "No your not, but it's okay, your hers now so I don't care." she said. Just then the bell rang and the first person she seen was Sabrina. Mercy rolled her eyes as Sabrina walked towards them. She kissed Jace and then turned to face Mercy. "Oh! Your daring!" Mercy said and looked at the shining thing aroung her neck. It was the locket! "Really Jace?!" she snapped at him, and held up her fist at him. He flinched so instead of hitting him, she ripped the locket off of Sabrina and dropped it on the floor. She stomped on it 5-7 times, then picked up the broken locket and gave it back to her and walked away. CHAPTER 4 Mercy was sitting on her bed with the knife to her wrist. She cut deep. Suddenly, her door opened. She hid the knife quickly and grabbed her wrist. The blood leaked through her fingers. She looked to see who came in, as if it would've made a difference. She was in big trouble. Standing there with his gorgeous dirty blonde emo styled hair and his beautiful eyes was Jacobi. "What are you doing?" he asked as he ran to her. "Nothing, don't worry about it, I'm fine." she said and looked into his eyes. Her eyes watered and tears poured out. Mascara ran down her cheek. His tan muscular arms slipped around her waist. He held her, and she cried on his chest. After she had quit crying for the moment, she told him everything. "Well I came here to tell you I moved down the street for you and I'm going to be going to your school now and I got my first car today AND to ask you a question..." "Whats your question?" she replied and giggled. "Do you wanna be my girlfriend?" he asked sheepishly. "I would never hurt you like Jace did. I love you so much. I'll do anything to prove it. I'll stick up for you, stand by you through thick and thin." he added and grabbed her wrist to apply pressure. Mercy needed no time to think, "Yes." "Yes!!!!!!" he said. "Sorry, I'm a little excited." "When do you start at Windsy High?" Mercy giggled. "Tomorrow." he said and smiled. "Sweet! But stay AWAY from Sabrina!" She warned. "Of course. I only have eyes for you." he replied and kissed her. Oh what it felt like to kiss him again! She had went out with him before but broke up with him for Jace eight months ago. They never talked after that until today. "Here, I made you something." he said and handed her a bracelet. The bracelet was purple, her favorite color, Black, her other favorite color, and red. It had two purple hearts too. It goes without saying that she loved it. "Can I pick you up tomorrow after school, and maybe you can help me unpack...?" he asked. "Sure. See you tomorrow." Publication Date: September 21st 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-auntshyenne

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-narutolover11-vocaloid-school-2/

narutolover11 vocaloid school 2!!! a school like st trinians miku* woke up" yawning* ugh! i think ill brush my teeth she exsclaimed" she went to brush her teeth and do her long hair* rin woke up with a smile' i think ill go tease my brother' she sayed with a smile' but i want to try out for cheerleading miku' wanna come? she said with a luagh'; sure i would love to come' rin brushed her teeth and then they headed to cheerleading tryouts' teto uve made the squad they said' next!!! the leader yelled* miku was up8 it was her chance to become a cheerleader8 she took deep breaths* then she ran jumped with a backflip and did a split putting her arms in the air8 woo miku u rock ur on the squad they said*rin was next* she was nervous but' she ran did three cartwheels then a split8 she smiled8 then they said youve got a bad score so youve made the squad* but your gonna hafe to be the bottom list* tho rin grinned* i did perfectly fine!!!! then she attacked the leader* she yelled do u want me to lower u to mascot!!? rin stopped with a mean look* then she stuck her tounge out * miku ' umm rin thats enough lets go now ur ok with the bottom now u dont want to be the bottomest* the leader said* we r going on a trip tommorow pack ur things and be out tommorow at 5:08 or 5:14 be earlyer than 6:00 or youll get left there are 16 cheerleaders in the group now take this from and go to ur rooms* miku and rin smiled then skipped to there rooms in excitement and dont forget ur uniforms and swimsuites* the leader yelled then went to her cabin*miku screamed in exciutement yay i bet its a amusement park' rin;' or a beach::? miku and rin arrived at the room packing there stuff up* rin took a 1 hour nap while miku painted her nails and toenails* blue* rin woke up and painted her's yellow then they ate dinner and went to sleep " they wokeup going towards the bus they got on took there seats in the back' and rode the bus ittle take 1 hour to get there so they stopped towardss a resteraunt and ate food '' another school bus came with the boys they got banna icecream kaitos faverite icecream and lens faveorite bannas they ate there food and got desert brocoli tea and yogurt with cookies rin' i hope this trips gonna be fun miku agreed' shakeing her head' in excitement; (to be continued) next time* vocaloid school trip* Publication Date: August 14th 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-narutolover11

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-paula-shene-cover-pam-dutcher-aak/

Paula Shene/cover Pam Dutcher AAK! Bookrix is down!! Day 1 AAK! Bookrix is down! Right in the middle of the book!! Just great! I hope they extend the time when it comes back up. “Looks like you’re writing. Oh, that cig article. Why aren’t you on Bookrix? I thought you were not to be disturbed because you were reading contest entries.” Sigh. “Its dead, Jim! Dead, I say! The pixel gods have redirected my circuits. Bookrix is down supposedly for a couple of hours but knowing technical problems with servers, it could take days. I check back every couple of hours on the Bookrix Facebook page for status information and according to the time posted, it’s looping a two to four hour window. How much you want to bet it’s down for another day, Pres? No? So, you and Meg heading up island now? Do I make dinner for you two or not?” “We’ll call and let you know, but probably just you and dad." Day 2 Jeesh. My face look like I’ve been run over by a tractor. Five hours. Well I guess that’s better than the four the night before. Hope this new medicine kicks in and helps him sleep better. Yawn. Coffee, next stop ... bypass the siren and get that coffee! Yup, still down. Guess I’ll get some more work done. “Say, Mom, looks like Bookrix is not up yet! So could you fix my computer? It’s isn’t running right and I can’t unclog it! It’s driving me nuts.” “Sure, put it over there on top of the freezer. I'll get to it after I do some more research for this article. It’s the second in the series and I want it done for the first of the month. There are so many facts on this subject and even if I don’t specifically quote them, you know I don’t like going off half cocked, so it may be a while before I get to the hard drive. Did you do what I told you to, to clear it out? Yeah, I can see by the look on your face, you didn’t.” “Mom, I need this fixed so I can do my farm and I’m afraid to delete anything, I might need it. I think some of the programs could go too. I’m just not sure which. ” Sigh. “Yeah, that’s why this house looks the way it does. Sometimes, I feel like I relocated to the local dump. Before I do your computer, I’m making up a list of what needs to be done and we’re scheduling it in. You know those ‘to do’ lists? You seemed to accomplish more with the list pinned near to your heart - I’ll put it on the refrigerator and we’ll discuss it when you get home. Are you and Meg going to be home for dinner or just dad and I?” “Just you two. Love ya. See you later!” “Bye.” “Look at the time! Why didn’t you tell me you guys were hungry? There better not be any fights tonight, you hear me, Shadow? You leave them alone. It’s not like you don’t get your share! Hey Hon, dinner will be in about forty-five minutes. Feeding the dogs now. Been working on the chemical additives background and got sucked right in; well, metaphorically speaking, that is.” Okay, okay, just a minute, you dogs! Let me check and see if Bookrix is back up. It’s not.” Sigh. “The ball game is on late tonight, isn’t it? Oh, LA, right. Well, I’m going back to research and...oh damn, no I’m not. I’m going to defrag Pres’ computer and since I’ve been after him for weeks, and with all his complaining, this may take some time.” Whew ..I would say it's long overdue for a cleaning. If he’d just do what I say about clearing the data this would not be a problem. Okay, now on to the programs. The dogs barking announces the arrival home of Pres and Meg. Are they early? No! Wow, didn’t realize all that time has gone by while doing this. “Hi mom, did you get my computer done.” “That’s a greeting if I ever heard one. Oh yeah, let’s dissect that sentence. Oh, pardon me, you did say ‘Hi Mom’ before wanting to know about the computer." Meg grins and winks as she walks by. "What do you think? I told you I would do it. You know the roles are reversed here. You, in your thirties should know how to do this stuff and me, ‘being older,’ statistically, really shouldn’t. It’s a machine. Machines, at least for now, do as we tell them and with the technology today, there are backups so if I screw up, it can be re installed. Give it a try.” “I can’t get into Google!” “Oops. Let me fix that. This could take a few minutes.” “My farm is going to rot!” “Use my machine. I’m going to bed when I get this up.” Hmm... now I see the problem. “It’s fixed. Told you, I can’t really screw things up too bad. The machine knows if something’s missing and fixes it. Now. I’m off to bed. Just make sure my baby is put to sleep before you leave it for the night.” “Will do. Night Mom. And, hey thanks! G’Night.” “I hope so. Tell Meg goodnight, too. Oh, take a look at the list on the fridge before you head downstairs and please , please take your baby with you. Don't like it in harm's way and that's the path to the bathroom. Can't guarantee your dad's actions if he goes sleepwalking.” Day 3 Yawn. Need some coffee, lots of coffee. Check for Bookrix... no! Coffee first. “What’s the noise about?” “Sorry, Hon. Bookrix is back on line!” Publication Date: July 31st 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-paulashene

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-alex-everett-regret/

Alex Everett Regret blood is thicker than water...but tht doesn't mean make her bleed! I just noticed something I said instantly my body on high gear, This is our third date and you've never took me to meet your family! I played fake hurt and crossed my arms. Lets just get through the movie first he said smiling at me. Fine I said while people in the back row started shushing me. I got super pissed. LOOK DANGIT I'M HURT AND I'M TRYING TOO WORK IT OUT SOO PLEASE AND I'M ASKING POLITLEY TO LET ME HAVE MY ISSUES! I yelled out. I've been super cranky ever since this morning when I realized I was no longer in Alaska on vacation and I couldn't go mountain climbing. The response of the people: they stormed out of the room. The response of Dustin[my boyfriend]: Busted out laughing. twenty minutes the usher cme by and told me to be quiet or I would have to leave. Okay I replied trying not to laugh and Dusstin was smiling shaking his head Text: No parts of this book shall be copied All rights reserved. Publication Date: March 18th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-alexandria.pages

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-rashel-jordan-normal-dead-life/

Rashel Jordan Normal Dead Life The Beginning Prologue “Come on, Anastasia Psyche Spiros! You can do better than this!” my friend Valary Irvine yelled as we raced on the empty, open road. My other friend, Ines Bonheur, or Nessie, was too busy laughing from adrenaline to say anything. It was Saturday night, and we were all alone, so we decided to go as fast as we could in my car down Old Oak Road. This road was lined with trees, and was also famous for its forest full of white-tailed deer. I knew it was too late even before Val screamed for me to stop. The deer jetted across my line of sight and I knew it was too late. But, it was plain instinct to push the brakes with all my might and turn. And then, the trees were everywhere. Soon, all I saw was the tree inside the front of my car. The last thing I heard was Ines screaming my name as the darkness swept over me. Undead I remember the night of my death like it was yesterday. And that’s probably because it was yesterday. Ines said that we had crashed and I died. And then, I just kind of… woke up. No pulse, no blood flow, or anything. When I got home that night, since I was wearing black, you couldn’t really see the blood. So, my parents don’t even know I’m dead. It was weird because this morning my mom said I looked a little pale an asked how I felt. And you know what I said? I said, “Mom, I feel dead.” And went to my room. And my mom didn’t even know the difference, since everyone thought I was Goth (Can’t a girl like black?), she thought I was joking. One thing I learned about being dead was that I couldn’t gain weight. I know, I know, I’m dead, why would I gain weight?. But, I had to make sure. Anyway, Val and Ines said it was really creepy when I came back, like I died and then fog suddenly appeared and washed over us and when it was gone, my eyes opened. They’re still freaking out, I think. I have absolutely no idea how to tell my family. How does that even come up in a conversation? But yeah, I guess this is my dead life now, if that made any sense. “Psyche! Come down for dinner!” my brother, Zackary yelled. I groaned. I really didn’t want to eat. But, I trekked downstairs anyway and sat down next to my brother. “So, does anyone have anything exciting to say?” mom asked. Oh, yes, I died yesterday. Yeah, like they would believe that. “I asked Sabela to the prom yesterday.” Zack said. Oh, Sabela Maria, my brother’s girlfriend. The most popular (and stuck up) girl in school. “And what did she say?” dad asked. I rolled my grey eyes and poked at my lasagna. Sabela practically bathed in Zack’s popularity. If she wasn’t dating Zack, she just be another one of those wannabe cheerleaders. “She said yes. I also heard that little Psyche here was asked to the Prom, too.” Zack added. I glared at him, but he just grinned. Both of my parents looked at me with wide eyes, like they couldn’t believe it. “Why didn’t you say something!?” mum asked. “Because I didn’t say yes.” I muttered. The hope in my mother’s eyes died. “Why?” my dad asked. “Why not?” I said back. “It’s not like she can’t get another date, mum” Zack said. My mum blinked in confusion. “Oh, Psyche didn’t tell you? She gets asked out on a daily basis.” Zack smiled. My dad gasped. “Is this true?” mum and dad whispered at the same time. I nodded slowly. Sometimes, my parents creep me out. I guess it’s one of those types of nights… “Well, I’m done, so… bye.” I stood up and dumped my food and put my plate in the sink and bounded up the stairs. One I was in my room, I jumped into the shower and turned my radio on. My favorite song had just come on and I started to sing along. I had to stop because I got stop in my eyes. Once I rinsed my eyes and my hair, I got out and dried off. Then, I put my pj’s on and slipped into my bed. Right before I went to sleep, I turned on my alarm clock.   Are you pregnant???!!! I almost started screaming bloody murder when my alarm went off. I fell out of bed and wiped my eyes, and picked out an outfit for the day. I picked out black skinny jeans, a white fitted t-shirt that stopped right above my belly button, and my black Taylor’s. I left my black hair down, after I combed it, and added some eye liner and lip gloss. My black cross finished of the look. Once I was satisfied with my look, I got my skateboard, went downstairs to grab an apple, and went out the door. Nessie (Ines) and Val were also out front with their skateboards. Somehow we all chose the same outfit; except Val had a pink top and Nessie had a purple top. “Hey, guys.” I nodded to them as we started off towards school. “So, did you tell your family?” Val asked. I gave her the look she deserved while I pumped my legs twice. “What?” she asked, pumping her legs. “Think, Val. Hey, mum, I’m dead now. How would that sound?” Nessie said. I nodded. “My mum would think I’m just in a phase.” I added. “Oh.” Val said. I nodded slowly at her as we entered the school parking lot. We jumped the steps into the building and rolled down the halls toward our lockers. When we passed the principal’s office I yelled, “Hi, Zahia!”, and kept going. Once we were at our lockers, we stopped skating. “What do we have today?” I asked. “Earth science, math, gym, lunch, art, study hall, and English.” Nessie said. I cursed mentally. “I didn’t do science homework.” I groaned. Val and Nessie groaned. “Mr. Jackson is going to eat you alive.” Val said. I nodded in agreement. The poor bloke had just recently gotten divorced from a cheating wife, so he was a little unfair to the girls in class. I waved goodbye to them as I headed to my death. I cracked a smile. Oh, yeah, I thought, I’m already dead. At lunch time, I got in line and smiled. It was a good day for me, no detentions, no ISS, or tardy slips. I sighed and got my tray and put a salad, an apple, and water. I paid for it and sat down at my usual table to wait for Nessie and Val. As I was eating, my best guy friend, Byron Kilburn, AKA Cookie, sat down next to me. “What’s up, luv?” he asked, slinging his arm onto the back of my chair. I smirked at him. “Nothing.” I said. He gasped in mock surprise. “You haven’t gotten in trouble yet? What is the world coming to? Are zombies going to come rushing through the cafeteria doors?” Cookie asked wildly. I laughed. The only zombie here was probably me, or as close as you get. “Ha ha, very funny,” I joked. “So, have you gotten into trouble yet?” I asked, already knowing the answer if his smile was anything to go by. “Detention for destruction of property.” He sighed proudly. I snorted and took a sip of water. When I looked back up, Val and Nessie were just sitting down. “Did you tell him, yet?” Nessie asked. Well, gee, can anyone say mood pooper? “No.” “Told who what?” Cookie asked. I looked at him. “You have to promise not to scream, or tell anyone.” I said. “Oh, my, God! You’re pregnant! Who is it? I’ll kill him!” Byron said, his face contorted into an angry mask. I raised one brow, signaling him to calm down. “Are you pregnant?” he asked after taking a few deep breaths. “No!” Cookie let out a breath of relief. “I’m dead.” I said. He blinked and looked at all of our solemn faces around the table. And then he blinked again. “What do you mean by “dead” “he asked slowly. “Dead, as in, no heartbeat.” Nessie said. He blinked and then hugged me. Really tight. When he let go I had to suck in gulps of air. “How?” he asked quietly. “Trees.” I answered. He raised one brow. “What can I say? I’m a tree-hugger.” I said with a smirk. He sighed. “You were speeding again, weren’t you?” I nodded. “I told you, time and time again, you were going to get yourself killed.” he reprimanded me. It was my turn to blink. “Well, that went well.” Nessie yawned and bit into her sandwich. Val nodded and dug into her sloppy Joe. Cookie and I shook our heads at the same time and laughed. “I know what my goal is today!” I shouted randomly. My friends all looked at me expectantly. “I’m going to get detention.” I said. They all sighed. “How?” Val asked. I pulled out a can of spray paint. We all shared identical looks of evil. It was vandalism time!   Edward is a Creep, and Sneezing gets you detention Detention was an utter success. It took a lot, surprisingly, to get detention at Lancet High. But, at least I have detention with Cookie now. We laughed and joked together as we walked into the classroom. Some people waved at us and some said hi. As Cookie and I made our way to our regular seats, we heard the door open and close. “Hey, we’ve got fresh meat in detention!” someone shouted. Cookie chuckled and sat down. I smiled and sat down next to him. I looked to the front of the room and gasped. “What is it?” Cookie asked. “He’s… pretty?” I said, but it sounded more like a question. I mean, how often is it that you can say that a boy is pretty? “Wow, just wow.” Cookie said. I shrugged. The new boy sat in the back, by the window and put his head down. “So, what is being dead like?” Cookie asked. I turned my head back to him. “I’ve only been dead for two days, so it’s not like I know a lot. So far, I know I can’t gain weight, and I can’t be killed again. And that my parents don’t know yet.” I added quickly. “What?!” Cookie shouted. Some heads turned towards us and the others just shrugged it off, used to Cookie’s random outbursts. “What do you mean you haven’t told them?” he asked quietly, turning his head towards mine. “I mean what I said, they don’t know. Neither does Zack.” I sighed. “Why not?” “How would I tell them something like that? They would freak out!” I threw my hands into the air to emphasize what I said. Cookie groaned and flipped his blue hair back. “You have to tell them sooner or later. If you don’t, who knows how they’ll take it.” “Blah, blah, blah. Yes, Mother.” I whispered to him. I looked back at the new kid and found him staring at me. Weirdo, I just had Twilight moment. He was staring at me like Edward. Gosh, I hate that guy. “Creepy alert!” someone yelled. We all turned around and put our heads down as soon as Mr. Creepy, the detention teacher, walked in. He sat at his black desk and pulled out his navy blue laptop. “You will get suspended if I see you talking, if I hear you even sneeze, you will get another detention.” He instructed stiffly. We all knew not to get on Mr.Creepy’s bad side, even Cookie and I. We sat quietly, trying at least, because we kept looking at each other and giggling silently. We all jumped when the bell rang. I looked back at the new kid before I rushed out the door and found him staring at me. Again. I stuck my tongue out at him to show the bloke how much I disliked that. He chuckled and got up. And then Cookie grabbed my arm and led me to my next class. Ah, my life -dead life- was great. There were only 4 more days until Prom. It was decided that Cookie and I would go together, Nessie would go with one of her boy toys (the poor bloke would get his hopes up and get them crushed), and Val would go with our other not-so-close-with friend, Erik Shelton. My day was getting worse and worse. Sabela came over, gushing that she couldn’t find the right dress, so my mother sent me with her to go get a dress, and one for myself, also. So, here I was, sitting in a chair, watching Sabela try on a dozen different dresses. “How about this one?” she asked, strutting around in a bright pink dress that had miles of lace one it. I shook my head. The next thing I know, a dress is hanging in front of my face. I look up and find a saleswoman holding a dress for me. “Try this one.” She said to me. I shook my head. But, jeesh, the woman wouldn’t take no for answer. Just short of throwing me into a changing room, she got me go try the dress on. It was actually pretty. It was black, came just above the knees, and had a racer back strap. And it had one silver bow around the waist. I tried it on and it was like it was made for me. I walked out and didn’t see the woman anywhere. Sabela came out of a room next to me and gasped. “What?” I asked, looking around. “You look… amazing!” she said. I gave her small smile and did a double take. Sabela was wearing a light peach colored dress and had a little lace running up the front. “I think you found the right dress.” I said. She smiled and clapped. The dim-witted twat… As I continued to look for the saleswoman, we bought the dresses and left. “Hey, did you see a saleswoman in there?” I asked as we walked to my car. “No, why?” she said. I shook my head and began the drive back to my house.  Steak is for awesome people After my mum thoroughly freaked out over the dresses and made appointments for us at some top notch salon, I was able to leave the room and go upstairs. When I got there, I called Nessie and Val. “What’s up, chick?” Val said. “Guess what happened at a store I went to?” I said. “What?” asked Nessie. “So, I was helping Sabela pick out a dress-“ “Ew!” Nessie interrupted. “And this woman just came up to me with a dress, but when I went to look for her, she was gone. I asked for her, but no one knew what I was talking about.” I explained. I heard Val gasp. “Seriously?” she asked quietly. I nodded and then noticed she wouldn’t be able to see it. “Yeah.” I sighed. “That’s something creepy.” Nessie said. “So, who are you going with, Nessie? Were you able to choose one of your boy toys?” I asked after a while. I heard her chuckle. “Maybe.” Val and I sighed in unison. Nessie was incorrigible. Val and Nessie were like opposites when it came to their looks. Val was a tall blond and glittering baby blues, while Nessie was medium height with long brown hair and eyes as black as coal. I was the shortest of the three, with long black hair and grey eyes. Though I was the shortest, I was the most violent. Val was the romantic one, and Nessie was the brains. This was why we were friends in the first place. Nessie kept me from killing Val, I kept Val from going out with every living bloke, and Val kept Nessie from being nonsocial. We balanced each other out. Most times. “Rule 2: Meat is the ultimate way to go.” Nessie sighed into the phone, using one of our rules for life. Meaning that it was time to out together. “Yes, I agree. I could use a steak right about now.” I added. Val sniffed. Did I mention that she was a vegetarian. Nessie and I snickered. “Are we skating to the usual place?” Val asked, in a bad mood because we were about to eat meat. I nodded and noticed she couldn’t see it. “Yeah, see you in five.” I said, and then hung up. I refreshed my make up a bit and picked up my skate board and left the house. Mmm…steak. King's Army It was Prom day. At school, gossip was at its highest, bullying at its lowest. Everyone was hyped up, even the lunch ladies, who were usually grumpy, were laughing and talking. It was creepy. I sat down gingerly and looked around, completely creeped out. Val and Nessie appeared a minute later. “Does anyone else feel… creeped out?” I asked. They both nodded. “I’m a bit disturbed, to tell the truth.” Nessie frowned. As they started a conversation, I thought about the boy from detention. I haven’t seen him anywhere… As if he could read my mind, there he was. Val and Nessie jumped a bit. I looked up at him and blinked when he didn’t say anything. “Can I talk to you for moment?” He asked, a faint accent lining his words. I frowned, but nodded. He held out a hand and I took it. We headed outside next to my favorite tree. It was big enough to hide me from view of the lunchroom, but I could still see them. He sat down and pulled me next to him. “I know what you are.” He stated. I blinked. Again. And again. I nodded slowly for him to continue. He cleared his throat before going on. “Well, you’re dead. And so am I. The king sent me here to tell you why.” He explained. I swallowed before talking. “Why?” he knew what I meant. “Some people are meant to be… more. You, you’re Resilient, a Feeder, if you will.” he explained. “What are you?” I asked. “I’m a Pyro, fire’s my thing.” He said, smirking a bit. “Who is the king?” “King Antonio is the king of the Hollow, where most of us reside.” He stated. “What’s a Feeder?” I asked, frowning again. “A Feeder is a person who can collect energy, natural or from someone else, and make it into power. If you feed off of someone else’s energy, you can also get their power for a while. So, if you took power from me, you would be able to use fire the same way I do. But, only for a little while. Most Feeders are dead now, though.” He shrugged as if it was the most natural thing to say. I raised both eye brows. “Why?” “The power overwhelms them, most times. They either go crazy, dyong from to much power intake.” He said. I smiled cynically. “No, pressure, I guess.” I said. He nodded. “My name’s Sebastian, by the way. Here,” he held his hand out to me. “Put it on. When your power awakens, this will help you control it until you can.” He gave me a small chain with a small asteria stone on it. I looked up to say thank you, but he was already gone. Well, at least I knew what I was. And I get powers? Wicked… After I went back inside, Nessie, Val, and Cookie immediately turned towards me and stared. “Spill.” With that one word, I told them what happened. “So, he did the Houdini on you?” Cookie asked after I finished. I nodded and chomped on some fries. “Wow, just wow,” Val sighed, with a dreamy look in her eyes. “How romantic.” Nessie rolled her eyes. Suddenly, "In My Life" by the Beatles started playing. I rolled my eyes. I looked at my phone and saw a text message from Zack. It read: who was that boy you were with? Do I need to kill him? I told him that he was a sort of friend, more like a tutor. I looked at my brother’s table long enough to see him nod at me. “Men,” I sighed, “are always so protective when they don’t need to be.” “Amen to that.” Nessie raised her bottle of Nestea tea in solute. Val hooted in agreement. Cookie only nodded silently. I raised an eye brow at him. “No arguments?” I asked. He shook his head. “When men choose to protect something, we can’t help but stay protecting that certain thing. We can’t help it. Men are programmed to focus on one thing at a time.” He said. I kept one brow raised, but nodded. “So, are we ready for prom?” Nessie asked after a pause of silence. Cookie and I nodded at the same time, Val winked, and Nessie sighed. “Good. Hey, Psyche? Are we still meeting at your place?” she added. I nodded. “Psyche!” someone yelled. “Yo,” I said without turning around. “Sebastian told me to give this to you.” The voice said. I turned around and looked at the girl behind me. She handed me a cloth wrapped package the size of my fist. I opened it once she left. I gasped and felt my eye widen. “What is it?” Cookie asked. Inside was a small tiara with black diamonds. I showed it to them and they gasped, too. “Who’s ready for the perfect Prom?” I asked excitedly. They all yelled, “We are!”, and waved their arms in the air. Psh, weirdoes.   Creepy Next Level Ding dong… And they were here. I ran downstairs, careful not to trip in the three inch heels, and opened the door. I heard four gasps when I did. Mine, Nessie’s, Val’s, and Cookie’s. Well, wouldn’t we make a fine splash at the Prom… “You.Look.Gorgeous, luv.” Cookie said, ask he walked through the door to give me a hug. Nessie and Val said the same things. Val was wearing a dark grey Twist prom dress, and Nessie, being the simple girl she is, wore a simple silver toga-styled dress, but she looked positively amazing. Cookie wore a simple black tux with a silver bow tie and a black rose corsage. He handed me one as well. I smiled and winked at him. “Are we ready?” I asked, after I greeted the others dates. They nodded and then, we were off. When I parked outside the school gym, I admitted to myself that I was actually nervous. Why? I had no idea… But anyway, we all got out and started sashaying- well, Val did- towards the gym entrance which was lit up and colored like cotton candy. Once we entered, it got all quiet and creepy-like. I shivered. “Creepy on the next level.” Cookie whispered in my ear. I nodded. Once the crowd had its eye full of us in our… out of place… attire, we swiftly found a table suitable for all of us to fit. “Ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the Prom.” the principal, Zahia, announced on stage. Hoots, yells, an whistles came all over the room. "Come on, let's show them a Prom they will never forget." I said. 2 Years Later... “Are you still thinking about the last night of your life?” Victor asked. I looked away from the sunset to look at him. “No. I’m thinking about how much I hate you.” I spat. The bloke had the audacity to laugh. “Oh, luv, when are you going to admit you belong to me?” he asked softly. “When hell freezes over.” "That might come sooner than you think..." he said ominously. I gave him a look and he gave a belly laugh. "A feisty one you are." he commented. I snorted and shook my head. "Do you remember the day I Turned you?" he asked, stroking my hair. I frowned, slapping his hand away. His words had brought up old memories... Two Years Earlier: I was dying. Some crazy vampire had dropped on me when I was walking home. Cookie had just pulled off when he came upon me. He was like a rabid dog. Most vamps would make two neat holes, but this guy, he was playing tug-a-war with my collar bone at the moment. When he was done, the world was graying in and out. He licked his lips and then wiped his mouth. "You tasted delicious, Feeder. Too bad you haven't Transformed yet, or you would have still been alive." he said, tilting his head to look down at me. "I'll finish you off, so you won't have to deal with this horrible pain." he said, his finger trailing down my cheek. I closed my eyes, hoping that I would pass out before his lips touched me again. I felt nothing but cool air for 2 minutes. I cracked my eyes open to see the vampire running away from a man in a dark trench coat. "So, you're a Feeder? Interesting..." the man said as he turned to me. I felt a rush of desire when I saw he face. He had short brown hair and grey eyes, full sinful looking lips, and a strong chin. His grey eyes had a silvery tint as he looked at me. "Do you want to live?" he asked. I resisted the urge roll my eyes at the absurd question and nodded instead. He muttered some words and I felt a tingling sensation in my collar bone and looked down with wide eyes. I stared in awe as my bones knitted themselves together. "How?" I asked. He chuckled as he helped me up. I shivered as my bare skin met his ( a couple days later, I learned what his power was and I was thoroughly pissed off.) "I just helped you along with your Turning. It should happen tonight or tomorrow. But, since I saved your life, I expect you to join my horde." he said. I frowned and narrowed my eyes. I don't like people when they expect things from me... "I don't even know your name." I said. He gave a cocky smile. I again resisted an urge. But, this urge was to punch him in that pretty face of his. "Victor. And yours?" he asked as we started walking out of the alley Publication Date: July 4th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-raerae22

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-shaniya-h-hate-vs-love/

shaniya.h. hate vs love i'v been in love have u i miss having a amir in my life Text: i miss loving Images: girl loes boy Editing: this book involv me and my friend amir Translation: love All rights reserved. Publication Date: March 29th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-shaniya.0

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-xicano-sol-hey-dj/

Xicano Sol Hey DJ Joteria Chronicles #1314 He was HIV Positive and reports were coming in that he was having unprotected sex with the youth participants. He was hired as the HIV Prevention Coordinator for Youth Services. By night, he was a DJ and the young guys seemed to flock around him because he could get them into the 21 & over clubs without an ID. He kept a close eye on the ones he found most attractive. They would be the ones to have special access to all the alcohol and he in turn would have access to their bodies. Eventually one youth shared their story with another and others began to share their own stories. The information made its way to their families and he decided to quit his job before he got fired. I would be hired to replace him. I was instructed to repair the damage done and implement effective programs at reducing HIV in the community. I began to embark on what would turn out to be one of the greatest challenges in my career. Publication Date: January 12th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-xicano.sol

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-breosha-foster-the-monster-in-me/

Breosha Foster The Monster In Me 1 YOU KNOW HOW SOME PEOPLE ARE HAPPY INSIDE AND OUT SOME MAD . BUT I,M HAPPY ON THE OUT AND VERY MAD ON THE INSIED.HI I,M JO MAY. I AM 15 YEARS OLD, I WAS RAISED IN WOODRUFF SOUTH CAROLINA. I HAVE HAD ONE OF THE WORST LIVES EVER. I’VE BEEN BEAT, AND TOSSED FROM FOSTER HOME TO FOSTER HOME. AND I WAS ADOPTED JUST A MONTH AGO.I HAVE A BIG HOUSE, MY OWN ROOM. BUT IM STILL NOT HAPPY. Publication Date: August 7th 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-brebre1230

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-deanne-macri-the-beginning/

Deanne Macri The Beginning PART 1 Dedicated to my best friend, Zoe Broken-Hearted I slammed the car door shut, angry at my father for dragging me to this dump. "Now, now, darling, don't be so mad." My grandmother was saying as she scurried around through her purse. I calmed myself down, I didn't want my grandmother to see me like this. I had never met her. "I know you are angry, but please don't be mad at your father." I nodded with agreement, the truth is I am mad at my father for leaving me, I am mad for him growing up here, but then again, this is where my parents fell in love. "Theresa, I'll be in the store for a bit, here is twenty dollars. Stay in this area."Her grandmother was a bit odd. She had brown hair that had identified the same hair color as Theresa's. "Fine. I'll be at the coffee shop." Theresa replied, and she had begun to cross the street. With Theresa not sleeping at night, she is desperate to stay awake. I opened the glass door, hearing a bell ring once above me, stomping on the mat to get the snow off. And that is when I had seen him. All of a sudden, in the background, it had gently started to snow. That is when the song: End of All Time by Stars of Track and Field had ended and Echo by Jason Walker had started in the distant of the background. It was one moment. That I just disappeared with him by his eyes. There he was, across the room from me. And here I am. My eyes caught the glisp of him. His did the same as mine did. It felt like we gazed each other for a long time in such short amount of time—everything was in slow motion. I stared with great wonder, while he was covered with immense mystery that couldn't be explain. One moment that I couldn't escape. We, both, had suddenly looked away. But I couldn't help but to wonder and stare, he was just so.. so. . . so mysterious. Forget it. It'll never happen. A voice popped in my head, negative enegry. I knew I was right. "May I help you?" asked the young man who's currently sighing with frustration, whom looked about Theresa's age. He has this chesnut hair that is buzz-cut, has a pierced ear in his left, this dark stormy dashing blue eyes, himself was just charming, tan skin, masculine. "I-I'll have H-Hot Chocolate."Theresa stuttered through her words, trying to think; her mind was blank but it was so cluttered up. "Alright then."The young man replied. What the Hell is this town? Theresa thought acutely. Theresa choose to sit the one by the window, to take the exquisite landscape in and reverie deeply. She didn't know how long she was out or whatever she was daydreaming about. "Hello?"That young boy from the counter earlier had called out, giving Theresa a little shake. "S-sorry. Sorry."Theresa muttered sheepishly, feeling the blood rushing to her cheeks; making it bright rosey red color, "thank you." And that was it. His fingers accidently touched her and Theresa felt a rush of feelings. Feelings that she couldn't explain. Words were lost and it felt like as if her throat was ripped out and she couldn't speak. "Here you go." He said, gazing into her eyes. "Thanks?"She replied, feeling a bit brainwashed. Then she looked over behind herself, seeing that boy she first had seen when she first entered the shop. December 1st Dear Diary, Today I finally went to this so-called town that my parents fell in love. Sounds cheesy to you probably but who cares? This town is a freak. It's so crazy; my parents were born here, they grew up, fell in love, had me--yes, me. I was born HERE. I miss my father terriblely. He raised me. Anyway, to be honest, I only have a diary since I have no one, sure my grandmother but I don't know I can just tell her things; my secrets. It's snowing--oh so, gently. It's so beautiful. I saw this boy--two of them, in fact. They're a bit odd of course but then again, THIS whole town is. But one of them, the first one I saw--he has this. . . way. Something I can't explain. He has this soft creamy brown eyes and tanned skin. His hair is buzzed-cut is golden with dark brown that's also light brown. I dunno, it doesn't even matter. The second boy, he works in the coffee shop. He seems the tough boy, like he'll be a bully. He's mean or. . . or... or I dunno; a jerk. Evil. Heartless. A Rebel. He's beautiful, but is he on the inside? His body is like an artwork form. Very charming, him. His eyes says something about himself, like the other boy. But it's hard to figure it out. Figure HIM out. The second boy, as I was saying, his eyes. . . they're blue. But not that kind of blue. It's like an ocean on a stormy day. Stormy blue. I should've looked at the nametag of his. It doesn't even matter... "Writing about me?"The young lad came back with a coffee filled cup to refill for people with empty cups while he chuckles, smirking. "E-excuse me?"Theresa asked while she suddenly looked at his nametag. DEVON "Are you new here?"He asked, helping himself to sit down. "Yeah--yes. Just moved here."Theresa replied, closing her diary. "Cool. I'll see you later."He got up and gone. Weird. I looked back behind me. Seeing him pouring the silky coffee into a cup, hearing a bell jingle. I looked over. I see this girl who has golden hair in the front but a dirty ash blond in the back, I could tell that her regular average skin color was pale but her face was red, she has blue eyes that is enough light to bring back light, hope, love, and faifth to bring anything back. She's hanging up her winter coat that is orange with creamy beige fuzzy fake fur on the hood. She unwraps her scarf from around her neck, this scarf was neatly well knitted; bunches of exploding warm colors: violet, yellow, brown, pink, orange, blue, tan, gray, and a few others. She's wearing brown boots dark skinney jeans, and a baby pink and white shirt that is transparent, knitted, and shows her back, but she is wearing a hot pink tank top, a key necklace that has little tiny diamonds on it, and hooped silver earings. "Hey Macy." Devon greeted. Theresa, being nibby as she is, had overheard other people conversations. I looked over, seeing that girl putting on a brown apron, tying it behind her back, Macy, I had heard, replied, "Hey. How's life?" "Just this old town, maybe a few things or people had made a change."Devon answered. I notice I overhear a lot of people. Yeah, according to Kayla, Abby loves Freddie. After I was finished writing and drinking my Hot Chocolate, I stayed there for a while, just sitting, waiting. I gave my money to Macy, she also looked about my age. I left, looking back one last time, as if I were taking a mental pictue of him, Devon, who currently looked back at me but he had quickly looked away. A girl come over, sitting herself down, "Hello." She had said, she had blond hair that shone like the sun, dull blue eyes. "I'm Chloe. What's your name?" She smirked, like she had something planned. "T-Theresa."I stuttered, confused. "Cool. I noticed you're new here. You might wanna know lil'bit 'bout this town, don't you?" There it was again: that devious smile of this stranger's. "Sure, why not?" I replied. "Good. This town is a freak show. You might as well get used to that. Weird, here, is normal in this town. If you don't like it, get the Hell outta here then--before you're stuck here forever." Then she giggled so evil. She got up and left. The bell above the door rung as the door opened and closed. Just like that. Crazy Thing Called 'Wonder' After waiting moments for her grandmother to be finished with her errands, which Theresa had spent all of her time in the coffee shop, the grandmother finally came out. "Finally! What took you so long?"Theresa asked, full of curiosity. "Ah, just been here and there."The grandmother replied, leaving trails of mysteries behind. I sat in my room, the heater silently warms the room up, staring at the wall, then something pops inside me, it sounded like him. Sounded like he had said to me, no his soul-- "For I am only Human, I can't deny the love, I am not perfect, nor heartless, I want to feel: remorse, love, happiness, loved, special, anything at all, anything that makes me Human. . ." Gasping with startleness, and finding herself insane. She quickly picks up her pen and scribbles rapidly jots this down on a little notepad that was in her drawer. She laid herself back down, just thinking. Thinking. She emotionlessly picks up her diary, already writing, Dear Diary, Thinking of my past. . . Thinking of him. They both were just magnifacant. Especially that Devon guy. He was just beautiful, he left me speechless and inspired. Everything about him. . just makes me wanna shudder, Devon, himself gets chills running up my spine. I know, I know, it sounds cheesy like it just came out of a romantic book that every girl dream of, knowing that'll never happen, like I'll be out in the rain, kissing a boy in the middle of the road. It's so weird. This place. It reminds me of my father's house that he had built when I was seven but never got to finish it for some reason. The only house I see is maybe about less than twenty-four yards or so away from me, now that place is creepier. I could see the window that matches perfectly along with mine. I better go to sleep. It's almost going onto Midnight and I'm tired, even if I can't stop writing or thinking about him I fell asleep easily and peacefully, until a dream pops up in my head. A black figure of a man, just walking. Not walking, no no, running through a dark alley that was thinned out by buildings that surrond it. His strong hang grazing oh so gently against the rummaged bricks that slowly crumbles at the touch of him. Him. An unknown person. Him. Him. Him. Hearing distant and vivid words that slowly fades out and blurs. It wasn't him, Devon, the coffee shop boy, it wasn't the boy in the coffee shop. It was someone else. Someone, different. Someone. But who? Lost I woke up, startled, scared with by the mystery within. I look outside, only to find the exquisite, a beautiful sweet haunting tree and house and snow. Then I saw a boy, short, indeed. He was wearing, I could tell, a black hoodie, all black: black boots, hoodie, gloves, maybe even socks, shirt, and underwear! To my dismay, I put on this dark green cloak, I put on my black boots, sneaking out. I try my hardest not to alarm anyone but I felt like I had to go out there. Running out the door was the easiest thing to do. It felt as if that it was the weight on my chest and shoulders, my eyes, squiting, looking for him. The Full Moon is lit, leaving the pure white snow in glitters, the snow falling down gently, seeing him. I ran. I chased him as if I was the cat and he was the mouse. I chased him into the woods. Jumping and dodging out for the trees, keeping a look out for anything. Anything that was a danger. A threat to me. When I have noticed that there was nothing, nothing to chase. No-one to chase, see in sight. Was there even anyone? Yes. Yes! I know what I saw. I sweep the snow off a rock, brushing it off lightly with the tipof my fingers. I plump down, tired. I shivered, feeling myself going pale, my eyes drooping low. Laying my head on my hands, I felt a person pick me up. I didn't know who it was. I was too tired to care, but I was trying to say--as I fall dangerously asleep, "Who-who's there?" My vision slowly blurred out with immense darkness. That's when everything went black. Publication Date: November 17th 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-deemacs06

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-alicia-duncan-some-secrets-come-back-to-haunt-you/

Alicia Duncan Some Secrets Come Back To Haunt You... Don't You Think To All the Strong Friendships Arguments  Have you ever kept a secret from your friends and family? Didn’t you just wish it will just disapear from your brain. Did you have friends that loved you, but also hated you at the same time.      Haper.L.Worthful is a crazy, do what she wants kind fo girl. She likes fashion ,boys,the color purple, and anything that doesn’t have rules. Alice.I.Marzo is a bookworm , she loves knowlegde nothing can pass her, aleast amost anything. Emily.E.Yarnover is a shy , beatiful, creative person. Even though she doesn’t excatly show that she is a creative person but, I guess its because she so shy. Last and not perfect, me Ashley.S.Duncan but enough about me. Haper,Alice,Ashley,Emily are my BEST friends forever.       Stop fighting! Ashley and Emily were at it again with their usaual agruments. Alice “ Why don’t you fight the right way.” Ashley and Emily looked at each other and then and Haper and both said “Fight the right way? “Yes, fight the right way, by having a rap battle stupid heads.” “Rap battle!” said Haper as loud as she can. Emily then said “Im good with a rap battle” Ashley simled at Emily and said “Its good with me to.” Haper Grabed emily and put her on the left side of Alice’s room and said “ You’re here.” Haper grabed Ashley and put her on the left side of Alice’s room. Alice and Haper sat on the bed and counted down from 5, 5,4,3,2,1 Round One! “ Ashley you go first said the rap battle judges Haper and Alice. “Ok.” “Well, well, well.   What do we have hear ,A bum ass Emily who’s on welfare My raps so sick they leave scars, but for you they leave tears Stop cutting yourself, because nobody cares Damn look at ya hairy ass legs let me introduce them to some Neer.Alice tapping her wrist a sign that her time is up. Publication Date: April 7th 2013 https://www.bookrix.com/-ph0626ba9f26415

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-coralee-dwyer-me-tragedy-lookout/

Coralee Dwyer [Me] Tragedy lookout Thank you for all my friends who told me to try and pursue my dream of being a author for short stories. This is for you guys! (c) This is copywrited by coraleedwyer. It was my fifth birthday, Australian time of course. It was on my way back from Mount Coot-tha, Brisbane. You see, we were up there for a holiday and to celebrate my special birthday..It wasn't really special, it was just my first year away from my true blood brother. When he was young he had a small tumor in his brain, the doctors had said; it grew bigger. During time, it grew and grew and he had to be hospitalized. He was still in hospital, but we were slowly losing him to god, or the devil himself; highly doubt that though. So, this year they tried to make it the best birthday ever. But first off, let me introduce who I am first. My name is Conswayla Jolie. I am pure Australian, one hundred percent and I am the only daughter of Marie Jolie and Paul Jolie. Let's start from the beginning shall we? Driving along the road, my parental guardians singing show tunes while I just stare out the window, watching the world go by. It's my fifth birthday..Hooray...Celebrate..Whatever. MY mama and papa, are all acting like it's some type of Joke. It's not a joke. Max was in the hospital, and they think I should "have fun" on my special day...Special days are weddings, not a fifth birthday. We had just come back from Movie world and took a drive up to Mount Coot-tha for a view of Brisbane all the way out to Morten Bay. But it went all wrong. It happened when we were driving up the hill, to the peak of it. But our tyre's slipped on the gravel, and we had no extra room to pull ourselves up from the fall. So as the tyre slipped from the side of the mountain, the car followed. Tumbling down the rock hill as tree's scratched the car, rocks hit into it. The sound of glass shattering and screams from the people inside the car. Me, my parents and I. Publication Date: January 31st 2010 https://www.bookrix.com/-uniquerite2323

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-crazykoolaidwriter-i-039-ll-never-kiss-and-tell/

Crazykoolaidwriter I'll Never Kiss and Tell The Secrets of Romance I'll Never Leave Diana I waited until i heard the soft click that meant my parents had gone to bed, and i grabbed my jacket and threw it over my shoulders. I quietly slid the window open, and i climbed out and jumped down onto the trampoline and hopped down to the ground. I ran to the woods, and i saw the candle. I smiled and ran toward it, and i saw Travis walk forward. I wrapped my arms around him, and he hugged me and said, "Diana, what took you so long?" I kissed his cheek and said, "my parents took longer to go to bed tonight. You're shivering." I wrapped my jacket around his shaking shoulders, and he said, "I thought you had changed your mind about me and decided not to come." I shook my head and said, "I told you that i would never leave you as long as you loved me." He softly kissed my forehead, and i heard a branch break. I whirled around, and i saw a group of men come through the bushes. I scrambled back, and one of them said, ''Travis, get away from that witch!" I backed away to a tree, and Travis said, "Dad, I love her!" I started to shake, and Travis's dad said, "her kind are not welcome among our kind! I will not have my son fall to your spells, witch!'' I saw them come toward me, and i slumped to the ground and let them grab my arms. I was yanked to my feet, and Travis lunged forward and yelled my name. He was blocked, and I was gagged and tied. I'll Never Forget Diana I was thrown into the back of a car, and i watched as the door shut. A tear ran down my face, and the car started up. I heard Travis shouting, and the sound got further and further away. The car suddenly stopped, and the door opened. I was dragged out by Travis's dad, and he pulled me to a wooden cross. I stayed silent as i was tied to it, and branches were piled under me as the gag was removed from my mouth. I looked at the crowd that had gathered, and the branches were set on fire. I stared at the crowd, and i said, "my kind never hurts humans. You are all killers." My voice was deadly calm, and a woman stepped forward and said, "you are a witch! My son died at that hand of witches, and i will not have any more people die!" I felt the flames lick up my legs, and i heard someone yell my name. I saw Travis running toward me, and he poured water on the flames and untied me. I'll Never Kiss and Tell Diana I slumped against him as he lifted me off of the cross, and he laid me down on the ground and said, "you shouldn't have let them take you." I gently caressed his cheek, and i whispered, "Travis, there is no chance for peace. I can't be with you." He gently grabbed my hand, and he leaned down and said, ''I'll never kiss and tell." He pressed his lips to mine, and i kissed him back. I felt his lisp part, and then he pulled away and was thrown off of me. A man stood above me, and he pulled out a knife and sank it into my heart. I coughed up a spurt of blood, and Travis cried out, ''Diana, get out of here!" I felt blood seep into the earth, and i closed my eyes and said, "I'll never kiss and tell." Then i sank into the arms of death and passed on to the Afterlife to wait for my love. The Beginning Diana My death marked a new anger for the rest of the Witches and Wizards. They began rebelling, and it started a war: humans against magic users. I watched as those i love died for my mistake, and the final line was when Travis was killed by my parents. We watched over the war from death, and i finally decided enough was enough. Text: Crazykoolaidwriter Images: Crazykoolaidwriter Editing: Crazykoolaidwriter Translation: Crazykoolaidwriter All rights reserved. Publication Date: November 24th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-crazykoolaidwriter

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-r-l-galluzzo-the-diary-of-patricia-delansae-1804/

R.L. Galluzzo The Diary of Patricia DeLansae 1804 A tragic story of loss, abandonment, and reunitment Thanks J.A. Acero February 26, 1804 Today Ma had a baby boy, Micheal DeLansae. He is a very beautiful baby. Ma said he is more precious than the girls, I suppose that is because he is smaller than them. I have four brothers,(not including Micheal) Christopher, Joseph, Tyler, and Anthony. I also have seven sisters, Louise, Elliot, Josephine, Bethany, Katherine, Heather, and Isabel. All together we are Pa, Ma, Anthony, Josephine, Elliot, Isabel, Tyler, Katherine, Joseph, Patricia(me), Christopher, Bethany, Heather, Louise, and Micheal. Big family huh? Because of my big family we are all home schooled. February 29, 1804 Micheal is now three days old. He is very healthy and we are very lucky to have him. Pa told me that his youngest brother died of the measles when he was just a couple days old because nobody bothered to wash their hands when they touched him. I don't know why he told me that, probably so I will be more careful and protective of Micheal. Today me, Christopher, Katherine, Bethany, and Joseph are going hunting. I am very nervous since this is my first time. Pa said to get as much kill as we can. He said we are saving up for the harsh winter, kind of like squirrels or bears. When I told him winter had past, he got this very stern look on his face and said to go do my chores. Pa has never used that look before, at least, not with me. I knew something was going on but I was too afraid to ask. February 29, 1804 (later in the day) Hunting was great! Other than the fact that a pack of four wolves were following us, was awesome. We got two of the wolves and left traps for the other ones. When we came back Pa was so proud he said we get to pick what we are eating for dinner tonight. I don't know why but we agreed to rabbit stew with wolf legs. I am just going to eat rabbit stew because I know that Anthony, Elliot, and Josephine have been dying to eat wolf for months. I have to go finish my chores now. The cows aren't going to milk themselves. March 5, 1804 Yay! Today I turn 13! Well, actually me and Joseph turn 13. Pa says when it's one of our birthdays we only have to do three chores, AND we get to pick them. I am going to tell Pa that I want to milk the cows, vaccum the house, and hunt. Better go before Joseph takes my jobs. Well, Joseph took one job of mine, vaccuming the house, we both were picked to hunt, I milked the cows, and instead of vaccuming the house , I planted seeds. Today was fun, after our three chores, me and Joseph wandered in the woods setting our own traps. Until Pa sent Anthony, and Josephine to come looking for us 'cause Pa had some very big news. March 6, 1804 I am fuming! After I turn 13 Pa gives me the worst news ever!! Pa said that we are moving. Why would we do that? I mean, Micheal isn't even a year old. Anyway we are taking a wagon. I hate wagons. When everything is packed up, there's no room inside for you to sit. Our house is perfectly fine. Everyone has their own room, Even Micheal and, like I said, he's not even a year old! May 13, 1804 Sorry I haven't been writing for a while, I'm just so depressed. OK. I'll tell you the story. So there I am, setting the table for dinner when I hear a shriek. My Ma is laying down face front on the floor, Pa's fist was in the air, and Ma had blood on her cheek. You figure out how the story went. I'm to sad to tell it over again. I blame Pa for what happened. if he never would of raised his hands at Ma she would still be alive. Yes, that is correct, Ma died late last month. I have been so busy trying to raise enough money for the funeral I am sunburned in spring. My friends always taunt me about my poorness. Pa says that if they do that they are not real friends. I am not taking his word for it. You want to know why? When Pa married Ma, he said they would be together until the day HE died. Know look, Ma's dead and he's still living. Dear Patricia, You can't blame me for what happened. Your mother knows the anger issues I have when it comes to money. I didn't even know you were to sad to write down the words Internal bleeding, as apposed to how she died. Sorry about that. You know how bad I am with words. And, about that day when I told you to ' Just go and do your chores'? We were really saving food for our move. It's almost a six month trip. Half a year. We won't stay here because there's no life for us here. We might have the best house in town but were so poor we're sending our 13 year old children hunting while I work on the farm all day, and Ma tends to the baby and cleans the house with you. Face it, Patricia, we need a better life, and you know it. May 14, 1804 I am fuming,...again.The fact that my father thinks he can just waltz in my room without me even knowing, Take my diary, read all of it, and even write a letter addressed to me like we're miles away from each other. He thinks after what he did to Ma, we're still moving. Well he can forget about that! If he tries to get me on that wagon I will jump off when he isn't looking. Take that you diary knapping, Mama killing, letter writing,... THIEF!!! And on top of all that he thinks I'M going to apologize? Well, he's got another thing coming! Pa killed Ma and I have to apologize. Pa says we're still moving and I have to apologize. Pa is the most self centered person I've ever met in my entire life, and trust me, I have met a lot of people. June 15, 1804 Sorry for my outburst yesterday... it's just that Pa made me so angry. We are moving starting our journey to Oregon... wish us luck. I have to go pack the last of our things in the wagon...Bye. Publication Date: December 22nd 2010 https://www.bookrix.com/-raquel5551

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-unwanted-i-039-m-sorry/

unwanted I'm sorry I really am A little nine year old boy was diagnosed with cancer a few months after his birthday. A few months after he began to get depressed. His mom and dad didn't care about what he felt or went through. His mom would say, "tell your dad to stop being lazily, he doesn't want to do anything." his father would say, "tell your mother to stop acting like my boss, i can't wait till you die." "dad why?" "so you won't have to suffer." the little boy thought i'm not suffering my father is. the doctor came in his room. the little boy wore a smile on his face when he said, "doctor am i going to die?" the doctors eyes began to water. The doctor could not find the words to tell him so he just nodded. when he was about to leave the little boy said,"doctor your going to die too right?" The doctor walked to the little boys bed and said, "yes i'm going to die to." the doctor couldn't hold back the tears. The little boy wasn't smiling anymore when he said, " but doctor am going to die before you right." the doctor nodded and walked out the room. the next day the little boy told the doctor," doctor tell my parents that i love them and i don't want them to visit me anymore." the doctor heard the pain in his voice and nodded he walked out. The little boy felt sad and lonely. The doctor ran in a said, "i'm sorry son but your parents were in a nasty car accident on the way to see you. They died instantly." The little boy began to cry. "doctor did you tell i love them, did you." the little boy was crying when he said this. "yeah son i did." the doctor was crying with the little boy. the next day the went to see the little boy when he heard deeeee. the horrible sound of his heart monitor. "oh my son. poor little boy." the doctor ran towards the bed and closed his eyes. when he opened his eyes he saw the little boys parents. "what i told your son you guys died i'm sorry." the parents just stared at the doctor and touched their son. when the doctor closed his eyes and reopened them the parents were gone. Publication Date: April 8th 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-unwanted

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-dark1995-my-hero/

dark1995 My Hero My Hero Hero of my life. “Don’t worry, I will let you be happy. I promise.” His voice. The voice of my hero. I was still a child, when he saved me from that hell house that I used to call home. When I was younger, every single day my father would beat me up and leave unconscious. There was never anyone, who would be wiling to help. It wasn’t as if I was alone, it’s just that nobody wanted me alive. My mom hated me. She said I ruined her life because I was born when she was still sixteen. My uncle only laughed when he would watch me getting beaten up. No one cared. No one wanted me in that place. It was no different in life outside of my home. School was a hell. I was tagged as the freak just because I wasn’t rich, girly or snobbish. I enjoyed little things, so little that to others they seemed completely meaningless. Teachers didn’t pay any attention to me. They treated me as trash. Whenever there would be work in pairs or groups, they would tell for me to work alone. They would even say “Hanna, you can do this on your own. It’s not like you are not used to doing things alone.” I didn’t have any friends, only small kitten, which lived under the bridge on my way home. I would go there every single day, to simply sit on the edge of the river and talk with him. I didn’t care that he couldn’t understand me, I only needed somebody to hear me out. Somebody, to who I could tell how much I was hurting, how much I wanted somebody to love me. I would go there every day, but I would remember 1th January the most. It was the day when I met him. When I met my hero. “Are you okay?” He wasn’t that much older than me, it looked like he was in high school while I was still in my 3rd grade. He had pitch black hair, a pale face and gray but very deep eyes. He asked me, while looking at my small body, while I was holding the small kitten. I didn’t say anything back to him. I though he would simply sigh and then leave, like everybody else did…but he didn’t. He smiled at me and squatted down to be with the same eye level as me. “Little girl. Are you okay?” Your voice sounded like melody to my ears. Even so, I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how. I looked at the kitten in my arms. “HANNAH!! YOU UNGRATEFULL PEACE OF TRASH!!! WHERE ARE YOU!!!” I heard my dad’s shouts. I turned and saw him angrily walking towards me. The stranger simply stood up and walked over to my dad, but before he did that, he whispered to me… “Close your ears.” For some reason, I did as he told me to. Now that I think about it, why would I do something like that? Back then, he was still just a stranger to me. I saw him arguing with my father and them yelling at each other. My dad punched him in the face and came to me. My dad grabbed me by my wrist and dragged me with him, away from the only place where I could be at peace. That night, everything was even worse. The insults where worse. The beating was worse. The threats where worse. But the outcome was the worst. Something, I will never forget. Something that changed my life and led me to my hero. That night, I was sold. Yes, sold by my own parents, by my own father. That night, some people came to our house and gave money to my dad. Then, they simply grabbed me by my hands and took me away. I remember hearing my mom and dad yelling happily at the big amount of money that they received. All I did was smile. I was happy that at least they would be happy now. At least, they would be happy without me in their lives. That night, I was sold to somebody, who made me live in mansion, never once stepping my feet out of it. I was like caged bird. The only people I got to talk to was, the maids. I didn’t know why I was locked in that place for years, more precisely for ten years. When I was nineteen, I finally saw him once again. I finally saw my hero again. On the day of 1th January, he walked inside of my room, holding a black kitten in his arms and smiling. I didn’t know what to do at that moment. I was at bliss. The person who kept me locked away from world, was no other but my hero from long time ago. The only person, who was wiling to help me, from his own free will. “His name is Mike Welljin and from today on, he is your master.” One of the men that stood behind him said. I didn’t care that he said that, showing to me that I am just an object. I really didn’t care because at that moment, I would be wiling to do anything for him, for my hero. For person who got me out of that hell that I used call my life. *** Text: Everything was created by me. Images: Female picture used in poster doesn't belong to me. Rights to rightfull owners. All rights reserved. Publication Date: May 5th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-dark1995

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-written-by-emily-remillard-concrete-angel/

Written By Emily Remillard Concrete Angel nothing yet Text: emyrem Images: emyrem Editing: emyrem All rights reserved. Publication Date: December 17th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-emyrem

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-alexandra-rest-stops-and-bathroom-breaks/

Alexandra Rest Stops and Bathroom Breaks A never ending road trip across the east coast For My Mother Chapter One- My Life Is a Never Ending Road Trip Have you ever gone to a bathroom in the Virginia Welcome Center and seen a little Latino woman (no offense to Latinos, I love you! It's just how it happened this time) changing her little baby and the poor thing is just staring at this woman glaring at her face in the mirror and putting more makeup on because her boyfriend is waiting for her outside and there's this mother of seven smiling at her little darlings as she washes her hand and they laugh and pick their noses while your trying to dry your hands with the stupid blow dryers because all the paper towels had been used at like seven in the morning and it's now noon? No? Well, that's my life written in one very long probably run-on sentence. But I don't care! Okay, maybe I do..... My name is Beatrice. I know what you're thinking, ICK. It's okay, I think that too. My mother loves the play Much Ado About Nothing and sadly decided to curse my siblings and I with Shakespearean names. Love you mom. I go by Treasie though. Pronounced Tree and then you add a little sea. My little brother, as you might have guessed, is named Claudio (mom refused to name him Benedick because I mean, that would just be wrong considering we're related and all!) and my slightly less little sister is Margaret (she got the small straw I guess because in the play she's a servant). Together we are....losers with lame names! But it's all good because Margaret's Maggie and Claudio...well we call him Cal. It's hard to make nicknames for someone called Claudio! I mean really! Mom couldn't just call him Jacob like all the other mother out there! Well, our lives are filled with road trips. No reason really, mom just likes to drive us across the east coast for no apparent reason save the fact that she loves to look at all the different places and find inspiration to paint. Gosh, every weekend we drive somewhere and watch her paint for an hour or two, just to come back. We don't even get snow globes or little t-shirts that say I <3 Jersey! Word of advice for aspiring painters, don't have children and name them after play characters and then drive them around the east coast every weekend, it's NOT FUN. EVER!!!! Publication Date: May 1st 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-peacetothepeople

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-marissa-romero-my-stories/

Marissa Romero MY STORIES THE HAUNTED GYM IN CLIFTON ARIZONA ONE DAY A BASKETBALL COACH WAS TALKING TO HER TEAM WELL HER DAUGHTER PLAYED BASKETBALL.THEN SHE CALLED HER DAUGHTER ANGELA TO COME HERE,BUT THE LITTLE GIRL JUST TURNED AND LOOKED AT HER MOM.WHEN SHE TURNED AND LOOKED AT HER MOM THE BALL ROLLED DOWN A STAIRCASE. ANGELA SKIPPED DOWN THE STAIRS TO GO GET THE BALL.AT THE BOTTOM OF THE STAIRSCASE SHE REALIZED THAT IT WAS A OLD LIBARY.ANGELA WALKED HERE AND THERE TRYING TO FIND THE BALL. FINALLY SHE FOUND THE BALL,IT WAS IN FRONT OF A BOOKCASE.WHEN SHE WENT AND PICKED UP THE BALL THE BOOKCASE FELL ON TO OF HER.AFTER ABOUT 10 MINUTES HER MOM STARTED CALLING HER NAME AGAIN AND AGAIN,BUT SHE NEVER CAME.SO HER MOM CALLED THE COPS TO COME AND LOOK FOR HER .HER MOM THOT THAT SHE MIGHT HAVE GONE UP STAIRS SO SHE WENT TO LOOK,BUT SHE WAN'T UP THERE.ONE OF THE COPS CALLED ANGELA'S MOM TO COME DOWN STAIRS.SHE SAID,''WHAT IS IT?DID YOU FIND MY DAUGHTER!''THE COPS SAID,''NO,BUT I THINK I KNOW WHERE TO FIND HER.''SHE CAME RUNNING DOWN THE STAIRS TO THE COPS STANDING NEXT TO A DOOR. THEY WENT DOWN THE STAIRS AND HER MOM SAW A LITTLE HAND STIKING OUT FROM UNDER THE BOOKCASE.SHE SCREAMED.THE COPS WENT TO SEE WHAT HAPPENED,THATS WHEN THEY SAW THE HAND.THEY PULLED ON HER ARM HOPING THAT THEY WOULD PULL OUT HER WHOLE BODY,BUT THEY ENDED UP JUST RIPPING HER ARM OFF.HER MOM SCREAMED.WHEN THEY LIFTED THE BOOKCASE THEY REALIZED THAT THE BOOKCASE HAD SQUISHED HER WHOLE BODY.THEY BARRIED HER IN A OLD CEMATARY. SOME PEOPLE SAY SHE HAUNTS THE OLD CLIFTON GYM.SO WHAT EVER YOU DO DON'T GO IN THE OLD CLIFTON GYM OR YOU'LL NEVER COME OUT.PEOPLE SAY IF YOU DO GO AT 8 AT NIGHT THAT THEY NEVER COME OUT.LEDGEN HAS IT THAT IF YOU DO GO IN AND THAT IF YOU PAY REALLY CLOSE ATTENTION TO WHAT YOUR LOOKING AT THAT YOU'LL SEE THE LITTLE GIRL PLAYING BASKETBALL.IF SHE ASKS YOU TO PLAY SAY NO,BUT IF YOU DO SAY YES THEN YOU'LL JOIN HER IN YOUR OWN PESENAL HELL. BLIND DATE ZARIA DRESSED IN A RED TUBTOP SHRIT AND BLACK SHORTS WAS OFF TO MEET HER BLIND DATE CHRIS AT THE ''WEB''.WHEN SHE GOT THERE SHE SAW CHRIS WITH A LITTLE SIGN SAYING ''ZARIA'' WELL SITTING AT THEIR TABLE.WHEN SHE SAT DOWN CHRIS WAS THE FIRST ONE TO SAY ''HELLO''.THEN ZARIA SAID''SUP,''ZARIA JUST HAPPEN TO NOTICE THAT CHRIS LOOKED AT HER KINDA WEIRD WHEN SHE SAID SUP.ZARIA GOT LOST IN CHRIS'S DREAMEY BROWN EYES A COUPLE OF TIME WHEN HE WAS TALKING TO HER. WHEN THEY WERE EATING CHRIS WAS STAREING AT ZARIA AND ENDED UP DROPPING HIS BLOODSODA ALL OVER HIS LAP.HE JUMPED UP IN SUPRISE.ZARIA SAID,''MAYBE WE SHOULD GO.ATLEAST SO YOU CAN CHANGE.''CHRIS SAID,''YA LETS GO.''WHEN THEY GOT IN CHRIS'S CAR ZARIA REALIZED THAT IT SMELT LIKE HIS COLOGNE.WHEN THEY GOT TO CHRIS'S HOUSE AFTER HE CHANGE,THEN HE TOLD ZARIA HOW EMBARSSED HE WAS.ZARIA SAID,''ITS ALL RIGHT THIS IS THE BEST DATE I'VE EVER BIN ON.AFTER CHRIS APOLOGIZED HE ASKED ZARIA IF SHE WOULD LIKE TO GO FOR A WALK ON THE BEACH.ZARIA SAID,''I'D LOVE TO.'' AT THE END OF THE DATE CHRIS SAID,''GOOD-BYE''TO ZARIA.THEN ZARIA SAID,''BYE.''TO CHRIS.WHEN ZARIA WAS GETTING IN TO HER CAR CHRIS SAID,''I HOPE THERE WILL BE A SECOND DATE.''ZARIA SAID,''OF COURSE THERE WILL BE.HOW ABOUT A PICNIC ON THE BEACH TOMARROW?'' CHRIS SAID,''OK SEE YOU THEN.''ZARIA GOT IN HER CAR AND DROVE HOME WITH THE BIGGEST SMILE ON HER FACE.CHRIS WENT JUMPING WITH GLEE IN TO HIS HOUSE. ZARIA WALKED INTO HER HOUSE WITH A REALLY BIG SMILE ON HER FACE,THATS WHEN HER MOTHER SAID ''I'LL TAKE IT AS THE DATE WAS GOOD.''ZARIA SAID''IT WAS AMAZING.HE'S EVERYTHING I WANTED HIM TO BE.'' HER MOM LAUGHED.THEN SHE SAID,''WELL GO ON UP TO BED.''ZARIA SAID,''OK.GOODNIGHT.''HER MOM SAID,''GOODNIGHT SWEET HEART,''AND KISSED ZARIA ON THE FOREHEAD. THE NEXT MORNING WHEN ZARIA WOKEUP,SHE WAS SO HAPPY.TODAY SHE WAS GOING TO HAVE A PICNIC WITH CHRIS AT LUNCH TIME.SHE RAN DOWN THE STAIRS AND ATE BREAKFAST.AFTER SHE ATE SHE RAN BACK UP THE STAIRS TO SEE WHAT SHE WAS GOING TO WEAR ON HER DATE.SHE HAD CLOTHES THROWN ALL OVER HER ROOM.SHE FINALLY PICKED OUT A WHITE SHIRT THAT SAID''BABY DOLL''ON IT AND BLACK SHORTS.THEN SHE WAS OFF TO HER DATE. WHEN SHE GOT TO THE BEACH SHE SAW CHRIS.SHE WALKED UP TO HIM AND SAID,''HI CHRIS.''CHRIS STOOD UP AND SAID,''HI ZARIA.''HE GAVE HER A HUG AS HE SAID HI. THEY SAT DOWN TO HAVE THEIR PICNIC.THEY WERE EATTING A BLOODBURGER AND DRINKING SOME BLOODSODA.WHEN THEY FINISHED EATTING CHRIS WENT AND JUMPED IN THE WATER LEAVING ZARIA SITTING IN THE SAND LAUGHING.CHRIS SAID,''COME ON ZARIA.THE WATER'S FINE.''ZARIA WENT RUNNING INTO THE WATER.HER AND CHRIS SWAN FOR ABOUT TWO HOURS.WHEN IT WAS TIME FOR ZARIA TO LEAVE SHE SAID,''BYE CHRIS,''AND KISSED HIM ON THE CHEEK.CHRIS SAID,''BYE ZARIA,''WITH A REALLY BIG SMILE ON HIS FACE. ZARIA GOT INTO HER CAR AND DROVE HOME.SHE WAS SO HAPPY UNTILL SHE WENT INTO HER HOUSE TO FIND OUT THAT THEIR MOVING TO MAINE.SHE RAN UP TO HER ROOM AND CRIED HERSELF TO SLEEP.THE NEXT MORNING SHE GOT OUT OF BED AND GOT DRESSED TO GO TELL CHRIS THE BAD NEWS.WHEN SHE GOT TO CHRIS'S HOUSE SHE SAW HIM KISSING ANOTHER GIRL.SHE GOT BACK IN HER CAR,AND DROVE.SHE WAS CRYING AND COULD BARELY SEE.SHE ENED UP HITTING ANOTHER CAR.HER CAR FLIPPED AND ROLLED DOWN A MOUNTAION.WHEN THE AMBULANCE GOT TO THE ACCIDENT IT WAS TO LATE.SHE DIED OF INTERNAL BLEEDING IN HER BRAIN. ABOUT ONE WEEKS LATE WAS HER FUNERAL.CHRIS WAS THERE.WHEN ZARIA'S MOTHER SAW HIM SHE WENT UP TO HIM AND SAID,''YOUR NOT WELCOME HERE.ITS YOUR FAULT THAT SHE DEAD.''CHRIS SAID,''IM SORRY.I HAD NO IDEA SHE WAS STANDING RIGHT THERE.''ZARIA'S MOTHER SAID,''GO GET OUT OF HERE!YOUR NOT WELCOME!''AT THAT TIME CHRIS LEFT.HE FELT SO BAD FOR LEADING ZARIA ON THAT A MONTH AFTER SHE DIED HE HUNG HIMSELF IN HIS ROOM.SO THAT HE COULD BE WITH ZARIA.SO AT HIS FUNERAL HIS MOTHER SAID,''HE KILLED HIMSELF OUT OF GUILT AND LOVE.''SO IN THE END THEY BOTH DIED AND WENT TO HEAVEN OR HELL. THE STORY OF ROMEO'S DEATH THE STORY OF ROMEO'S DEATH ANGELINA IS A GIRL FROM HOLLYWOOD.SHE MOVED THERE WHEN SHE TURNED 20,AND SHE ALSO JOINED THE MARINES.SHE HAS ONE YOUNGER BROTHER,HIS NAME IS ROMEO.ON HIS 15th BIRTHDAY SARGENT EMMETT AND ANGELINA TOOK ROMEO TO THE SHOOTING RANGE TO GIVE HIM HIS BIRTHDAY PRESENTS.WHEN THERE WAS A DEATHLY ACCIDENT.THIS IS THE STORY OF HOW ROMEO DIES. IT ALL TOOK PLACE ON DECEMBER 10,2000,AT 2:30 PM.SARGENT EMMETT AND ANGELINA TOOK ROMEO TO THE SHOOTING RANGE TO GIVE HIM HIS PRESENTS.WHEN THEY GOT THERE THEY END UP RUNNING INTO EOWEN.ABOUT 3 OR 4 MINUTES LATER ARAGON WALKED IN TO THE SHOOTING RANGE.WHEN ARAGON GETS ABOUT 2 FEET FROM EOWEN,ARAGON ENDS UP TRIPPING OVER HIS SHOE LACES.AT THAT TIME ARAGON TRIPS AND PUSHES EOWEN BY THE CAVES.EOWEN ENDS UP FALLING TO HER KNEES.AS SHE WAS FALLING SHE PULED THE TRIGER TWICE.AT THAT TIME ONE OF THE BULLETS HIT ROMEO IN THE FOREHEAD.THE SECOND BULLET HIT ANGELINA IN THE RIGHT LEG. EOWEN SCREAMED IN HORROR AS ARAGON CALLS FOR HELP.BY THE TIME THE AMBULANCE GOT THERE ROMEO NO LOGER EXISTS.AND ANGELINA IS PASSED OUT BECAUSE OF ALL THE PAIN.TWO WEEKS LATER ANGELINA IS RELEASED FROM THE HOSPITAL,AND NOW MUST PLAN ROMEO'S FUNERAL.ALSO SHE IS REUNITED WITH HER HUSBAND CHRISSEH,AND GER KIDS DIONNA,LOGAN,AND THOMAS SR. SO 10 DAYS LATED IT WAS ROMEO'S FUNERAL.ANGELINA CRYED DURING THE FUNERAL.ANGELINA WAS ALSO CRYING BECAUSE THEIR PARENTS NEVER SHOW TO THERE YOUNGEST CHILDS FUNERAL.THE LESSON TO BE LEARNED IS TO NEVER GO TO A SHOOTING RANGE WITH CLUMSY PEOPLE. Text: 22 Images: 22 Editing: 22 Translation: 22 All rights reserved. Publication Date: February 26th 2014 https://www.bookrix.com/-sadgyrl123

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-tyesha-sullivan-the-time-my-heart-got-fixed/

Tyesha Sullivan The Time My Heart Got Fixed The Tale of a Heart to one of my many friends Desirhae Love doesn't always hurt                                                                                                                                                                                                 He walked past me and looked back as if he knew me. We were at school in the lunch room for the 7th grade dance. My friends looked at him and eyeballed him for bumping into me. I have the friends that are like big brothers but they're girls. Plus I already have three big brothers. I soon found out the guy was my brother Travie's friend Jacquees. Travie called my friend Desirhae over to where they were standing (Travie kinda has a thing for her). Desirhae didn't want to go by herself so Korbin, Sarah, Helen, Kaylee, and I walked over to them with her. Travie introduced us and the rest of his friends came over. (Their names are Ian, Chance, Aaron, and Landon.) They asked my friends to dance so Jacquees, Travie, Desirhae, and I were left standing there in awkward silence. Out of no where Jacquees asked me to dance right as the song I want to be your man came on and Travie gave me the look that was just like the one Kaylee gave me if the teacher said to find a partner. I was so shocked when he asked me it felt like I stood there for an eternity, but it was just a couple of seconds I think. The next day i got a message from an unknown number that said "do you want to go to the movies ?". I asked "who is this" and the door bell rang. So I got up to answer it. Jacquees was standing there and said "me!!!!". As Travie walked down stairs Jacquees said are you ready and knowing Travie's stupid self he said where we going ?. Jacquees looked at me and then looked at him and laughed. I turned around and said he's not talking to you. As we left Jacquees  looked me in my eyes and said these exact words I've got the best night planed and I hope you will let me be your man!!. He got down on one knee and said will you be my girlfriend".5 YEARS LATERIt was the first day of being a senior in high school and Jacquees and had been going out for five years. We only had three classes together so we only got to see other in those classes. Jacquees and I had gotten scolarships to UCLA. The next five weeks Jacquees started acting wierd. He started hanging with the jocks and cheerleaders. One of the reasons I liked him is because he hated the jocks because theyre always like I can get any girl I want and he hated the cheerleaders because they were all hoes that had sex with every jock. I finally told Jacquees to come over after school because we need to talk. So when he came over luckily my parents were gone so we had the apartment all to our selves to talk. I asked what was with him and he stood up and started yelling at me. So we argued for the next hour and he said thats it and hit me. He walked out the apartment and slammed the door. I walked out into the hall and our next door neighbor was standing there looking at me and I didn't know if it was because of the argueement, the blood on my face, or the fact that I was crying. His name was Tremaine Neverson and he walked over to me and said why do you leet him treat you like that. The next week I started hanging out with Trey and the more I got to know him the more I got over Jacquees. That thursday Trey was walking me home and Jacquees drove by in his uncle's lambo and stoped when he saw us. I guess he was pretending Trey wasn't there because he kept saying get in the car I'll take you home. But I always replied with i'm walking with Trey so just leave us alone and I always made sure to lethim know i'm wasn't getting in the car with him. I think he got tired of asking so he thought he was just going to throw me in the car. But when he got out Trey pushed me behind him because he knew he was going to have to fight. Jacquees said watch out so I can get whats mine and Trey gave the most funniest look. Trey looked around and said whats yours that i'm in the way of. Jacquees looked at him and said that girl right there shes mine I own her. Trey I yelled as Jacquees tried to hit him but Trey blocked the hit. After Trey beat Jacquees He wraped his arm around me and said to Jacquees you don't own a woman you just need to keep one around to love for the rest of your life. The NextYear                                                                                              After what we'll just call the incident Trey asked me out and of course I said yes. It was our one year anniversery and Trey had a suprise for me. That night we went to the hill above the ocean and sat on a blanket I layed my head in his lap. Then Trey told me he had to leave for New York in three days.                                                                                             Three Days Later. Trey called me and said Taylor can I sing you a song I wrote. I replied with a what I didn't know you could sing but go ahead.                                                                                                                 Trey's song: I can't stop missing you. Wish I was there with you. I can't stop missing you. No, no, no, no. I can't stop missing you (no). Wish I was there with you (with you). I can't stop missing you. No, no, no, no.I miss the way you kiss, miss the way you wear them heels and make it switch. Miss the way your hair blows in the wind. And I miss you staying here 'til the morning, Miss the way you put on your makeup. Miss the way you love me too much. It's everything about you baby. Wanna know where you been lately. Do you go out? Do you still live at your old house? Do you got somebody new in your life? 'cause I can't get you out of my mind.And I wanna erase, but I can't stop seein' your face. And every girl I try to replace you with. Why can't I get over it? Simply cause I can't...I can't stop missing you (can't stop). Wish I was there with you (with you). I can't stop missing you. No, no, no, no. I can't stop missing you (can't stop). Wish I was there with you (with you). I can't stop missing you. No, no, no, no. I can't stop...missing everything you say, missing all the crazy love we made. Why'd you throw it all away? I want you to know It's been hell tryna do this without you here. Baby, '07's supposed to be our year. You confront my worst fears. And I had my doubts, every time you was going out. 'cause I knew you were telling me lies and I can't get that outta my mind.And I wanna erase, but I can't stop seein' your face. And every girl I try to replace you with. Why can't I get over it? Simply cause I can't..I can't stop missing you (can't stop). Wish I was there with you (with you). I can't stop missing you. No, no, no, no. I can't stop missing you (can't stop). Wish I was there with you (with you). I can't stop missing you. No, no, no, no. I can't stop...Could wake up and forget about you. Not try to call you when I know I want to (Oh Wish I) I gotta fight this feeling. (Wish I) Can't let it take over me. (Wish I)You just don't understand how much you were a part of me.I can't stop missing you. Wish I was there with you (with you). I can't stop missing you. No, no, no, no. I can't stop missing you (can't stop). Wish I was there with you (with you). I can't stop missing you. no, no, no, no (I can't stop, I can't stop missing you). Publication Date: April 28th 2013 https://www.bookrix.com/-hc13a0886d3c715

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-lilac-lilac-life-of-hope-wilson/

Lilac Lilac Life Of Hope Wilson This is based on someone's life I know :) The Begining Im just an ordanary teenage girl who lives in this world, i have a loving family and friends just like everyone, but i have many deep dark secrets which i dont share amoung friends and family instead i keep it all inside and keep the pain within myself. Not many people i know can relate to the pain i have so i keep it to myself, My name is Hope and i live in an ordanary home like many others, nothing special about me, i go to school like any other teenager does, even thought i hate school its also my place where i can go and be away from my home life, i can forget everything bad but once 3:00pm hits, off i go to head home and once i return home i shut down inside as i dont want to be there so i do as any teenager does which is hide away in my room as thats my place where i can do what ever i like and say what i like. ive moved from place to place, during my childhood, after 5 years or so its time to pack and move houses. it sucks having to do this, sometimes i lose all my friends as i move too far away so my only contact is through phone or internet. But the only good thing about moving and stating a new school is i make new friends who are awesome people and im greatful they accept me and im glad i meet them.   A Bit About Myself My name is Hope Wilson, im 16 years old, have problems like everyone, i try my best to live life to the fullest and i hate who i am and the way i look. Almost 60% of the girls are unhappy with the way they look. - and im one of them :/ i have people look at me and tell me im the most uglist person they have ever seen in their life, and i sit back and take this because im use to people telling me this so i believe them and say back "i know i am so do you want to tell me something i dont know" and thats the end of the conversation as they dont want to say anything, but some keep going and say the most horrible things ive ever heard. other than that sometimes im happy, well i put on a fake smile to let everyone know im happy but deep inside im crying and i just want someone to hold me and say "everything will be alright" even though it wont be but having someone say that it makes me feel a bit better inside. I've become depressed and i don't want to be where i am, but i cant change who i am so i live on. :P New Girl than being accepted Just recently i have moved this year and i stared a new school, ive connected with many people there and im glad they have acceted my into their friendship group, the first day starting a new school is the worst as your the "new girl" and people will look at you as you walk down the hall ways and people talk about you and start rumours thankfully no rumours have been created about me but if their is some i havnt heard about them. As ive been at this school for a few weeks now ive become one of them, ive been accepted for who i am and people are laughing with me and not at me which is an awesome feeling to have. My friends, well i sit within a group of guys and girls, ive connected realy well with one girl whos name is Abigail, shes so friendly and shes the main person i talk to and tell me my secrets as we have both been down some of the same paths during our lives. Their is this guy his name is Ringo, his a kind guy who is weird in his own way but his the only thing that is on my mind lately, me and him dont talk much, he has a younger sister who he doesnt get alone with much as they fight just like any siblings, but deep down they love each other and they would protect each other like siblings do. Ringo is the number one topic on my mind but his also the one topic i wont talk about to anyone and i dream of my future, but what sucks about this is i don't have the courage to go up to him and tell him how i feel, all i think is im Hope who can or will ever like me. its hard when people you dont know names of call me "fat and ugly" which is why i believe Ringo will never feel the same way. Then again i will never know how he feels about me as i will never say anything to him. ive been thinking and this guy is totally a waist of time like should i even bother with someone like him? So life goes on and so do i, every day goes by and life doesnt seen to get any better.   life goes on... i havnt found out who i am in this world, i feel as if i dont fit into this world, i feel like an alien in this world, most days i feel as if ishould have been born into this world, many thoughts go through my head like "you worthless" and "i should just go and die so the world will be a better place" but if i wasnt here life would go on and be the same but i would cause sadness in peoples lives who love me. so life goes on and i live and this is my life so far life goes on for ages and you just have to change ur attitude and become more possitive about yourself and others around you. Publication Date: April 17th 2013 https://www.bookrix.com/-th9f1f187796615

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-friedrich-schiller-the-maid-of-orleans/

Friedrich Schiller The Maid of Orleans CHARLES THE SEVENTH, King of France. QUEEN ISABEL, his Mother. AGNES SOREL. PHILIP THE GOOD, Duke of Burgundy. EARL DUNOIS, Bastard of Orleans. LA HIRE, DUCRATEL, French Offers. ARCHBISHOP OF RHEIMS. CRATILLON, A Burgundian Knight. RAOUL, a Lotharingian Knight. TALBOT, the English General, LIONEL, FASTOLFE, English Officers. MONTGOMERY, a Welshman. COUNCILLORS OF ORLEANS. AN ENGLISH HERALD. THIBAUT D'ARC, a wealthy Countryman. MARGOT, LOUISON, JOHANNA, his Daughters. ETIENNE, CLAUDE MARIE, RAIMOND, their Suitors. BERTRAND, another Countryman. APPARITION OF A BLACK KNIGHT. CHARCOAL-BURNER AND HIS WIFE. Soldiers and People, Officers of the Crown, Bishops, Monks, Marshals, Magistrates, Courtiers, and other mute persons in the Coronation Procession. PROLOGUE. A rural District. To the right, a Chapel with an Image of the Virgin; to the left, an ancient Oak. SCENE I. THIBAUT D'ARC. His Three Daughters. Three young Shepherds, their Suitors. THIBAUT. Ay, my good neighbors! we at least to-day Are Frenchmen still, free citizens and lords Of the old soil which our forefathers tilled. Who knows whom we to-morrow must obey? For England her triumphal banner waves From every wall: the blooming fields of France Are trampled down beneath her chargers' hoofs; Paris hath yielded to her conquering arms, And with the ancient crown of Dagobert Adorns the scion of a foreign race. Our king's descendant, disinherited, Must steal in secret through his own domain; While his first peer and nearest relative Contends against him in the hostile ranks; Ay, his unnatural mother leads them on. Around us towns and peaceful hamlets burn. Near and more near the devastating fire Rolls toward these vales, which yet repose in peace. Therefore, good neighbors, I have now resolved, While God still grants us safety, to provide For my three daughters; for 'midst war's alarms Women require protection, and true love Hath power to render lighter every load. [To the first Shepherd. Come, Etienne! You seek my Margot's hand. Fields lying side by side and loving hearts Promise a happy union! [To the second. Claude! You're silent, And my Louison looks upon the ground? How, shall I separate two loving hearts Because you have no wealth to offer me? Who now has wealth? Our barns and homes afford Spoil to the foe, and fuel to the fires. In times like these a husband's faithful breast Affords the only shelter from the storm. LOUISON. My father! CLAUDE MARIE. My Louison! LOUISON (embracing JOHANNA). My dear sister! THIBAUT. I give to each a yard, a stall and herd, And also thirty acres; and as God Gave me his blessing, so I give you mine! MARGOT (embracing JOHANNA). Gladden our father--follow our example! Let this day see three unions ratified! THIBAUT. Now go; make all things ready; for the morn Shall see the wedding. Let our village friends Be all assembled for the festival. [The two couples retire arm in arm. SCENE II. THIBAUT, RAIMOND, JOHANNA. THIBAUT. Thy sisters, Joan, will soon be happy brides; I see them gladly; they rejoice my age; But thou, my youngest, giv'st me grief and pain. RAIMOND. What is the matter? Why upbraid thy child? THIBAUT. Here is this noble youth, the flower and pride Of all our village; he hath fixed on thee His fond affections, and for three long years Has wooed thee with respectful tenderness; But thou dost thrust him back with cold reserve. Nor is there one 'mong all our shepherd youths Who e'er can win a gracious smile from thee. I see thee blooming in thy youthful prime; Thy spring it is, the joyous time of hope; Thy person, like a tender flower, hath now Disclosed its beauty, but I vainly wait For love's sweet blossom genially to blow, And ripen joyously to golden fruit! Oh, that must ever grieve me, and betrays Some sad deficiency in nature's work! The heart I like not which, severe and cold, Expands not in the genial years of youth. RAIMOND. Forbear, good father! Cease to urge her thus! A noble, tender fruit of heavenly growth Is my Johanna's love, and time alone Bringeth the costly to maturity! Still she delights to range among the hills, And fears descending from the wild, free heath, To tarry 'neath the lowly roofs of men, Where dwell the narrow cares of humble life. From the deep vale, with silent wonder, oft I mark her, when, upon a lofty hill Surrounded by her flock, erect she stands, With noble port, and bends her earnest gaze Down on the small domains of earth. To me She looketh then, as if from other times She came, foreboding things of import high. THIBAUT. 'Tis that precisely which displeases me! She shuns her sisters' gay companionship; Seeks out the desert mountains, leaves her couch Before the crowing of the morning cock, And in the dreadful hour, when men are wont Confidingly to seek their fellow-men, She, like the solitary bird, creeps forth, And in the fearful spirit-realm of night, To yon crossway repairs, and there alone Holds secret commune with the mountain wind. Wherefore this place precisely doth she choose? Why hither always doth she drive her flock? For hours together I have seen her sit In dreamy musing 'neath the Druid tree, Which every happy creature shuns with awe. For 'tis not holy there; an evil spirit Hath since the fearful pagan days of old Beneath its branches fixed his dread abode. The oldest of our villagers relate Strange tales of horror of the Druid tree; Mysterious voices of unearthly sound From its unhallowed shade oft meet the ear. Myself, when in the gloomy twilight hour My path once chanced to lead me near this tree, Beheld a spectral figure sitting there, Which slowly from its long and ample robe Stretched forth its withered hand, and beckoned me. But on I went with speed, nor looked behind, And to the care of God consigned my soul. RAIMOND (pointing to the image of the Virgin). Yon holy image of the Virgin blest, Whose presence heavenly peace diffuseth round, Not Satan's work, leadeth thy daughter here. THIBAUT. No! not in vain hath it in fearful dreams And apparitions strange revealed itself. For three successive nights I have beheld Johanna sitting on the throne at Rheims, A sparkling diadem of seven stars Upon her brow, the sceptre in her hand, From which three lilies sprung, and I, her sire, With her two sisters, and the noble peers, The earls, archbishops, and the king himself, Bowed down before her. In my humble home How could this splendor enter my poor brain? Oh, 'tis the prelude to some fearful fall! This warning dream, in pictured show, reveals The vain and sinful longing of her heart. She looks with shame upon her lowly birth. Because with richer beauty God hath graced Her form, and dowered her with wondrous gifts Above the other maidens of this vale, She in her heart indulges sinful pride, And pride it is through which the angels fell, By which the fiend of hell seduces man. RAIMOND. Who cherishes a purer, humbler mind Than doth thy pious daughter? Does she not With cheerful spirit work her sisters' will? She is more highly gifted far than they, Yet, like a servant maiden, it is she Who silently performs the humblest tasks. Beneath her guiding hands prosperity Attendeth still thy harvest and thy flocks; And around all she does there ceaseless flows A blessing, rare and unaccountable. THIBAUT. Ah truly! Unaccountable indeed! Sad horror at this blessing seizes me! But now no more; henceforth I will be silent. Shall I accuse my own beloved child? I can do naught but warn and pray for her. Yet warn I must. Oh, shun the Druid tree! Stay not alone, and in the midnight hour Break not the ground for roots, no drinks prepare, No characters inscribe upon the sand! 'Tis easy to unlock the realm of spirits; Listening each sound, beneath a film of earth They lay in wait, ready to rush aloft. Stay not alone, for in the wilderness The prince of darkness tempted e'en the Lord. SCENE III. THIBAUT, RAIMOND, JOHANNA. BERTRAND enters, a helmet in his hand. RAIMOND. Hush! here is Bertrand coming back from town; What bears he in his hand? BERTRAND. You look at me With wondering gaze; no doubt you are surprised To see this martial helm! THIBAUT. We are indeed! Come, tell us how you come by it? Why bring This fearful omen to our peaceful vale? [JOHANNA, who has remained indifferent during the two previous scenes, becomes attentive, and steps nearer. BERTRAND. I scarce can tell you how I came by it. I had procured some tools at Vaucouleurs; A crowd was gathered in the market-place, For fugitives were just arrived in haste From Orleans, bringing most disastrous news. In tumult all the town together flocked, And as I forced a passage through the crowds, A brown Bohemian woman, with this helm, Approached me, eyed me narrowly, and said: "Fellow, you seek a helm; I know it well. Take this one! For a trifle it is yours." "Go with it to the soldiers," I replied, "I am a husbandman, and want no helm." She would not cease, however, and went on: "None knoweth if he may not want a helm. A roof of metal for the Head just now Is of more value than a house of stone." Thus she pursued me closely through the streets, Still offering the helm, which I refused. I marked it well, and saw that it was bright, And fair and worthy of a knightly head; And when in doubt I weighed it in my hand, The strangeness of the incident revolving, The woman disappeared, for suddenly The rushing crowd had carried her away. And I was left the helmet in my hand. JOHANNA (attempting eagerly to seize it). Give me the helmet! BERTRAND. Why, what boots it you? It is not suited to a maiden's head. JOHANNA (seizing it from him). Mine is the helmet--it belongs to me! THIBAUT. What whim is this? RAIMOND. Nay, let her have her way! This warlike ornament becomes her well, For in her bosom beats a manly heart. Remember how she once subdued the wolf, The savage monster which destroyed our herds, And filled the neighb'ring shepherds with dismay. She all alone--the lion-hearted maid Fought with the wolf, and from him snatched the lamb Which he was bearing in his bloody jaws. How brave soe'er the head this helm adorned, It cannot grace a worthier one than hers! THIBAUT (to BERTRAND). Relate what new disasters have occurred. What tidings brought the fugitives? BERTRAND. May God Have pity on our land, and save the king! In two great battles we have lost the day; Our foes are stationed in the heart of France, Far as the river Loire our lands are theirs-- Now their whole force they have combined, and lay Close siege to Orleans. THIBAUT. God protect the king! BERTRAND. Artillery is brought from every side, And as the dusky squadrons of the bees Swarm round the hive upon a summer day, As clouds of locusts from the sultry air Descend and shroud the country round for miles, So doth the cloud of war, o'er Orleans' fields, Pour forth its many-nationed multitudes, Whose varied speech, in wild confusion blent, With strange and hollow murmurs fill the air. For Burgundy, the mighty potentate, Conducts his motley host; the Hennegarians, The men of Liege and of Luxemburg, The people of Namur, and those who dwell In fair Brabant; the wealthy men of Ghent, Who boast their velvets, and their costly silks; The Zealanders, whose cleanly towns appear Emerging from the ocean; Hollanders Who milk the lowing herds; men from Utrecht, And even from West Friesland's distant realm, Who look towards the ice-pole--all combine, Beneath the banner of the powerful duke, Together to accomplish Orleans' fall. THIBAUT. Oh, the unblest, the lamentable strife, Which turns the arms of France against itself! BERTRAND. E'en she, the mother-queen, proud Isabel Bavaria's haughty princess--may be seen, Arrayed in armor, riding through the camp; With poisonous words of irony she fires The hostile troops to fury 'gainst her son, Whom she hath clasped to her maternal breast. THIBAUT. A curse upon her, and may God prepare For her a death like haughty Jezebel's! BERTRAND. The fearful Salisbury conducts the siege, The town-destroyer; with him Lionel, The brother of the lion; Talbot, too, Who, with his murd'rous weapon, moweth down The people in the battle: they have sworn, With ruthless insolence to doom to shame The hapless maidens, and to sacrifice All who the sword have wielded, with the sword. Four lofty watch-towers, to o'ertop the town, They have upreared; Earl Salisbury from on high Casteth abroad his cruel, murd'rous glance, And marks the rapid wanderers in the streets. Thousands of cannon-balls, of pond'rous weight, Are hurled into the city. Churches lie In ruined heaps, and Notre Dame's royal tower Begins at length to bow its lofty head. They also have formed powder-vaults below, And thus, above a subterranean hell, The timid city every hour expects, 'Midst crashing thunder, to break forth in flames. [JOHANNA listens with close attention, and places the helmet on her head. THIBAUT. But where were then our heroes? Where the swords Of Saintrailles, and La Hire, and brave Dunois, Of France the bulwark, that the haughty foe With such impetuous force thus onward rushed? Where is the king? Can he supinely see His kingdom's peril and his cities' fall? BERTRAND. The king at Chinon holds his court; he lacks Soldiers to keep the field. Of what avail The leader's courage, and the hero's arm, When pallid fear doth paralyze the host? A sudden panic, as if sent from God, Unnerves the courage of the bravest men. In vain the summons of the king resounds As when the howling of the wolf is heard, The sheep in terror gather side by side, So Frenchmen, careless of their ancient fame, Seek only now the shelter of the towns. One knight alone, I have been told, has brought A feeble company, and joins the king With sixteen banners. JOHANNA (quickly). What's the hero's name? BERTRAND. 'Tis Baudricour. But much I fear the knight Will not be able to elude the foe, Who track him closely with too numerous hosts. JOHANNA. Where halts the knight? Pray tell me, if you know. BERTRAND. About a one day's march from Vaucouleurs. THIBAUT (to JOHANNA). Why, what is that to thee? Thou dost inquire Concerning matters which become thee not. BERTRAND. The foe being now so strong, and from the king No safety to be hoped, at Vaucouleurs They have with unanimity resolved To yield them to the Duke of Burgundy. Thus we avoid the foreign yoke, and still Continue by our ancient royal line; Ay, to the ancient crown we may fall back Should France and Burgundy be reconciled. JOHANNA (as if inspired). Speak not of treaty! Speak not of surrender! The savior comes, he arms him for the fight. The fortunes of the foe before the walls Of Orleans shall be wrecked! His hour is come, He now is ready for the reaper's hand, And with her sickle will the maid appear, And mow to earth the harvest of his pride. She from the heavens will tear his glory down, Which he had hung aloft among the stars; Despair not! Fly not! for ere yonder corn Assumes its golden hue, or ere the moon Displays her perfect orb, no English horse Shall drink the rolling waters of the Loire. BERTRAND. Alas! no miracle will happen now! JOHANNA. Yes, there shall yet be one--a snow-white dove Shall fly, and with the eagle's boldness, tear The birds of prey which rend her fatherland. She shall o'erthrow this haughty Burgundy, Betrayer of the kingdom; Talbot, too, The hundred-handed, heaven-defying scourge; This Salisbury, who violates our fanes, And all these island robbers shall she drive Before her like a flock of timid lambs. The Lord will be with her, the God of battle; A weak and trembling creature he will choose, And through a tender maid proclaim his power, For he is the Almighty! THIBAULT. What strange power Hath seized the maiden? RAIMOND. Doubtless 'tis the helmet Which doth inspire her with such martial thoughts. Look at your daughter. Mark her flashing eye, Her glowing cheek, which kindles as with fire. JOHANNA. This realm shall fall! This ancient land of fame, The fairest that, in his majestic course, The eternal sun surveys--this paradise, Which, as the apple of his eye, God loves-- Endure the fetters of a foreign yoke? Here were the heathen scattered, and the cross And holy image first were planted here; Here rest St. Louis' ashes, and from hence The troops went forth who set Jerusalem free. BERTRAND (in astonishment). Hark how she speaks! Why, whence can she obtain This glorious revelation? Father Arc! A wondrous daughter God hath given you! JOHANNA. We shall no longer serve a native prince! The king, who never dies, shall pass away-- The guardian of the sacred plough, who fills The earth with plenty, who protects our herds, Who frees the bondmen from captivity, Who gathers all his cities round his throne-- Who aids the helpless, and appals the base, Who envies no one, for he reigns supreme; Who is a mortal, yet an angel too, Dispensing mercy on the hostile earth. For the king's throne, which glitters o'er with gold, Affords a shelter for the destitute; Power and compassion meet together there, The guilty tremble, but the just draw near, And with the guardian lion fearless sport! The stranger king, who cometh from afar, Whose fathers' sacred ashes do not lie Interred among us; can he love our land? Who was not young among our youth, whose heart Respondeth not to our familiar words, Can he be as a father to our sons? THIBAUT. God save the king and France! We're peaceful folk, Who neither wield the sword, nor rein the steed. --Let us await the king whom victory crowns; The fate of battle is the voice of God. He is our lord who crowns himself at Rheims, And on his head receives the holy oil. --Come, now to work! come! and let every one Think only of the duty of the hour! Let the earth's great ones for the earth contend, Untroubled we may view the desolation, For steadfast stand the acres which we till. The flames consume our villages, our corn Is trampled 'neath the tread of warlike steeds; With the new spring new harvests reappear, And our light huts are quickly reared again! [They all retire except the maiden. SCENE IV. JOHANNA (alone). Farewell ye mountains, ye beloved glades, Ye lone and peaceful valleys, fare ye well! Through you Johanna never more may stray! For, ay, Johanna bids you now farewell. Ye meads which I have watered, and ye trees Which I have planted, still in beauty bloom! Farewell ye grottos, and ye crystal springs! Sweet echo, vocal spirit of the vale. Who sang'st responsive to my simple strain, Johanna goes, and ne'er returns again. Ye scenes where all my tranquil joys I knew, Forever now I leave you far behind! Poor foldless lambs, no shepherd now have you! O'er the wide heath stray henceforth unconfined! For I to danger's field, of crimson hue, Am summoned hence another flock to find. Such is to me the spirit's high behest; No earthly, vain ambition fires my breast. For who in glory did on Horeb's height Descend to Moses in the bush of flame, And bade him go and stand in Pharaoh's sight-- Who once to Israel's pious shepherd came, And sent him forth, his champion in the fight,-- Who aye hath loved the lowly shepherd train,-- He, from these leafy boughs, thus spake to me, "Go forth! Thou shalt on earth my witness be. "Thou in rude armor must thy limbs invest, A plate of steel upon thy bosom wear; Vain earthly love may never stir thy breast, Nor passion's sinful glow be kindled there. Ne'er with the bride-wreath shall thy locks be dressed, Nor on thy bosom bloom an infant fair; But war's triumphant glory shall be thine; Thy martial fame all women's shall outshine. "For when in fight the stoutest hearts despair, When direful ruin threatens France, forlorn, Then thou aloft my oriflamme shalt bear, And swiftly as the reaper mows the corn, Thou shalt lay low the haughty conqueror; His fortune's wheel thou rapidly shalt turn, To Gaul's heroic sons deliverance bring, Relieve beleaguered Rheims, and crown thy king!" The heavenly spirit promised me a sign; He sends the helmet, it hath come from him. Its iron filleth me with strength divine, I feel the courage of the cherubim; As with the rushing of a mighty wind It drives me forth to join the battles din; The clanging trumpets sound, the chargers rear, And the loud war-cry thunders in mine ear. [She goes out. ACT I. SCENE I. The royal residence at Chinon. DUNOIS and DUCHATEL. DUNOIS. No longer I'll endure it. I renounce This recreant monarch who forsakes himself. My valiant heart doth bleed, and I could rain Hot tear-drops from mine eyes, that robber-swords Partition thus the royal realm of France; That cities, ancient as the monarchy, Deliver to the foe the rusty keys, While here in idle and inglorious ease We lose the precious season of redemption. Tidings of Orleans' peril reach mine ear, Hither I sped from distant Normandy, Thinking, arrayed in panoply of war, To find the monarch with his marshalled hosts; And find him--here! begirt with troubadours, And juggling knaves, engaged in solving riddles, And planning festivals in Sorel's honor, As brooded o'er the land profoundest peace! The Constable hath gone; he will not brook Longer the spectacle of shame. I, too, Depart, and leave him to his evil fate. DUCHATEL. Here comes the king. SCENE II. KING CHARLES. The same. CHARLES. The Constable hath sent us back his sword And doth renounce our service. Now, by heaven! He thus hath rid us of a churlish man, Who insolently sought to lord it o'er us. DUNOIS. A man is precious in such perilous times; I would not deal thus lightly with his loss. CHARLES. Thou speakest thus from love of opposition; While he was here thou never wert his friend. DUNOIS. He was a tiresome, proud, vexatious fool, Who never could resolve. For once, however, He hath resolved. Betimes he goeth hence, Where honor can no longer be achieved. CHARLES. Thou'rt in a pleasant humor; undisturbed I'll leave thee to enjoy it. Hark, Duchatel! Ambassadors are here from old King Rene, Of tuneful songs the master, far renowned. Let them as honored guests be entertained, And unto each present a chain of gold. [To the Bastard. Why smilest thou, Dunois? DUNOIS. That from thy mouth Thou shakest golden chains. DUCHATEL. Alas! my king! No gold existeth in thy treasury. CHARLES. Then gold must be procured. It must not be That bards unhonored from our court depart. 'Tis they who make our barren sceptre bloom, 'Tis they who wreath around our fruitless crown Life's joyous branch of never-fading green. Reigning, they justly rank themselves as kings, Of gentle wishes they erect their throne, Their harmless realm existeth not in space; Hence should the bard accompany the king, Life's higher sphere the heritage of both! DUCHATEL. My royal liege! I sought to spare thine ear So long as aid and counsel could be found; Now dire necessity doth loose my tongue. Naught hast thou now in presents to bestow, Thou hast not wherewithal to live to-morrow! The spring-tide of thy fortune is run out, And lowest ebb is in thy treasury! The soldiers, disappointed of their pay, With sullen murmurs, threaten to retire. My counsel faileth, not with royal splendor But meagerly, to furnish out thy household. CHARLES. My royal customs pledge, and borrow gold From the Lombardians. DUCHATEL. Sire, thy revenues, Thy royal customs are for three years pledged. DUNOIS. And pledge meanwhile and kingdom both are lost. CHARLES. Still many rich and beauteous lands are ours. DUNOIS. So long as God and Talbot's sword permit! When Orleans falleth into English hands Then with King Rene thou may'st tend thy sheep! CHARLES. Still at this king thou lov'st to point thy jest; Yet 'tis this lackland monarch who to-day Hath with a princely crown invested me. DUNOIS. Not, in the name of heaven, with that of Naples, Which is for sale, I hear, since he kept sheep. CHARLES. It is a sportive festival, a jest, Wherein he giveth to his fancy play, To found a world all innocent and pure In this barbaric, rude reality. Yet noble--ay, right royal is his aim! He will again restore the golden age, When gentle manners reigned, when faithful love The heroic hearts of valiant knights inspired, And noble women, whose accomplished taste Diffuseth grace around, in judgment sat. The old man dwelleth in those bygone times, And in our workday world would realize The dreams of ancient bards, who picture life 'Mid bowers celestial, throned on golden clouds. He hath established hence a court of love Where valiant knights may dwell, and homage yield To noble women, who are there enthroned, And where pure love and true may find a home. Me he hath chosen as the prince of love. DUNOIS. I am not such a base, degenerate churl As love's dominion rudely to assail. I am her son, from her derive my name, And in her kingdom lies my heritage. The Prince of Orleans was my sire, and while No woman's heart was proof against his love, No hostile fortress could withstand his shock! Wilt thou, indeed, with honor name thyself The prince of love--be bravest of the brave! As I have read in those old chronicles, Love aye went coupled with heroic deeds, And valiant heroes, not inglorious shepherds, So legends tell us, graced King Arthur's board. The man whose valor is not beauty's shield Is all unworthy of her golden prize. Here the arena! combat for the crown, Thy royal heritage! With knightly sword Thy lady's honor and thy realm defend-- And hast thou with hot valor snatched the crown From streams of hostile blood,--then is the time, And it would well become thee as a prince, Love's myrtle chaplet round thy brows to wreathe. CHARLES (to a PAGE, who enters). What is the matter? PAGE. Senators from Orleans Entreat an audience, sire. CHARLES. Conduct them hither! [PAGE retires. Doubtless they succor need; what can I do, Myself all-succorless! SCENE III. The same. Three SENATORS. CHARLES. Welcome, my trusty citizens of Orleans! What tidings bring ye from my faithful town? Doth she continue with her wonted zeal Still bravely to withstand the leaguering foe? SENATOR. Ah, sire! the city's peril is extreme; And giant ruin, waxing hour by hour, Still onward strides. The bulwarks are destroyed-- The foe at each assault advantage gains; Bare of defenders are the city walls, For with rash valor forth our soldiers rush, While few, alas! return to view their homes, And famine's scourge impendeth o'er the town. In this extremity the noble Count Of Rochepierre, commander of the town, Hath made a compact with the enemy, According to old custom, to yield up, On the twelfth day, the city to the foe, Unless, meanwhile, before the town appear A host of magnitude to raise the siege. [DUNOIS manifests the strongest indignation. CHARLES. The interval is brief. SENATOR. We hither come, Attended by a hostile retinue, To implore thee, sire, to pity thy poor town, And to send succor ere the appointed day, When, if still unrelieved, she must surrender. DUNOIS. And could Saintrailles consent to give his voice To such a shameful compact? SENATOR. Never, sir! Long as the hero lived, none dared to breathe A single word of treaty or surrender. DUNOIS. He then is dead? SENATOR. The noble hero fell, His monarch's cause defending on our walls. CHARLES. What! Saintrailles dead! Oh, in that single man A host is foundered! [A Knight enters and speaks apart with DUNOIS, who starts with surprise. DUNOIS. That too! CHARLES. Well? What is it? DUNOIS. Count Douglass sendeth here. The Scottish troops Revolt, and threaten to retire at once. Unless their full arrears are paid to-day. CHARLES. Duchatel! DUCHATEL (shrugs his shoulders). Sire! I know not what to counsel. CHARLES. Pledge, promise all, even unto half my realm. DUCHATEL. 'Tis vain! They have been fed with hope too often. CHARLES. They are the finest troops of all my hosts! They must not now, not now abandon me! SENATOR (throwing himself at the KING'S feet). Oh, king, assist us! Think of our distress! CHARLES (in despair). How! Can I summon armies from the earth? Or grow a cornfield on my open palm? Rend me in pieces! Pluck my bleeding heart Forth from my breast, and coin it 'stead of gold! I've blood for you, but neither gold nor troops. [He sees SOREL approach, and hastens towards her with outstretched arms. SCENE IV. The same. AGNES SOREL, a casket in her hand. CHARLES. My Agnes! Oh, my love! My dearest life! Thou comest here to snatch me from despair! Refuge I take within thy loving arms! Possessing thee I feel that nothing is lost. SOREL. My king, beloved! [looking round with an anxious, inquiring gaze. Dunois! Say, is it true, Duchatel? DUCHATEL. 'Tis, alas! SOREL. So great the need? No treasure left? The soldiers will disband? DUCHATEL. Alas! It is too true! SOREL (giving him the casket). Here-here is gold, Here too are jewels! Melt my silver down! Sell, pledge my castles--on my fair domains In Provence--treasure raise, turn all to gold, Appease the troops! No time to be lost! [She urges him to depart. CHARLES. Well now, Dunois! Duchatel! Do ye still Account me poor, when I possess the crown Of womankind? She's nobly born as I; The royal blood of Valois not more pure; The most exalted throne she would adorn-- Yet she rejects it with disdain, and claims No other title than to be my love. No gift more costly will she e'er receive Than early flower in winter, or rare fruit! No sacrifice on my part she permits, Yet sacrificeth all she had to me! With generous spirit she doth venture all Her wealth and fortune in my sinking bark. DUNOIS. Ay, she is mad indeed, my king, as thou; She throws her all into a burning house, And draweth water in the leaky vessel Of the Danaides. Thee she will not save, And in thy ruin but involve herself. SOREL. Believe him not! Full many a time he hath Perilled his life for thee, and now, forsooth, Chafeth because I risk my worthless gold! How? Have I freely sacrificed to thee What is esteemed far more than gold and pearls, And shall I now hold back the gifts of fortune? Oh, come! Let my example challenge thee To noble self-denial! Let's at once Cast off the needless ornaments of life! Thy courtiers metamorphose into soldiers; Thy gold transmute to iron; all thou hast, With resolute daring, venture for thy crown! Peril and want we will participate! Let us bestride the war-horse, and expose Our tender person to the fiery glow Of the hot sun, take for our canopy The clouds above, and make the stones our pillow. The rudest warrior, when he sees his king Bear hardship and privation like the meanest Will patiently endure his own hard lot! CHARLES (laughing). Ay! now is realized an ancient word Of prophesy, once uttered by a nun Of Clairmont, in prophetic mood, who said, That through a woman's aid I o'er my foes Should triumph, and achieve my father's crown. Far off I sought her in the English camp; I strove to reconcile a mother's heart; Here stands the heroine--my guide to Rheims! My Agnes! I shall triumph through thy love! SOREL. Thou'lt triumph through the valiant swords of friends. CHARLES. And from my foes' dissensions much I hope For sure intelligence hath reached mine ear, That 'twixt these English lords and Burgundy Things do not stand precisely as they did; Hence to the duke I have despatched La Hire, To try if he can lead my angry vassal Back to his ancient loyalty and faith: Each moment now I look for his return. DUCHATEL (at the window). A knight e'en now dismounteth in the court. CHARLES. A welcome messenger! We soon shall learn Whether we're doomed to conquer or to yield. SCENE V. The same. LA HIRE. CHARLES (meeting him). Hope bringest thou, or not? Be brief, La Hire, Out with thy tidings! What must we expect? LA HIRE. Expect naught, sire, save from thine own good sword. CHARLES. The haughty duke will not be reconciled! Speak! How did he receive my embassy? LA HIRE. His first and unconditional demand, Ere he consent to listen to thine errand, Is that Duchatel be delivered up, Whom he doth name the murderer of his sire. CHARLES. This base condition we reject with scorn! LA HIRE. Then be the league dissolved ere it commence! CHARLES. Hast thou thereon, as I commanded thee, Challenged the duke to meet him in fair fight On Montereau's bridge, whereon his father fell? LA HIRE. Before him on the ground I flung thy glove, And said: "Thou wouldst forget thy majesty, And like a knight do battle for thy realm." He scornfully rejoined "He needed not To fight for that which he possessed already, But if thou wert so eager for the fray, Before the walls of Orleans thou wouldst find him, Whither he purposed going on the morrow;" Thereon he laughing turned his back upon me. CHARLES. Say, did not justice raise her sacred voice, Within the precincts of my parliament? LA HIRE. The rage of party, sire, hath silenced her. An edict of the parliament declares Thee and thy race excluded from the throne. DUNOIS. These upstart burghers' haughty insolence! CHARLES. Hast thou attempted with my mother aught? LA HIRE. With her? CHARLES. Ay! How did she demean herself? LA HIRE (after a few moments' reflection). I chanced to step within St. Denis' walls Precisely at the royal coronation. The crowds were dressed as for a festival; Triumphal arches rose in every street Through which the English monarch was to pass. The way was strewed with flowers, and with huzzas, As France some brilliant conquest had achieved, The people thronged around the royal car. SOREL. They could huzza--huzza, while trampling thus Upon a gracious sovereign's loving heart! LA HIRE. I saw young Harry Lancaster--the boy-- On good St. Lewis' regal chair enthroned; On either side his haughty uncles stood, Bedford and Gloucester, and before him kneeled, To render homage for his lands, Duke Philip. CHARLES. Oh, peer dishonored! Oh, unworthy cousin! LA HIRE. The child was timid, and his footing lost As up the steps he mounted towards the throne. An evil omen! murmured forth the crowd, And scornful laughter burst on every side. Then forward stepped Queen Isabel--thy mother, And--but it angers me to utter it! CHARLES. Say on. LA HIRE. Within her arms she clasped the boy, And herself placed him on thy father's throne. CHARLES. Oh, mother! mother! LA HIRE. E'en the murderous bands Of the Burgundians, at this spectacle, Evinced some tokens of indignant shame. The queen perceived it, and addressed the crowds, Exclaiming with loud voice: "Be grateful, Frenchmen, That I engraft upon a sickly stock A healthy scion, and redeem you from The misbegotten son of a mad sire!" [The KING hides his face; AGNES hastens towards him and clasps him in her arms; all the bystanders express aversion and horror. DUNOIS. She-wolf of France! Rage-breathing Megara! CHARLES (after a pause, to the SENATORS). Yourselves have heard the posture of affairs. Delay no longer, back return to Orleans, And bear this message to my faithful town; I do absolve my subjects from their oath, Their own best interests let them now consult, And yield them to the Duke of Burgundy; 'Yclept the Good, he need must prove humane. DUNOIS. What say'st thou, sire? Thou wilt abandon Orleans! SENATOR (kneels down). My king! Abandon not thy faithful town! Consign her not to England's harsh control. She is a precious jewel in the crown, And none hath more inviolate faith maintained Towards the kings, thy royal ancestors. DUNOIS. Have we been routed? Is it lawful, sire, To leave the English masters of the field, Without a single stroke to save the town? And thinkest thou, with careless breath, forsooth, Ere blood hath flowed, rashly to give away The fairest city from the heart of France? CHARLES. Blood hath been poured forth freely, and in vain The hand of heaven is visibly against me; In every battle is my host o'erthrown, I am rejected of my parliament, My capital, my people, hail me foe, Those of my blood,--my nearest relatives,-- Forsake me and betray--and my own mother Doth nurture at her breast the hostile brood. Beyond the Loire we will retire, and yield To the o'ermastering hand of destiny Which sideth with the English. SOREL. God forbid That we in weak despair should quit this realm! This utterance came not from thy heart, my king, Thy noble heart, which hath been sorely riven By the fell deed of thy unnatural mother, Thou'lt be thyself again, right valiantly Thou'lt battle with thine adverse destiny, Which doth oppose thee with relentless ire. CHARLES (lost in gloomy thought). Is it not true? A dark and ominous doom Impendeth o'er the heaven-abandoned house Of Valois--there preside the avenging powers, To whom a mother's crime unbarred the way. For thirty years my sire in madness raved; Already have three elder brothers been Mowed down by death; 'tis the decree of heaven, The house of the Sixth Charles is doomed to fall. SOREL. In thee 'twill rise with renovated life! Oh, in thyself have faith!--believe me, king, Not vainly hath a gracious destiny Redeemed thee from the ruin of thy house, And by thy brethren's death exalted thee, The youngest born, to an unlooked-for throne Heaven in thy gentle spirit hath prepared The leech to remedy the thousand ills By party rage inflicted on the land. The flames of civil discord thou wilt quench, And my heart tells me thou'lt establish peace, And found anew the monarchy of France. CHARLES. Not I! The rude and storm-vexed times require A pilot formed by nature to command. A peaceful nation I could render happy A wild, rebellious people not subdue. I never with the sword could open hearts Against me closed in hatred's cold reserve. SOREL. The people's eye is dimmed, an error blinds them, But this delusion will not long endure; The day is not far distant when the love Deep rooted in the bosom of the French, Towards their native monarch, will revive, Together with the ancient jealousy, Which forms a barrier 'twixt the hostile nations. The haughty foe precipitates his doom. Hence, with rash haste abandon not the field, With dauntless front contest each foot of ground, As thine own heart defend the town of Orleans! Let every boat be sunk beneath the wave, Each bridge be burned, sooner than carry thee Across the Loire, the boundary of thy realm, The Stygian flood, o'er which there's no return. CHARLES. What could be done I have done. I have offered, In single fight, to combat for the crown. I was refused. In vain my people bleed, In vain my towns are levelled with the dust. Shall I, like that unnatural mother, see My child in pieces severed with the sword? No; I forego my claim, that it may live. DUNOIS. How, sire! Is this fit language for a king? Is a crown thus renounced? Thy meanest subject, For his opinion's sake, his hate and love, Sets property and life upon a cast; When civil war hangs out her bloody flag, Each private end is drowned in party zeal. The husbandman forsakes his plough, the wife Neglects her distaff; children, and old men, Don the rude garb of war; the citizen Consigns his town to the devouring flames, The peasant burns the produce of his fields; And all to injure or advantage thee, And to achieve the purpose of his heart. Men show no mercy, and they wish for none, When they at honor's call maintain the fight, Or for their idols or their gods contend. A truce to such effeminate pity, then, Which is not suited to a monarch's breast. Thou didst not heedlessly provoke the war; As it commenced, so let it spend its fury. It is the law of destiny that nations Should for their monarchs immolate themselves. We Frenchmen recognize this sacred law, Nor would annul it. Base, indeed, the nation That for its honor ventures not its all. CHARLES (to the SENATORS). You've heard my last resolve; expect no other. May God protect you! I can do no more. DUNOIS. As thou dost turn thy back upon thy realm, So may the God of battle aye avert His visage from thee. Thou forsak'st thyself, So I forsake thee. Not the power combined Of England and rebellious Burgundy, Thy own mean spirit hurls thee from the throne. Born heroes ever were the kings of France; Thou wert a craven, even from thy birth. [To the SENATORS. The king abandons you. But I will throw Myself into your town--my father's town-- And 'neath its ruins find a soldier's grave. [He is about to depart. AGNES SOREL detains him. SOREL (to the KING). Oh, let him not depart in anger from thee! Harsh words his lips have uttered, but his heart Is true as gold. 'Tis he, himself, my king, Who loves thee, and hath often bled for thee. Dunois, confess, the heat of noble wrath Made thee forget thyself; and oh, do thou Forgive a faithful friend's o'erhasty speech! Come, let me quickly reconcile your hearts, Ere anger bursteth forth in quenchless flame. [DUNOIS looks fixedly at the KING, and appears to await an answer. CHARLES. Our way lies over the Loire. Duchatel, See all our equipage embarked. DUNOIS (quickly to SOREL). Farewell. [He turns quickly round, and goes out. The SENATORS follow. SOREL (wringing her hands in despair). Oh, if he goes, we are forsaken quite! Follow, La Hire! Oh, seek to soften him! [LA HIRE goes out. SCENE VI. CHARLES, SOREL, DUCHATEL. CHARLES. Is, then, the sceptre such a peerless treasure? Is it so hard to loose it from our grasp? Believe me, 'tis more galling to endure The domineering rule of these proud vassals. To be dependent on their will and pleasure Is, to a noble heart, more bitter far Than to submit to fate. [To DUCHATEL, who still lingers. Duchatel, go, And do what I commanded. DUCHATEL (throws himself at the KING'S feet). Oh, my king! CHARLES. No more! Thou'st heard my absolute resolve! DUCHATEL. Sire, with the Duke of Burgundy make peace! 'Tis the sole outlet from destruction left! CHARLES. Thou giv'st this counsel, and thy blood alone Can ratify this peace. DUCHATEL. Here is my head. I oft have risked it for thee in the fight, And with a joyful spirit I, for thee, Would lay it down upon the block of death. Conciliate the duke! Deliver me To the full measure of his wrath, and let My flowing blood appease the ancient hate. CHARLES (looks at him for some time in silence, and with deep emotion). Can it be true? Am I, then, sunk so low, That even friends, who read my inmost heart, Point out for my escape the path of shame? Yes, now I recognize my abject fall. My honor is no more confided in. DUCHATEL. Reflect---- CHARLES. Be silent, and incense me not! Had I ten realms, on which to turn my back, With my friend's life I would not purchase them. Do what I have commanded. Hence, and see My equipage embarked. DUCHATEL. 'Twill speedily Be done. [He stands up and retires. AGNES SOREL weeps passionately. SCENE VII. The royal palace at Chinon. CHARLES, AGNES SOREL. CHARLES (seizing the hand of AGNES). My Agnes, be not sorrowful! Beyond the Loire we still shall find a France; We are departing to a happier land, Where laughs a milder, an unclouded sky, And gales more genial blow; we there shall meet More gentle manners; song abideth there, And love and life in richer beauty bloom. SOREL. Oh, must I contemplate this day of woe! The king must roam in banishment! the son Depart, an exile from his father's house, And turn his back upon his childhood's home! Oh, pleasant, happy land that we forsake, Ne'er shall we tread thee joyously again. SCENE VIII. LA HIRE returns, CHARLES, SOREL. SOREL. You come alone? You do not bring him back? [Observing him more closely. La Hire! What news? What does that look announce? Some new calamity? LA HIRE. Calamity Hath spent itself; sunshine is now returned. SOREL. What is it? I implore you. LA HIRE (to the KING). Summon back The delegates from Orleans. CHARLES. Why? What is it? LA HIRE. Summon them back! Thy fortune is reversed. A battle has been fought, and thou hast conquered. SOREL. Conquered! Oh, heavenly music of that word! CHARLES. La Hire! A fabulous report deceives thee; Conquered! In conquest I believe no more. LA HIRE. Still greater wonders thou wilt soon believe. Here cometh the archbishop. To thine arms He leadeth back Dunois. SOREL. O beauteous flower Of victory, which doth the heavenly fruits Of peace and reconcilement bear at once! SCENE IX. The same, ARCHBISHOP of RHEIMS, DUNOIS, DUCHATEL, with RAOUL, a Knight in armor. ARCHBISHOP (leading DUNOIS to the KING, and joining their hands). Princes, embrace! Let rage and discord cease, Since Heaven itself hath for our cause declared. [DUNOIS embraces the KING. CHARLES. Relieve my wonder and perplexity. What may this solemn earnestness portend? Whence this unlooked-for change of fortune? ARCHBISHOP (leads the KNIGHT forward, and presents him to the KING). Speak! RAOUL. We had assembled sixteen regiments Of Lotharingian troops to join your host; And Baudricourt, a knight of Vaucouleurs, Was our commander. Having gained the heights By Vermanton, we wound our downward way Into the valley watered by the Yonne. There, in the plain before us, lay the foe, And when we turned, arms glittered in our rear. We saw ourselves surrounded by two hosts, And could not hope for conquest or for flight. Then sank the bravest heart, and in despair We all prepared to lay our weapons down. The leaders with each other anxiously Sought counsel and found none; when to our eyes A spectacle of wonder showed itself. For suddenly from forth the thickets' depths A maiden, on her head a polished helm, Like a war-goddess, issued; terrible Yet lovely was her aspect, and her hair In dusky ringlets round her shoulders fell. A heavenly radiance shone around the height; When she upraised her voice and thus addressed us: "Why be dismayed, brave Frenchmen? On the foe! Were they more numerous than the ocean sands, God and the holy maiden lead you on!" Then quickly from the standard-bearer's hand She snatched the banner, and before our troop With valiant bearing strode the wondrous maid. Silent with awe, scarce knowing what we did, The banner and the maiden we pursue, And fired with ardor, rush upon the foe, Who, much amazed, stand motionless and view The miracle with fixed and wondering gaze. Then, as if seized by terror sent from God, They suddenly betake themselves to flight, And casting arms and armor to the ground, Disperse in wild disorder o'er the field. No leader's call, no signal now avails; Senseless from terror, without looking back, Horses and men plunge headlong in the stream, Where they without resistance are despatched. It was a slaughter rather than a fight! Two thousand of the foe bestrewed the field, Not reckoning numbers swallowed by the flood, While of our company not one was slain. CHARLES. 'Tis strange, by heaven! most wonderful and strange! SOREL. A maiden worked this miracle, you say? Whence did she come? Who is she? RAOUL. Who she is She will reveal to no one but the king! She calls herself a seer and prophetess Ordained by God, and promises to raise The siege of Orleans ere the moon shall change. The people credit her, and thirst for war. The host she follows--she'll be here anon. [The ringing of bells is heard, together with the clang of arms. Hark to the din! The pealing of the bells! 'Tis she! The people greet God's messenger. CHARLES (to DUCHATEL). Conduct her thither. [To the ARCHBISHOP. What should I believe? A maiden brings me conquest even now, When naught can save me but a hand divine! This is not in the common course of things. And dare I here believe a miracle? MANY VOICES (behind the scene). Hail to the maiden!--the deliverer! CHARLES. She comes! Dunois, now occupy my place! We will make trial of this wondrous maid. Is she indeed inspired and sent by God She will be able to discern the king. [DUNOIS seats himself; the KING stands at his right hand, AGNES SOREL near him; the ARCHBISHOP and the others opposite; so that the intermediate space remains vacant. SCENE X. The same. JOHANNA, accompanied by the councillors and many knights, who occupy the background of the scene; she advances with noble bearing, and slowly surveys the company. DUNOIS (after a long and solemn pause). Art thou the wondrous maiden---- JOHANNA (interrupts him, regarding him with dignity). Bastard of Orleans, thou wilt tempt thy God! This place abandon, which becomes thee not! To this more mighty one the maid is sent. [With a firm step she approaches the KING, bows one knee before him, and, rising immediately, steps back. All present express their astonishment, DUNOIS forsakes his seat, which is occupied by the KING. CHARLES. Maiden, thou ne'er hast seen my face before. Whence hast thou then this knowledge? JOHANNA. Thee I saw When none beside, save God in heaven, beheld thee. [She approaches the KING, and speaks mysteriously. Bethink thee, Dauphin, in the bygone night, When all around lay buried in deep sleep, Thou from thy couch didst rise and offer up An earnest prayer to God. Let these retire And I will name the subject of thy prayer. CHARLES. What! to Heaven confided need not be From men concealed. Disclose to me my prayer, And I shall doubt no more that God inspires thee. JOHANNA. Three prayers thou offeredst, Dauphin; listen now Whether I name them to thee! Thou didst pray That if there were appended to this crown Unjust possession, or if heavy guilt, Not yet atoned for, from thy father's times, Occasioned this most lamentable war, God would accept thee as a sacrifice, Have mercy on thy people, and pour forth Upon thy head the chalice of his wrath. CHARLES (steps back with awe). Who art thou, mighty one? Whence comest thou? [All express their astonishment. JOHANNA. To God thou offeredst this second prayer: That if it were his will and high decree To take away the sceptre from thy race, And from thee to withdraw whate'er thy sires, The monarchs of this kingdom, once possessed, He in his mercy would preserve to thee Three priceless treasures--a contented heart, Thy friend's affection, and thine Agnes' love. [The KING conceals his face: the spectators express their astonishment. After a pause. Thy third petition shall I name to thee? CHARLES. Enough; I credit thee! This doth surpass Mere human knowledge: thou art sent by God! ARCHBISHOP. Who art thou, wonderful and holy maid? What favored region bore thee? What blest pair, Beloved of Heaven, may claim thee as their child? JOHANNA. Most reverend father, I am named Johanna, I am a shepherd's lowly daughter, born In Dom Remi, a village of my king. Included in the diocese of Toul, And from a child I kept my father's sheep. And much and frequently I heard them tell Of the strange islanders, who o'er the sea Had come to make us slaves, and on us force A foreign lord, who loveth not the people; How the great city, Paris, they had seized, And had usurped dominion o'er the realm. Then earnestly God's Mother I implored To save us from the shame of foreign chains, And to preserve to us our lawful king. Not distant from my native village stands An ancient image of the Virgin blest, To which the pious pilgrims oft repaired; Hard by a holy oak, of blessed power, Standeth, far-famed through wonders manifold. Beneath the oak's broad shade I loved to sit Tending my flock--my heart still drew me there. And if by chance among the desert hills A lambkin strayed, 'twas shown me in a dream, When in the shadow of this oak I slept. And once, when through the night beneath this tree In pious adoration I had sat, Resisting sleep, the Holy One appeared, Bearing a sword and banner, otherwise Clad like a shepherdess, and thus she spake: "'Tis I; arise, Johanna! leave thy flock, The Lord appoints thee to another task! Receive this banner! Gird thee with this sword! Therewith exterminate my people's foes; Conduct to Rheims thy royal master's son, And crown him with the kingly diadem!" And I made answer: "How may I presume To undertake such deeds, a tender maid, Unpractised in the dreadful art of war!" And she replied: "A maiden pure and chaste Achieves whate'er on earth is glorious If she to earthly love ne'er yields her heart. Look upon me! a virgin, like thyself; I to the Christ, the Lord divine, gave birth, And am myself divine!" Mine eyelids then She touched, and when I upward turned my amaze, Heaven's wide expanse was filled with angel-boys, Who bore white lilies in their hands, while tones Of sweetest music floated through the air. And thus on three successive nights appeared The Holy One, and cried,--"Arise, Johanna! The Lord appoints thee to another task!" And when the third night she revealed herself, Wrathful she seemed, and chiding spake these words: "Obedience, woman's duty here on earth; Severe endurance is her heavy doom; She must be purified through discipline; Who serveth here, is glorified above!" While thus she spake, she let her shepherd garb Fail from her, and as Queen of Heaven stood forth Enshrined in radiant light, while golden clouds Upbore her slowly to the realms of bliss. [All are moved; AGNES SOREL weeping, hides her face on the bosom of the KING. ARCHBISHOP (after a long pause). Before divine credentials such as these Each doubt of earthly prudence must subside, Her deeds attest the truth of what she speaks, For God alone such wonders can achieve. DUNOIS. I credit not her wonders, but her eyes Which beam with innocence and purity. CHARLES. Am I, a sinner, worthy of such favor? Infallible, All-searching eye, thou seest Mine inmost heart, my deep humility! JOHANNA. Humility shines brightly in the skies; Thou art abased, hence God exalteth thee. CHARLES. Shall I indeed withstand mine enemies? JOHANNA. France I will lay submissive at thy feet! CHARLES. And Orleans, say'st thou, will not be surrendered? JOHANNA. The Loire shall sooner roll its waters back. CHARLES. Shall I in triumph enter into Rheims? JOHANNA. I through ten thousand foes will lead you there. [The knights make a noise with their lances and shields, and evince signs of courage. DUNOIS. Appoint the maiden to command the host! We follow blindly whereso'er she leads! The Holy One's prophetic eye shall guide, And this brave sword from danger shall protect her! LA HIRE. A universe in arms we will not fear, If she, the mighty one, precede our troops. The God of battle walketh by her side; Let her conduct us on to victory! [The knights clang their arms and step forward. CHARLES. Yes, holy maiden, do thou lead mine host; My chiefs and warriors shall submit to thee. This sword of matchless temper, proved in war, Sent back in anger by the Constable, Hath found a hand more worthy. Prophetess, Do thou receive it, and henceforward be---- JOHANNA. No, noble Dauphin! conquest to my liege Is not accorded through this instrument Of earthly might. I know another sword Wherewith I am to conquer, which to thee, I, as the Spirit taught, will indicate; Let it be hither brought. CHARLES. Name it, Johanna. JOHANNA. Send to the ancient town of Fierbois; There in Saint Catherine's churchyard is a vault Where lie in heaps the spoils of bygone war. Among them is the sword which I must use. It by three golden lilies may be known, Upon the blade impressed. Let it be brought For thou, my liege, shalt conquer through this sword. CHARLES. Perform what she commands. JOHANNA. And a white banner, Edged with a purple border, let me bear. Upon this banner let the Queen of Heaven Be pictured with the beauteous Jesus child Floating in glory o'er this earthly ball. For so the Holy Mother showed it me. CHARLES. So be it as thou sayest. JOHANNA (to the ARCHBISHOP). Reverend bishop; Lay on my head thy consecrated hands! Pronounce a blessing, Father, on thy child! [She kneels down. ARCHBISHOP. Not blessings to receive, but to dispense Art thou appointed. Go, with power divine! But we are sinners all and most unworthy. [She rises: a PAGE enters. PAGE. A herald from the English generals. JOHANNA. Let him appear, for he is sent by God! [The KING motions to the PAGE, who retires. SCENE XI. The HERALD. The same. CHARLES. Thy tidings, herald? What thy message! Speak! HERALD. Who is it, who for Charles of Valois, The Count of Pointhieu, in this presence speaks? DUNOIS. Unworthy herald! base, insulting knave! Dost thou presume the monarch of the French Thus in his own dominions to deny? Thou art protected by thine office, else---- HERALD. One king alone is recognized by France, And he resideth in the English camp. CHARLES. Peace, peace, good cousin! Speak thy message, herald! HERALD. My noble general laments the blood Which hath already flowed, and still must flow. Hence, in the scabbard holding back the sword, Before by storm the town of Orleans falls, He offers thee an amicable treaty. CHARLES. Proceed! JOHANNA (stepping forward). Permit me, Dauphin, in thy stead, To parley with this herald. CHARLES. Do so, maid! Determine thou, for peace, or bloody war. JOHANNA (to the HERALD). Who sendeth thee? Who speaketh through thy mouth? HERALD. The Earl of Salisbury; the British chief. JOHANNA. Herald, 'tis false! The earl speaks not through thee. Only the living speak, the dead are silent. HERALD. The earl is well, and full of lusty strength; He lives to bring down ruin on your heads. JOHANNA. When thou didst quit the British army he lived. This morn, while gazing from Le Tournelle's tower, A ball from Orleans struck him to the ground. Smilest thou that I discern what is remote? Not to my words give credence; but believe The witness of thine eyes! his funeral train Thou shalt encounter as you goest hence! Now, herald, speak, and do thine errand here. HERALD. If what is hidden thou canst thus reveal, Thou knowest mine errand ere I tell it thee. JOHANNA. It boots me not to know it. But do thou Give ear unto my words! This message bear In answer to the lords who sent thee here. Monarch of England, and ye haughty dukes, Bedford and Gloucester, regents of this realm! To heaven's high King you are accountable For all the blood that hath been shed. Restore The keys of all the cities ta'en by force In opposition to God's holy law! The maiden cometh from the King of Heaven And offers you or peace or bloody war. Choose ye! for this I say, that you may know it: To you this beauteous realm is not assigned By Mary's son;--but God hath given it To Charles, my lord and Dauphin, who ere long Will enter Paris with a monarch's pomp, Attended by the great ones of his realm. Now, herald, go, and speedily depart, For ere thou canst attain the British camp And do thine errand, is the maiden there, To plant the sign of victory at Orleans. [She retires. In the midst of a general movement, the curtain falls. ACT II. Landscape, bounded by rocks. SCENE I. TALBOT and LIONEL, English generals, PHILIP, DUKE OF BURGUNDY, FASTOLFE, and CHATILLON, with soldiers and banners. TALBOT. Here let us make a halt beneath these rocks, And pitch our camp, in case our scattered troops, Dispersed in panic fear, again should rally. Choose trusty sentinels, and guard the heights! 'Tis true the darkness shields us from pursuit, And sure I am, unless the foe have wings, We need not fear surprisal. Still 'tis well To practice caution, for we have to do With a bold foe, and have sustained defeat. [FASTOLFE goes out with the soldiers. LIONEL. Defeat! My general, do not speak that word. It stings me to the quick to think the French To-day have seen the backs of Englishmen. Oh, Orleans! Orleans! Grave of England's glory! Our honor lies upon thy fatal plains Defeat most ignominious and burlesque! Who will in future years believe the tale! The victors of Poictiers and Agincourt, Cressy's bold heroes, routed by a woman? BURGUNDY. That must console us. Not by mortal power, But by the devil have we been o'erthrown! TALBOT. The devil of our own stupidity! How, Burgundy? Do princes quake and fear Before the phantom which appals the vulgar? Credulity is but a sorry cloak For cowardice. Your people first took flight. BURGUNDY. None stood their ground. The flight was general. TALBOT. 'Tis false! Your wing fled first. You wildly broke Into our camp, exclaiming: "Hell is loose, The devil combats on the side of France!" And thus you brought confusion 'mong our troops. LIONEL. You can't deny it. Your wing yielded first. BURGUNDY. Because the brunt of battle there commenced. TALBOT. The maiden knew the weakness of our camp; She rightly judged where fear was to be found. BURGUNDY. How? Shall the blame of our disaster rest With Burgundy? LIONEL. By heaven! were we alone, We English, never had we Orleans lost! BURGUNDY. No, truly! for ye ne'er had Orleans seen! Who opened you a way into this realm, And reached you forth a kind and friendly hand When you descended on this hostile coast? Who was it crowned your Henry at Paris, And unto him subdued the people's hearts? Had this Burgundian arm not guided you Into this realm, by heaven you ne'er had seen The smoke ascending from a single hearth! LIONEL. Were conquests with big words effected, duke, You, doubtless, would have conquered France alone. BURGUNDY. The loss of Orleans angers you, and now You vent your gall on me, your friend and ally. What lost us Orleans but your avarice? The city was prepared to yield to me, Your envy was the sole impediment. TALBOT. We did not undertake the siege for you. BURGUNDY. How would it stand with you if I withdrew With all my host? LIONEL. We should not be worse off Than when, at Agincourt, we proved a match For you and all the banded power of France. BURGUNDY. Yet much you stood in need of our alliance; The regent purchased it at heavy cost. TALBOT. Most dearly, with the forfeit of our honor, At Orleans have we paid for it to-day. BURGUNDY. Urge me no further, lords. Ye may repent it! Did I forsake the banners of my king, Draw down upon my head the traitor's name, To be insulted thus by foreigners? Why am I here to combat against France? If I must needs endure ingratitude, Let it come rather from my native king! TALBOT. You're in communication with the Dauphin, We know it well, but we soon shall find means To guard ourselves 'gainst treason. BURGUNDY. Death and hell! Am I encountered thus? Chatillon, hark! Let all my troops prepare to quit the camp. We will retire into our own domain. [CHATILLON goes out. LIONEL. God speed you there! Never did Britain's fame More brightly shine than when she stood alone, Confiding solely in her own good sword. Let each one fight his battle for himself, For 'tis eternal truth that English blood Cannot, with honor, blend with blood of France. SCENE II. The same. QUEEN ISABEL, attended by a PAGE. ISABEL. What must I hear? This fatal strife forbear! What brain-bewildering planet o'er your minds Sheds dire perplexity? When unity Alone can save you, will you part in hate, And, warring 'mong yourselves, prepare your doom?-- I do entreat you, noble duke, recall Your hasty order. You, renowned Talbot, Seek to appease an irritated friend! Come, Lionel, aid me to reconcile These haughty spirits and establish peace. LIONEL. Not I, madame. It is all one to me. 'Tis my belief, when things are misallied, The sooner they part company the better. ISABEL. How? Do the arts of hell, which on the field Wrought such disastrous ruin, even here Bewilder and befool us? Who began This fatal quarrel? Speak! Lord-general! Your own advantage did you so forget, As to offend your worthy friend and ally? What could you do without his powerful arm? 'Twas he who placed your monarch on the throne, He holds him there, and he can hurl him thence; His army strengthens you--still more his name. Were England all her citizens to pour Upon our coasts, she never o'er this realm Would gain dominion did she stand alone; No! France can only be subdued by France! TALBOT. A faithful friend we honor as we ought; Discretion warns us to beware the false. BURGUNDY. The liar's brazen front beseemeth him Who would absolve himself from gratitude. ISABEL. How, noble duke? Could you so far renounce Your princely honor, and your sense of shame, As clasp the hand of him who slew your sire? Are you so mad to entertain the thought Of cordial reconcilement with the Dauphin, Whom you yourself have hurled to ruin's brink? His overthrow you have well nigh achieved, And madly now would you renounce your work? Here stand your allies. Your salvation lies In an indissoluble bond with England? BURGUNDY. Far is my thought from treaty with the Dauphin; But the contempt and insolent demeanor Of haughty England I will not endure. ISABEL. Come, noble duke? Excuse a hasty word. Heavy the grief which bows the general down, And well you know misfortune makes unjust. Come! come! embrace; let me this fatal breach Repair at once, ere it becomes eternal. TALBOT. What think you, Burgundy? A noble heart, By reason vanquished, doth confess its fault. A wise and prudent word the queen hath spoken; Come, let my hand with friendly pressure heal The wound inflicted by my angry tongue. BURGUNDY. Discreet the counsel offered by the queen! My just wrath yieldeth to necessity. ISABEL. 'Tis well! Now, with a brotherly embrace Confirm and seal the new-established bond; And may the winds disperse what hath been spoken. [BURGUNDY and TALBOT embrace. LIONEL (contemplating the group aside). Hail to an union by the furies planned! ISABEL. Fate hath proved adverse, we have lost a battle, But do not, therefore, let your courage sink. The Dauphin, in despair of heavenly aid, Doth make alliance with the powers of hell; Vainly his soul he forfeits to the devil, For hell itself cannot deliver him. A conquering maiden leads the hostile force; Yours, I myself will lead; to you I'll stand In place of maiden or of prophetess. LIONEL. Madame, return to Paris! We desire To war with trusty weapons, not with women. TALBOT. GO! go! Since your arrival in the camp, Fortune hath fled our banners, and our course Hath still been retrograde. Depart at once! BURGUNDY. Your presence here doth scandalize the host. ISABEL (looks from one to the other with astonishment). This, Burgundy, from you? Do you take part Against me with these thankless English lords? BURGUNDY. Go! go! The thought of combating for you Unnerves the courage of the bravest men. ISABEL. I scarce among you have established peace, And you already form a league against me! TALBOT. Go, in God's name. When you have left the camp No devil will again appal our troops. ISABEL. Say, am I not your true confederate? Are we not banded in a common cause? TALBOT. Thank God! your cause of quarrel is not ours. We combat in an honorable strife. BURGUNDY. A father's bloody murder I avenge. Stern filial duty consecrates my arms. TALBOT. Confess at once. Your conduct towards the Dauphin Is an offence alike to God and man. ISABEL. Curses blast him and his posterity! The shameless son who sins against his mother! BURGUNDY. Ay! to avenge a husband and a father! ISABEL. To judge his mother's conduct he presumed! LIONEL. That was, indeed, irreverent in a son! ISABEL. And me, forsooth, he banished from the realm. TALBOT. Urged to the measure by the public voice. ISABEL. A curse light on him if I e'er forgive him! Rather than see him on his father's throne---- TALBOT. His mother's honor you would sacrifice! ISABEL. Your feeble natures cannot comprehend The vengeance of an outraged mother's heart. Who pleasures me, I love; who wrongs, I hate. If he who wrongs me chance to be my son, All the more worthy is he of my hate. The life I gave I will again take back From him who doth, with ruthless violence, The bosom rend which bore and nourished him. Ye, who do thus make war upon the Dauphin, What rightful cause have ye to plunder him? What crime hath he committed against you? What insult are you called on to avenge? Ambition, paltry envy, goad you on; I have a right to hate him--he's my son. TALBOT. He feels his mother in her dire revenge! ISABEL. Mean hypocrites! I hate you and despise. Together with the world, you cheat yourselves! With robber-hands you English seek to clutch This realm of France, where you have no just right, Nor equitable claim, to so much earth As could be covered by your charger's hoof. --This duke, too, whom the people style the Good, Doth to a foreign lord, his country's foe, For gold betray the birthland of his sires. And yet is justice ever on your tongue. --Hypocrisy I scorn. Such as I am, So let the world behold me! BURGUNDY. It is true! Your reputation you have well maintained. ISABEL. I've passions and warm blood, and as a queen Came to this realm to live, and not to seem. Should I have lingered out a joyless life Because the curse of adverse destiny To a mad consort joined my blooming youth? More than my life I prize my liberty. And who assails me here----But why should I Stoop to dispute with you about my rights? Your sluggish blood flows slowly in your veins! Strangers to pleasure, ye know only rage! This duke, too--who, throughout his whole career, Hath wavered to and fro, 'twixt good and ill-- Can neither love or hate with his whole heart. --I go to Melun. Let this gentleman, [Pointing to LIONEL. Who doth my fancy please, attend me there, To cheer my solitude, and you may work Your own good pleasure! I'll inquire no more Concerning the Burgundians or the English. [She beckons to her PAGE, and is about to retire. LIONEL. Rely upon us, we will send to Melun The fairest youths whom we in battle take. [Coming back. ISABEL. Skilful your arm to wield the sword of death, The French alone can round the polished phrase. [She goes out. SCENE III. TALBOT, BURGUNDY, LIONEL. TALBOT. Heavens! What a woman! LIONEL. Now, brave generals, Your counsel! Shall we prosecute our flight, Or turn, and with a bold and sudden stroke Wipe out the foul dishonor of to-day? BURGUNDY. We are too weak, our soldiers are dispersed, The recent terror still unnerves the host. TALBOT. Blind terror, sudden impulse of a moment, Alone occasioned our disastrous rout. This phantom of the terror-stricken brain, More closely viewed will vanish into air. My counsel, therefore, is, at break of day, To lead the army back, across the stream, To meet the enemy. BURGUNDY. Consider well---- LIONEL. Your pardon! Here is nothing to consider What we have lost we must at once retrieve, Or look to be eternally disgraced. TALBOT. It is resolved. To-morrow morn we fight, This dread-inspiring phantom to destroy, Which thus doth blind and terrify the host Let us in fight encounter this she-devil. If she oppose her person to our sword, Trust me, she never will molest us more; If she avoid our stroke--and be assured She will not stand the hazard of a battle-- Then is the dire enchantment at an end? LIONEL. So be it! And to me, my general, leave This easy, bloodless combat, for I hope Alive to take this ghost, and in my arms, Before the Bastard's eyes--her paramour-- To bear her over to the English camp, To be the sport and mockery of the host. BURGUNDY. Make not too sure. TALBOT. If she encounter me, I shall not give her such a soft embrace. Come now, exhausted nature to restore Through gentle sleep. At daybreak we set forth. [They go out. SCENE IV. JOHANNA with her banner, in a helmet and breastplate, otherwise attired as a woman. DUNOIS, LA HIRE, knights and soldiers appear above upon the rocky path, pass silently over, and appear immediately after on the scene. JOHANNA (to the knights who surround her while the procession continues above). The wall is scaled and we are in the camp! Now fling aside the mantle of still night, Which hitherto hath veiled your silent march, And your dread presence to the foe proclaim. By your loud battle-cry--God and the maiden! ALL (exclaim aloud, amidst the loud clang of arms). God and the maiden! [Drums and trumpets. SENTINELS (behind the scene). The foe! The foe! The foe! JOHANNA. Ho! torches here. Hurl fire into the tents! Let the devouring flames augment the horror, While threatening death doth compass them around! [Soldiers hasten on, she is about to follow. DUNOIS (holding her back). Thy part thou hast accomplished now, Johanna! Into the camp thou hast conducted us, The foe thou hast delivered in our hands, Now from the rush of war remain apart! The bloody consummation leave to us. LA HIRE. Point out the path of conquest to the host; Before us, in pure hand, the banner bear. But wield the fatal weapon not thyself; Tempt not the treacherous god of battle, for He rageth blindly, and he spareth not. JOHANNA. Who dares impede my progress? Who presume The spirit to control which guideth me? Still must the arrow wing its destined flight! Where danger is, there must Johanna be; Nor now, nor here, am I foredoomed to fall; Our monarch's royal brow I first must see Invested with the round of sovereignty. No hostile power can rob me of my life, Till I've accomplished the commands of God. [She goes out. LA HIRE. Come, let us follow after her, Dunois, And let our valiant bosoms be her shield! [Exit. SCENE V. ENGLISH SOLDIERS hurry over the stage. Afterwards TALBOT. 1 SOLDIER. The maiden in the camp! 2 SOLDIER. Impossible! It cannot be! How came she in the camp? 3 SOLDIER. Why, through the air! The devil aided her! 4 AND 5 SOLDIERS. Fly! fly! We are dead men! TALBOT (enters). They heed me not! They stay not at my call! The sacred bands of discipline are loosed! As hell had poured her damned legions forth, A wild, distracting impulse whirls along, In one mad throng, the cowardly and brave. I cannot rally e'en the smallest troop To form a bulwark gainst the hostile flood, Whose raging billows press into our camp! Do I alone retain my sober senses, While all around in wild delirium rave? To fly before these weak, degenerate Frenchmen Whom we in twenty battles have overthrown? Who is she then--the irresistible-- The dread-inspiring goddess, who doth turn At once the tide of battle, and transform The lions bold a herd of timid deer? A juggling minx, who plays the well-learned part Of heroine, thus to appal the brave? A woman snatch from me all martial fame? SOLDIER (rushing in). The maiden comes! Fly, general, fly! fly! TALBOT (strikes him down). Fly thou, thyself, to hell! This sword shall pierce Who talks to me of fear, or coward flight! [He goes out. SCENE VI. The prospect opens. The English camp is seen in flames. Drums, flight, and pursuit. After a while MONTGOMERY enters. MONTGOMERY (alone). Where shall I flee? Foes all around and death! Lo! here The furious general, who with threatening sword, prevents Escape, and drives us back into the jaws of death. The dreadful maiden there--the terrible--who like Devouring flame, destruction spreads; while all around Appears no bush wherein to hide--no sheltering cave! Oh, would that o'er the sea I never had come here! Me miserable--empty dreams deluded me-- Cheap glory to achieve on Gallia's martial fields. And I am guided by malignant destiny Into this murderous flight. Oh, were I far, far hence. Still in my peaceful home, on Severn's flowery banks, Where in my father's house, in sorrow and in tears, I left my mother and my fair young bride. [JOHANNA appears in the distance. Wo's me! What do I see! The dreadful form appears! Arrayed in lurid light, she from the raging fire Issues, as from the jaws of hell, a midnight ghost. Where shall I go? where flee? Already from afar She seizes on me with her eye of fire, and flings Her fatal and unerring coil, whose magic folds With ever-tightening pressure, bind my feet and make Escape impossible! Howe'er my heart rebels, I am compelled to follow with my gaze that form Of dread! [JOHANNA advances towards him some steps; and again remains standing. She comes! I will not passively await Her furious onset! Imploringly I'll clasp Her knees! I'll sue to her for life. She is a woman. I may perchance to pity move her by my tears! [While he is on the point of approaching her she draws near. SCENE VII. JOHANNA, MONTGOMERY. JOHANNA. Prepare to die! A British mother bore thee! MONTGOMERY (falls at her feet). Fall back, terrific one! Forbear to strike An unprotected foe! My sword and shield I've flung aside, and supplicating fall Defenceless at thy feet. A ransom take! Extinguish not the precious light of life! With fair possessions crowned, my father dwells In Wales' fair land, where among verdant meads The winding Severn rolls his silver tide, And fifty villages confess his sway. With heavy gold he will redeem his son, When he shall hear I'm in the camp of France. JHANNA. Deluded mortal! to destruction doomed! Thou'rt fallen in the maiden's hand, from which Redemption or deliverance there is none. Had adverse fortune given thee a prey To the fierce tiger or the crocodile-- Hadst robbed the lion mother of her brood-- Compassion thou might'st hope to find and pity; But to encounter me is certain death. For my dread compact with the spirit realm-- The stern inviolable--bindeth me, To slay each living thing whom battle's God, Full charged with doom, delivers to my sword. MONTGOMERY. Thy speech is fearful, but thy look is mild; Not dreadful art thou to contemplate near; My heart is drawn towards thy lovely form. Oh! by the mildness of thy gentle sex, Attend my prayer. Compassionate my youth. JOHANNA. Name me not woman! Speak not of my sex! Like to the bodiless spirits, who know naught Of earth's humanities, I own no sex; Beneath this vest of steel there beats no heart. MONTGOMERY. Oh! by love's sacred, all-pervading power, To whom all hearts yield homage, I conjure thee. At home I left behind a gentle bride, Beauteous as thou, and rich in blooming grace: Weeping she waiteth her betrothed's return. Oh! if thyself dost ever hope to love, If in thy love thou hopest to be happy, Then ruthless sever not two gentle hearts, Together linked in love's most holy bond! JOHANNA. Thou dost appeal to earthly, unknown gods, To whom I yield no homage. Of love's bond, By which thou dost conjure me, I know naught Nor ever will I know his empty service. Defend thy life, for death doth summon thee. MONTGOMERY. Take pity on my sorrowing parents, whom I left at home. Doubtless thou, too, hast left Parents, who feel disquietude for thee. JOHANNA. Unhappy man! thou dost remember me How many mothers of this land your arms Have rendered childless and disconsolate; How many gentle children fatherless; How many fair young brides dejected widows! Let England's mothers now be taught despair, And learn to weep the bitter tear oft shed By the bereaved and sorrowing wives of France. MONTGOMERY. 'Tis hard in foreign lands to die unwept. JOHANNA. Who called you over to this foreign land, To waste the blooming culture of our fields, To chase the peasant from his household hearth, And in our cities' peaceful sanctuary To hurl the direful thunderbolt of war? In the delusion of your hearts ye thought To plunge in servitude the freeborn French, And to attach their fair and goodly realm, Like a small boat, to your proud English bark! Ye fools! The royal arms of France are hung Fast by the throne of God; and ye as soon From the bright wain of heaven might snatch a star As rend a single village from this realm, Which shall remain inviolate forever! The day of vengeance is at length arrived; Not living shall ye measure back the sea, The sacred sea--the boundary set by God Betwixt our hostile nations--and the which Ye ventured impiously to overpass. MONTGOMERY (lets go her hands). Oh, I must die! I feel the grasp of death! JOHANNA. Die, friend! Why tremble at the approach of death? Of mortals the irrevocable doom? Look upon me! I'm born a shepherd maid; This hand, accustomed to the peaceful crook, Is all unused to wield the sword of death. Yet, snatched away from childhood's peaceful haunts, From the fond love of father and of sisters, Urged by no idle dream of earthly glory, But heaven-appointed to achieve your ruin, Like a destroying angel I must roam, Spreading dire havoc around me, and at length Myself must fall a sacrifice to death! Never again shall I behold my home! Still, many of your people I must slay, Still, many widows make, but I at length Myself shall perish, and fulfil my doom. Now thine fulfil. Arise! resume thy sword, And let us fight for the sweet prize of life. MONTGOMERY (stands up). Now, if thou art a mortal like myself, Can weapons wound thee, it may be assigned To this good arm to end my country's woe, Thee sending, sorceress, to the depths of hell. In God's most gracious hands I leave my fate. Accursed one! to thine assistance call The fiends of hell! Now combat for thy life! [He seizes his sword and shield, and rushes upon her; martial music is heard in the distance. After a short conflict MONTGOMERY falls. SCENE VIII. JOHANNA (alone). To death thy foot did bear thee--fare thee well! [She steps away from him and remains absorbed in thought. Virgin, thou workest mightily in me! My feeble arm thou dost endue with strength, And steep'st my woman's heart in cruelty. In pity melts the soul and the hand trembles, As it did violate some sacred fane, To mar the goodly person of the foe. Once I did shudder at the polished sheath, But when 'tis needed, I'm possessed with strength, And as it were itself a thing of life, The fatal weapon, in my trembling grasp, Self-swayed, inflicteth the unerring stroke. SCENE IX. A KNIGHT with closed visor, JOHANNA. KNIGHT. Accursed one! thy hour of death has come! Long have I sought thee on the battle-field, Fatal delusion! get thee back to hell, Whence thou didst issue forth. JOHANNA. Say, who art thou, Whom his bad genius sendeth in my way? Princely thy port, no Briton dost thou seem, For the Burgundian colors stripe thy shield, Before the which my sword inclines its point. KNIGHT. Vile castaway! Thou all unworthy art To fall beneath a prince's noble hand. The hangman's axe should thy accursed head Cleave from thy trunk, unfit for such vile use The royal Duke of Burgundy's brave sword. JOHANNA. Art thou indeed that noble duke himself? KNIGHT (raises his visor). I'm he, vile creature, tremble and despair! The arts of hell shall not protect thee more. Thou hast till now weak dastards overcome; Now thou dost meet a man. SCENE X. DUNOIS and LA HIRE. The same. DUNOIS. Hold, Burgundy! Turn! combat now with men, and not with maids. LA HIRE. We will defend the holy prophetess; First must thy weapon penetrate this breast. BURGUNDY. I fear not this seducing Circe; no, Nor you, whom she hath changed so shamefully! Oh, blush, Dunois! and do thou blush, La Hire To stoop thy valor to these hellish arts-- To be shield-bearer to a sorceress! Come one--come all! He only who despairs Of heaven's protection seeks the aid of hell. [They prepare for combat, JOHANNA steps between. JOHANNA. Forbear! BURGUNDY. Dost tremble for thy lover? Thus Before thine eyes he shall---- [He makes a thrust at DUNOIS. JOHANNA. Dunois, forbear! Part them, La Hire! no blood of France must flow: Not hostile weapons must this strife decide, Above the stars 'tis otherwise decreed. Fall back! I say. Attend and venerate The Spirit which hath seized, which speaks through me! DUNOIS. Why, maiden, now hold back my upraised arm? Why check the just decision of the sword? My weapon pants to deal the fatal blow Which shall avenge and heal the woes of France. [She places herself in the midst and separates the parties. JOHANNA. Fall back, Dunois! Stand where thou art, La Hire! Somewhat I have to say to Burgundy. [When all is quiet. What wouldst thou, Burgundy? Who is the foe Whom eagerly thy murderous glances seek? This prince is, like thyself, a son of France,-- This hero is thy countryman, thy friend; I am a daughter of thy fatherland. We all, whom thou art eager to destroy, Are of thy friends;--our longing arms prepare To clasp, our bending knees to honor thee. Our sword 'gainst thee is pointless, and that face E'en in a hostile helm is dear to us, For there we trace the features of our king. BURGUNDY. What, syren! wilt thou with seducing words Allure thy victim? Cunning sorceress, Me thou deludest not. Mine ears are closed Against thy treacherous words; and vainly dart Thy fiery glances 'gainst this mail of proof. To arms, Dunois! With weapons let us fight, and not with words. DUNOIS. First words, then weapons, Burgundy! Do words With dread inspire thee? 'Tis a coward's fear, And the betrayer of an evil cause. JOHANNA. 'Tis not imperious necessity Which throws us at thy feet! We do not come As suppliants before thee. Look around! The English tents are level with the ground, And all the field is covered with your slain. Hark! the war-trumpets of the French resound; God hath decided--ours the victory! Our new-culled laurel garland with our friend We fain would share. Come, noble fugitive! Oh, come where justice and where victory dwell! Even I, the messenger of heaven, extend A sister's hand to thee. I fain would save And draw thee over to our righteous cause! Heaven hath declared for France! Angelic powers, Unseen by thee, do battle for our king; With lilies are the holy ones adorned, Pure as this radiant banner is our cause; Its blessed symbol is the queen of heaven. BURGUNDY. Falsehood's fallacious words are full of guile, But hers are pure and simple as a child's. If evil spirits borrow this disguise, They copy innocence triumphantly. I'll hear no more. To arms, Dunois! to arms! Mine ear, I feel, is weaker than mine arm. JOHANNA. You call me an enchantress, and accuse Of hellish arts. Is it the work of hell To heal dissension and to foster peace? Comes holy concord from the depths below? Say, what is holy, innocent, and good, If not to combat for our fatherland? Since when hath nature been so self-opposed That heaven forsakes the just and righteous cause, While hell protects it? If my words are true, Whence could I draw them but from heaven above? Who ever sought me in my shepherd-walks, To teach the humble maid affairs of state? I ne'er have stood with princes, to these lips Unknown the arts of eloquence. Yet now, When I have need of it to touch thy heart, Insight and varied knowledge I possess; The fate of empires and the doom of kings Lie clearly spread before my childish mind, And words of thunder issue from my mouth. BURGUNDY (greatly moved, looks at her with emotion and astonishment). How is it with me? Doth some heavenly power Thus strangely stir my spirit's inmost depths? This pure, this gentle creature cannot lie! No, if enchantment blinds me, 'tis from heaven. My spirit tells me she is sent from God. JOHANNA. Oh, he is moved! I have not prayed in vain, Wrath's thunder-cloud dissolves in gentle tears, And leaves his brow, while mercy's golden beams Break from his eyes and gently promise peace. Away with arms, now clasp him to your hearts, He weeps--he's conquered, he is ours once more! [Her sword and banner fall; she hastens to him with outstretched arms, and embraces him in great agitation. LA HIRE and DUNOIS throw down their swords, and hasten also to embrace him. ACT III. Residence of the KING at Chalons on the Marne. SCENE I. DUNOIS, LA HIRE. DUNOIS. We have been true heart-friends, brothers in arms, Still have we battled in a common cause, And held together amid toil and death. Let not the love of woman rend the bond Which hath resisted every stroke of fate. LA HIRE. Hear me, my prince! DUNOIS. You love the wondrous maid, And well I know the purpose of your heart. You think without delay to seek the king, And to entreat him to bestow on you Her hand in marriage. Of your bravery The well-earned guerdon he cannot refuse But know,--ere I behold her in the arms Of any other---- LA HIRE. Listen to me, prince! DUNOIS. 'Tis not the fleeting passion of the eye Attracts me to her. My unconquered sense Had set at naught the fiery shafts of love Till I beheld this wondrous maiden, sent By a divine appointment to become The savior of this kingdom, and my wife; And on the instant in my heart I vowed A sacred oath, to bear her home, my bride. For she alone who is endowed with strength Can be the strong man's friend. This glowing heart Longs to repose upon a kindred breast, Which can sustain and comprehend its strength. LA HIRE. How dare I venture, prince, my poor deserts To measure with your name's heroic fame! When Count Dunois appeareth in the lists, Each humbler suitor must forsake the field; Still it doth ill become a shepherd maid To stand as consort by your princely side. The royal current in your veins would scorn To mix with blood of baser quality. DUNOIS. She, like myself, is holy Nature's child, A child divine--hence we by birth are equal. She bring dishonor on a prince's hand, Who is the holy angel's bride, whose head Is by a heavenly glory circled round, Whose radiance far outshineth earthly crowns, Who seeth lying far beneath her feet All that is greatest, highest of this earth! For thrones on thrones, ascending to the stars, Would fail to reach the height where she abides In angel majesty! LA HIRE. Our monarch must decide. DUNOIS. Not so! she must Decide! Free hath she made this realm of France, And she herself must freely give her heart. LA HIRE. Here comes the king! SCENE II. CHARLES, AGNES, SOREL, DUCHATEL, and CHATILLON. The same. CHARLES (to CHATILLON). He comes! My title he will recognize, And do me homage as his sovereign liege? CHATILLON. Here, in his royal town of Chalons, sire, The duke, my master, will fall down before thee. He did command me, as my lord and king, To give thee greeting. He'll be here anon. SOREL. He comes! Hail beauteous and auspicious day, Which bringeth joy, and peace, and reconcilement! CHATILLON. The duke, attended by two hundred knights, Will hither come; he at thy feet will kneel; But he expecteth not that thou to him Should yield the cordial greeting of a kinsman. CHARLES. I long to clasp him to my throbbing heart. CHATILLON. The duke entreats that at this interview, No word be spoken of the ancient strife! CHARLES. In Lethe be the past forever sunk! The smiling future now invites our gaze. CHATILLON. All who have combated for Burgundy Shall be included in the amnesty. CHARLES. So shall my realm be doubled in extent! CHATILLON. Queen Isabel, if she consent thereto, Shall also be included in the peace. CHARLES. She maketh war on me, not I on her. With her alone it rests to end our quarrel. CHATILLON. Twelve knights shall answer for thy royal word. CHARLES. My word is sacred. CHATILLON. The archbishop shall Between you break the consecrated host, As pledge and seal of cordial reconcilement. CHARLES. Let my eternal weal be forfeited, If my hand's friendly grasp belie my heart. What other surety doth the duke require? CHATILLON (glancing at DUCHATEL). I see one standing here, whose presence, sire, Perchance might poison the first interview. [DUCHATEL retires in silence. CHARLES. Depart, Duchatel, and remain concealed Until the duke can bear thee in his sight. [He follows him with his eye, then hastens after and embraces him. True-hearted friend! Thou wouldst far more than this Have done for my repose! [Exit DUCHATEL. CHATILLON. This instrument doth name the other points. CHARLES (to the ARCHBISHOP). Let it be settled. We agree to all. We count no price too high to gain a friend. Go now, Dunois, and with a hundred knights, Give courteous conduct to the noble duke. Let the troops, garlanded with verdant boughs, Receive their comrades with a joyous welcome. Be the whole town arrayed in festive pomp, And let the bells with joyous peal, proclaim That France and Burgundy are reconciled. [A PAGE enters. Trumpets sound. Hark! What importeth that loud trumpet's call? PAGE. The Duke of Burgundy hath stayed his march. [Exit. DUNOIS. Up! forth to meet him! [Exit with LA HIRE and CHATILLON. CHARLES (to SOREL). My Agnes! thou dost weep! Even my strength Doth almost fail me at this interview. How many victims have been doomed to fall Ere we could meet in peace and reconcilement! But every storm at length suspends its rage, Day follows on the murkiest night; and still When comes the hour, the latest fruits mature! ARCHBISHOP (at the window). The thronging crowds impede the duke's advance; He scarce can free himself. They lift him now From off his horse; they kiss his spurs, his mantle. CHARLES. They're a good people, in whom love flames forth As suddenly as wrath. In how brief space They do forget that 'tis this very duke Who slew, in fight, their fathers and their sons; The moment swallows up the whole of life! Be tranquil, Sorel. E'en thy passionate joy Perchance might to his conscience prove a thorn. Nothing should either shame or grieve him here. SCENE III. The DUKE OF BURGUNDY, DUNOIS, LA HIRE, CHATILLON, and two other knights of the DUKE'S train. The DUKE remains standing at the door; the KING inclines towards him; BURGUNDY immediately advances, and in the moment when he is about to throw himself upon his knees, the KING receives him in his arms. CHARLES. You have surprised us; it was our intent To fetch you hither, but your steeds are fleet. BURGUNDY. They bore me to my duty. [He embraces SOREL, and kisses her brow. With your leave! At Arras, niece, it is our privilege, And no fair damsel may exemption claim. CHARLES. Rumor doth speak your court the seat of love, The mart where all that's beautiful must tarry. BURGUNDY. We are a traffic-loving people, sire; Whate'er of costly earth's wide realms produce, For show and for enjoyment, is displayed Upon our mart at Bruges; but above all There woman's beauty is pre-eminent. SOREL. More precious far is woman's truth; but it Appeareth not upon the public mart. CHARLES. Kinsman, 'tis rumored to your prejudice That woman's fairest virtue you despise. BURGUNDY. The heresy inflicteth on itself The heaviest penalty. 'Tis well for you, From your own heart, my king, you learned betimes What a wild life hath late revealed to me. [He perceives the ARCHBISHOP, and extends his hand. Most reverend minister of God! your blessing! You still are to be found on duty's path, Where those must walk who would encounter you. ARCHBISHOP. Now let my Master call me when he will; My heart is full, I can with joy depart, Since that mine eyes have seen this day! BURGUNDY (to SOREL). 'Tis said That of your precious stones you robbed yourself, Therefrom to forge 'gainst me the tools of war! Bear you a soul so martial? Were you then So resolute to work my overthrow? Well, now our strife is over; what was lost Will in due season all be found again. Even your jewels have returned to you. Against me to make war they were designed; Receive them from me as a pledge of peace. [He receives a casket from one of the attendants, and presents it to her to open. SOREL, embarrassed, looks at the KING. CHARLES. Receive this present; 'tis a twofold pledge Of reconcilement and of fairest love. BURGUNDY (placing a diamond rose in her hair). Why, is it not the diadem of France? With full as glad a spirit I would place The golden circle on this lovely brow. [Taking her hand significantly. And count on me if, at some future time You should require a friend. [AGNES SOREL bursts into tears, and steps aside. THE KING struggles with his feelings. The bystanders contemplate the two princes with emotion. BURGUNDY (after gazing round the circle, throws himself into the KING'S arms). Oh, my king! [At the same moment the three Burgundian knights hasten to DUNOIS, LA HIRE, and the ARCHBISHOP. They embrace each other. The two PRINCES remain for a time speechless in each other's arms. I could renounce you! I could bear your hate! CHARLES. Hush! hush! No further! BURGUNDY. I this English king Could crown! Swear fealty to this foreigner! And you, my sovereign, into ruin plunge! CHARLES. Forget it! Everything's forgiven now! This single moment doth obliterate all. 'Twas a malignant star! A destiny! BURGUNDY (grasps his hand). Believe me, sire, I'll make amends for all. Your bitter sorrow I will compensate; You shall receive your kingdom back entire, A solitary village shall not fail! CHARLES. We are united. Now I fear no foe. BURGUNDY. Trust me, it was not with a joyous spirit That I bore arms against you. Did you know? Oh, wherefore sent you not this messenger? [Pointing to SOREL. I must have yielded to her gentle tears. Henceforth, since breast to breast we have embraced, No power of hell again shall sever us! My erring course ends here. His sovereign's heart Is the true resting-place for Burgundy. ARCHBISHOP (steps between them). Ye are united, princes! France doth rise A renovated phoenix from its ashes. The auspicious future greets us with a smile. The country's bleeding wounds will heal again, The villages, the desolated towns, Rise in new splendor from their ruined heaps, The fields array themselves in beauteous green; But those who, victims of your quarrel, fell, The dead, rise not again; the bitter tears, Caused by your strife, remain forever wept! One generation hath been doomed to woe; On their descendants dawns a brighter day; The gladness of the son wakes not the sire. This the dire fruitage of your brother-strife! Oh, princes, learn from hence to pause with dread, Ere from its scabbard ye unsheath the sword. The man of power lets loose the god of war, But not, obedient, as from fields of air Returns the falcon to the sportsman's hand, Doth the wild deity obey the call Of mortal voice; nor will the Saviour's hand A second time forth issue from the clouds. BURGUNDY. Oh, sire! an angel walketh by your side. Where is she? Why do I behold her not? CHARLES. Where is Johanna? Wherefore faileth she To grace the festival we owe to her? ARCHBISHOP. She loves not, sire, the idleness of the court, And when the heavenly mandate calls her not Forth to the world's observance, she retires, And doth avoid the notice of the crowd. Doubtless, unless the welfare of the realm Claims her regard, she communes with her God, For still a blessing on her steps attends. SCENE IV. The same. JOHANNA enters. She is clad in armor, and wears a garland in her hair. CHARLES. Thou comest as a priestess decked, Johanna, To consecrate the union formed by thee! BURGUNDY. How dreadful was the maiden in the fight! How lovely circled by the beams of peace! My word, Johanna, have I now fulfilled? Art thou contented? Have I thine applause? JOHANNA. The greatest favor thou hast shown thyself. Arrayed in blessed light thou shinest now, Who didst erewhile with bloody, ominous ray, Hang like a moon of terror in the heavens. [Looking round. Many brave knights I find assembled here, And joy's glad radiance beams in every eye; One mourner, one alone I have encountered; He must conceal himself, where all rejoice. BURGUNDY. And who is conscious of such heavy guilt, That of our favor he must needs despair? JOHANNA. May he approach? Oh, tell me that he may; Complete thy merit. Void the reconcilement That frees not the whole heart. A drop of hate Remaining in the cup of joy converts The blessed draught to poison. Let there be No deed so stained with blood that Burgundy Cannot forgive it on this day of joy. BURGUNDY. Ha! now I understand! JOHANNA. And thou'lt forgive? Thou wilt indeed forgive? Come in, Duchatel! [She opens the door and leads in DUCHATEL, who remains standing at a distance. The duke is reconciled to all his foes, And he is so to thee. [DUCHATEL approaches a few steps nearer, and tries to read the countenance of the DUKE. BURGUNDY. What makest thou Of me, Johanna? Know'st thou what thou askest? JOHANNA. A gracious sovereign throws his portals wide, Admitting every guest, excluding none; As freely as the firmament the world, So mercy must encircle friend and foe. Impartially the sun pours forth his beams Through all the regions of infinity; The heaven's reviving dew falls everywhere, And brings refreshment to each thirsty plant; Whate'er is good, and cometh from on high, Is universal, and without reserve; But in the heart's recesses darkness dwells! BURGUNDY. Oh, she can mould me to her wish; my heart Is in her forming hand like melted wax. --Duchatel, I forgive thee--come, embrace me! Shade of my sire! oh, not with wrathful eye Behold me clasp the hand that shed thy blood. Ye death-gods, reckon not to my account, That my dread oath of vengeance I abjure. With you, in yon drear realm of endless night, There beats no human heart, and all remains Eternal, steadfast, and immovable. Here in the light of day 'tis otherwise. Man, living, feeling man, is aye the sport Of the o'ermastering present. CHARLES (to JOHANNA). Lofty maid! What owe I not to thee! How truly now Hast thou fulfilled thy word,--how rapidly Reversed my destiny! Thou hast appeased My friends, and in the dust o'erwhelmed my foes; From foreign yoke redeemed my cities. Thou Hast all achieved. Speak, how can I reward thee? JOHANNA. Sire, in prosperity be still humane, As in misfortune thou hast ever been; And on the height of greatness ne'er forget The value of a friend in times of need; Thou hast approved it in adversity. Refuse not to the lowest of thy people The claims of justice and humanity, For thy deliverer from the fold was called. Beneath thy royal sceptre thou shalt gather The realm entire of France. Thou shalt become The root and ancestor of mighty kings; Succeeding monarchs, in their regal state, Shall those outshine, who filled the throne before. Thy stock, in majesty shall bloom so long As it stands rooted in the people's love. Pride only can achieve its overthrow, And from the lowly station, whence to-day God summoned thy deliverer, ruin dire Obscurely threats thy crime-polluted sons! BURGUNDY. Exalted maid! Possessed with sacred fire! If thou canst look into the gulf of time, Speak also of my race! Shall coming years With ampler honors crown my princely line! JOHANNA. High as the throne, thou, Burgundy, hast built Thy seat of power, and thy aspiring heart Would raise still higher, even to the clouds, The lofty edifice. But from on high A hand omnipotent shall check its rise. Fear thou not hence the downfall of thy house! Its glory in a maiden shall survive; Upon her breast shall sceptre-bearing kings, The people's shepherds, bloom. Their ample sway Shall o'er two realms extend, they shall ordain Laws to control the known world, and the new, Which God still veils behind the pathless waves. CHARLES. Oh, if the Spirit doth reveal it, speak; Shall this alliance which we now renew In distant ages still unite our sons? JOHANNA (after a pause). Sovereigns and kings! disunion shun with dread! Wake not contention from the murky cave Where he doth lie asleep, for once aroused He cannot soon be quelled? He doth beget An iron brood, a ruthless progeny; Wildly the sweeping conflagration spreads. --Be satisfied! Seek not to question further In the glad present let your hearts rejoice, The future let me shroud! SOREL. Exalted maid! Thou canst explore my heart, thou readest there If after worldly greatness it aspires, To me to give a joyous oracle. JOHANNA. Of empires only I discern the doom; In thine own bosom lies thy destiny! DUNOIS. What, holy maid, will be thy destiny? Doubtless, for thee, who art beloved of heaven, The fairest earthly happiness shall bloom, For thou art pure and holy. JOHANNA. Happiness Abideth yonder, with our God, in heaven. CHARLES. Thy fortune be henceforth thy monarch's care! For I will glorify thy name in France, And the remotest age shall call thee blest. Thus I fulfil my word. Kneel down! [He draws his sword and touches her with it. And rise! A noble! I, thy monarch, from the dust Of thy mean birth exalt thee. In the grave Thy fathers I ennoble--thou shalt bear Upon thy shield the fleur-de-lis, and be Of equal lineage with the best in France. Only the royal blood of Valois shall Be nobler than thine own! The highest peer Shall feel himself exalted by thy hand; To wed thee nobly, maid, shall be my care! DUNOIS (advancing). My heart made choice of her when she was lowly. The recent honor which encircles her, Neither exalts her merit nor my love. Here in my sovereign's presence, and before This holy bishop, maid, I tender thee My hand, and take thee as my princely wife, If thou esteem me worthy to be thine. CHARLES. Resistless maiden! wonder thou dost add To wonder! Yes, I now believe that naught's Impossible to thee! Thou hast subdued This haughty heart, which still hath scoffed till now At love's omnipotence. LA HIRE (advancing). If I have read Aright Johanna's soul, her modest heart's Her fairest jewel. She deserveth well The homage of the great, but her desires Soar not so high. She striveth not to reach A giddy eminence; an honest heart's True love content's her, and the quiet lot Which with this hand I humbly proffer her. CHARLES. Thou, too, La Hire! two brave competitors,-- Peers in heroic virtue and renown! --Wilt thou, who hast appeased mine enemies, My realms united, part my dearest friends? One only can possess her; I esteem Each to be justly worthy such a prize. Speak, maid! thy heart alone must here decide. SOREL. The noble maiden is surprised, her cheek Is crimsoned over with a modest blush. Let her have leisure to consult her heart, And in confiding friendship to unseal Her long-closed bosom. Now the hour is come When, with a sister's love, I also may Approach the maid severe, and offer her This silent, faithful breast. Permit us women Alone to weigh this womanly affair; Do you await the issue. CHARLES (about to retire). Be it so! JOHANNA. No, sire, not so! the crimson on my cheek Is not the blush of bashful modesty. Naught have I for this noble lady's ear Which in this presence I may not proclaim. The choice of these brave knights much honors me, But I did not forsake my shepherd-walks, To chase vain worldly splendor, nor array My tender frame in panoply of war, To twine the bridal garland in my hair. Far other labor is assigned to me, Which a pure maiden can alone achieve. I am the soldier of the Lord of Hosts, And to no mortal man can I be wife. ARCHBISHOP. To be a fond companion unto man Is woman born--when nature she obeys, Most wisely she fulfils high heaven's decree! When His behest who called thee to the field Shall be accomplished, thou'lt resign thy arms, And once again rejoin the softer sex, Whose gentle nature thou dost now forego, And which from war's stern duties is exempt. JOHANNA. Most reverend sir! as yet I cannot say What work the Spirit will enjoin on me. But when the time comes round, his guiding voice Will not be mute, and it I will obey. Now he commands me to complete my task; My royal master's brow is still uncrowned, 'Twere better for me I had ne'er been born! Henceforth no more of this, unless ye would Provoke the Spirit's wrath who in me dwells! The eye of man, regarding me with love, To me is horror and profanity. CHARLES. Forbear! It is in vain to urge her further. JOHANNA. Command the trumpets of the war to sound! This stillness doth perplex and harass me; An inward impulse drives me from repose, It still impels me to achieve my work, And sternly beckons me to meet my doom. SCENE V. A KNIGHT, entering hastily. CHARLES. What tidings? Speak! KNIGHT. The foe has crossed the Marne, And marshalleth his army for the fight. JOHANNA (inspired). Battle and tumult! Now my soul is free. Arm, warriors, arm! while I prepare the troops. [She goes out. CHARLES. Follow, La Hire! E'en at the gates of Rheims They will compel us to dispute the crown! DUNOIS. No genuine courage prompts them. This essay Is the last effort of enraged despair. CHARLES. I do not urge you, duke. To-day's the time To compensate the errors of the past. BURGUNDY. You shall be satisfied with me. CHARLES. Myself Will march before you on the path of fame; Here, with my royal town of Rheims in view, I'll fight, and gallantry achieve the crown. Thy knight, my Agnes, bids thee now farewell! AGNES (embracing him). I do not weep, I do not tremble for thee; My faith, unshaken, cleaveth unto God! Heaven, were we doomed to failure, had not given So many gracious pledges of success! My heart doth whisper me that, victory-crowned, In conquered Rheims, I shall embrace my king. [Trumpets sound with a spirited tone, and while the scene is changing pass into a wild martial strain. When the scene opens, the orchestra joins in, accompanied by warlike instruments behind the scene. SCENE VI. The scene changes to an open country skirted with trees. During the music soldiers are seen retreating hastily across the background. TALBOT, leaning on FASTOLFE, and accompanied by soldiers. Soon after, LIONEL. TALBOT. Here lay me down beneath the trees, and then Betake you back, with speed, unto the fight; I need no aid to die. FASTOLFE. Oh, woful day! [LIONEL enters. Behold what sign awaits you, Lionel! Here lies our general wounded unto death. LIONEL. Now, God forbid! My noble lord, arise! No moment this to falter and to sink. Yield not to death. By your all-powerful will Command your ebbing spirit still to live. TALBOT. In vain! The day of destiny is come, Which will o'erthrow the English power in France. In desperate combat I have vainly risked The remnant of our force to ward it off. Struck by the thunderbolt I prostrate lie, Never to rise again. Rheims now is lost, Hasten to succor Paris! LIONEL. Paris is with the Dauphin reconciled; A courier even now has brought the news. TALBOT (tearing off his bandages). Then freely flow, ye currents of my blood, For Talbot now is weary of the sun! LIONEL. I may no longer tarry: Fastolfe, haste! Convey our leader to a place of safety. No longer now can we maintain this post; Our flying troops disperse on every side, On, with resistless might, the maiden comes. TALBOT. Folly, thou conquerest, and I must yield! Against stupidity the very gods. Themselves contend in vain. Exalted reason, Resplendent daughter of the head divine, Wise foundress of the system of the world, Guide of the stars, who art thou then if thou, Bound to the tail of folly's uncurbed steed, Must, vainly shrieking with the drunken crowd, Eyes open, plunge down headlong in the abyss. Accursed, who striveth after noble ends, And with deliberate wisdom forms his plans! To the fool-king belongs the world. LIONEL. My lord, But for a few brief moments can you live-- Think of your Maker! TALBOT. Had we, like brave men, Been vanquished by the brave, we might, indeed, Console ourselves that 'twas the common lot; For fickle fortune aye revolves her wheel. But to be baffled by such juggling arts! Deserved our earnest and laborious life Not a more earnest issue? LIONEL (extends his hand to him). Fare you well! The debt of honest tears I will discharge After the battle--if I then survive. Now Fate doth call me hence, where on the field Her web she waveth, and dispenseth doom. We in another world shall meet again; For our long friendship, this a brief farewell. [Exit. TALBOT. Soon is the struggle past, and to the earth, To the eternal sun, I render back These atoms, joined in me for pain and pleasure. And of the mighty Talbot, who the world Filled with his martial glory, there remains Naught save a modicum of senseless dust. Such is the end of man--the only spoil We carry with us from life's battle-field, Is but an insight into nothingness, And utter scorn of all which once appeared To us exalted and desirable. SCENE VII. CHARLES, BURGUNDY, DUNOIS, DUCHATEL, and Soldiers. BURGUNDY. The trench is stormed! DUNOIS. The victory is ours! CHARLES (perceiving TALBOT.) Look! Who is he, who yonder of the sun Taketh reluctant, sorrowful farewell? His armor indicates no common man; Go, succor him, if aid may yet avail. [Soldiers of the KING'S retinue step forward. FASTOLFE. Back! Stand apart! Respect the mighty dead, Whom ye in life ne'er ventured to approach! BURGUNDY. What do I see? Lord Talbot in his blood! [He approaches him. TALBOT gazes fixedly at him, and dies. FASTOLFE. Traitor, avaunt! Let not the sight of thee Poison the dying hero's parting glance. DUNOIS. Resistless hero! Dread-inspiring Talbot! Does such a narrow space suffice thee now, And this vast kingdom could not satisfy The large ambition of thy giant soul! Now first I can salute you, sire, as king: The diadem but tottered on your brow, While yet a spirit tenanted this clay. CHARLES (after contemplating the body in silence). A higher power hath vanquished him, not we! He lies upon the soil of France, as lies The hero on the shield he would not quit. Well, peace be with his ashes! Bear him hence! [Soldiers take up the body and carry it away. Here in the heart of France, where his career Of conquest ended, let his relics lie! So far no hostile sword attained before. A fitting tomb shall memorize his name; His epitaph the spot whereon he fell. FASTOLFE (yielding his sword). I am your prisoner, sir. CHARLES (returning his sword). Not so! Rude war Respects each pious office; you are free To render the last honors to the dead, Go now, Duchatel--still my Agnes trembles-- Hasten to snatch her from anxiety-- Bring her the tidings of our victory, And usher her in triumph into Rheims! [Exit DUCHATEL. SCENE VIII. The same. LA HIRE. DUNOIS. La Hire, where is the maiden? LA HIRE. That I ask Of you; I left her fighting by your side. DUNOIS. I thought she was protected by your arm, When I departed to assist the king. BURGUNDY. Not long ago I saw her banner wave Amidst the thickest of the hostile ranks. DUNOIS. Alas! where is she? Evil I forebode? Come, let us haste to rescue her. I fear Her daring soul hath led her on too far; Alone she combats in the midst of foes, And without succor yieldeth to the crowd. CHARLES. Haste to her rescue! LA HIRE. Come! BURGUNDY. We follow all! [Exit. [They retire in haste. A deserted part of the battle-field. In the distance are seen the towers of Rheims illumined by the sun. SCENE IX. A KNIGHT in black armor, with closed visor. JOHANNA follows him to the front of the stage, where he stops and awaits her. JOHANNA. Deluder! now I see thy stratagem! Thou hast deceitfully, through seeming flight, Allured me from the battle, doom and death Averting thus from many a British head. Destruction now doth overtake thyself. BLACK KNIGHT. Why dost thou follow after me and track My steps with quenchless rage? I am not doomed To perish by thy hand. JOHANNA. Deep in my soul I hate thee as the night, which is thy color; To blot thee out from the fair light of day An irresistible desire impels me. Who art thou? Raise thy visor. I had said That thou wert Talbot had I not myself Seen warlike Talbot in the battle fall. BLACK KNIGHT. Is the divining-spirit mute in thee? JOHANNA. His voice speaks loudly in my spirit's depth The near approach of woe. BLACK KNIGHT. Johanna D'Arc! Borne on the wings of conquest, thou hast reached The gates of Rheims. Let thy achieved renown Content thee. Fortune, like thy slave, till now Hath followed thee; dismiss her, ere in wrath She free herself; fidelity she hates; She serveth none with constancy till death. JOHANNA. Why check me in the midst of my career? Why bid me falter and forsake my work? I will complete it and fulfil my vow! BLACK KNIGHT. Nothing can thee, thou mighty one, withstand, In battle thou art aye invincible. But henceforth shun the fight; attend my warning. JOHANNA. Not from my hand will I resign this sword Till haughty England's prostrate in the dust. BLACK KNIGHT. Behold! there Rheims ariseth with its towers, The goal and end of thy career. Thou seest The lofty minster's sun-illumined dome; Thou in triumphal pomp wouldst enter there, Thy monarch crown, and ratify thy vow. Enter not there! Return! Attend my warning! JOHANNA. What art thou, double-tongued, deceitful being, Who wouldst bewilder and appal me? Speak! By what authority dost thou presume To greet me with fallacious oracles? [The BLACK KNIGHT is about to depart, she steps in his way. No, thou shalt speak, or perish by my hand! [She endeavors to strike him. BLACK KNIGHT (touches her with his hand, she remains motionless). Slay what is mortal! [Darkness, thunder and lightning. The KNIGHT sinks into the earth. JOHANNA (stands at first in amazement, but soon recovers herself). 'Twas nothing living. 'Twas a base delusion, An instrument of hell, a juggling fiend, Uprisen hither from the fiery pool To shake and terrify my steadfast heart. Wielding the sword of God, whom should I fear! I will triumphantly achieve my work. My courage should not waver, should not fail Were hell itself to champion me to fight! [She is about to depart. SCENE X. LIONEL, JOHANNA. LIONEL. Accursed one, prepare thee for the fight! Not both of us shall quit this field alive. Thou hast destroyed the bravest of our host The noble Talbot hath his mighty soul Breathed forth upon my bosom. I'll avenge The hero, or participate his doom. And wouldst thou know who brings thee glory now, Whether he live or die,--I'm Lionel, The sole survivor of the English chiefs, And still unconquered is this valiant arm. [He rushes upon her; after a short combat she strikes the sword out of his hand. Perfidious fortune! [He wrestles with her. JOHANNA seizes him by the crest and tears open his helmet; his face is thus exposed; at the same time she draws her sword with her right hand. JOHANNA. Suffer, what thou soughtest! The Virgin sacrifices thee through me! [At this moment she gazes in his face. His aspect softens her, she remains motionless and slowly lets her arm sink. LIONEL. Why linger, why withhold the stroke of death? My glory thou hast taken--take my life! I want no mercy, I am in thy power. [She makes him a sign with her hand to fly. How! shall I fly and owe my life to thee? No, I would rather die. JOHANNA (with averted face). I will not know That ever thou didst owe thy life to me. LIONEL. I hate alike thee and thy proffered gift. I want no mercy--kill thine enemy Who loathes and would have slain thee. JOHANNA. Slay me, then, And fly! LIONEL. Ha! What is this? JOHANNA (hiding her face). Woe's me! LIONEL (approaching her). 'Tis said Thou killest all the English whom thy sword Subdues in battle--why spare me alone? JOHANNA (raises her sword with a rapid movement as if to strike him, but lets it fall quickly when she gazes on his face). Oh, Holy Virgin! LIONEL. Wherefore namest thou The Holy Virgin? she knows naught of thee; Heaven hath no part in thee. JOHANNA (in the greatest anxiety). What have I done? Alas! I've broke my vow! [She wrings her hands in despair. LIONEL (looks at her with sympathy and approaches her). Unhappy maid! I pity thee! Thy sorrow touches me; Thou hast shown mercy unto me alone, My hatred yielded unto sympathy! Who art thou, and whence comest thou? JOHANNA. Away! LIONEL. Thy youth, thy beauty, move my soul to pity! Thy look sinks in my heart. I fain would save thee! How may I do so? tell me. Come! oh, come! Renounce this fearful league--throw down these arms! JOHANNA. I am unworthy now to carry them! LIONEL. Then throw them from thee--quick! come, follow me! JOHANNA (with horror). How! follow thee! LIONEL. Thou may'st be saved. Oh, come! I will deliver thee, but linger not. Strange sorrow for thy sake doth seize my heart, Unspeakable desire to rescue thee---- [He seizes her arm. JOHANNA. The Bastard comes! 'Tis they! They seek for me! If they should find thee---- LIONEL. I'll defend thee, maid. JOHANNA. I die if thou shouldst perish by their hands! LIONEL. Am I then dear to thee? JOHANNA. Ye heavenly powers! LIONEL. Shall I again behold thee--hear from thee? JOHANNA. No! never! LIONEL. Thus this sword I seize in pledge That I again behold thee! [He snatches her sword. JOHANNA. Madman, hold! Thou darest? LIONEL. Now I yield to force--again I'll see thee! [He retires. SCENE XI. JOHANNA, DUNOIS, LA HIRE. LA HIRE. It is she! The maiden lives! DUNOIS. Fear not, Johanna! friends are at thy side. LA HIRE. Is not that Lionel who yonder flies? DUNOIS. Let him escape! Maiden, the righteous cause Hath triumphed now. Rheims opens wide its gates; The joyous crowds pour forth to meet their king. LA HIRE. What ails thee, maiden? She grows pale--she sinks! [JOHANNA grows dizzy, and is about to fall. DUNOIS. She's wounded--rend her breastplate--'tis her arm! The wound is not severe. LA HIRE. Her blood doth flow. JOHANNA. Oh, that my life would stream forth with my blood! [She lies senseless in LA HIRE'S arms. ACT IV. A hall adorned as for a festival; the columns are hung with garlands; behind the scene flutes and hautboys. SCENE I. JOHANNA. Hushed is the din of arms, war's storms subside, Glad songs and dance succeed the bloody fray, Through all the streets joy echoes far and wide, Altar and church are decked in rich array, Triumphal arches rise in vernal pride, Wreathes round the columns wind their flowery way, Wide Rheims cannot contain the mighty throng, Which to joyous pageant rolls along. One thought alone doth every heart possess, One rapt'rous feeling o'er each breast preside. And those to-day are linked in happiness Whom bloody hatred did erewhile divide. All who themselves of Gallic race confess The name of Frenchman own with conscious pride, France sees the splendor of her ancient crown, And to her monarch's son bows humbly down. Yet I, the author of this wide delight, The joy, myself created, cannot share; My heart is changed, in sad and dreary plight It flies the festive pageant in despair; Still to the British camp it taketh flight, Against my will my gaze still wanders there, And from the throng I steal, with grief oppressed, To hide the guilt which weighs upon my breast! What! I permit a human form To haunt my bosom's sacred cell? And there, where heavenly radiance shone, Doth earthly love presume to dwell? The savior of my country, I, The warrior of God most high, Burn for my country's foeman? Dare I name Heaven's holy light, nor feel o'erwhelmed with shame? [The music behind the scene passes into a soft and moving melody. Woe is me! Those melting tones! They distract my 'wildered brain! Every note, his voice recalling, Conjures up his form again Would that spears were whizzing round! Would that battle's thunder roared! 'Midst the wild tumultuous sound My former strength were then restored. These sweet tones, these melting voices, With seductive power are fraught! They dissolve, in gentle longing, Every feeling, every thought, Waking tears of plaintive sadness. [After a pause, with more energy. Should I have killed him? Could I, when I gazed Upon his face? Killed him? Oh, rather far Would I have turned my weapon 'gainst myself! And am I culpable because humane? Is pity sinful? Pity! Didst then hear The voice of pity and humanity When others fell the victims of thy sword? Why was she silent when the gentle youth From Wales entreated thee to spare his life? Oh, cunning heart! Thou liest before high heaven! It is not pity's voice impels thee now! Why was I doomed to look into his eyes! To mark his noble features! With that glance, Thy crime, thy woe commenced. Unhappy one! A sightless instrument thy God demands, Blindly thou must accomplish his behest! When thou didst see, God's shield abandoned thee, And the dire snares of hell around thee pressed! [Flutes are again heard, and she subsides into a quiet melancholy. Harmless staff! Oh, that I ne'er Had for the sword abandoned thee! Had voices never reached mine ear, From thy branches, sacred tree! High queen of heaven! Oh, would that thou Hadst ne'er revealed thyself to me! Take back--I dare not claim it now-- Take back thy crown, 'tis not for me! I saw the heavens open wide, I gazed upon that face of love! Yet here on earth my hopes abide, They do not dwell in heaven above! Why, Holy One, on me impose This dread vocation? Could I steel, And to each soft emotion close This heart, by nature formed to feel? Wouldst thou proclaim thy high command, Make choice of those who, free from sin, In thy eternal mansions stand; Send forth thy flaming cherubim! Immortal ones, thy law they keep, They do not feel, they do not weep! Choose not a tender woman's aid, Not the frail soul of shepherd maid! Was I concerned with warlike things, With battles or the strife of kings? In innocence I led my sheep Adown the mountain's silent steep, But thou didst send me into life, Midst princely halls and scenes of strife, To lose my spirit's tender bloom Alas, I did not seek my doom! SCENE II. AGNES SOREL, JOHANNA. SOREL (advances joyfully. When she perceives JOHANNA she hastens to her and falls upon her neck; then suddenly recollecting herself; she relinquishes her hold, and falls down before her). No! no! not so! Before thee in the dust---- JOHANNA (trying to raise her). Arise! Thou dost forget thyself and me. SOREL. Forbid me not! 'tis the excess of joy Which throws me at thy feet--I must pour forth My o'ercharged heart in gratitude to God; I worship the Invisible in thee. Thou art the angel who has led my lord To Rheims, to crown him with the royal crown. What I ne'er dreamed to see is realized! The coronation march will soon set forth; Arrayed in festal pomp the monarch stands; Assembled are the nobles of the realm, The mighty peers to bear the insignia; To the cathedral rolls the billowy crowd; Glad songs resound, the bells unite their peal: Oh, this excess of joy I cannot bear! [JOHANNA gently raises her. AGNES SOREL pauses a moment, and surveys the MAIDEN more narrowly. Yet thou remainest ever grave and stern; Thou canst create delight, yet share it not. Thy heart is cold, thou feelest not our joy, Thou hast beheld the glories of the skies; No earthly interest moveth thy pure breast. [JOHANNA seizes her hand passionately, but soon lets it fall again. Oh, couldst thou own a woman's feeling heart! Put off this armor, war is over now, Confess thy union with the softer sex! My loving heart shrinks timidly from thee, While thus thou wearest Pallas' brow severe. JOHANNA. What wouldst thou have me do? SOREL. Unarm thyself! Put off this coat of mail! The God of Love Fears to approach a bosom clad in steel. Oh, be a woman, thou wilt feel his power! JOHANNA. What, now unarm myself? Midst battle's roar I'll bare my bosom to the stroke of death! Not now! Would that a sevenfold wall of brass Could hide me from your revels, from myself! SOREL. Thou'rt loved by Count Dunois. His noble heart, Which virtue and renown alone inspire, With pure and holy passion glows for thee. Oh, it is sweet to know oneself beloved By such a hero--sweeter still to love him! [JOHANNA turns away with aversion. Thou hatest him?--No, no, thou only canst Not love him:--how could hatred stir thy breast! Those who would tear us from the one we love, We hate alone; but none can claim thy love. Thy heart is tranquil--if it could but feel---- JOHANNA. Oh, pity me! Lament my hapless fate! SOREL. What can be wanting to complete thy joy? Thou hast fulfilled thy promise, France is free, To Rheims, in triumph, thou hast led the king, Thy mighty deeds have gained thee high renown, A happy people praise and worship thee; Thy name, the honored theme of every tongue; Thou art the goddess of this festival; The monarch, with his crown and regal state, Shines not with greater majesty than thou! JOHANNA. Oh, could I hide me in the depths of earth! SOREL. Why this emotion? Whence this strange distress? Who may to-day look up without a fear If thou dost cast thine eyes upon the ground! It is for me to blush, me, who near thee Feel all my littleness; I cannot reach The lofty virtue, thy heroic strength! For--all my weakness shall I own to thee? Not the renown of France, my Fatherland, Not the new splendor of the monarch's crow, Not the triumphant gladness of the crowds, Engage this woman's heart. One only form Is in its depths enshrined; it hath no room For any feeling save for one alone: He is the idol, him the people bless, Him they extol, for him they strew these flowers, And he is mine, he is my own true love! JOHANNA. Oh, thou art happy! thou art blessed indeed! Thou lovest, where all love. Thou may'st, unblamed Pour forth thy rapture, and thine inmost heart, Fearless discover to the gaze of man! Thy country's triumph is thy lover's too. The vast, innumerable multitudes, Who, rolling onward, crowd within these walls, Participate thy joy, they hallow it; Thee they salute, for thee they twine the wreath, Thou art a portion of the general joy; Thou lovest the all-inspiring soul, the sun, And what thou seest is thy lover's glory! SOREL (falling on her neck). Thou dost delight me, thou canst read my heart! I did thee wrong, thou knowest what love is, Thou tell'st my feelings with a voice of power. My heart forgets its fear and its reserve, And seeks confidingly to blend with thine---- JOHANNA (tearing herself from her with violence). Forsake me! Turn away! Do not pollute Thyself by longer intercourse with me! Be happy! go--and in the deepest night Leave me to hide my infamy, my woe! SOREL. Thou frighten'st me, I understand thee not, I ne'er have understood thee--for from me Thy dark mysterious being still was veiled. Who may divine what thus disturbs thy heart, Thus terrifies thy pure and sacred soul! JOHANNA. Thou art the pure, the holy one! Couldst thou Behold mine inmost heart, thou, shuddering, Wouldst fly the traitoress, the enemy! SCENE III. DUNOIS, DUCHATEL, and LA HIRE, with the banner of JOHANNA. DUNOIS. Johanna, thee we seek. All is prepared; The king hath sent us, 'tis his royal will That thou before him shouldst thy banner bear, The company of princes thou shalt join; And march immediately before the king: For he doth not deny it, and the world Shall witness, maiden, that to thee alone He doth ascribe the honor of this day. LA HIRE. Here is the banner. Take it, noble maiden Thou'rt stayed for by the princes and the people. JOHANNA. I march before him? I the banner bear? DUNOIS. Whom else would it become? What other hand Is pure enough to bear the sacred ensign! Amid the battle thou hast waved it oft; To grace our glad procession bear it now. [LA HIRE presents the banner to her, she draws back, shuddering. JOHANNA. Away! away! LA HIRE. Art thou terrified At thine own banner, maiden? Look at it! [He displays the banner. It is the same thou didst in conquest wave. Imaged upon it is the queen of heaven, Floating in glory o'er this earthly ball; For so the Holy Mother showed it thee. [JOHANNA gazing upon it with horror. 'Tis she herself! so she appeared to me. See, how she looks at me and knits her brow, And anger flashes from her threatening eye! SOREL. Alas, she raveth! Maiden, be composed! Collect thyself! Thou seest nothing real! That is her pictured image; she herself Wanders above, amid the angelic choir! JOHANNA. Thou comest, fearful one, to punish me? Destroy, o'erwhelm, thy lightnings hurl, And let them fall upon my guilty head. Alas, my vow I've broken. I've profaned And desecrated thy most holy name! DUNOIS. Woe's us! What may this mean? What unblest words? LA HIRE (in astonishment, to DUCHATEL). This strange emotion canst thou comprehend? DUCHATEL. That which I see, I see--I long have feared it. DUNOIS. What sayest thou? DUCHATEL. I dare not speak my thoughts. I would to heaven that the king were crowned! LA HIRE. How! hath the awe this banner doth inspire Turned back upon thyself? before this sign Let Britons tremble; to the foes of France 'Tis fearful, but to all true citizens It is auspicious. JOHANNA. Yes, thou sayest truly! To friends 'tis gracious! but to enemies It causeth horror! [The Coronation march is heard. DUNOIS. Take thy banner, then! The march begins--no time is to be lost! [They press the banner upon her; she seizes it with evident emotion, and retires; the others follow. [The scene changes to an open place before the Cathedral. SCENE IV. Spectators occupy the background; BERTRAND, CLAUDE MARIE, and ETIENNE come forward; then MARGOT and LOUISON. The Coronation march is heard in the distance. BERTRAND. Hark to the music! They approach already! What had we better do? Shall we mount up Upon the platform, or press through the crowd, That we may nothing lose of the procession? ETIENNE. It is not to be thought of. All the streets Are thronged with horsemen and with carriages. Beside these houses let us take our stand, Here we without annoyance may behold The train as it goes by. CLAUDE MARIE. Almost it seems As were the half of France assembled here, So mighty is the flood that it hath reached Even our distant Lotharingian land And borne us thither! BERTRAND. Who would sit at home When great events are stirring in the land! It hath cost plenty, both of sweat and blood, Ere the crown rested on its rightful head! Nor shall our lawful king, to whom we give The crown, be worse accompanied than he Whom the Parisians in St. Denis crowned! He is no loyal, honest-minded man Who doth absent him from this festival, And joins not in the cry: "God save the King!" SCENE V. MARGOT and LOUISON join them. LOUISON. We shall again behold our sister, Margot! How my heart beats! MARGOT. In majesty and pomp We shall behold her, saying to ourselves: It is our sister, it is our Johanna! LOUISON. Till I have seen her, I can scarce believe That she, whom men the Maid of Orleans name, The mighty warrior, is indeed Johanna, Our sister whom we lost! [The music draws nearer. MARGOT. Thou doubtest still! Thou wilt thyself behold her! BERTRAND. See, they come! SCENE VI. Musicians, with flutes and hautboys, open the procession. Children follow, dressed in white, with branches in their hands; behind them two heralds. Then a procession of halberdiers, followed by magistrates in their robes. Then two marshals with their staves; the DUKE of BURGUNDY, bearing the sword; DUNOIS with the sceptre, other nobles with the regalia; others with sacrificial offerings. Behind these, KNIGHTS with the ornaments of their order; choristers with incense; two BISHOPS with the ampulla; the ARCHBISHOP with the crucifix. JOHANNA follows, with her banner, she walks with downcast head and wavering steps; her sisters, on beholding her, express their astonishment and joy. Behind her comes the KING under a canopy, supported by four barons; courtiers follow, soldiers conclude the procession; as soon as it has entered the church the music ceases. SCENE VII. LOUISON, MARGOT, CLAUDE MARIE, ETIENNE, BERTRAND. MARGOT. Saw you our sister? CLAUDE MARIE. She in golden armor, Who with the banner walked before the king? MARGOT. It was Johanna. It was she, our sister! LOUISON. She recognized us not! She did not feel That we, her sisters, were so near to her. She looked upon the ground, and seemed so pale, And trembled so beneath her banner's weight When I beheld her, I could not rejoice. MARGOT. So now, arrayed in splendor and in pomp, I have beheld our sister--who in dreams Would ever have imagined or conceived, When on our native hills she drove the flock, That we should see her in such majesty? LOUISON. Our father's dream is realized, that we In Rheims before our sister should bow down. That is the church, which in his dream he saw And each particular is now fulfilled. But images of woe he also saw! Alas! I'm grieved to see her raised so high! BERTRAND. Why stand we idly here? Let's to the church To view the coronation! MARGOT. Yes! perchance We there may meet our sister; let us go! LOUISON. We have beheld her. Let us now return Back to our village. MARGOT. How? Ere we with her Have interchanged a word? LOUISON. She doth belong To us no longer; she with princes stands And monarchs. Who are we, that we should seek With foolish vanity to near her state? She was a stranger while she dwelt with us! MARGOT. Will she despise, and treat us with contempt? BERTRAND. The king himself is not ashamed of us, He kindly greets the meanest of the crowd. How high soever she may be exalted, The king is raised still higher! [Trumpets and kettle-drums are heard from the church. CLAUDE MARIE. Let's to the church! [They hasten to the background, where they are lost among the crowd. SCENE VIII. THIBAUT enters, clad in black. RAIMOND follows him, and tries to hold him back. RAIMOND. Stay, father Thibaut! Do not join the crowds! Here, at this joyous festival you meet None but the happy, whom your grief offends. Come! Let us quit the town with hasty steps. THIBAUT. Hast thou beheld my child? My wretched child? Didst thou observe her? RAIMMOND. I entreat you, fly! THIBAUT. Didst mark her tottering and uncertain steps, Her countenance, so pallid and disturbed? She feels her dreadful state; the hour is come To save my child, and I will not neglect it. [He is about to retire. RAIMOND. What would you do? THIBAUT. Surprise her, hurl her down From her vain happiness, and forcibly Restore her to the God whom she denies. RAIMOND. Oh, do not work the ruin of your child! THIBAUT. If her soul lives, her mortal part may die. [JOHANNA rushes out of the church, without her banner. The people press around her, worship her, and kiss her garments. She is detained in the background by the crowd. She comes! 'tis she! She rushes from the church. Her troubled conscience drives her from the fane! 'Tis visibly the judgment of her God! RAIMOND. Farewell! Require not my attendance further! Hopeful I came, and sorrowful depart. Your daughter once again I have beheld, And feel again that she is lost to me! [He goes out. THIBAUT retires on the opposite side. SCENE IX. JOHANNA, People. Afterwards her Sisters. JOHANNA (she has freed herself from the crowd and comes forward). Remain I cannot--spirits chase me forth! The organ's pealing tones like thunder sound, The dome's arched roof threatens to overwhelm me! I must escape and seek heaven's wide expanse! I left my banner in the sanctuary, Never, oh, never, will I touch it more! It seemed to me as if I had beheld My sisters pass before me like a dream. 'Twas only a delusion!--they, alas! Are far, far distant--inaccessible-- E'en as my childhood, as mine innocence! MARGOT (stepping forward). 'Tis she! It is Johanna! LOUISON (hastening toward her). Oh, my sister! JOHANNA. Then it was no delusion--you are here-- Thee I embrace, Louison! Thee, my Margot? Here in this strange and crowded solitude, I clasp once more my sisters' faithful breasts! MARGOT. She knows us still, she is our own kind sister. JOHANNA. Your love hath led you to me here so far! So very far! You are not wroth with her Who left her home without one parting word! LOUISON. God's unseen providence conducted thee. MARGOT. Thy great renown, which agitates the world, Which makes thy name the theme of every tongue, Hath in our quiet village wakened us, And led us hither to this festival. To witness all thy glory we are come; And we are not alone! JOHANNA (quickly). Our father's here! Where is he? Why doth he conceal himself? MARGOT. Our father is not with us. JOHANNA. Not with you? He will not see me, then! You do not bring His blessing for his child? LOUISON. He knoweth not That we are here. JOHANNA. Not know it! Wherefore not? You are embarrassed, and you do not speak; You look upon the ground! Where is our father? MARGOT. Since thou hast left---- LOUISON (making a sign to MARGOT). Margot! MARGOT. Our father hath Become dejected. JOHANNA. Ah! LOUISON. Console thyself! Our sire's foreboding spirit well thou knowest! He will collect himself, and be composed, When he shall learn from us that thou art happy. MARGOT. And thou art happy? Yes, it must be so, For thou art great and honored! JOHANNA. I am so, Now I again behold you, once again Your voices hear, whose fond, familiar tones Bring to my mind my dear paternal fields. When on my native hills I drove my herd, Then I was happy as in paradise-- I ne'er can be so more, no, never more! [She hides her face on LOUISON'S bosom. CLAUDE MARIE, ETIENNE, and BERTRAND appear, and remain timidly standing in the distance. MARGOT. Come, Bertrand! Claude Marie! come, Etienne! Our sister is not proud: she is so gentle, And speaks so kindly,--more so than of yore, When in our village she abode with us. [They draw near, and hold out their hands; JOHANNA gazes on them fixedly, and appears amazed. JOHANNA. Where am I? Tell me! Was it all a dream, A long, long dream? And am I now awake? Am I away from Dom Remi? Is't so? I fell asleep beneath the Druid tree, And I am now awake; and round me stand The kind, familiar forms? I only dreamed Of all these battles, kings, and deeds of war,-- They were but shadows which before me passed; For dreams are always vivid 'neath that tree. How did you come to Rheims? How came I here? No, I have never quitted Dom Remi! Confess it to me, and rejoice my heart. LOUISON. We are at Rheims. Thou hast not merely dreamed Of these great deeds--thou hast achieved them all. Come to thyself, Johanna! Look around-- Thy splendid armor feel, of burnished gold! [JOHANNA lays her hand upon her breast, recollects herself, and shrinks back. BERTRAND. Out of my hand thou didst receive this helm. CLAUDE MARIE. No wonder thou shouldst think it all a dream; For nothing in a dream could come to pass More wonderful than what thou hast achieved. JOHANNA (quickly). Come, let us fly! I will return with you Back to our village, to our father's bosom. LOUISON. Oh, come! Return with us! JOHANNA. The people here Exalt me far above what I deserve. You have beheld me weak and like a child; You love me, but you do not worship me. MARGOT. Thou wilt abandon this magnificence. JOHANNA. I will throw off the hated ornaments Which were a barrier 'twixt my heart and yours, And I will be a shepherdess again, And like a humble maiden I will serve you, And will with bitter penitence atone, That I above you vainly raised myself. [Trumpets sound. SCENE X. The KING comes forth from the church. He is in the coronation robes. AGNES SOREL, ARCHBISHOP, BURGUNDY, DUNOIS, LA HIRE, DUCHATEL, KNIGHTS, COURTIERS, and PEOPLE. Many voices shout repeatedly, while the KING advances,-- Long live the king! Long live King Charles the Seventh! [The trumpets sound. Upon a signal from the KING, the HERALDS with their staves command silence. KING. Thanks, my good people! Thank you for your love! The crown which God hath placed upon our brow Hath with our valiant swords been hardly won: With noble blood 'tis wetted; but henceforth The peaceful olive branch shall round it twine. Let those who fought for us receive our thanks; Our pardon, those who joined the hostile ranks, For God hath shown us mercy in our need, And our first royal word shall now be, mercy! PEOPLE. Long live the king! Long live King Charles the good! KING. From God alone, the highest potentate, The monarchs of the French receive the crown; But visibly from his Almighty hand Have we received it. [Turning to the MAIDEN. Here stands the holy delegate of heaven, Who hath restored to you your rightful king, And rent the yoke of foreign tyranny. Her name shall equal that of holy Denis, The guardian and protector of this realm, And to her fame an altar shall be reared. PEOPLE. Hail to the maiden, the deliverer! [Trumpets. KING (to JOHANNA). If thou art born of woman, like ourselves, Name aught that can augment thy happiness. But if thy fatherland is there above, If in this virgin form thou dost conceal The radiant glory of a heavenly nature, From our deluded sense remove the veil, And let us see thee in thy form of light As thou art seen in heaven, that in the dust We may bow down before thee. [A general silence; every eye is fixed upon the MAIDEN. JOHANNA (with a sudden cry). God! my father! SCENE XI. THIBAUT comes forth from the crowd, and stands opposite to her. Many voices exclaim,-- Her father! THIBAUT. Yes, her miserable father, Who did beget her, and whom God impels Now to accuse his daughter. BURGUNDY. Ha! What's this? DUCHATEL. Now will the fearful truth appear! THIBAUT (to the KING). Thou think'st That thou art rescued through the power of God? Deluded prince! Deluded multitude! Ye have been rescued through the arts of hell! [All step back with horror. DUNOIS. Is this man mad? THIBAUT. Not I, but thou art mad. And this wise bishop, and these noble lords, Who think that through a weak and sinful maid The God of heaven would reveal himself. Come, let us see if to her father's face She will maintain the specious, juggling arts Wherewith she hath deluded king and people. Now, in the name of the blest Trinity, Belongst thou to the pure and holy ones? [A general silence; all eyes are fixed upon her; she remains motionless. SOREL. God! she is dumb! THIBAUT. Before that awful name, Which even in the depths of hell is feared, She must be silent! She a holy one, By God commissioned? On a cursed spot It was conceived; beneath the Druid tree Where evil spirits have from olden time Their Sabbath held. There her immortal soul She bartered with the enemy of man For transient, worldly glory. Let her bare Her arm, and ye will see impressed thereon The fatal marks of hell! BURGUNDY. Most horrible! Yet we must needs believe a father's words Who 'gainst his daughter gives his evidence. DUNOIS. The madman cannot be believed Who in his child brings shame upon himself. SOREL (to JOHANNA). Oh, maiden, speak! this fatal silence break! We firmly trust thee! we believe in thee! One syllable from thee, one single word Shall be sufficient. Speak! annihilate This horrid accusation. But declare Thine innocence, and we will all believe thee. [JOHANNA remains motionless; AGNES steps back with horror. LA HIRE. She's frightened. Horror and astonishment Impede her utterance. Before a charge So horrible e'en innocence must tremble. [He approaches her. Collect thyself, Johanna! innocence Hath a triumphant look, whose lightning flash Strikes slander to the earth! In noble wrath Arise! look up, and punish this base doubt, An insult to thy holy innocence. [JOHANNA remains motionless; LA HIRE steps back; the excitement increases. DUNOIS. Why do the people fear, the princes tremble? I'll stake my honor on her innocence! Here on the ground I throw my knightly gage; Who now will venture to maintain her guilt? [A loud clap of thunder; all are horror-struck. THIBAUT. Answer, by Him whose thunders roll above! Give me the lie! Proclaim thine innocence; Say that the enemy hath not thy heart! [Another clap of thunder, louder than the first; the people fly on all sides. BURGUNDY. God guard and save us! What appalling signs! DUCHATEL (to the KING). Come, come, my king! Forsake this fearful place! ARCHBISHOP (to JOHANNA). I ask thee in God's name. Art thou thus silent From consciousness of innocence or guilt? If in thy favor the dread thunder speaks, Touch with thy hand this cross, and give a sign! [JOHANNA remains motionless. More violent peals of thunder. The KING, AGNES SOREL, the ARCHBISHOP, BURGUNDY, LA HIRE, DUCHATEL retire. SCENE XII. DUNOIS, JOHANNA. DUNOIS. Thou art my wife; I have believed in thee From the first glance, and I am still unchanged. In thee I have more faith than in these signs, Than in the thunder's voice, which speaks above. In noble anger thou art silent thus; Enveloped in thy holy innocence, Thou scornest to refute so base a charge. Still scorn it, maiden, but confide in me; I never doubted of thine innocence. Speak not one word; only extend thy hand In pledge and token that thou wilt confide In my protection and thine own good cause. [He extends his hand to her; she turns from him with a convulsive motion; he remains transfixed with horror. SCENE XIII. JOHANNA, DUCHATEL, DUNOIS, afterwards RAIMOND. DUCHATEL (returning). Johanna d'Arc! uninjured from the town The king permits you to depart. The gates Stand open to you. Fear no injury,-- You are protected by the royal word. Come follow me, Dunois! You cannot here Longer abide with honor. What an issue! [He retires. DUNOIS recovers from his stupor, casts one look upon JOHANNA, and retires. She remains standing for a moment quite alone. At length RAIMOND appears; he regards her for a time with silent sorrow, and then approaching takes her hand. RAIMOND. Embrace this opportunity. The streets Are empty now. Your hand! I will conduct you. [On perceiving him, she gives the first sign of consciousness. She gazes on him fixedly, and looks up to heaven; then taking his hand she retires. ACT V. A wild wood: charcoal-burners' huts in the distance. It is quite dark; violent thunder and lightning; firing heard at intervals. SCENE I. CHARCOAL-BURNER and his WIFE. CHARCOAL-BURNER. This is a fearful storm, the heavens seem As if they would vent themselves in streams of fire; So thick the darkness which usurps the day, That one might see the stars. The angry winds Bluster and howl like spirits loosed from hell. The firm earth trembles, and the aged elms Groaning, bow down their venerable tops. Yet this terrific tumult, o'er our heads, Which teacheth gentleness to savage beasts, So that they seek the shelter of their caves, Appeaseth not the bloody strife of men-- Amidst the raging of the wind and storm At intervals is heard the cannon's roar; So near the hostile armaments approach, The wood alone doth part them; any hour May see them mingle in the shock of battle. WIFE. May God protect us then! Our enemies, Not long ago, were vanquished and dispersed. How comes it that they trouble us again? CHARCOAL-BURNER. Because they now no longer fear the king, Since that the maid turned out to be a witch At Rheims, the devil aideth us no longer, And things have gone against us. WIFE. Who comes here? SCENE II. RAIMOND and JOHANNA enter. RAIMOND. See! here are cottages; in them at least We may find shelter from the raging storm. You are not able longer to endure it. Three days already you have wandered on, Shunning the eye of man--wild herbs and root Your only nourishment. Come, enter in. These are kind-hearted cottagers. [The storm subsides; the air grows bright and clear. CHARCOAL-BURNER. You seem To need refreshment and repose--you're welcome To what our humble roof can offer you! WIFE. What has a tender maid to do with arms? Yet truly! these are rude and troublous times When even women don the coat of mail! The queen herself, proud Isabel, 'tis said, Appears in armor in the hostile camp; And a young maid, a shepherd's lowly daughter, Has led the armies of our lord the king. CHARCOAL-BURNER. What sayest thou? Enter the hut, and bring A goblet of refreshment for the damsel. [She enters the hut. RAIMOND (to JOHANNA). All men, you see, are not so cruel; here E'en in the wilderness are gentle hearts. Cheer up! the pelting storm hath spent its rage, And, beaming peacefully, the sun declines. CHARCOAL-BURNER. I fancy, as you travel thus in arms, You seek the army of the king. Take heed! Not far remote the English are encamped, Their troops are roaming idly through the wood. RAIMOND. Alas for us! how then can we escape? CHARCOAL-BURNER. Stay here till from the town my boy returns. He shall conduct you safe by secret paths. You need not fear-we know each hidden way. RAIMOND (to JOHANNA). Put off your helmet and your coat-of-mail, They will not now protect you, but betray. [JOHANNA shakes her head. CHARCOAL-BURNER. The maid seems very sad--hush! who comes here? SCENE III. CHARCOAL-BURNER'S WIFE comes out of the hut with a bowl. A Boy. WIFE. It is our boy whom we expected back. [To JOHANNA. Drink, noble maiden! may God bless it to you! CHARCOAL-BURNER (to his son). Art come, Anet? What news? [The boy looks at JOHANNA, who is just raising the bowl to her lips; he recognizes her, steps forward, and snatches it from her. BOY. Oh, mother! mother! Whom do you entertain? This is the witch Of Orleans! CHARCOAL-BURNER (and his WIFE). God be gracious to our souls! [They cross themselves and fly. SCENE IV. RAIMOND, JOHANNA. JOHANNA (calmly and gently) Thou seest, I am followed by the curse, And all fly from me. Do thou leave me, too; Seek safety for thyself. RAIMOND. I leave thee! now Alas, who then would bear thee company? JOHANNA. I am not unaccompanied. Thou hast Heard the loud thunder rolling o'er my head-- My destiny conducts me. Do not fear; Without my seeking I shall reach the goal. RAIMOND. And whither wouldst thou go? Here stand our foes, Who have against thee bloody vengeance sworn-- There stand our people who have banished thee. JOHANNA. Naught will befall me but what heaven ordains. RAIMOND. Who will provide thee food? and who protect thee From savage beasts, and still more savage men? Who cherish thee in sickness and in grief? JOHANNA. I know all roots and healing herbs; my sheep Taught me to know the poisonous from the wholesome. I understand the movements of the stars, And the clouds' flight; I also hear the sound Of hidden springs. Man hath not many wants, And nature richly ministers to life. RAIMOND (seizing her hand). Wilt thou not look within? Oh, wilt thou not Repent thy sin, be reconciled to God, And to the bosom of the church return? JOHANNA. Thou hold'st me guilty of this heavy sin? RAIMOND. Needs must I--thou didst silently confess---- JOHANNA. Thou, who hast followed me in misery, The only being who continued true, Who slave to me when all the world forsook, Thou also hold'st me for a reprobate Who hath renounced her God---- [RAIMOND is silent. Oh, this is hard! RAIMOND (in astonishment). And thou wert really then no sorceress? JOHANNA. A sorceress! RAIMOND. And all these miracles Thou hast accomplished through the power of God And of his holy saints? JOHANNA. Through whom besides? RAIMOND. And thou wert silent to that fearful charge? Thou speakest now, and yet before the king, When words would have availed thee, thou wert dumb! JOHANNA. I silently submitted to the doom Which God, my lord and master, o'er me hung. RAIMOND. Thou couldst not to thy father aught reply? JOHANNA. Coming from him, methought it came from God; And fatherly the chastisement will prove. RAIMOND. The heavens themselves bore witness to thy guilt! JOHANNA. The heavens spoke, and therefore I was silent. RAIMOND. Thou with one word couldst clear thyself, and hast In this unhappy error left the world? JOHANNA. It was no error--'twas the will of heaven. RAIMOND. Thou innocently sufferedst this shame, And no complaint proceeded from thy lips! --I am amazed at thee, I stand o'erwhelmed. My heart is troubled in its inmost depths. Most gladly I receive the word as truth, For to believe thy guilt was hard indeed. But could I ever dream a human heart Would meet in silence such a fearful doom! JOHANNA. Should I deserve to be heaven's messenger Unless the Master's will I blindly honored? And I am not so wretched as thou thinkest. I feel privation--this in humble life Is no misfortune; I'm a fugitive,-- But in the waste I learned to know myself. When honor's dazzling radiance round me shone, There was a painful struggle in my breast; I was most wretched, when to all I seemed Most worthy to be envied. Now my mind Is healed once more, and this fierce storm in nature, Which threatened your destruction, was my friend; It purified alike the world and me! I feel an inward peace--and come, what may, Of no more weakness am I conscious now! RAIMOND. Oh, let us hasten! come, let us proclaim Thine innocence aloud to all the world! JOHANNA. He who sent this delusion will dispel it! The fruit of fate falls only when 'tis ripe! A day is coming that will clear my name, When those who now condemn and banish me, Will see their error and will weep my doom. RAIMOND. And shall I wait in silence, until chance---- JOHANNA (gently taking her hand). Thy sense is shrouded by an earthly veil, And dwelleth only on external things, Mine eye hath gazed on the invisible! --Without permission from our God no hair Falls from the head of man. Seest thou the sun Declining to the west? So certainly As morn returneth in her radiant light, Infallibly the day of truth shall come! SCENE V. QUEEN ISABEL, with soldiers, appears in the background. ISABEL (behind the scene). This is the way toward the English camp! RAIMOND. Alas! the foe! [The soldiers advance, and perceiving JOBANNA fall back in terror. ISABEL. What now obstructs the march? SOLDIERS. May God protect us! ISABEL. Do ye see a spirit? How! Are ye soldiers! Ye are cowards all! [She presses forward, but starts back on beholding the MAIDEN. What do I see! [She collects herself quickly and approaches her. Submit thyself! Thou art My prisoner! JOHANNA. I am. [RAIMOND flies in despair. ISABEL (to the soldiers). Lay her in chains! [The soldiers timidly approach the MAIDEN; she extends her arms and is chained. Is this the mighty, the terrific one, Who chased your warriors like a flock of lambs, Who, powerless now, cannot protect herself? Doth she work miracles with credulous fools, And lose her influence when she meets a man? [To the MAIDEN. Why didst thou leave the army? Where's Dunois, Thy knight and thy protector. JOHANNA. I am banished. [ISABEL, stepping back astonished. ISABEL. What say'st thou? Thou art banished? By the Dauphin? JOHANNA. Inquire no further! I am in thy power, Decide my fate. ISABEL. Banished, because thou hast Snatched him from ruin, placed upon his brow The crown at Rheims, and made him King of France? Banished! Therein I recognize my son! --Conduct her to the camp, and let the host Behold the phantom before whom they trembled! She a magician? Her sole magic lies In your delusion and your cowardice! She is a fool who sacrificed herself To save her king, and reapeth for her pains A king's reward. Bear her to Lionel. The fortune of the French! send him bound; I'll follow anon. JOHANNA. To Lionel? Slay me at once, ere send me unto him. ISABEL (to the soldiers). Obey your orders, soldiers! Bear her hence. [Exit. SCENE VI. JOHANNA, SOLDIERS. JOHANNA (to the soldiers). Ye English, suffer not that I escape Alive out of your hands! Revenge yourselves! Unsheath your weapons, plunge them in my heart, And drag me lifeless to your general's feet! Remember it was I who slew your heroes, Who never showed compassion, who poured forth Torrents of English blood, who from your sons Snatched the sweet pleasure of returning home! Take now a bloody vengeance! Murder me! I now am in your power; I may perchance Not always be so weak. CONDUCTOR OF THE SOLDIERS. Obey the queen! JOHANNA. Must I be yet more wretched than I was! Unpitying Virgin! Heavy is thy hand Hast thou completely thrust me from thy favor? No God appears, no angel shows himself; Closed are heaven's portals, miracles have ceased. [She follows the SOLDIERS. SCENE VII. The French Camp. DUNOIS, between the ARCHBISHOP and DUCHATEL. ARCHBISHOP. Conquer your sullen indignation, prince! Return with us! Come back unto your king! In this emergency abandon not The general cause, when we are sorely pressed, And stand in need of your heroic arm. DUNOIS. Why are ye sorely pressed? Why doth the foe Again exalt himself? all was achieved;-- France was triumphant--war was at an end;-- The savior you have banished; you henceforth May save yourselves; I'll not again behold The camp wherein the maid abideth not. DUCHATEL. Think better of it, prince! Dismiss us not With such an answer! DUNOIS. Silence, Duchatel! You're hateful to me; I'll hear naught from you; You were the first who doubted of her truth. ARCHBISHOP. Who had not wavered on that fatal day, And been bewildered, when so many signs Bore evidence against her! We were stunned, Our hearts were crushed beneath the sudden blow. --Who in that hour of dread could weigh the proofs? Our calmer judgment now returns to us, We see the maid as when she walked with us, Nor have we any fault to charge her with. We are perplexed--we fear that we have done A grievous wrong. The king is penitent, The duke remorseful, comfortless La Hire, And every heart doth shroud itself in woe. DUNOIS. She a deluder? If celestial truth Would clothe herself in a corporeal form, She needs must choose the features of the maiden. If purity of heart, faith, innocence, Dwell anywhere on earth, upon her lips And in her eyes' clear depths they find their home. ARCHBISHOP. May the Almighty, through a miracle, Shed light upon this awful mystery, Which baffles human insight. Howsoe'er This sad perplexity may be resolved, One of two grievous sins we have committed! Either in fight we have availed ourselves Of hellish arms, or banished hence a saint! And both call down upon this wretched land The vengeance and the punishment of heaven. SCENE VIII. The same, a NOBLEMAN, afterwards RAIMOND. NOBLEMAN. A shepherd youth inquires after your highness, He urgently entreats an interview, He says he cometh from the maiden---- DUNOIS. Haste! Conduct him hither! He doth come from her! [The NOBLEMAN opens the door to RAIMOND, DUNOIS hastens to meet him. Where is she? Where is the maid? RAIMOND. Hail! noble prince! And blessed am I that I find with you This holy man, the shield of the oppressed, The father of the poor and destitute! DUNOIS. Where is the maiden? ARCHBISHOP. Speak, my son, inform us! RAIMOND. She is not, sir, a wicked sorceress! To God and all his saints I make appeal. An error blinds the people. You've cast forth God's messenger, you've banished innocence! DUNOIS. Where is she? RAIMOND. I accompanied her flight Towards the woods of Ardennes; there she hath Revealed to me her spirit's inmost depths. In torture I'll expire, and will resign My hopes of everlasting happiness, If she's not guiltless, sir, of every sin! DUNOIS. The sun in heaven is not more pure than she! Where is she? Speak! RAIMOND. If God hath turned your hearts, Oh hasten, I entreat you--rescue her She is a prisoner in the English camp. DUNOIS. A prisoner say you? ARCHBISHOP. Poor unfortunate! RAIMOND. There in the forest as we sought for shelter, We were encountered by Queen Isabel, Who seized and sent her to the English host. Oh, from a cruel death deliver her Who hath full many a time delivered you! DUNOIS. Sound an alarm! to arms! up! beat the drums. Forth to the field! Let France appear in arms! The crown and the palladium are at stake! Our honor is in pledge! risk blood and life! She must be rescued ere the day is done! [Exit. SCENE IX. A watch-tower--an opening above. JOHANNA and LIONEL. FASTOLFE (entering hastily). The people can no longer be restrained. With fury they demand the maiden's death. In vain your opposition. Let her die And throw her head down from the battlements! Her blood alone will satisfy the host. ISABEL (coming in). With ladders they begin to scale the walls. Appease the angry people! Will you wait Till in blind fury they o'erthrow the tower, And we beneath its towers are destroyed? Protect her here you cannot. Give her up! LIONEL. Let them storm on. In fury let them rage! Firm is this castle, and beneath its ruins I will be buried ere I yield to them. --Johanna, answer me! only be mine, And I will shield thee 'gainst a world in arms. ISABEL. Are you a man? LIONEL. Thy friends have cast thee off. To thy ungrateful country then dost owe Duty and faith no longer. The false cowards Who sought thy hand, forsake thee in thy need. They for thy honor venture not the fight, But I, against my people and 'gainst thine, Will be thy champion. Once thou didst confess My life was dear to thee; in combat then I stood before thee as thine enemy-- Thou hast not now a single friend but me. JOHANNA. Thou art my people's enemy and mine. Between us there can be no fellowship. Thee I can never love, but if thy heart Cherish affection for me, let it bring A blessing on my people. Lead thy troops Far from the borders of my fatherland; Give up the keys of all the captured towns, Restore the booty, set the captives free, Send hostages the compact to confirm, And peace I offer thee in my king's name. ISABEL. Wilt thou, a captive, dictate laws to us? JOHANNA. It must be done; 'tis useless to delay. Never, oh never, will this land endure The English yoke; sooner will France become A mighty sepulchre for England's hosts. Fallen in battle are your bravest chiefs. Think how you may achieve a safe retreat; Your fame is forfeited, your power is lost. ISABEL. Can you endure her raving insolence? SCENE X. A CAPTAIN enters hastily. CAPTAIN. Haste, general! Prepare the host for battle. The French with flying banners come this way, Their shining weapons glitter in the vale. JOHANNA (with enthusiasm). My people come this way! Proud England now Forth in the field! now boldly must you fight! FASTOLFE. Deluded woman, moderate your joy! You will not see the issue of this day. JOHANNA. My friends will win the fight and I shall die! The gallant heroes need my arm no more. LIONEL. These dastard enemies I scorn. They have In twenty battles fled before our arms, Ere this heroic maiden fought for them. All the whole nation I despise, save one, And this one they have banished. Come, Fastolfe, We soon will give them such another day As that of Poictiers and of Agincourt. Do you remain with the fortress, queen, And guard the maiden till the fight is o'er. I leave for your protection fifty knights. FASTOLFE. How! general, shall we march against the foe And leave this raging fury in our rear? JOHANNA. What! can a fettered woman frighten thee? LIONEL. Promise, Johanna, not to free thyself. JOHANNA. To free myself is now my only wish. ISABEL. Bind her with triple chains. I pledged my life That she shall not escape. [She is bound with heavy chains. LIONEL (to JOHANNA). Thou will'st it so! Thou dost compel us! still it rests with thee! Renounce the French--the English banner bear, And thou art free, and these rude, savage men Who now desire thy blood shall do thy will. FASTOLFE (urgently). Away, away, my general! JOHANNA. Spare thy words, The French are drawing near. Defend thyself! [Trumpets sound, LIONEL hastens forth. FASTOLFE. You know your duty, queen! if fate declares Against us, should you see our people fly. ISABEL (showing a dagger). Fear not. She shall not live to see our fall. FASTOLFE (to JOHANNA). Thou knowest what awaits thee, now implore A blessing on the weapons of thy people. [Exit. SCENE XI. ISABEL, JOHANNA, SOLDIERS. JOHANNA. Ay! that I will! no power can hinder me. Hark to that sound, the war-march of my people! How its triumphant notes inspire my heart! Ruin to England! victory to France! Up, valiant countrymen! The maid is near; She cannot, as of yore, before you bear Her banner--she is bound with heavy chains; But freely from her prison soars her soul, Upon the pinions of your battle-song. ISABEL (to a SOLDIER). Ascend the watch-tower which commands the field, And thence report the progress of the fight. [SOLDIER ascends. JOHANNA. Courage, my people! 'Tis the final struggle-- Another victory, and the foe lies low! ISABEL. What see'st thou? SOLDIER. They're already in close fight. A furious warrior on a Barbary steed, In tiger's skin, leads forward the gens d'armes. JOHANNA. That's Count Dunois! on, gallant warrior! Conquest goes with thee. SOLDIER. The Burgundian duke Attacks the bridge. ISABEL. Would that ten hostile spears Might his perfidious heart transfix, the traitor! SOLDIER. Lord Fastolfe gallantly opposes him. Now they dismount--they combat man to man Our people and the troops of Burgundy. ISABEL. Behold'st thou not the Dauphin? See'st thou not The royal wave? SOLDIER. A cloud of dust Shrouds everything. I can distinguish naught. JOHANNA. Had he my eyes, or stood I there aloft, The smallest speck would not elude my gaze! The wild fowl I can number on the wing, And mark the falcon in his towering flight. SOLDIER. There is a fearful tumult near the trench; The chiefs, it seems, the nobles, combat there. ISABEL. Still doth our banner wave? SOLDIER. It proudly floats. JOHANNA. Could I look through the loopholes of the wall, I with my lance the battle would control. SOLDIER. Alas! What do I see? Our general's Surrounded by the foe! ISABEL (points the dagger at JOHANNA). Die, wretch! SOLDIER (quickly). He's free! The gallant Fastolfe in the rear attacks The enemy--he breaks their serried ranks. ISABEL (withdrawing the dagger). There spoke thy angel! SOLDIER. Victory! They fly. ISABEL. Who fly? SOLDIER. The French and the Burgundians fly; The field is covered o'er with fugitives. JOHANNA. My God! Thou wilt not thus abandon me! SOLDIER. Yonder they lead a sorely wounded knight; The people rush to aid him--he's a prince. ISABEL. One of our country, or a son of France? SOLDIER. They loose his helmet--it is Count Dunois. JOHANNA (seizes her fetters with convulsive violence). And I am nothing but a fettered woman! SOLDIER. Look yonder! Who the azure mantle wears Bordered with gold? JOHANNA. That is my lord, the king. SOLDIER. His horse is restive, plunges, rears and falls-- He struggles hard to extricate himself. [JOHANNA accompanies these words with passionate movements. Our troops are pressing on in full career, They near him, reach him--they surround him now. JOHANNA. Oh, have the heavens above no angels more! ISABEL (laughing scornfully). Now is the time, deliverer--now deliver! JOHANNA (throws herself upon her knees, and prays with passionate violence). Hear me, O God, in my extremity! In fervent supplication up to Thee, Up to thy heaven above I send my soul. The fragile texture of a spider's web, As a ship's cable, thou canst render strong; Easy it is to thine omnipotence To change these fetters into spider's webs-- Command it, and these massy chains shall fall, And these thick walls be rent, Thou, Lord of old, Didst strengthen Samson, when enchained and blind He bore the bitter scorn of his proud foes. Trusting in thee, he seized with mighty power The pillars of his prison, bowed himself, And overthrew the structure. SOLDIER. Triumph! ISABEL. How? SOLDIER. The king is taken! JOHANNA (springing up). Then God be gracious to me! [She seizes her chains violently with both hands, and breaks them asunder. At the same moment rushing upon the nearest soldier, she seizes his sword and hurries out. All gaze after her, transfixed with astonishment. SCENE XII. The same, without JOHANNA. ISABEL (after a long pause). How was it? Did I dream? Where is she gone? How did she break these ponderous iron chains? A world could not have made me credit it, If I had not beheld it with these eyes. SOLDIER (from the tower). How? Hath she wings? Hath the wind borne her down? ISABEL. Is she below? SOLDIER. She strides amidst the fight: Her course outspeeds my sight--now she is here-- Now there--I see her everywhere at once! --She separates the troops--all yield to her: The scattered French collect--they form anew! --Alas! what do I see! Our people cast Their weapons to the ground, our banners sink---- ISABEL. What? Will she snatch from us the victory? SOLDIER. She presses forward, right towards the king. She reaches him--she bears him from the fight-- Lord Fastolfe falls--the general is taken! ISABEL. I'll hear no more! Come down! SOLDIER. Fly, queen! you will be taken by surprise. Armed soldiers are advancing tow'rds the tower. [He comes down. ISABEL (drawing her sword). Then fight, ye cowards! SCENE IV. LA HIRE with soldiers. At his entrance the people of the QUEEN lay down their arms. LA HIRE (approaching her respectfully). Queen, submit yourself-- Your knights have yielded--to resist is vain! --Accept my proffered services. Command Where you would be conducted. ISABEL. Every place The same, where I encounter not the Dauphin. [She resigns her sword, and follows him with the soldiers. The Scene changes to the battle-field. SCENE XIV. Soldiers with flying banners occupy the background. Before them the KING and the DUKE OF BURGUNDY appear, bearing JOHANNA in their arms; she is mortally wounded, and apparently lifeless. They advance slowly to the front of the stage. AGNES SOREL rushes in. SOREL (throwing herself on the bosom of the KING). You're free--you live--I have you back again! KING. Yes, I am free--I am so at this price! [Pointing to JOHANNA. SOREL. Johanna! God! she's dying! BURGUNDY. She is gone An angel passeth hence! See, how she lies, Easy and tranquil, like a sleeping child! The peace of heaven around her features plays, The breath of life no longer heaves her breast, But vital warmth still lingers in her hand. KING. She's gone! She never will awaken more, Her eye will gaze no more on earthly things. She soars on high, a spirit glorified, She seeth not our grief, our penitence. SOREL. Her eyes unclose--she lives! BURGUNDY (in astonishment). Can she return Back from the grave, triumphant e'en o'er death? She riseth up! She standeth! JOHANNA (standing up, and looking round). Where am I? BURGUNDY. With thine own people, maiden--with thy friends! KING. Supported by thy friend, and by thy king. JOHANNA (after looking at him fixedly for some time). No! I am not a sorceress! Indeed I am not one. KING. Thou'rt holy, as an angel; A cloud of error dimmed our mental sight. JOHANNA (gazing round her with a joyful smile). And am I really, then, among my friends, And am no more rejected and despised? They curse me not--kindly they look on me! --Yes, all around me now seems clear again! That is my king!--the banners these of France! My banner I behold not--where is it? Without my banner I dare not appear; To me it was confided by my Lord, And I before his throne must lay it down; I there may show it, for I bore it truly. KING (averting his face). Give her the banner! [It is given to her. She stands quite unsupported, the banner in her hand. The heaven is illumined by a rosy light. JOHANNA. See you the rainbow yonder in the air? Its golden portals heaven doth wide unfold, Amid the angel choir she radiant stands, The eternal Son she claspeth to her breast, Her arms she stretcheth forth to me in love. How is it with me? Light clouds bear me up-- My ponderous mail becomes a winged robe; I mount--I fly--back rolls the dwindling earth-- Brief is the sorrow--endless is the joy! [Her banner falls and she sinks lifeless on the ground. All remain for some time in speechless sorrow. Upon a signal from the KING, all the banners are gently placed over her, so that she is entirely concealed by them. Publication Date: May 21st 2008 https://www.bookrix.com/-bx.schiller

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-francine-v-last-stroke-of-breath/

Francine V. Last Stroke of Breath To all Readers Enjoy Sorry i didnt Finish the book i will finish it everyday till its complete till then enjoy the book itself ENJOY! :) Living as a Teenager Lifted my friends Expectations even if they did'nt know that i was a Vampire seems they were never Suspicous of how i eat or how good i can smell and sense blood But seems that i just cant handle it my family Tried not drinking blood for a long While seems we can take it. Wondering how much is it that we face from the Death there is nothing we Vamp's can do to protect except kill, Seems that Life without Feeling seem to notice nothing except for a life, My family Has always been away from blood and tried to not drink blood so we can live like Humans seems super Recistant To The Future , For a Vampire's Expectations Live Forever i transer to Diffrent HighSchools every Four Years so they dont notice Who we Really are. -Chapter One- I wake up to the Smell of Pancakes seems that my brother Ashton was Cooking,So after i ate my Breakfast Mylee Picked my up so she could Drive me to school after we Got our Test's Hannah Soon came to my table she just Nodded i hate when Hannah Goes and just Embaresses Me, So then We went to The Canteen She saw me sniffing the Blood from the Chicken She told me there was blood on the Chicken i just said its okay i really miss the Smell the taste of Blood so i put the Chicken back and then i just picked up another one. after Lunch , Custody My other Friend who's A Vampire also Texted me She said Allyson is Coming! I cant believe this She came back all these years, Her family Torchered our Family For Years It seems i could smell her coming i just knew one day she would come back after hundreds of years she is coming back, After Class i went home and saw a note from my Mom she said the rest of my family is gonna meet at the end of the woods to fight Allyson And her Family, I dont seem to predict how its gonna end but all i know we Cant Control our Selves if we know there will be a Feast of Blood. -Chapter Two- When i was walking i saw something sparking in the side of the long tree i asked him what he was doing he said he wasnt sparking he was a vampire too, I just seemt To have a Crush on him As a spark of light i never felt this way before. i asked him what family he was he said he could'nt tell it was just too Private i dont know why but he seemt to want to ask me the same question when i went to my family they told me to go up on the tree so i could see what going on there i saw like a big group of 20 vampire's sucking on a family of humans and i seemt pity on then but i did'nt want to help them for some reason. After then i saw they guy who didnt want to give his own surname, He was just Spying on my family i soon went to him and asked him what he was doing, He just Smerked sadly and said your from Ashton's Family Right i just said Yeah 'Ok i seemt pity' 'For what''Living as a human' 'its okay' 'no it isnt can u live with out blood we cant' after the conversation we had my mom Called me she told me to Guard on the Right side With Matthew i agreed and went there. Matthew told me to stay. it seemt i was alone in the area but actually i wasnt alone. i smell a human then when i turned my back i saw Mylee i asked her what is she doing here it wasnt safe! She said were late for our class i told her i will follow she said ok then left . i almost forgot there were some vampires left in the woods i ran to her like lighting, Luckily i pushed her i told her to run she seemt to notice something suspicous. It really seems that alomost all of them went to Mylee for Some Reason, It seems That She always smell's like meat and Blood even from Here. I just cant Recist it. -Chapter three- Life has Been Changing all Around me i dont know whats happening anymore i feel so thirsty! i just cant control myself i need blood! but i need to control myself!, i think i need some fresh air to relax myself i think i should just skip school. i was walking to The Valley which is sort'ove far from here, what i like about it is the fresh air the sunshine the feel that your the only person in the world kinda Feel. i dont know why im acting like a human it was hundred's of years ago i started something staying in that valley made me think 'bout something, why am i doint this This is my life time that will never end well Practically. But still im just wasting it im gonna die of death anyway not of old age or any of those because im gonna fight the Allyson's . its just alot Of pressure, Who said it was Gonna Be Easy! Publication Date: June 9th 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-francine1o1

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-anonymous-the-crash-years-1/

Anonymous The Crash Years Two (2 months ago) ANDIE BARRY @ Anzac Park The glares and double-takes met with Andromeda’s eyes as she briskly walked through Anzac Park, on her way home. She knew what the people were thinking. As if their eyes didn’t give away the disapproval of the way she appeared, their faces surely did. It wasn’t every day that they had seen a seventeen year old girl walking around by herself, and pregnant. However, it was one of those times where the most obvious action is to give a whole-hearted smile. It was one of those smiles that cannot be stopped, such as getting a grandiose mark on a test. Andie embraced the tinge of warmness from the springtime sun as pink blossoms swept out of her way so the crisp cool wind could kiss her cheeks. Suddenly her view on life seemed more optimistic. As a park bench came into view, Andromeda took up the chance and rested her feet for awhile. It was still odd how a couple of blocks could make her short of breath. After sitting awhile, Andie couldn’t help it, and took out the pictures from a big yellow envelope. “It’s a boy!” Andie excitably whispered to herself. She had been silently whispering this to herself ever since she left from the doctor’s office. Andie traced her finger over where the picture depicted her baby’s feet, hands, and face. She’d have to tell Jackson when she got home. The past few months hadn’t been as scary as Andie might have guessed. Sure, the night both she and Jackson revealed to her parents about the situation, all was a tad chaotic. Although not even two weeks later did Mrs. Barry start drooling over baby topics, and what the nursery was going to look like. Jackson started to work more hours, and surprisingly Mr. Barry still let Andie and Jackson stay in the guesthouse. Nothing could have been better. Andie was about to place the photographs back in the envelope when a sharp, quick burst of wind snatched one of the photos from her hand and carried it along the sidewalk. Andie cautiously lifted herself off the bench and half-ran after the photo, begging the wind to give a rest. Suddenly a pair of familiar-looking hands kindly picked up the photo. “Noah!” Andie gasped as she strained her head up to see whom the person was. Her eyes drilled at the photo her old high school friend held in his hand. “They say that pregnant women should reduce the amount of stress in their lives, and here you are practically sprinting after a well-replaceable photo. Haha, well you did always need someone to watch over you, Andromeda. Guess nothing has changed,” Noah smiled as he handed the photo back to Andie. His eyes sparkled a little as they scanned the figure in the picture. Andie wiped the hair from her face. “Noah! How’ve you been?” Andie asked as she struggled to catch her breath that always seemed to disappear. She shifted her weight to the side. “Charming. Getting stuff ready for my brother actually. He’s supposed to go to some prom next Friday. And how are you? I haven’t seen you in ages,” Noah walked a slow pace past Andie, indicating that he couldn’t talk for long. “Good,” replied Andie as she held up her returned picture and smiled, “heh.. a boy.” “He’s going to be a handsome lad,” winked Noah, “who’s your husband?” Andie freaked. Husband? But the odds were that she wouldn’t see Noah Earnhart in quite some time, so to save the confusion, Andie replied, “Jackson Camden,” and with a smile took off, back to the guest house where her supposed “husband” would be waiting. ANDIE BARRY and JACK CAMDEN @ the guest house of the Barry residence Jackson had been staring at the TV screen for quite some time. He probably hadn’t noticed the fly that had landed on his shoulder, or that his fingers were tapping a fast-paced four-count rhythm on his right knee. For although the television displayed a plethora of images and sounds, Jack’s head was that of a television itself. So many thoughts ran through his head nowadays that he felt like a timed bomb about ready to blow. However, he remained in a calm posture… at least until Andromeda came home. Jack could hear the light steps of Andromeda before he could see her. As she walked past his little white Toyota pickup, Jackson tensed up. He hoped she wouldn’t see what was inside the truck. A suitcase could mean a number of things, and he wanted the absolute chance to explain before that suitcase took him to where he needed to be. A slight spring breeze blew outside the house. A key turned the lock to the front door. All Andromeda had to say was “Jack” and Jackson could hear her smile as she said his name. A deep pang of guilt stabbed into his chest as he realized he couldn’t say her name with the same fulfilled joy. “Andie, come here hun.” In an instant Andromeda was by his side, tightly clutching onto a yellow envelope which he knew would display the gender of his child. More guilt flooded in. He stood up suddenly, looking at Andromeda. “Look, Jack. Look at-,” “I can’t do this anymore.” “What?” Confusion spread all over Andromeda’s face. However, the slight twitch of a smile hung at a corner of her mouth, as if she expected the last part of a joke and an explanation to follow. However, an uncomfortable silence grew. Andie looked at the floor and then back at Jack. “Jack… what are you talking about?” Jack’s eyes darted everywhere, whether it was the ceiling or the floor, or even the walls. Anywhere but back at Andromeda’s eyes. But somehow he forced himself to look there. “I mean that I can’t do this anymore, Andie. I’m so stressed out. I work double shifts, I cook dinner sometimes, I do the yard work. I want my life back, Andromeda. I’m too young to be a father. I want out of this.” “No… no you have to be kidding!” sighed Andie. She needed someone, or something to lean on. Usually that was Jackson, but he was – no he wasn’t – leaving? How could this be possible? “You HAVE to be kidding, Jack!” Andromeda paced the room, “I mean, it was YOUR idea to keep this baby! And here I am; I have to carry our baby for a whole nine months. And then I have to feed it, and take care of it, Jack.” “I know, I know…” “No, Jack! Because I don’t have the option of getting out of this. You can’t just tell me to keep him and then expect to walk out of his life while I’m still standing here, Jack! I still have to be here for him, Jack, and what about me? What about me, Jack?” Heat flooded into Jack’s cheeks. He just wanted out. No more Andromeda, no more stress, and no more… “We’re having a son?” asked Jack as he looked exhaustingly into Andromeda’s water-filled eyes. Only five minutes ago she would have done anything to be close to him. Now she cringed away from him like a frightened child. “What does it matter to you, Jack?” Andie looked sharply into Jack’s eyes, which gave a hint of sadness before he quickly composed himself into the serious posture he was in before. “I’m sorry, Andromeda.” And with that, Jack turned his back on Andie and abruptly walked out of the house. Warm tears flowed out of Andromeda’s numb eyes as her view remained focused on the front door. “Don’t worry,” Andromeda said as her fingers glided along her stomach, “I’ll never leave you.” DENVER BARRY @ Nelson Boys’ College – Detention Denver could have drawn this room perfectly with his eyes closed, that was how many times he had been there. There were always the three posters on the right: one about math, one about the reptiles in New Zealand, and one that displayed the periodic table. On the left were two posters: one displaying the rules of detention, and the other hinting at ideas of what to do in detention. Up front was the whiteboard, which was always blank minus the instructor’s name. And in the back were boarded up windows so that no one could look outside. And Denver was sitting at a desk. Denver was almost done carving an “R” for yet another “Denver” to be engraved in the desk as someone out of the ordinary entered the room. Alec Harrison nervously peeked through the doorway, with an ice pack in hand. It wasn’t until he turned his face that Denver noticed a huge bruise forming on Alec’s left cheekbone. That must have hurt. From Alec’s big bright eyes it was obvious that it had been his first time in a detention hall, but for some reason as he recognized Denver sitting in the corner, a blanket of relief settled his expression as he made his way over towards the back of the room. “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Alec repeatedly whispered as he grabbed the contents from his backpack and placed them orderly on his desk. In the left corner was Alec’s neatly displayed lunch, and next to it were two perfectly laid pencils, and under those a couple pieces of binder paper. Meanwhile he kept the ice pack on his face, which was slowly continuing to swell. “What are you doing here?” asked Denver, with an expression that would result if someone’s world had turned upside down. “Huh? Oh…,” Alec squinted as he sat down, “um, I got beat up by some guys at the front of the school so um, they just decided to put us all in here.” Denver cringed. The guys that Alec mentioned were probably some of the people he used to hang out with. That was before he went solo. Ten uncomfortable minutes passed as the instructor for the hour explained the reasons and rules of the detention hall and passed out the class work that belonged to each of the students. Alec received a small folder and his few textbooks before gladly starting on his work. However, he was distracted when the instructor had to walk back to grab a humungous stack of folders and books before hauling them over to a desk. Denver’s desk. Alec’s eyes widened. Like usual, Denver shoved his pile of assignments and books to the left corner of his desk, indicating that again, he would not attempt to complete any work. An intricately folded piece of paper flew on his desk. He opened the note, not even bothering to look for the instructor’s matching gaze. “Why aren’t you starting on your work?” read the note with perfect penmanship. Denver glanced to Alec’s blue-eyed stare. It was obvious where the note came from. Everything about Alec read “perfect” except for the bruise on his cheek. Denver looked back at the note. Denver wrote, “Because I don’t want to,” and then thought a bit. Perhaps more truthful? It would have been boring to cut off his only source of conversation by a guarded, untruthful reply. He and Alec would be stuck here all day. Denver quickly erased his previous answer and wrote, “Because I don’t know how to.” “I can show you how.” For some reason shocked, Denver quickly looked back at Alec. Alec mirrored Denver’s shocked expression, but smiled when Denver had nodded his head in agreement. MILOS BARRY @ Nelson Boys’ College “Here’s your homework. I did it all, just how you wanted,” said Milos in half whisper as he looked around suspiciously before handing Garrett his 10-page report on Spanish history. Garrett looked around with the same suspicious gaze, although not as carefully as Milos. He wasn’t afraid of getting caught. Whipping out a wad of dollar bills, Garrett added, “Good, because you know what would happen to you if you didn’t.” Milos gave Garrett a single glance before counting the money that was given to him. Doing Garrett’s homework had been an on-going chore ever since he was fourteen. It was the only way that Milos secured himself against Garrett and the gang that Denver used to hang out with, though he didn’t mind the extra cash flow either. Knowing that the cash paid was enough, Garrett gave Milos a little smirk before turning around to head to class. “You mean you don’t even want to know what it’s about?” asked Milos. “When am I ever going to use Spanish?” replied Garrett as he gave off a light laugh. Milos gave one more glance around the hallway, hoping that nobody had been watching the exchange. He then headed to Physiology, nervousness filling his mind. WASE CHABLASE @ Nelson Girls’ College Hearing the teacher drone on and on about the importance of using the right size sauce pan was getting exhausting. Wase was regretting ever have taken this class, which was Home Economics. She only took it because she had already completed her tough courses, and she heard that this class was an easy A. The only thing that she was finding impossibly hard was to keep her eyes open. That is until the door opened. Some 20-something year old guy with a delivery uniform came in, setting down a huge vase of sunflowers. All of the girls in Wase’s class were sighing, probably because the delivery guy really wasn’t all that bad looking. But Wase had her eyes glued to the flowers. They were HER favorite flowers. Milos. “Uhh, I have a delivery for Miss Wase Chablase. Is she here by any chance?” asked the guy with the flowers. Wase went white. “Me, um… that’s me,” piped Wase, her hands getting clammy as she saw that the delivery guy not only had flowers, but a note he had to read. “This is from a guy named… Mmm-eye-lohs? M-eee-lohs? Anyways, but he says ‘Wase, these past four months have been the highlight of my life. If you agree, I would like to know what color of tux I’m getting, and whether you enjoy limos or not. Reply as soon as you can.’” Wase was so nervous all she could do was let out a quiet laugh. She nodded her head “yes” about three or four times before the delivery guy said “have a good day, Wase,” and headed back out the classroom door. All of the girls’ eyes were glued on her. ALEC HARRISON @ Nelson Boys’ College – one week later It had only been yesterday morning – the day before prom – that Alec started thinking about who he would invite to prom. The posters had littered the school walls for weeks, splashed with neon and glitter and containing huge posters of peoples’ faces. As the usual, these posters would slowly get edited by the students walking by who would have the occasional Sharpie pen and doodle mustaches and thick eyebrows in place of perfect lips and sparkling eyes. Alec, being new to Nelson, had already received invites from girls on the Nelson College messaging site. A lot of the girls were really quite pretty, but Alec was stuck. He didn’t exactly want to say something along the lines of “oh, no I’d rather go to prom with Byron Welch than with you,” in a case of hurting the girls’ feelings. And he didn’t want to be that obvious. But he thought that maybe because of all the turn-downs he had been giving, that they would eventually get the hint. Kai O’Vander was a cute guitarist from Alec’s music class, but Alec hardly knew Kai and didn’t want prom to feel like some awkward first date. So as it was Alec’s last day of detention, he opened the door to find Denver in his usual spot. And as always lately, Alec’s adrenaline would kick up, allowing him to tense up and stutter pathetically whenever he tried talking to Denver. It was so simple. But Alec knew that Denver never really left detention. Though he had finished half of his homework thanks to Alec’s help, Denver would never be able to go to prom due to his school record. So although today was Saturday, Alec was joyfully walking towards the detention hall, about to miss prom that he might have gone as a date for some girl, or even Kai the guitarist. Instead he had - unknowingly to Denver – refused to do any classwork or homework at all on Friday, securing his spot in detention with the certain Barry. The thought about it still brought chills. Alec was never the type to be so rebellious. Alec opened the door. It was weird coming into the almost empty room. Usually it was filled, and noise from other students would suffocate the room, making it nearly impossible to concentrate. However, right now, the room was dead quiet. The proctor was sitting at her desk with a pile of romance novels and an extra-large cup of coffee. Besides her, the only other person in the room was Denver. Denver had his usual pile of folders on his desk, but he obviously wasn’t paying attention to them. It seemed like he tried though, as if he were imagining that Alec was there with him, helping him complete the work. Right now he was poised looking out the window. And it was odd, he almost looked sad. Alec had never seen Denver so vulnerable, and it was almost as if someone had broken a barrier. After the first note of admitting that he didn’t know how to do his homework, Denver never really expressed any more emotion other than that he didn’t really give a care in the world. Alec shut the door, and as soon as he did, Denver’s head snapped in his direction, his eyes widening as if he was trying to remember a reason why Alec would be here. A simple “hey” was all that Alec gave before sitting in his seat next to Denver. A smile grew on Alec’s face as he waited in anticipation for Denver to ask why he had come to detention on prom night. “Alec… why are you here? I thought your detention ended yesterday. Why aren’t you at prom?” Denver looked clueless. “I um… didn’t do any of my class work yesterday. So, I’m here.” Denver kept shaking his head. Alec heard him repeat “no” about ten to twenty times. Why was Denver looking so regretful? Alec thought Denver would at least be a little happy to have company during prom night. What was the big deal? “Why would you do that?” asked Denver half yelling. The proctor looked up from her novel. Alec was horrified, and started to forget his great idea, his great reasoning as to why he did ever come here. “I-I don’t know,” Alec looked around nervously. How horrible. Something had to be up. Denver looked so distressed. Not really caring about how much Denver knew about his frustrating prom date decisions, Alec rambled on anyways. “I didn’t want to go with any of the girls. I mean, I don’t really even know anybody here anyways.” No comment from Denver. Alec looked directly at him. “I wanted to see you.” Still no reply. Alec was slowly getting frustrated. Had he really refused to do class work just to sit all night in detention with a guy who was now completely ignoring him? “Well you have to admit you wanted to see me, too!” yelled Alec. No longer waiting for Milos to reply, Alec picked up his backpack and sat at another desk closer to the front of the room. ANDIE BARRY and WASE CHABLASE @ the Barry residence – Saturday afternoon “You picked the perfect dress, Wase. No doubt my brother’s going to treat you like queen tonight,” Andie smiled as Wase gazed in the mirror, trying on her dress yet another time. Andie was sitting up on her bed, careful to rest her feet before she had to do Wase’s hair for the prom. Wase looked back at Andie. What Jack had done to her wasn’t fair. The entire family except for Denver was enraged, though their concern didn’t make Andromeda feel any better. “Look, I know it’s only been a week since you-know-what, but I’d hate for you to be here by yourself doing nothing while I’m going to prom.” “It’s okay, really,” replied Andie as she shifted uncomfortably on the bed. The break up between her and Jack was still definitely a touchy subject, as well as the fact that she was obviously pregnant, which meant that her dreams of ever going to prom were also diminished. “No, seriously, Andie. Milos and I already have our separate bids. I can just add you to mine. It will be fun, I promise. I’ll do everything. I’ll help you pick out your dress, do your hair and makeup. Please?” Andie looked back up at Wase. It was obvious that the invite was something Wase really wanted to do. She wasn’t one of those girls who felt pity but never wanted to do anything about it. Andie half laughed. “Maybe.” DENVER BARRY @ Nelson Boys’ College – Detention Alec was so far away. It was frustrating. All Denver wanted to do was run up to him and see the hope and approval Alec held in his eyes. He was the only one who had seemed to overlook Denver’s imperfections. However, due to Alec’s outburst earlier, Denver knew that the last thing that Alec wanted to do was to look up at him. How funny, Denver thought, that he would end up falling for someone so opposite. Alec Harrison, the new golden boy of Nelson, with his disheveled blonde hair and blue pools for eyes. Alec was so practically perfect that it was annoying and alluring at the same time. Everybody wanted to be with him – Denver had overheard numerous girls betting on who would be Alec’s first girlfriend. He should have told him. He should have told Alec that he didn’t want him to become imperfect, just to sit with him in detention. He was fine the way he was, and when Alec told Denver about how he fell in detention tonight, Denver worried that he might have caused Alec to want to change. He could never wish for that. He should have told Alec that he felt the same way too, when Alec shouted at him, trying to get him to admit that he was happy to at least see him. He was, for with all of the homework left unfinished, Denver had already decided that he really wouldn’t have seen Alec anymore. Someone’s book closed. “Ahh, forget it,” the proctor sighed, “it’s prom night. Get out of here.” The proctor then picked up her numerous romance novels, shoveling them into her bag. Alec gave one look to Denver before reluctantly walking out the door. Denver followed in pursuit. Outside the school were the gang of guys that Denver used to hang out with, the same ones who had beat up Alec a week prior. “Hey girly-boy, gonna rat us out again?” asked Garrett, the new leader. Denver used to be the leader, before voluntarily backing out of the group. He now kept an eye on Alec. “Considering that a bruise is only temporary, and that detention wasn’t all so bad, I say why not? You guys don’t scare me,” Alec casually replied. He started to walk down towards his house. Denver’s blood pulsed madly through his veins. This wasn’t going to end well. “Boy, you don’t know HOW bad we are,” Garrett replied before turning to the gang. “Get him.” Denver’s eyes widened. Alec took off for a mad sprint through the trees. Denver saw that he was a good runner, but because Alec didn’t know Nelson very well, it would only take a short amount of time before he would be found by the gang. Denver had to help him. Running wasn’t as easy as Denver had remembered. His recent smoking had clouded his lungs, and he was gasping for any available air. But he had to find Alec, and he kept listening for the gang as a way to wedge himself between Alec and them. Finally he had found Alec. He was standing on the top of a hill, obviously thinking that he had outrun the gang. Denver knew that though the gang didn’t know where Alec was, that they also wouldn’t stop looking. And standing on top of a hill was not exactly the best place to hide. ALEC HARRISON @ the backwoods They were gone. He was so dumb. Of course a simple punch was not really going to “do it” for the gang. They were obviously going to come back for more. But for now he was safe, and he was trying to spot his house before they found him again. He knew he wouldn’t be alone for long. Suddenly he heard someone running towards him. His adrenaline kicked in again. But before he had time to think or dodge out of the way, the runner had knocked him from his feet, sending them both tumbling down the hill he was just standing on. Trees rushed past them, barely grazing against Alec’s hair. Thorns and brush clinged to Alec’s clothes, ripping them in the process as dry dust filled his nostrils. Even when they reached the bottom of the hill, the person still had a grasp on him and was reaching for his face. Thinking the person was going to strangle him, Alec kicked and pulled on the attacker’s arms, trying to pry him free. His eyes opened. “Denver.” His arms fell at his sides. “Uh, hey,” gasped Denver as he was trying to subdue his wheezy breathing. And suddenly Denver was kissing him before stopping, hovering his face just inches over Alec’s as if to hear a reply. “Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Alec, a smile forming on his lips. As if rambling would be the only suitable answer, Denver replied, “don’t go to detention. I’ll get better. I like you the way you are. Please don’t change.” “Sure,” Alec laughed before pulling in Denver for another kiss. ANDIE BARRY @ the Nelson College prom Andie had never felt more awkward. It looked like Wase and Milos were having a good time, but Andie could feel everyone’s gaze on her as they saw her balloon of a stomach. She reassured herself that she would tell anyone who asked that it was a costume, but so far no one was asking. In fact, no one had come and talked to her at all. She started to make her way to the lobby when a cool hand touched her elbow. It was Wase. “Andie, there’s a guy I want you to meet. He says he knows you, so… maybe you guys can talk? He’s chaperoning for his younger brother, Harper, over there. Go have fun.” Wase smiled before heading back to the dance floor with Milos. “Andie! I didn’t think you’d be here,” beamed Noah as he walked across the dance floor. Andie couldn’t believe it. She immediately felt self-conscious. “Yea, well… I didn’t think I’d be here either. It’s rather embarrassing.” Noah saw Andie’s expression and his smile faded. She looked as though the entire world had shut her out. Something evidently hadn’t gone right between last week and now. “Come here,” Noah reassured, giving Andie his hand, “come with me.” Andie looked from Noah to the crowd of younger teens whose eyes widened at the site of her coming towards them. She leaned over so she could whisper to Noah. “Are you sure you want to do this? You’re about to dance with a whale.” Noah’s eyes softened. “You look beautiful tonight, Andromeda. Now come dance with me.” Andromeda allowed herself to rest her chin on Noah’s shoulder and dance slowly for a moment. It worked almost like a lullaby. The music entranced her into thinking that moments like these should last a bit longer. So this was what proms were like. Publication Date: January 28th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-an0nymous

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-margaret-boadi-bff-trouble/

Margaret Boadi BFF Trouble Nevaeh It was one great morning till school I was hanging out with my best friends but that did not trun out good so why tell you half when you can hear it all.Me Mia Erica,Noelia,and Nevaeh were all hanging out till Nevaeh started to get mad at me for no reason well there was a reason but it was not my fault she was playing and this guy named Justin called her fat and she got mad and left when I was in the game when I got out and did not see her in the line Justin told me she ran to the grass and Erica came and Nevaeh told her to tell me that she was not my friend anymore and I told her why and she said that I did not care when Justin called her fat and I told her that I am going to tell on Justin but she had people pull me away from her I was sad that she would not listen to me.One of my other friends Cierra helped me calm down so we went to our next class then she told on me and I had to sit out on the last day of school my friends Noelia and Cierra tryed to make me feel goood.Then when it was time to almost go when Noelia wanted to talk Nevaeh wrote a note saying she was srroy but my friends told me to say no but I did not kow what to do so I just did not answer.Then I heard she was comming to the same summer school as me and me and her are not going to get along that good anymore I hope.Well lets hope she will want to be friends again because she dose those puppy eyes thing and I just say yes I cant help myslef those faces are really cute and sad well if she would ask for it I would give her a chance to tell me what she wanted to say to my face we would have fights and had to go talk about friendship every thruday and it kind of helped. Me and Mia Publication Date: July 7th 2013 https://www.bookrix.com/-margaret77

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-luke-matthew-the-belgian-war/

Luke Matthew The Belgian War A Deadly Conflict The year was 2008; I was only 16 years old. I was in an air-soft military called the “Anzens”. Weird name, but things were very serious. Back then it wasn’t really an air-soft military. It was a gang, in which we used very high-powered paintball guns to “rule our territories”. But after this conflict, we turned into an air-soft military. The things that I saw were very graphic, it wasn’t a war with real guns, but a war with guns in which might have killed us. My name is Luke Matthew, and here is my story… I was only in high-school, it was a nice day, it was a Friday in May. But once that bell rang, I ran home to pack my stuff up. I was being sent to a field, with many, many trees and trenches. The field was big. The reason I participated to do this was to get paid, and they paid alright. They paid me $600.00, but it wasn’t worth it… I remember like it was just yesterday. I woke up at 10:48 a.m. My cell phone rang and woke me up. The second hand gang patrol leader called me and said they were on their way to pick me up in an hour. I took a shower, I ate, I got dressed, and I exercised, and ran out to the truck. I sat in the back seat with 3 other people. We were driven to our “practice facility”. We practiced shooting small targets with extremely over-powered paintball guns. Before I practiced, I read its warnings and directions. The warnings said that the paintball gun could cause permanent injury or death if shot in sensitive spots on the human body. I thought to myself, “How could such a toy kill a man”? After, I started aiming with the experience I already had. Then I shot at the targets, and shot 28 out of 35 of them. I was considered to be good with the paintball gun. Later, we were driven somewhere far away in New Jersey. It was a field. I looked closely and I saw many trees, trenches, and 3 abandoned buildings made of concrete. As we were going to exit the truck, there was only 6 of us, plus 4 other trucks arrived holding 6 others to battle. But right before we got out, the third hand gang patrol leader said “Now listen, we’ll drop all of you off right here. We are going to kick some foreign ass! Most of you won’t make it back to these trucks, so you’ll have to find your own way home. Even if you’re being held back by the enemy”! I asked who we were going to fight again. He said that we’ll be fighting a foreign air-soft army called the “Belgium Sczenien”. Those guys used very powerful air-soft guns that hurt very, very much when hit by them. Those things could cause death if shot up close in the head. The pellets that they shot at us were metal 6mm air-soft pellets. But we were only using 6mm pellets which exploded sharp paint if hit by it. Anyway, we approached the field, it looked abandoned. I was holding a very powerful paintball gun that shot automatically. The gun was only usable for hunting animals, but we used these on actual humans. We walked towards the trenches and set up radios, weapons, and armor. I was sitting, switching paint stingers to each bag. Paint stingers were paint grenades which sent off a stinging pain feeling if hit. When I was done packing and switching, I walked over to a friend’s side. His name was Zak Paulson; he was very fearless and would do anything to his enemies. I asked him what we were doing”. He looked at me, and as soon as he did, I heard yelling and C02 tanks bursting! I ducked to get to cover. I was ducking for 5 minutes, I was too scared to come up and shoot at the other side because there was a mounted air-soft machine gun. The gun was big, shooting steal pellets above me at high velocity. The machine gun was determined to be a “TYPE” MG-34 air-soft machine gun which had a maximum of 1,225 feet per second. If I was shot, it could have penetrated my skin! We didn’t have helmets, just purple rags tied around our foreheads saying “Anzen Corps. In God We Trust”. I crawled to make my way to another trench. Once I did, I looked up and aimed my gun at a soldier’s head. I finally pulled the trigger and didn’t let go. The paintballs were leaving the barrel so quickly that some even exploded during the shooting! But I was out of luck; those paintballs went around his chest and hit a wall! Making him notice, causing him to turn to me and shoot at me from 56 feet away! Luckily, I ducked in time and reached to my bag, grabbing a paint stinger. I wanted to throw it to the other side, but I didn’t have a lighter to light it up! I crawled over to someone else’s bag and found a small red lighter. I lit the wire on the paint stinger and threw it to the other side. After its explosion, I heard a painful scream 5 seconds later. I don’t know if I hit someone or not, but I was scared! I take a small peak over the trench and see 4 soldiers running my way, I almost shitted myself! I was too scared! I crawled to the nearest corner of the trench and sat there with my weapon clutched by my hands aiming directly on the side, where I expected the enemies to hop over to. I waited a few more seconds but only 1 soldier got to my trench, I was sitting 5 feet behind him. I stood up quietly and shot with all my might! The soldier dropped his weapon and collapsed, crying in fear and pain. I felt sorry but I had to do the right thing! I dragged his bruised body to our commander. Our commander grabbed him and sat him against the wooden wall. The soldier was weeping and begging “Please! Don’t hurt me, I’m sorry. You deserve peace, please! Please don’t hurt me! Please let me go! I’m sorry, I didn’t hurt anyone!” I looked at the soldier with my weapon pointed at his left shoulder, with my finger on the trigger. Our commander looked at him for 3 seconds and kicked him in the face very hard! The soldier was knocked out! Afterwards, our commander tied him to a pole with our flag waving in the air. I looked at the soldier one last time and turned away. I ran next to my friend Zak. He was shooting his weapon at a fence. I reloaded my weapon and shot as well. While I was doing that, I was kicked in the back very hard that I fell down with my eyes closed, while my face was red. When I collapsed, I saw a weapon’s barrel being aimed at my right eye. I dropped my weapon, and said “Please don’t.” My friend Zak was on the ground as well. We were forced not to talk. While both of us were quiet, we were being held hostage. But soon, we were walked to the other side of the field with 3 soldiers walking behind us. Zak’s and my hands were over our heads. Once we were on the other side, we were thrown against a concrete wall. Zak asked what was going on, and the soldier yelled “Тихо!” I was scared, with my eyes closed. A few seconds later passed and another of my team mates was thrown against the concrete wall. All 3 of us had our arms up begging for forgiveness. One of the soldiers laughed and walked towards Zak. Zak stared at him with a blank look. The soldier then punched Zak in the face, causing him to fall down to his knees spitting out blood from his mouth and nose. I watched Zak suffer. I felt sorry for him, but I didn’t show my emotion. A few minutes later, Zak stood back up looking at the ground with a bloody lip and bloody nose. I was thinking fast to make sure that I escape without scars or bruises. But unfortunately a soldier walks up to the 3 of us. He was holding a big air-soft machine gun. Then he backed away 10 more feet. He then stood in aiming formation, having his weapon pointed at us. I was scared, and I’m pretty sure Zak and my other team mate was as well. I looked at the soldier, nodding my head whispering “Please… don’t do it”. He looked at me without emotion and aimed his weapon at me. He said “На колене…” I looked at him once again with an awkward look. He then yelled it again. I looked confused. A few seconds later 2 soldiers ran to me and forced me down on my knees with my hands over my head. The soldier then turned to Zak and my team mate saying “На колене” again. They both went on their knees gently, with their hands over their heads. The soldier looked at Zak and shot him in his right arm twice. Zak fell to the ground crying in pain, and bleeding from his right arm. He was on the ground rolling with blood around him. When Zak stopped rolling, he had blood all over his right arm. He was crying “Please, no more! Just stop!” 2 soldiers then grabbed him and carried him to the small shed/building next to us. 3 minutes later, a soldier with a gas-operated air-soft pistol comes up to us, aiming his pistol towards my team mates head. My team mate looked at him and charged at him with rage, punching the soldier in the face. But the other 3 soldiers aimed their weapons at him and shot him with fully-automatic air-soft guns. My team mate fell to the ground, bleeding from his neck, feet, hands, and stomach. My team mate was in so much pain! He was crying and moving around fast while lying on the ground, trying to make the pain go away. Then 2 soldiers looked at me and laughed. They grabbed me, and pinned me down against the concrete wall. Then they threw my team mate on the ground in front of me but 20 feet away. The soldiers tied his hands and feet together. My team mate was on the ground crawling helplessly, in pain. I yelled “Everything will be alright!” But afterwards, the soldier to my left punched me on the nose. I couldn’t fall down, but I was bleeding from my nose, looking down. My team mate was looking at me, mumbling something. But a soldier ran up to him, kicked him in the face, knocking him out. I was then grabbed and dragged to the building next to me, I saw Zak in a corner. He had tape over his mouth and eyes. He was tied to pole, with blood running down his arm, and neck. I looked at him, and called his name. He didn’t answer. But a soldier pushed me down to the concrete ground, aiming his weapon at me. He shot me twice in the leg. I remember the pain; I threw my head against the ground, yelling in so much pain. I had my 2 bloody hands over my bleeding leg. I had an idea that they were trying to torture us. I closed my eyes and said “Please stop…” But all I got in reply was a punch in the face, it didn’t hurt. I then see their leader walking across Zak and me. I looked at the leader. The leader turned to a soldier and whispered something to his ear. The soldier took his helmet off and nodded in agreement. Then the soldier walked up to me and looked at me for a few seconds. He then slapped me across the face very hard. I looked back at him, and then I looked down. He kicked me in the face hard, making me collapse, knocking me out. I then later woke up with tape over my eyes and mouth. I tied to a pole. I moved around a little to show them that I was awake. Then I took a deep breath, trying to contain as much energy as possible so I can escape. A few minutes later and tape was ripped off of my eyes and mouth. I opened my eyes slowly and saw a soldier with a cigarette. I looked at him very worried. Luckily, he was the only one in the room. I looked around and saw 3 air-soft guns standing against the wall to my left. But the soldier grabbed me neck, causing me to look at him. He took his cigarette out of his mouth and pushed the burning side against my left cheek. I yelled with pain. The soldier then stood up and left the room. I was the only one on the room, looking around. I shook my hands hard and fast, but I couldn’t break free. All of the sudden my commander runs into the room with Zak and 3 other team mates. “How did you find me?” I questioned, smiling. He said “I saw a trail of blood, I also made a soldier spits the answers out.” I laughed and asked if this was all over. He laughed and said “I wish bro!” I was then freed and I stood up. I was given a weapon, with one full clip, and half of a C02 tank. We then ran outside into another trench. It was very quiet. I was shaking with fear, and so was Zak. We then walked around in a trench. All of the sudden we hear dirt tripping and steal pellets leaving a weapon. I run, but I notice that my commander, Zak, and the other 3 ran the other way. I tried following them but 6 soldiers jumped out of nowhere 30 feet away from me. They point their rifles at me in the distance and one of them yelled “спиране!” I gasped and ran away from them. Then I heard 3 pellets missing me by a foot. I got lucky and ran into the woods. I receive a call from my commander saying “You’re going the wrong way.” I yelled to my phone “What other choice do I fucking have?” Then my commander yells “Run, you have about 10 Belgians after your tail!” I then hung up my phone and ran, I kept hearing steal pellets missing me when they were shot. I then dropped myself into a bunch of tall plants to hide from the soldiers. I was breathing heavily but I tried to stay quiet. I looked and there were about 17 soldiers talking to each other in Bulgarian on the behalf of their search for me. I only had one weapon, with only one clip. I couldn’t take on all of them. But after a few minutes later, the majority of them leaves, leaving only 3 soldiers looking in grasses and behind trees for me. A soldier makes his way slowly towards me without seeing me in the plants. He then reaches his hand into the plants. I then grab his hand quickly and have my hand over his mouth, with my weapon pointed at his head. I then whispered “Drop the weapon…” He then dropped the weapon and said “Please don’t hurt me, I was going to let you go.” I sat him down on the ground with my weapon pointed at his chest. “I’m calling my commander.” I whispered. He whispers “I’m sorry, please. I was going to retire after this.” “You should have never entered this conflict anyway.” I whispered. He whispers “But I’m only doing my job. I just wanted to do this for the money; I never meant to hurt anyone.” “Get down on your stomach with your hands over your head.” I whispered. He whispers “Please don’t do anything, I’m sorry. I was never going to hurt you or anyone.” I whispered “You chased me with a fucking air-soft rifle. You could have killed me. I then called my commander, but he didn’t pick up. So I took the soldier’s uniform, and aimed my weapon at him yelling “Go home, get out of here you little shit!” “Thank you, bless you!” he replied. I then put on his uniform and stepped out of the bush. I really looked like one of them. I walk into the woods to find the battle field. But all I saw was 7 of my team mates being aimed at by weapons from the soldiers. My friend Chris was one of the 7. I was scared of coming any closer. I couldn’t speak any other language than English. I stand against the tree and close my eyes. Then I opened my eyes and saw some of my team mates shooting at the soldiers in the field. But unfortunately 3 soldiers ran another direction to my team mates without being seen. Minutes later I see 4 more team mates with their hands behind their heads. I aim my weapon at some of the soldiers, but I get hit hard in the back with a stock of an air-soft gun. I collapse to the ground, then I turn around and look up and I see 3 soldiers aiming their weapons at me. I then raise my hands up as sign of surrender. They march me to the middle of the field, and throw me into the crowd of 11 of my other team mates with our hands behind our heads. Then a soldier yells at us to get down on the ground with our hands on top of our heads. We had to lay on our stomachs on the ground, in rows. 10 minutes later 15 soldiers with air-soft machine guns gather around us and get into shooting position. I cover my face and cry for help. A few seconds later we get blasted with steal pellets being shot at into our skin. We were in so much pain! I was in the ground covered in my blood, and friendly blood. I then looked up and saw my commander in the distance with an air-soft caliber sniper rifle. I was later told that the weapon was very powerful, and ONLY for hunting. But he used it anyway. He only managed to hit 3 soldiers until he was shot to permanent injury in the cavity area of his body. He was only 18 years old. TO BE CONTINUED… Publication Date: August 9th 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-thebeatlesfan

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-by-cookies452-vampire-and-hunter-in-love/

By: Cookies452 vampire and hunter in love what will happen VAMPIRE & HUNTER IN LOVE I was out for the night with some of my friends all of them thought of me as a freak because i belive in vampires nobody else thinks that. Im soo werid my friends left me soo i was out just by myslef after that i cought sight of someone in the ally. What the hell was this person doing all i saw was someone leaning and it looked like the person was kissing her neck or was it the other way around i dont know but whatever i guess soo i just kept walking and then all of a sudden that person who was kissing the neck turned out to be guy he was infornt of me what did he want wait is that blood on his face okay i think he was drinking her blood okay im creeped out i love vamps but thats just werid. " Hi my name is Travis what is your name" he said. what do i say right he asked for my name okay i said "Hi my name is Karma" what i cant belive i just did that okay so i turned away and somehow he was in fornt of me again and now we are in the ally against the wall what was he going to do to me. I dont know i just hope i can go home to my family i have to take careof my sister and brother because my mom and dad have been fighting so much they left to go get help so im stuck with them for 4 months its only been 2 months so i cant die now i cant i just cant so i did what other 15 year old girl would do i screamed so loud he covered my mouth " dont scream you are only going to make things worse for yourslef loof if i take my hand off your mouth will you promise not to scream" all i could do was nod soo he took off his hand from my mouth i was soo scared i had no clue i guess i could not talk i was soo scred i said nothing " what if i could give you a new life and a gift of something" what did he mean okay what should i say so i said " whot do you mean you can offer me a new life or gift" he did not answer me all he did was leave okay i went home and then i cooked dinner then put them all to bed and me i went to bed. 1 MONTH LATER... i was out again at night and guess who i saw i saw Travis omg what do i do so i made sure he does not see me to late he did omg i wish he never saw me so he came up to me and said "did you make up your mind Karma" what do i say soo i said " yes i guess so but what do you have to do?" Travis said " i will not tell you because you will run away but i will tell you this it will hurt but not alot mabey just for a minute okay". what to say what to say ahh " okay i guess i only have one more month anyways soo sure i guess" soo waht happened next was soo painful i cant explain it was like i was buring what was happening to me then the next thing i know is that im in this room the windows were covered and then randomly they opened and Travis came in " how are you feeling Karma" well i felt thristy is that normal so i said " well uhmm im really thristy for blood is this normal what happened to my family how long have i been out" " well you been out for a other month soo mabey your mom and dad are home now and they have papers out saying your missing then they will think you are dead but as you can see you are already dead by you being a vampire" WAIT WHAT DID HE JUST SAY IM A VAMPIRE NOW IM SCARED NOW REALLY I WANT TO SCREM soo thats what i did then he once again put his hand over my mouth " be quite please becasue all of the hunters will be out tonight looking for us okay so you have ti be quite please i beg you" what do i say right i cant so like i did before i noded and he took his hand off my mouth and i was about to cry when i found out i almost bit him and he hit me well i think it was him and i blacked out... okay im even more thristy then before and now for some reson im in a forest and i smelled something good like blood so i got up and then i got pushed down again what the hell is all i think and he turned me around and its someone who had a stake close to my heart shi i think he is going to kill me i really think that i hope not then i loooked into his eyes all i could was say something about them before i knew it i was leaning into his neck but he did nothing he was just on the ground not moving and then there was someone behind me and said " kill her dont let her kill you just put the stake in her heart then she is done you know that right Mark" what he did was so werid he droped the stake then said "kill me end my life i cant take it with people bossing me around to kill you i cant take it plz just plz end it" what were i to say i think i love him is that normal what happened to uhmm Travis were did he go like hih he just leaveme so this is what i said" well i dont know i will just leave and find my way out okay i did not mean anything im sorry" okay i know huge fail but i did what i said so i started walking when i think Mark but i think it was the other guy oh whatever and he grabed my wrist pushed me to the ground and he was pinning me so i couldnt get up he said"i belive we cant let you do that see we are hunters and we kill your kind okay so since we both are here that means we have to kill you" holy shiz okay im dead like for real this is not cool im going to reget this but i did this to save me and mabey stop this hunger thing and i bit into his wrist and he was crying wow for a guy like him its funny i have no clue what happened next Mark came and tryed to take me off of the guy and Mark had a stake he said " let go or i will do what i was born to do" soo then i let go i felt better not weak i felt strong and then i ran so fast i think they just left me alone okay i had no clue were i was going but i ran up a tree not to close to them or far but in the middle so i can hear and see them when someone moved in the tree like come on im done with these hunter guys but it was Travis omg thank you he is alive and well hemust have been watching me thats okay he was writing something on a peice of paper and gave it to me and it said " Follow me" so i noded and i tryed my best to keep up with him guess he is faster then me when we stoped infornt of this house and he said " this is were we are going to live im glad you are now well fed and i see you almost took half of his life for someone like you thats good" we started to walk closer and we got inside and we walked till we reached a room and he said " this will be your room have a good sleep and hit the botton over on the right side of your bed so you wont burn in the sun" i said " okay uhmm you have a good sleep to and thz for what you said before but why did you hit me when i didnt mean to bite you" okay i hope he doesnt get mad at me." ohh no promblem and uhh thats why you were in the forest i was going to grab you and jump out the window when they came in and i ran im so sorry i did not mean for that to happen. I was looking for you but when i did i thought you were in trouble and i was going to comw and get you but then i saw you bite him.now you better get some sleep i have to teach you alot of things tommorw night" i said " okay" then he left me in the room soo i hit the botton abd now the windows were covered and i went to sleep. " i was in a medow a nice green medow i loved it then it faded away when someone came out it was dark like a ally and it was like i couldnt see and the person was Mark omg what is he doing here he came up to me and gave me a neckle omg it was soo cute i dont know what was i going to give to him when i found a red rose and i gave it to him but he didnt want it so then he left." i woke up at like i dont know and i was cryiong and Travis came in and asked me " what happened are you okay" i said " ya im fine it was just a bad dream no worries im fine i swear it was just a sad bad dream okay you can go back to bed" he said" are you sure you can sleep in my extra bed in my room if you want i wont do anything i promise okay" i said " uhmm then can i just move in cuz there will be no ponit of me having two rooms" he said" okay i dont mind that get your stuff and i will be right outside your door waiting for you okay" i said "okay" was all i could say because i was tremblinf like i just went to a scary movie or something. when i was done getting ready and packed to move into Travis's room. once i got out the door someone i think i rember grabed my wrist and i yelled for help them he cover my mouth with his hand then i saw two other people and one had a stake to someone's heart that someone was Travis omg they were going to kill us and i was freaking out so much i started to cry. then i was alone i had tears in my eyes and i noticed i was already in Travis's room was that him i think i should cheak i got out of the bed and walked over to the other bed and when i was close he moaned something and i said " TRAVIS" he woke up and looked at me and said " what im trying to sleep cant you see that" why was hwe being like this i dont think this is him so i walked away and started to cry i was scared and he shook his head and grabed my wrist and said " Karma are you okay tell me about your dream" wait what just happened oh well after i told him about my dream he looked at me and smiled and said " this uselly happens to vampires if they have an affinity for something or a abillyty mabey you have both i knew you were going to be diffrent then the rest of the vampire world but to find out what it is we would have to do tests " wait im only 15 and im going to saty 15 for the rest of my life and now i might have a ablity or a affinty to who knows what. i said " okay well im still tried but i think i can do it" i think Travis is wat you call my boss or maker or something like that oh well he said"after the testing you can go for a walk but you would have to be back at midnight okay" i said "okay" after i woke up we started doing the tests and stuff for about 3 hours then we were finaly done and my affinatiy is Lightning thats a cool affinatiy after that i went for my walk and then i wet to this club and i thought i saw Mark i think but i went up to him anyways and sat down beside him and said " hi uhmm your Mark rihgt?" im trying to get on his good side and i can never ever should think in my head ever agin he said " ya sorry whats your name i never got it because oh ya im sorry about that its just my brother always yells at me cuz i never killed a vampire so sorry about that again" wow talk about alot of sorry's i said " my name is Karma and its okay and sorry i bit him its kinda confusing with this new life and i guess just intects just kinda took over me i couldnt srop sorry" im an idoit in love witha hunter who might want to kill me but i dont think he will lets hope he wont find out. he said" its okay he needed it and hi Karma its nice to meet you uhmm well i got to go since its almost moring" wait what" what time is it?" he said " its like midnight" danm it " okay same i have to go back to where i live okay well it was nice to talk to you bye" crap Travis is going to kill me or mabey not "okay well bye" we ran out together not really i was faster then him and then i saw him go into this ally so i followed him and i hid behind a grabge bin its gross yes but ya and i saw some other dude and he looked like i saw him before he looked like that guy i saw in the forest oh that must be his brother cool i guess he was the leader of the group because he told alot of people what to do he said " why were you talking to her" Mrak said " i dont know she came up to me" he said " well why didnt you kill her then?" Mark said " because i didnt want to do it in puplic" the his brother looked to where i hid and said "i know your behind there better come out" oh he was talking to me oh crap i got out behind my hiding place and said "how about you come here im just waiting for someone to come by so you know but i alreayd fed yesterday so ya but im thinking about it" he said " Naw i dont want to walk and you should listen to me cuz i can kill you just like a snap of a finger" wow that was what he is sure the leader of this hunting group whatever then he said to Mark "Mark here is your chance get her" then Mark said " no im not going to kill her because she is living" i said " look go ahead im not living im just a vampire who has no soul or beating heart" Marks brother said " see Mark i told you i was right now do it" i should just leave i dont want to get in the middle of this. then Mark said " no your not i was always the smartest one you were picked to be leader becasue your buff and strong but your not as smart as me" i started to sneak away when Mark saw me sneaking away he said " your not going anywere" then his brother came and pinned me to the wall okay i think they are working together to kill me great thats just great how do i get Travis omg i know im going to be dead soon but i dont want to die im just getting used to my new life like ugh i think it is worng to like someone who wants to kill vampires when i am one. i said " plzz dont do this i i i i need to go like the sun will kill me but you know that so i know why your keeping me here but i i i just dont want to die"then Marks brother said " you make a good pet they way your acting so we will keep you but if you decide to not listen to me or Mark or the other hunter's then im going to get Mark to kill you understand" they will prombly never go out to get me something to drink or they will prombly watch me so they know i wont run away or something.then some one jumped out of the bushes and said " leave her alone she is to young take me" wait i knew that voice it was Travis he found me yayayayaya then Marks brother said " how about no" then he pushed me to Mark so now Mark is holding then Mark had rope and tied me up then he put duck tape on my mouth and pushed me to the ground to help his bro and then the brother had a stake and then put it to Travis's heart and i started to cry i hope this was a bad dream that im still in my bed in my home with my family but i knew this was real. I closed my eyes because i knew what Marks brother was going to do then i heard him scream and then all went quite i opened my eyes and Marks brother was dead and Travis was standing over him and Mark was beside me and he was on his phone and i could tell he was calling the rest of the group and i started to strugle so i could help Travis but i couldnt get freee i wanted to scream but i couldnt cuz of the duck tape. After a few mintues Mark was carrying me and all i saw was a bunch of people were around Travis and then he was dead. Mark hen put me in the backseat of his car and he got in the front seat and started to drive after 20 mintues we reached this shed type thing and then he parked the car he got out and came to get me he opened the door and grabed me and like kinda draged me once we got to the door i was sitting on the ground he opened the door and grabed me again. It smelled really bad in here like rotting food or something and i couldnt take it when i passed out.... when i woke up.. i was in this cage and there was like no one around but in the cage there was a bed and everything that would be in a girls bedroom werid i went up to one of the bars to see if i could break it and when i touched the bar and it burned me. I jumped back holding my hand and then i heard someone coming down the staris and it was Mark "I thought you knew vampires cant deal with silver huh i guess he never told you that did he" he was diffrent he is not the same guy i fell in love with mabey he figured it out and he is prombly showing his real side i guess he is playing a game with me i guess i can play at it to i said "well i guess he didnt. he was prombly waiting for the right time to tell me but you know i used to reaad about vampires i guess i forgot about it when i got turned into a vampire" Mark said "oh really well i guess you know now but sis you know that ive found something out from your eyes is that you love me but i tell you dont anymore for how im acting but that is because my brother gave me something and he told me to give some to you to so you can become like us but diffrent . so here have a drink" he handed me the drink and i said " no im not drinking that and becoming like you. just let me go and let me have the life im soupssed to" he said " fine dont drink it then whatever and you know if you didnt follow me this whole thing wouldnt have happen so its your fult that your maker is dead so you can live with the guilt" when he is going to bed im going to break out of here while i was turning around he said " im not going to bed but i will come back out and let you out but if your not back in 4 hours im calling my group and when they find you your dead got" is he stupied i'd be gone by then i said " yea okay whatever" he then walked up staris and didnt come back for 4 hours when he came back i was just sitting on the bed looking at the wall when i heard the cage door open i bolted when i got to the airport i got on a plane to Canada once i was on the plane it took off and we were on our way. After 20 minutes someones phone went off and he noded and got up okay i think this is bad i think i got up and went into the bathroom and locked the door. I got out and sat back down and the guy got up again and went to the bathroom oh good then when we landed i got out and walked to a apartment that was selling a room on the thrid floor so i bought it then i went and bought a car then found this job thing so when i got home i called my house and on the thrid ring my mom answered and said " hello who is this?" i said " heyy mom its me Karama i just wanted to call you because i wanted you to know i was alive and okay and im in london because of something" "OH MY GOD KARMA thank gawd your alive. im happy you called" " i know mom but i have to go to work right now i will talk to you tommorw okay love you" "love you to bye" i hung up and got in my car and went to my new job i was a waittress when i got there my first costermer was perrty nice so when i was writing down his order he said "i think i know you from a day ago or something" i said " uhnn i dont think i ever saw you before sir im sorry" he said"thats okay" i walked away and gave the order to the chef and finshed my shift i went home it was almost moring better go to bed when i was ready for bed i got in and went to sleep.i was in a nice room it was Travis's room and i saw something in his bed wait thats him i walked up and said "hi Travis" i wish i could be here forever becasue when he got up i was goning to cry i missed him. he said" dont cry okay and to teell you this is just a dream and i wanted to see you so i thought i would meet you herebut there is a reason two why i am here its becasue you have to be careful you never. KNow whats going to be out there waiting for you at night okay and it wasnt your fult i died it was my time anyways i lived for over 300 years anways rember they guy from the resturnt?" how did he know mabey he can read minds cool i said "ya i rember why?" he said " well becasue that is one of my friends and the reason he said that he saw you a day ago was because he was helping me and said he'd follow to keep you safe and he lives next door to you on the lleft side okay go say hi and tell him i sent you and he knows im dead but he will know you had a dream like this but rember go at night" i didnt want to leave him i just couldnt. i said" but i miss you and i dont want to leave this dream i just want to stay here, and i rember, i just dont want to wake up and i know it wasnt my fult but it feels like it"he said" i know you dont but you have to go on i will vist you sometimes okay only in dreams of coourse okay dont forget what i said and i know i miss you to" all i could say was " bye i hope i can see you again Travis" . . . I woke up screaming and trembling and crying then i heard a knock on the door i was scared to go down and see who it was but i did it anyways and it was that guy from the restrunt so i answered it and he said "heyy i heard you screaming so i came over to see whats worng" i told him my dream from were i can rember he said " if you want you can live with me if it will make you feel better" and i did so my life was the same going out at night to eat or go to work and sleep during the day i called my mom to and i was careful for Travis and i also talked to my sister, brother, and dad sometimes to and the guys name is Jack. There was a knock on the door i went to go answer it when Jack came out from the kicten and said " dont answer it just go and hide" well he whispered it to me when a voice in my head said "Listen and do what he says he will keep you safe and get you though school and everday do it for me" then i went to my room and hid under my bed when i heard Jack answer the door and then i heard like footsteps running to the kicten then there was a loud scream it reminded me of Travis i was so scared i got out from under the bed and jumped out the window and ran i dont know were i was going i was just running when i got infront of my house i opened the door and went to my moms room and she looked at me and smiled and we both hugged each other i dont know why i came back here i guess i just needed my family i told her everything of what actlly happened i even told her i was vampire she was okay with it i think i told her i lost my maker and my best friend and i lived there all i did at night was sneak around on a the nights i needed to feed. One night when i was out i heard a nosie and i ran when someone grabed my arm and spined me around oh no it was Mark this is when i was scared because i rember when he said that if someone found me i was dead but also i kinda saw something change with him he looked like the guy i did fall in love with but i knew he was faking it when he got rope and duck tape again really agian wow when we got in his car i was scared to what was going to happen to me i didnt even move because i was thinking that if i made a move he might kill me but why does he do this to me the car stoped in the same place before he pulled me out of the car and to the door and he opened it draged me downstairs untied my hands and took off the duck tape and he pushed me in the cage i rembered not to touch it cuz it was made of sliver so i just sat on the bed i was wondering why he was keeping me here. He came down and said "guess we found you well i found but why did i have to get you when you were hunting...?" i didnt answer him i just ingored him i was looking at the wall not him.He said " I can tell that your weak because you havent had any blood so you cant fight me but you can ingore me heyy well i guess thatas how you want it" i said " go away and one thing im not weak okay" then i heard him laugh and he left me and for sure im not drinking what they give me becasue i rember that i'd become like them and im not going to i wont touch it and know i have so much more thinking to do it was a bad thing because i was thinking if i didnt follow Mark Travis would still be alive and i wouldnt be here so it was my fult how could i think it wasnt and now im slowly killing myslef just so i could see him i will... ONE WEEK LATER... i couldnt take it anymore i was soo thristy i knew i was on the edge of dying. When Mark came down with the cup of blood and left it on the floor in my cage and then left i got up off the bed and grabed it and chugged the whole thing okay i know what was going to happen but i didnt care after i drank it i passed out.... When i woke up someone was putting a needle in me and i freaked on the guy and Mark held me down but i didnt stop moving then i heard the dude say " are you sure this is a good idea Mark?" " yes after her maker killed my brother i wanted her to be on our side soo she can see that things dont work with us being together and if she wants us to date this is the only way" "Mark i know that your in charfe now but wouldnt it be easier if you just killed her like look were only doing things to her and its not working because she is dead whatever we use on her wont work" "SHUT UP AND DO YOUR JOB EMMETT" "oh okay" and i didnt want to hear anymore so i closed my eyes and went to sleep. When i woke up i was back in the cage on the bed and Mark was sitting on a chair as if he knew i was gonna wake up he said "good moring darling" i said " what did you do to me Mark why do you have to do this to me" he said " because if you want to be with me this is how it is" i was on the edge of yelling but i didnt i said " i rather be dead then date you.. your f**king mean and i heard you yell at Emmett i dont know him but still i cant be with you i want to be dead" he said " your wish is my command.. die or live?" i said " i rather die then be with you" he said " okay then let it be" he then presses a button and the wall behind me became a glass wall and the sun was up so this is how he was going to kill me make me burn in the sun great no stake to make it fast then he opened the cage door he said "come out if you want to die fast or stay in there and die slowly" i thought for a mintue then decdied to go out when i got out he laughed and grabed me by the arm and draged me up the stairs once we were outside he grabed a stake out of his pocket and thats when i saw Mark shaking and it looked like he was about to cry but he gave up and put the stake down and said " i cant do it" i looked at him and said " why i thought that was your job" he said "i know but your diffrent i cant do it i i i just cant" mabey he was falling in love with me i think then he grabed me and draged me back inside and took me to the cage and closed the window and put me in the cage and locked the door and left when he came back he had a cup of blood and gave it to me and i drank some and he sad "im sorry for the way i acted will you forgive me?" i said " yes" he came to the cage door and opened it when i walked out he gave me a other cup of blood and sat on the chair and i sat infornt of him on the ground and he said " you can leave" i said " i cant not during the day i will at night" he noded and looked down and i asked " whats worng" he said " i know i always wanted to kill you but i finaly relased that if i killed you i killed my self and i couldnt deal with you being dead" i said " Mark i know you already know this but i love you" he looked up and smiled at me and he got up and sat down beside me and kissed my cheak and i smiled then he turned my head and kissed me gently on the lips and i kissed back. He pulled back and smiled and tilted his head and said " make me like you so we can be together always" i didnt know wat to say or wat i should do but i just smiled and put my lios to his neck and i bit him he screamed in pain and i pulled back and he said " its okay i just never been bit before im fine" i said " i dont want to hurt you" then he said " im fine okay" i noded and did the same thing i did before and bit him this time he didnt scream he was clam and then i stoped i was aifried that i killed him but he was still alive when i saw something in his eyes then before i could bilnk he grabed the stake and jabed it in my heart i felt pain and i was crying he betrayed me then the last thing i saw was Mark crying like he'd done something he didnt want to do when everything went black..... Publication Date: February 22nd 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-cookies452

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-gigi-amora-forever-in-death/

Gigi Amora Forever in Death The truth of the Clans, and of the Soul Creators The truth, found only by reaching into the depths of your mind. Chapter One I was just lying there, dark red blood oozing slowly from my wound. My whole body was throb, throb, throbbing; it felt as though I had entered my own heart, and felt its beat across me, my fingers, my toes, my growing tailbone and wings…the pain was so intense. I knew at that point, this is the day I’m going to die. I just lye there, waiting, waiting for what happens to everyone before they die to happen to me; I was waiting for ‘my life to flash before my eyes.’ I tried to look down, to see what was causing this wretched bloodlust; but I couldn’t see it, my eyes were clouded with blood, black blood. Though I could not see, I could feel, I was clutching onto whatever it was jabbing into my stomach. It was a blade, but it felt more like cloth. A shadow blade. I heard someone call my name, someone I know, a friend I think; I couldn’t tell, my vision started to blur, and fade to black; as though I were simply falling asleep. I welcomed the darkness; it was the same dark that I fell into every night before the waking of dawn, the darkness that I had succumbed to for the past month and a half. I still felt the pain, even when I began to feel cloth cradle around me, making it warm all around my body. I was still clutching something… I opened my eyes. I was back in my room at home, the dark navy quilt of my bed, the only cover I use, was caked on the far end, and reaching over me like a tubed wave coming into shore. My brown cover sheet, the one with the tiger’s face, was covering up my legs, making it feel pleasantly warm; despite the autumn chill that cradled the air around me. I looked to the popcorn ceiling, the dots that created my little galaxy moved, merged, formed, then separated again and again; until finally an image appeared. My eyes widened at what I saw, a dagger, stabbing into the belly of a winged wolf with the antlers of a dear. A prophecy. I looked at my stomach to see what I was clutching so hard onto; it was the sleeve of my navy blue nightshirt. I let go, and got up. I strolled onto my hands and knees, then stretched, stretched like the most lazy cat in the morning sun, trying to preserve what warmth I had for the day to come. It was the day after Thanksmas A holiday my family had created, since we couldn’t all see each other on the same days, My mother’s family didn’t much enjoy my father’s company, but they were all humble folk; And rarely deliberately wasted time by doing nothing. As I sat there in my navy and white striped pants scratching sleep from my head, I pondered about the dream I had, a Future-Dream; that much I cannot doubt. I looked at the beige-yellow walls of my small, squared room, I thought allowed, “Is this truly the day? Is this the day that had been prophesized all those years ago?” As normal, silence was my answer. I brought out my foot so that I could get dressed for the day and leave for my friend’s, as I dropped my foot onto the floor, a slightly cross and extremely distorted yelp came from below. Lifting my foot in a hurry, I met the face of a little miniature dachshund at the age of five. “I’m sorry Dori! I didn’t see you there!” I said with reassurance, petting the poor girl’s head until she got on her back and thrusted her fluffy brown paws up for me to play with; “Sorry girl, I can’t play. Gotta go potty?” I said this often, the dogs both know this means they get to go outside and, well, go to the bathroom. I let her out, then I woke Badger from his resting place, put his long leash on and tossed him outside. While waiting, I went to the kitchen to fill their bowls; Going back to the door to let them in, I heard them start to growl or bark. “Dori!” I yelled out the door to shut the black and brown hound up; at that point, I noticed something, or rather, someONE. A boy, no older than 17 or 18 I’d say, was wearing a pure white hoodie with red flames along the bottom. He was wearing jeans, and thank GOD he wasn't sagging. He came up to me, and I saw his face, he had rusty red hair, and the greenest eyes I’d ever seen. Greener than the healthiest of grass in the spring. I knew whom he was, but I asked anyway. “And you are…?” I said, trying as much as possible to act as though we had never met. “Alex…remember?” He said, then, with a look of surprise, continued; “In the shadow of the sun, and the light of the dark; may the world be at peace, as well as our hearts.” He recited the poem that had been chosen to be our password, that way, we’d know if there were some sort of spy, or one of those assassins, among the small group of three. I quickly grabbed the two dogs, and twitched my head, motioning him inside. Alex backed away, looking as timid as ever. “Come on! They’re asleep, there’s no way any of ‘em are gonna wake up ‘til noon.” That seemed to convince him, and he joined me inside. I let the dogs go and gobble up their pellet-food like pigs, while I had my guest sit on the couch, while I went to grab my things, not much really, just a drawstring bag with two outfits, and my messenger bag full of yarn that I would use up before too long. It was light, aside from the fact it was so full of the thick thread that I could hardly get it closed the night before. I didn’t bother to get dressed; I knew I’d get the opportunity to later. I took that time too look at my alarm clock, I had to shade it from the rising sun to see. It said that it was 7:23 AM, I thought to myself, there’s no WAY that that they’re gonna be up for a long while. I went back out to the living room, Alex was already standing, waiting for me; it was time to go, I had written a note the night before that my friend’s parents were picking me up early, so I had to get up before they did. I stuck the note right under the ‘burnt waffle’ coaster so that they knew where I was. “You ready?” Alex asked. “Yeah,” I said looking up, “let’s go.” We went to the door; Alex drew a large circle with his finger, then the symbol for ‘the traveler’ inside it. He looked at me once more, with his hand grasping the door, and said “Your SURE you’re ready?” I closed my eyes and looked to the ceiling behind my lids, it’s how I had always rolled my eyes. I looked at him, and with my most assertive voice I stated, “Yes, now let’s get moving before Badger decides to bark at something.” This was something he did often, Badger would see something, anything, even a leaf; and bark at it non-stop until either he sees it’s no threat or someone makes him stop. Alex simply smiled at me, a silly smile that told me he knew that there’d be no point in asking any more questions. “Alright, let’s go.” He said, grabbing onto my wrist so that I could see his firm grip on his red, white and pink colored nails. I looked dead at the door as he opened it; the natural neighborhood view from outside gave way to a dark, swirling vortex that seemed like a never-ending tunnel, despite the light at the end of the hall. We entered, I grabbed onto Alex’s wrist as well, so that if one of us lost grip, the other would still be holding on. This was a rule that had been well established for years, Alex has told me how easy it is to get lost in the tunnel if you don’t know where you’re going. Almost as soon as we entered and he closed the door, it seemed as though we were almost on the other side. “Bank,” I heard him say, I leaned right. The white at the end of the hall disappeared and a new light, a green one, came into view. We continued going in a straight line for what felt like eight or ten minutes before I heard Alex say, “Cane.” We stopped, and turned a solid left. We continued, towards a beige light now. We were close to the exit now; I wondered how much time had passed; remembering that a day in this place was about 5 seconds in the real world. “We’re almost there,” I heard myself say, I had traveled this route before, but neither Alex nor I was confidant enough that I could go through it on my own. The beige light was only a few footsteps away now, one…two…three… the fourth step put us in the light. The entire black behind us suddenly turned into the beige, which gave away to blue, then green, then finally settled onto a light auburn orange. We were here. Unfortunately, not the entrance I was expecting, we were on the ceiling, and we fell. Alex landed on my thigh, at which I promptly grunted, “Hey!” “Oh, sorry!” Alex said timidly, climbing off; careful not to step on me anywhere else. “Well you two sure took your sweet time!” I heard a familiar voice; I looked up, or, down rather, to see. “Arin!” I cheered, I got up as fast as I could; after which we hugged. The two of us hadn’t seen each other in over three months; but we had sent emails to one another often. Alex was not rude to interrupt, since my hugs never lasted very long; but I could sense he had noticed a change in me, so he asked “Say Gigi, I noticed you were acting kinda funny; is something wrong?” I stopped the hug immediately and looked at him, I still marvel at his ability to sense another person’s worries and emotions no matter how much they try to hide it. Arin let go as I let my arms slide to my knees, which were now digging into the edge of my friend’s bed. “Just a dream I had, it’s not a big deal-“ “Gigi! Did you have another one? Did you see what happened, how far into the fut-“ I cupped my hand over her mouth to keep her from finishing. I had had many dreams of late, all of which were predictions of the future yet to come. All of which ranged in less and less time with each passing day. I had always called them Future Dreams, since I never knew the real name for what they’re called. I have always had this sense, for years, lives, maybe even longer. I felt my eyes burn up in remembering what I had seen that night, the scent of the blood, the feeling of the blade inside of me, the cold chill of the autumn air that only half scented of rain, and most of all, the sound, the blood curdling sound that I had heard just before I awoke. I took my hand away from Arin’s mouth and shuddered. The dream scared me, it showed what my death might be, but I know that it isn’t…I had been told my own soul what my death will be, for souls always know these things. I am not to die for a long while, if 15 years is considered a long time, then yeah. “So, what place did you have in mind anyway, Gigi?” Arin said, thankfully interrupting my thoughts and keeping Alex from asking yet another question that was hard to answer. Shaking the bloody thoughts from my head, I looked at my two friends, one old, and the other still fairly new; in love with each other. And I, the middle aged of the group, still had yet to even discover what love meant; again I was reminded of the dream, the scent of blood was so clear, I could smell it as though it were here in the waking world, not in front of me; but nearby. I looked at them, the only couple who had ‘fallen in love at first sight,’ and I thought to myself, what does it mean to love? “Gigi?” It was Alex this time, disrupting my thoughts, bringing me back to now. “Yeah, sorry, just…spacing out,” I said, trying to reassure them there was nothing wrong. “Okay, near the park by my house, there’s an open area, it’s completely empty, so no one can see, let alone stop us if they see what’s going on. Remember, this confrontation is between Megane, and Gad.” I continued firmly, “Alex, if you can get us to the park, I can lead the rest of the way, kay?” They seemed to agree, and nodded approvingly; I knew they were just as scared, if not more than I was. We were going up against a religious figure that has been used as a sign of peace, and hope; when in truth it was a ruthless murderer and disapprover of all things that had to do with life. Gad, as it’s called, is known as ‘God’ in many cultures, even in today’s society to people everywhere. The word ‘God’ is one of the most commonly used words in the world; most of the saying comes from Christianity and Jehovah’s Witness’. Masking this blood-lover’s truth inside all of the lies, the lies that make people like me and my friends laugh at the lion before it strikes. We were afraid of the beast, because we all knew and had seen what it could do. Arin, was the reincarnated example of the Lion’s brutality, forced to be killed, every life at the age of fourteen; the eleventh month of the year on the full moon. We all recalled this, I could see it on their faces, Arin did not want to die, and Alex did not want Arin to die. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, if the matter could’ve been avoided, I would find some way, some sort of different route to take, I would; so that none of this could have ever been, so that we wouldn’t have to face the ferocious beast, and force it to draw it’s last breath when long past death. In our silence, I tried formulating a plan to kill Gad, or at least draw his attention to me instead. But instead my mind wandered the eternal abyss of my empty head, and found the memory of the day when Gad’s death was prophesized. Chapter Two It was a dark night; the clouds covered the stars, leaving only light from the new moon; which in turn wasn’t visible. I was merely finishing up my catch of the day, or at least what was left of it, since my master got first dibbs on my catch. A deer, one of my kind at the time; was still warm from the roasting fire that kept the Days of Death’s chill away from our nice and toasty cave. The Day’s of Death is what we called autumn, or fall, back then. My master was a kind man, though he did not wear much clothing, he wore enough as not to break our laws. He came into our den with his daughter, Olingia, I believe her name was; and began settling for sleep. Our small fire was enough to light the small crevice of the even larger one outside; it was warm, and that was enough for me. I had just finished my meal when I sensed something was to happen, but thinking it was just another Human wanting to make us believe in the horrible new Soul-Creator, I ignored the feeling; and prepared myself for sleep in the bed next to my master’s. I was just beginning to welcome the darkness of the Dream-World again, when I heard something outside the cave entrance, I knew the other DevilHearts heard and sensed it as well. I sat up and growled, my master put down his hand and touched my head, but I didn’t hush. I was standing now, going slowly towards the edge of our crevice, master heard this, and got up, leaving his daughter to sleep. We both went to the entrance to see what was there, The Deamon Commander had woken as well, and he was standing just below his Reader’s Post, a place where he conducted meetings with the clan. I could smell that he was cross at whatever had dared come near our home, lest they had a death wish. The Deamons and the Devil-Hearts had grown an undenying hatred towards humans since Gad’s reign began; Gad had taken from us the closest thing to a deity, the Deamon Amora’s soul, the most valuable thing in all of existence, even the Deamon Commander bowed in respect. The other Devil-Hearts and their masters had awakened, and everyone stood staring in wide eyes at who had found us, found our sacred home for millennia. A pity looking, and badly dressed female human stood there panting at our door. She had short brown hair that was remarkably kept and bright aqua eyes despite her obvious exhaustion. The weakened and tired Human’s panting was so loud to me, I though she would somehow awaken the souls of the dead. “I must…speak…with your commander…” The human said, wheezing and panting; the thing must have run the way here from their home. I stopped my half growl, and squeezed my way to the front for two reasons; one, to protect my master, and two, to see whom this Human was and why they were here. More curious than afraid or angry, I took half a paw-step closer. The other Devil-Hearts around me, I could hear them growling, spitting out death threats to the foolish Human; some few remained quite, and curious like I was. The masters brought out their weapons, spears, bows, knives, swords of all shapes and sizes. They were drawing nearer to the Human, seeing that she was a threat, I continued to growl and stepped forward with the other Devil-Hearts around me; each one of us closing in for our own kill. How pleased our masters would be if we had killed a Human, the dirty apes that had overpopulated us for almost 2 years now, all of us. The human did not run, but instead took a half-step back, and looked at us with widened and fearful eyes. But she looked too tired to move, an easy kill for the hungry clan. I noticed her eyes changed from fear to rage, and almost changed green, despite the dim light of the fire well behind us. She took a large breath, and summoning up her strength, she spoke in our tongue. “Please! You must listen to me, Gad plans something terrible; I MUST warn you! I must speak with your commander!” then, out of breath the Human’s legs gave way, and she stood there, coughing and panting. We all stopped our advance, and just stood there, I looked to my master for the command to attack, but he stood there wide-eyed in disbelief; as with most of us. The cave was silent, not even the young babes in our nursery at the top of our home stirred the stilled air. The Deamons separated, apparently their commander had heard the call and ordered a cease. He traveled the small hall of Deamons and Devil-Hearts slowly with the Devil-Heart commander’s son at his side. The son went up to the girl, and sniffed her face, by now she was quiet. The Deamon commander stood at the feet of the child, no more than a striking distance away; and spoke. “You are a fool Human, unless you have a death wish, there should be no reason for you to set foot within the boundary.” The commander of Deamons’ voice boomed throughout the cave’s entrance, causing the child to look up at the commander. “Iyakiya,” he continued, naming his companion and ‘pet’. “Strange scent, this Human has a strange scent. Not a Human scent we know; no, no.” the white wolf responded, even in the darkness, the albino wolf’s eyes and coat features were well distinguished. “Human,” The commander boomed at the girl, “Who has dared set foot on our land?” the Human sat there, looking at the commander dead in the eye; something few have dared to attempt since the beginning of time. Then, taking another deep breath, the Human spoke. “Megane…” she said, softly at first, but with a small amount of encouragement from Iyakiya, she spoke louder, clearer, enough for even the deafest of leaves to hear. “I am Megane Suostsourei, a member of the clan of Humans,” “Well, that much is obvious” I heard an old grey fox near me mutter under his breath. The Deamons began to mumble amongst themselves, accusations that the human might actually have been hired by Gad to track us down, and find where we had been hiding. Others were wondering if the human had even come on it’s own. As Iyakiya went back to his master, we all heard him speak, we Devil-Hearts at least. “This human is not like others, no evil desire within; none that I can sense.” With that, most of us relaxed a little, but some were still on high alert. Norintou, A beautifully slender pure white fox, with a blackened stub of a tail, and a muzzle far more scared and pinked with many a battles fought; and also my potential mate as a Devil-Heart, went up to this ‘Megane,’ her hazel eyes glowing fiercely at the thing. Norintou was ready to strike; I knew this because her stub of a tail was fidgeting, vibrating as though she had no control over it. One look, that’s all the Human needed to give her, and Norinto would kill the wretched weakling. But the Human did not look at the fox attempting to take their life; instead, Megane stood up and looked dead in the eye of every member of the clan of Deamons. A strict and high offense, that enraged us; but we kept quiet, we knew the Human wanted to say something. “Gigi Amora, Commander of the clan of Deamons,” We heard Megane’s voice above the growling of the few Devil-Hearts that remained to stand against her. The commander seemed shocked at how this human had so formally addressed him, Humans were believed to be misbehaved and savage beasts that only longed for the power that Deamons possessed. “You must listen to me, please,” she continued, fearfully, as though she knew she were being watched by something; “Gad has planned something terrible with the clans, it will throw the very ORDER of this world into a spiral!” “What, you mean OTHER than the death of our deity?!” A Deamon behind me yelled. Everyone seemed to agree, nothing could be worse than losing our precious Deamon Amora, the very thing that kept us together; the very person who had been honored by giving the commander the second name of said Deamon. Everyone was rioting, shouting death threats to Megane for coming within this range of our home, Gigi Amora waited for the riot to die, but when it didn’t, he raised his hand, and boomed loud enough to cause an avalanche many miles away. “Enough! Let the Human continue,” he said, making every Deamon hush on the spot, “Megane Suostsourei, what ‘plan’ does Gad have?” The Deamon commander asked this more in fear and concern than curiosity and demandation. Megane nodded acknowledgement and continued, “Gad plans to wipe out the entire clan of Deamons and use that power for itself to live forever.” At this, an uproar of hatred crowded the cave entrance; I could smell the anger and fear of everything and everyone around me. The very thought of being killed by Gad the same way it had killed Deamon Amora must draw fear into the eye of even the bravest of men. Again, the commander waited, and this time the noise ended so that he could speak. “How are we sure you have not come to lead us to our death, how do we know you tell the truth?” the commander asked a reasonable question, one only those who lie can answer to. “I bring no proof but my own word and memory, Gigi Amora.” Megane answered plainly, as though she knew he would ask the question. “If you wish proof, have your Devil-Hearts smell the air and I, have your fortune teller come and read my mind, may the stars of the sky burn out where they are as of now. If I am lying, if I truly came to destroy the clans, then why would I have come all this way, on a night without light even, on my own?” The uproar did not come, the hounds did not spit, the commander and the Human just stared at each other. As though they were having some sort of mental battle between themselves. I don’t know who won the battle, for my master grabbed my scruff and pulled me away from the front-line, the protective barrier between the Devil-Hearts and their masters. “Kcanchiokou, you don’t honestly think a human could lie like this and expect us to believe it do you?” My master said to me, since I could not speak their tongue, I did not reply. I simply blinked and looked back towards the crowd I could no longer see through. I heard arguing, and the Commander speaking calmly, yet angrily at the same time. My master began leading me back to our crevice when a large, collective gasp came from the group below. My master let go and went to see what was happening, I obediently stayed put. I heard the Commander speak amongst the clan, loud enough for those nearby to hear, but soft enough for straying ears to ignore. I strained my ears to hear, but not so much as a snort could be heard from where I was. Sitting on the cold cave floor, I waited until the meeting dispersed, whatever this Megane had said, it clearly caused the clan to act. My master came back to me, patting my head gently as a sign of how good I was for staying. He patted me on my hackles and told me to go back to the crevice to protect his daughter, lest Gad or one of the more adventurous Humans come to attack. I watched him leave, I whined, I knew something would happen. Licking my muzzle, I tried to preserve the scent that was left of my master. I waited until the last shadow of the screaming Deamons out to attack was gone; before I gave one muffled bark and went back to the crevice. Chapter Three There are many interpretations of what happened after the Deamons and Megane left the safety of the cave. All of which ending the same way, the death of Gad’s ‘son’ Jeensos; others, told that Megane saved the Deamon commander from Gad’s wrath, proving why Deamons trusted her so much. I had heard the story around the Large-Fire the morning they returned. I had hunted well that morning before the sun rose, and my new master let me eat my catch before her. The clan returned to the cave both with rejoice and great mourning, they also returned with the Human. My new master had awoken from the noise and came to my side near our doorway. I felt her longing, longing for something, fearing that something had happened to her father. I had the same feeling; I feared that my master must have perished in their battle of the night. The new moon was there, and the stars were covered by clouds, it’s understandable that it would have been hard to see. I heard many of the Deamons congratulating one another on what they had done that night. At last, the Deamon Commander and Megane enter the cave with some other Deamons, carrying the dead. My new master went up to the Deamon commander, and asked to see who it was that had died, he was reluctant. Megane came towards her, at that I stood up and trotted towards Olingia, not only to hear what the Human was saying, but to see the dead as well. “Please, Gigi Amora, may I see who has died? I want to know!” I heard the child say as I came nearer. I had my muzzle to her hand when the three of them noticed my presence. Megane looked for no more than a few heartbeats at the pitiful beast I was. I was only so messy because I never bothered to bathe, then again, not many Devil-Hearts even need to. “Megane, please?” Olingia asked the Human; it was hard to say ‘no’ to a young Deamon, especially one who may have last their family. The two finally caved, and set the bodies wrapped in cloth whiter than winter snow and stained with dark red blood on the floor. Olingia went to each, feeling the faces and shoulders of each clothed body, Olingia knew who she was looking for. I smelled something familiar, a warm scent I had come to know with my Master. I looked behind me, and scented the body wrapped up tightly. I looked to Olingia and did a small bark to get her attention. She looked up, came to me, and felt the face and shoulders of the body before, finally, opening it to see what she feared. It was my master, all wrapped in white, as if he were to ascend into that realm above the sky Gad called Heaven. “Oupa?” Olingia sputtered, oupa was the Deamon word for your birth father; a term of great respect when used towards another person, no matter the clan. “Oupa…?” she repeated, her sadness was growing so greatly, I could feel it rising like a river who’s dam had just collapsed. “Oupa, please! You can’t die, please oupa, please don’t be dead!” I let out a whine and rubbed my muzzle against her forearm, I was upset just as much as she, but I couldn’t show it as openly. Soon, the poor child screamed and shoved her head into her dead father’s bare chest. Her sadness and anger were so intense and quickly placed, I knew it would be best not to attempt any sign of comfort. I smelled the sweet scent of a Fox, the one I had grown to love. “Norintou…” I said with surprise as my mate began rubbing against my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, “I know how much you loved him.” There was much sorrow in her voice as she spoke hoarsely to me. My mate sounded as though she would shed the Eye-Rain if she could. “He was my master,” I stated firmly, trying to keep my voice calm and collected, “of course I loved him. But I don’t think I could have had such a bond as he and his Ikiyou do…” Ikiyou was the Deamon term for ‘child’ or ‘offspring,’ a word more often used by friends and fellow clan member than with families. Norintou continued rubbing until I felt my own sadness over-whelm me, and I let out a mournful howl. I was only part wolf, as far as I know, my Oupa and Amma where both dogs. My master had found me at the base of the cave when I was no more than a pup, barely having even opened my eyes. Raising a Part-Wolf in a pure blooded clan wasn’t nearly as hard as it could have been. Master had told me many times the stories of how he had brought me to his home with his pregnant wife, who had died giving birth to Olingia. The only family I had known, and it was slowly being taken away. My howl finished, and Olingia had gotten up, then she stared at me as though she were expecting something. Then, without warning, she came rushing at me, clamping her arms tightly around my shoulders and neck, I let out a yelp of surprise, I didn’t know what my new master was doing to me. “Please, Kcanchiokou, PLEASE don’t leave me!” Olingia screamed. I knew what she was doing, she was holding onto me and not letting go, as if she thought I were to disappear at any moment. I wasn’t going anywhere, this was my home, and I wasn’t going to leave. I noticed that Megane kept her distance, she had her back to us, but I could see her shoulders quivering, quivering like this Human knew what it was like to loose family and master. She was a Human, in body form, she had no master, and I highly doubt she had family too. But for some reason, I felt as though this person, this Human, knew what it meant to have lost her Oupa and Amma. Fortunately, Olingia and I weren’t the only ones grieving. Many Deamons had lost loved ones in the night, though casualties were few, the effect was massive. But the news of Jeensos’ death seemed to have changed the sorry into extreme joy and excitement. No one was longer sad at their loss, instead, we celebrated, and that night, after the stories of how the Deamons and Megane snuck into the Human’s shelter, and found Jeensos; then wrapped and tortured the liar into submission and had left him for death; my mate gave birth to eight beautiful cubs. A fox, who’s coat was as black as night, was named Salinkeay, meaning ‘Bright Night;’ another, a beautiful white like my mate, but had eyes as blue as the ocean, was named Magikalei, which means ‘Water Bringer.’ We continued naming our dubs for the night, while I let my mind wander towards the fire pit, to hear the story from the Deamon known as Learuko Manshiou, how they had succeeded in their mission. “Right when we had arrived the winds changed, masking our scent to their dogs. We had found shreds of cloth on the bodies of the dead and used it to disguise ourselves as beggars. We traveled in groups to find Jeensos’ hut, with Megane leading the way. It took what felt like moons, but we finally found it; and lucky us, the poor ikiyakatou was asleep!” Ikiyakatou means ‘idiot’ or ‘moron.’ “Megane and I stood out on guard, making sure no Human thought we were there to harm, but waiting to receive his ‘blessing.’ There was a small rustle, then all was quiet, not even the small-lights sparked or made any noise while the whole of the clan of Humans slept in their dreamy comfy beds. Chinchia, Mariniou and Cakchikki dragged Jeensos from the door, still fast asleep with a gag in his mouth to keep ‘em from sounding.” “Kcanchiokou, what’s wrong?” I heard my mate say, I twitched my ears to let her know that I had heard her, but I was far more interested in the story. Thankfully, she was too, and kept quiet to hear. “We took Jeensos to the closest open field to the village, and tied his hands and feet to the Scare-post, then Megane found some nails loose from the fence and said they would keep him in better. We hammered the things in, and Jeensos woke and screamed from his own petty pain.” The young Deamons laughed at the Soul Creator’s child, since it is impossible for such a being to even know the meaning of pain. “It took ten of us to pull up the post and keep it in the ground, the whole time the ikiyakatou was screamin’ his head off for help, the Humans heard and began coming out of their dens, staring at us in fear and surprise. Some of us had to form a row to keep the Humans out of our affairs, but they threw stones, pitchforks, one even threw a dagger, and it stuck someone right in the heart!” I looked at my master’s wrappings; I remember he had the same wound in his chest that had come from a blade. “That must be how he died…” Norintou whispered, I let out a small and subtle whine to agree. She let her newborns feed as she resumed rubbing her head on my shoulder; licking her head as thanks, we continued listening. “We managed to get the humans to back off, and then we speared the bikanto!” Bikanto means the same as bastard. At this, the Deamons cheered, some who weren’t in the front to witness the show cheered even louder than others. Learuko continued telling how they had speared and slashed Jeensos’s body until it stopped moving altogether. As he was wrapping up the tale, Megane stepped in, timidly, but spoke clearly. “Before the lot of us left, I saw Jeensos look to the sky, crying tears of blood.” Everyone stood still, I dared not breathe. “I went up to him to see if he was just dead that way, but he was still breathing, hardly…” the Human continued, not even Kaackounii, the most cruel dealing Deamon in the clan dared ask why Megane had not killed him then and there, for it was obvious there was some sort of telling that happened. “I heard him say ‘When the hour of death has come, my father will lie, lie in his phalse-truth. Seeing the last of the light as his blackened blood stains the world, and his flesh absorbed to end the suffering and begin anew’” Everyone remained quiet, even my mate’s newborns made no sound as they suckled her sweet, warm milk. “What does it mean?” I heard myself ask, of course the Deamons cannot understand Devil-Hearts, so there’s no way they could answer me. But Norintou could. “Maybe Jeensos saw that what his ‘father’ was doing is wrong and changed his ways. Maybe, maybe he saw Gad’s death.” Chapter Four “Hello~ Gigi, you there?” Arin was saying, patting my head like I was a dog, then scratching me near my ear, I liked that and she knew it. “HEY!” Alex yelled, knocking me from my memories, “I know everyone’s scared, but the longer we dawdle, the less and less chance we have.” “Are you absolutely POSOTIVE nothing’s wrong, Gigi?” I looked at my friend, realizing that I was now the Deamon Commander, and my close friend was now Megane, the very and only Human my clan trusts. She was in love with Learuko, who was a Deamon, which was forbidden in our law. I shook my head; I hadn’t the time to think these thoughts, nor the time to worry about law at the moment. We had a task about us; we had to fulfill what was told long ago. Jeensos’ last words were a prophecy, I understood that now, and that prophecy told of Gad’s death, there was no date the death would occur; but as I am now, I would not allow such a monster to learn how to create their own world! Not only that, but if such a thing gained the power of even one Deamon, then it would be more than the world that would be flushed into chaos. “I’ll open the portal,” Alex said as he began drawing the circle on Arin’s closet door. “It’s more like a doorway, but whatever.” I mumbled. We all held onto eachother, I held onto Arin’s hand while she held onto both Alex and mine. I noticed there was a book on her desk, a book I had published just two days prior to the events in which it predicted. I had a feeling that they BOTH knew what was going on in my mind. I was scared; we were all scared, anyone would be scared if they had to do this. “Everyone ready?” Alex asked intently, sounding as though he had hoped we weren’t; but Arin and I fervently nodded, and we stepped through the portal. Going through it felt almost like a dream, it felt we were floating instead of walking, we were traveling at great speeds that seemed much slower as the time went by, like time had all but stopped. I was distracted by my thoughts, and didn’t even notice where we were until I saw the opening. It was a pale grey-blue light, the same color as the sky before I left. We arrived behind the tan plastic slide, I remember it fondly; I had used to try and climb it when I was younger, before I grew more an interest in climbing trees. Everything was quiet, not even a bird so much as sang through the air. I sensed that the few souls around us, were in their homes, and sleeping off their Thanksgiving feast from the previous day. “Follow me,” I said softly, I didn’t even want to try and make myself heard; “and stay close,” I added, more to reassure myself than them. We walked down the shallow hill towards the parking lot and the, now shut, gate that separated the park from the main road. I looked around, spying for anyone or anything that may pose as an obstacle. I felt we were being watched by unknown forces, I knew who was watching, but I tried hard to shake the fear that gripped firmly onto my shoulders. It gripped me like a flightless bat gripped a tree, for dear life, a life I felt I would soon lose the battle too. “Alex, Gigi…I’m scared,” Arin whispered, I could hear her voice trembling, “I don’t want Gad to kill you, and I don’t want to die.” “Hush,” Alex patted her head, “If the Deamon Commander says it’s going to be fine, then it’s going to be fine.” I looked at then briefly, then turned back to the path. “We need to take a right, you see there?” I pointed down the road to a gate that blocked a large, impassable field. I made the signal to move, and Alex began running quickly across the road, up to the gate, and finally jumping inside the open area. “Gigi, what’ll happen if you’re wrong? What if Gad manages to kill us all-“ “Megane! I have no intention of dying, least of all today.” I stopped her mid sentence; I was getting more and more irritated with the discussion and my dream as the sun began to fully light the sky. I sensed some people were beginning to awaken, mainly the children. “Go, GO!” I pushed Arin forward, onto the road. She ran, ran faster than I had ever seen her go. In no time, my friend managed to pass the gate and get to Alex. It was my turn now, I wasted no time. I ran, I ran like my life depended on it. And faster than I thought possible, I ran across the road, I ran to the gate, and I leaped over it in one jump, landing unexpectedly on my, still sore, thigh. I let out a grunt, but I was fine. “Where do we go now?” Alex said as he came to help me up. “We can’t stay near the road, we’ll be spotted too easily.” There was plenty of worry in his eyes. “This way, I took a good look at the place the other day on Google map.” I looked towards the hill that topped the area. “Just beyond that hill there’s a small ditch, it’s covered by the surrounding area, we should be safer… from straying eyes.” I added. Looking back at them, I felt even more guilt; they knew their love was forbidden; yet they continued to remain with one another. I looked away, trying to keep my own emotions in control, if I let one in to much, too fast, then the other would come in; much more of it, much faster. We walked in silence, quickly up the hill. We understood the importance of getting there in time, before the sun shone above the tops of the trees we needed to get there. It took much less time than I thought, we moved quickly, silently; avoiding all of the dead leaves that frosted the ground with their deceivingly warm colors of red and orange, yellow and brown. We were making good time; I had spied the ditch just as we topped the hill. “Here!” I turned. And as soon as I did, I felt something, sensed something, something evil. What was happening, I wonder. I already knew, but I hadn’t bothered to turn around. Arin and Alex stopped when they saw I was standing like a post in the ground. “Gi-“ Alex started. “SH! It’s here, and it knows what we’re here for…partly” I said, trying to hide my mischief. I heard shallow breathing, just below the back of my neck. I felt a sort of smoke gathering and dissipating behind me. Gad was here, and it was angry; but it was afraid. Evil smiled. “Gad…” Alex said, with obvious distaste. Arin was scared, I saw her trembling. I heard myself speak, but in Kyostois. “So, the coward shows his miserable face?” Evil laughed, she wasn’t scared. Neither was bad, but Good and I were, we were almost terrified. It had always been hard, dealing with multiple personalities, but we found a way that it would be fair to everyone. I felt a small point in my back. I readied. Gad slashed. I ran. I ran down the hill, into the ditch; and tripped on a rock and fell. I didn’t waste any time, I got up and ran, despite the now searing pain in my back, and got to Megane as quickly as I could. “Fool…” A voice said; but in Human-speak. I was standing beside my friend, glaring at the molding shadow in front of us. “Gad,” I said, “what a mess you’ve become. You’ve not even a form to contain your phalse hatred.” Gad just stood there, its silence was intimidating. “Your heart has blackened with the lust for power, your formal body has transformed into nothing more than a poisoned shadow, You barely even know how to speak, let alone mercy.” This truth angered the shadow, and created a long blade in which to slay us all. “Please…” Arin murmured. “Please, I beg of you don’t kill us!” Her voice sounded as though she were holding back tears. “Don’t bother begging for mercy.” Alex replied. “Gad doesn’t care about anyone but himself now, least of all you, Megane.” I finished. Gad hated Megane with all of it’s being. It believed that Megane was the cause of Jeensos changing its ways against it; and that it was Megane’s fault that Gad couldn’t gain immortality. “You ALL are fools.” Gad said with unmasked hatred. “You betrayed ME, I am your lord. I am your GOD!” “You stopped being a ‘god’ when you killed Deamon Amora’s soul!” I yelled, I was angry, that anger masked my fear, it overwhelmed me. I hated Gad for what it had done; I hated it with all of my lives. I hated Gad for everything that happened because of it. My back didn’t even hurt anymore; I could feel something growing, but slowly. I wasn’t worried; I was full of the hatred I had built up over the many years. “Only those driven by fear would dare to attack-“ I threw a rock at Gad. I had picked it up and was next to me. Black blood started to leak out of the shadow. “FEAR?! You think FEAR can drive this anger?! You think fear can drive my hatred?! You’re WRONG!” I shouted now, I could tell that my friends were afraid, I had never shown this side of me to my friends. I never wanted to scare them. But now wasn’t the time. “Don’t you talk to me about Fear Gad! I KNOW fear! I KNOW sadness, I KNOW what it feels like to lose those you care about!” remembering my close friend, who had recently told me that he hated me. Gad was especially angry now, I heard Alex tell Arin to get back. He was right, Gad was going to strike, I readied myself; he moves, I move. “You think your everything just because you were once a Soul Creator! Soul Creators are humble! Yet you crave for power-“ Gad struck, I just barely dodged, Save my hind quarters now had a large, deep gash from above my hip to my thigh. It stung like salt water on a fresh wound. “Only the selfish long for meaningless revenge.” I muttered under my breath. Gad turned to Arin, she and Alex separated right after the first attack and she was now left defenseless. I only just noticed, I tried to get up and rush to protect her, but my new wound slowed my legs. I couldn’t get there in time. But Alex could. He rushed up to her as fast as he could. The blade only managed to sever a small lock of her hair, but Alex was stabbed in the shoulder. I heard him cry out in pain. Gad seemed satisfied, so it continued to draw the blade in all sorts of directions; making him scream and almost beg for mercy. Arin was too scared to run, I could tell because she had collapsed onto the ground. I ran up to Gad, grabbing the stone and throwing it as best I could at its ‘head.’ It hit. Gad reeled back and loomed over the hill. I took that small moment to turn to them. “You guys okay?” I asked, I was met with a small nod, Alex’s teeth were clenched, he hadn’t the energy to speak. I looked to Gad again. “How can you think to make the world love you, when you can’t even love another living person. You were supposed to HELP us!” I said, walking slowly away from my friends, and off to a more open area. “Of course, your selfish and blacked heart never saw what was real did it?” I said mockingly. “All you know is hatred, bloodlust, and pleasure. As for me…” I paused, waiting for an attack. “As for me, I had them all taken away, now the only one’s I have left are anger and sadness.” Just speaking seemed to outrage the blackened and transparent blob. And it towered toward me, exactly what I wanted. I just kept speaking, drawing it’s attention to me even more and more by the moment. “You think you know what it means to lead thousands of people? HA! Even an ANT could do a better job, and they don’t even have brains!” I was laughing insults now. It was fun insulting it, for a time. “You dare to insult ME? You will pay for comparing me to such worthless maggots!” It yelled. It didn’t really yell, the voice was sort of, sounded in my head by this so called ‘Soul Creator’ “Maggots you say? At least they know how to rid their own without causing pain.” I smiled, at that, Gad struck, lunging itself straight at me. I knew it. Dodging just in time, I rolled and was on my hands an knees, I felt something furry on my hand. I looked down… I had a tail. I was black on the top, white on the bottom and tipped with brown, something I hadn’t expected to see. Ever. I would have spent hours feeling how soft it was and trying to figure out how it got there, but now was defiantly not the time. I looked up, and shot towards the ground to miss getting my head split open. “Word of warning, perhaps?” I muttered. My back and legs were aching now, they were so sore, I had barely the strength to move, let alone attempt to dodge another attack. I had to think quick, I saw a stick nearby, stuck upright near the ditch. I had to make a run of it, and risk getting my friends killed, but it was the only way to get a weapon. I had to take the risk. I darted. Gad did too. I just barely got there in time to grab the stick, and pull it down and out. Doing so, sliced Gad upright, I heard a sickening shriek of pain, the sound a baby makes right before it pukes combined with the sound of screaming fans. I shook my head. Keep it together Gigi! You can’t let Gad win! You CAN’T! It seemed like it at first. But Gad was fast, much faster than I first thought. It created a blade from itself, then thrust. It was so fast; I didn’t even have time to so much as blink. I felt the icy sting of the shadow-blade as it lodged itself deep within my stomach. I staggered for less than a heartbeat before I fell. I fell into the small ditch. As I lay there, my blood streaming out of my body in small pools, Gad stands over and laughs at me; its blood pouring out of its body in little showers. The black blood splattered on my face as it laughed. I was in so much pain; it took almost all of my energy just to breathe. “You foolish Human, you haven’t even half the power to destroy me! I am Gad, I will never lose; especially not to a weak little Human like you!” it laughed. This angered me more than anything ever had. Calling a Deamon a Human was an insult commonly met with the death of the insulter. I was no Human. I was a Deamon. A Deamon, who was about to die… It was all it could do to clutch the blade, and try to tug it out. I gagged up blood, black blood. “This is my gift to you, pathetic weakling. When and if I die, you will become my successor, and will have as much hatred for them as I do. You will die early, and never come back.” Gad said, it began laughing again; it stopped shortly after and turned around, then went back up the hill to finish what it came here for. To kill Megane… again. The pain was so intense, my back, my thigh, my stomach; all of it was throbbing. I was beginning to fade into darkness; no matter how much I tried to resist I couldn’t. My body wanted to die, but my soul and my mind wanted to live. I wanted to live, to protect those I held dear to me. To protect them so that they will never be hurt as I was many times before, so that they can be happy, and live good lives with each other; so that they can live in peace, and die happy from it. I was fading, my vision clouding. It felt, at that moment. This is the day I’m going to die. Chapter Five That’s when I hear it, that blood curdling sound, the noise that awoke me that morning. It was such a sad sound, and angry sound, full of fear. It wasn’t a scream, and it wasn’t tear, but some sort…some sort of howl. I cannot explain it, but that sound, that sound woke me from the darkness of the Dream World, it took me off the path to death, whatever it was, it awoke me from my dreaming. I felt something within me, it wasn’t anger or fear, it wasn’t sadness or regret, it wasn’t anything I had within me. With that sound came a voice, soft, and sweet like the churning of buttermilk, and as silky as a butterfly’s wings. “Get up,” it seemed to say, “and protect those you hold dear.” That was enough, enough to wake me from my dream, so that I awoke to the nightmare. A nightmare I knew I had to face. I viewed the sight, as though I weren’t even there, but still asleep, and my spirit was far off, and seeing it through someone else’s eyes. I saw myself, slowly, oh so slowly, roll onto my elbows, then my knees. And finally, I rose, grasping the Shadow Blade tightly in my fists, and pull, pull, pull. I could see blood welling out of my mouth as I did, I could see wings growing out of my back, I could see my ears, they were pointed and furry; and horns, no, I saw antlers beginning to grow out of my head, but much slower than the rest. They were just small nubs on the top of my head, But I saw my eyes, I saw my face, I wasn’t angry, I wasn’t afraid. I don’t even know what I felt, what WAS it? I looked to my friends, and I saw Gad; I was tempted to run at it now, but I was glued in place, like I was chained to the ground and the air, unallowed to move from place. I looked back to me; my eyes were almost glowing in the dim light of the morning; which was steadily turning cloudier and cloudier by the second. A storm was coming, coming to wash away the poisoned and blacked blood of a liar. I heard someone scream, I looked to Arin, she was holding Alex, trying to get him to wake up; he had passed out from the blow Gad had dealt. I saw her look up, her face was shining slightly, she was crying. There was yell, a shout of sorts, I immediately drew my attention back to my body, it had managed to get on the top of the hill, and was still trying to get the Shadow Blade out. It was coming out, almost halfway now, and within an instant, I pulled out the blade with a battle cry and the first flash of lightning behind me. I stared in disbelief, my spirit anyway. Gad heard the cry, Arin did too; and perhaps Alex, but I don’t know. Gad had taken a form now, the form of a very muscular man, covered in old scars and healing wounds, I smiled with bleak satisfaction that it was still in pain from our skirmish. “You…” said Gad “How can a Human as weak as you POSSIBLY stand, let alone walk after my Death Blow.” I heard the creature laugh now. Gad thought it was funny that I was in so much pain. “Try as you might, little Human; I doubt you can even speak. Now…to finish you off.” Gad pulled out a sturdy blade; I had grabbed the stick that was lying on the ground next to me. I dropped the Shadow Blade and I saw it dissipate. A light rain was beginning to fall. “I…” Gad looked up, and so did I, for I had averted my eyes to what gruesome sight was to come. “I… I am… I am no Human.” My body said, panting, and breathing hard. I figure the freezing rain must be closing my wounds and stopping the bleeding. “Gigi…?” I just barely heard her over the rumble of the thunder above us. The rain picked up, it was heavier now, it’s patter could be heard on the trees around us, masking any possible sound from escaping, preventing anyone from knowing where we were. “What did you say, pathetic Human?” Gad mocked. “I am… I am…” Before I could finish, Gad darted towards me. “Run you ikiyakatou!” I yelled to myself. No one could hear me though, not even my body. Gad’s blade, and my branch met and the flash of lightning light the sky. My body spread it’s wings, and flapped into the air for a second, then plummeted down to strike. Gad was ready, It took it’s blade and slashed; so did I. We got closer, and farther apart, slashing, biting, striking, thrusting, punching, kicking, flying, landing, dodging; a battle not fit even for my eyes. Eventually, we separated for long enough to take a breath. “I am no Human,” I said again, my left eye now surrounded in four long lines of blood. “I am Gigi Amora, Commander of the Clan of Deamons.” Gad looked shocked now, my vision was now transferred near my body, I saw Gad’s face. It was smiling. Gad let out a raging maniacal laughter. “So I get to kill Megane AND the Commander of the Clan of Deamons; thank you, Gigi Amora, thank you for giving me immortality!” It pelted towards me. Then, I felt it again, that feeling that made me get up before. I looked to Arin. She was clutching Alex’s sleeping body tightly, he had just barely awoken; for he was staring at Gad, with anger, and staring at me, with thanks and love. Love. That was it! What I was feeling was a form of love! Not a normal friendly love, not the affectionate love, but a kind of love that would let me do anything to protect those I hold dear. This was a motherly love. I looked back to Gad, fast enough for my mind to tell my body to dodge and counter. I was filled with a new kind of thought; it was flowing into me like a waterfall, never-ending. I flew, I struck, I bound, I wavered, slice, dodge, counter, fall, fly, bite, scratch, cut. We attacked, came together and separated over and over. “No!” I heard a yell, I looked, Alex was standing now, he was clutching his shoulder tightly; he looked like he was about to pass out again. “Don’t do it Gigi Amora! You can’t do it, PLEASE!” I knew why he was yelling, it seemed as though I were throwing my life away by battling Gad to the death. But I still remember my Future-Dream from a few years ago. ~ * * * ~ I was hiking along an old mountainside trail. It was mainly populated with many boulders, small rocks, and shrubs struggling to survive in the frigid mountain terrain. I was walking slowly with my Hiking-cane, a strong branch to help me get up the mountain slopes. After a while I heard a rustling sound from far in front of me. It got louder, turning into heavy footsteps, and louder still, becoming that of a large animal. I was standing in front of a boulder about three-fourths my height. A young brown bear, I’d say about three or four years old, jumped from it, landed behind me and continued running. I watched as it went, I had a collar, old fashioned, thick, made from strong materials. I turned back. To find three hunters, all with rifles. There must be much bear taming, because they thought the bear was mine. Without saying a word they put up their guns, I hear three simultaneous shots. I know where they hit. My heart, my mind, and my soul; not just killing my body, but my soul as well. It was a daydream, but it was a Future Dream. I heard many other shots sound as I quickly faded into blackness; I was slightly taller than I am now, and I looked and felt as though I were carrying a heavy burden. But it wasn’t too heavy, since it felt like I was used to carrying such a weight. ~ * * * ~ I knew for certain this was not the day I was going to die. It wasn’t yet my time! My sight darted alongside my body, becoming one again with each step. Gad readied it’s blade. I readied my dagger, which I always keep with me. “NO!” Alex yelled, we clashed; sparks from our weapons flew as lightning bolts flashed across the sky. The rain was greatened now, pelting everyone aside from Gad with its icy fingers. We flew in our set directions and stood, stood like those actions movies where it looks like a draw, but one person caves and falls, dead. In this case, we were both hit. My sight was still outside of my body, so I saw who fell first. It was Gad. My body put my dagger to its side, and walked over to Gad’s body, which now had a deep and long gash across its shoulders and torso. Shaped like a lopsided cross. I watched as my own body moved without my mind, or my eyes to guide it. Gad’s body lay in ruin, blackened blood poured onto the wet and muddy ground; turning the dark green grass a solid deep wet, and black sludge. Its body was already beginning to decompose, as if it had been sealed in an airtight package and dead for years, only now to be exposed to the air. It was breathing, hard, and shallow, its blood coming in a seemingly endless stream, gathering itself in a small puddle around their precious body; it seemed the blood had a mind of it’s own. Like it wanted to whisk their body away, or go back inside, to prevent Gad from dying like it should. “Ikiyakatou.” I heard myself spit. “You should have known, only a coward would run away from death.” “I… will not die… not to you…” It panted; I would have felt sorry for Gad, if it wasn’t the mass murderer of our people. “You are the fool, Gad. For avoiding the prophecy your own ‘son’ used his last words to give.” Lightning again flashed, followed by a loud, and sharp clap of thunder. The storm was above us. “Wha-?” Gad sputtered, let out one final effort to support its life; and died. Gad’s body dissipated into more sludge, absorbing into the ground, causing the grass around the puddle to wither and die. “’When the hour of death has come, my ‘father’ will lie, lie in his phalse-truth. Seeing the last of the light as his blackened blood stains the world, and his flesh absorbed to end the suffering and begin anew.’” I repeated the prophecy that Jeensos had spoken of, all those years ago. The rain was much harder now, the drops were large, and it must have stung our wounds; but no one seemed to mind. In what felt like no more than a heartbeat, my vision went back into my own body, I felt all of the pain; my back, head, legs, arms, everything was throbbing. The pain was instantaneous, and was so severe; I passed out. I welcomed the darkness, though no dream came to me, I knew I was a sleep. However, they are not lucid dreams either. The darkness lasts only a few seconds before I awake to the light of the morning sun. It is a comforting darkness, the same darkness most children succumb to when the lit world isn’t to their liking, it is a velvet blackness, smooth and silky, that makes you feel at ease; no matter that you can’t see anything. There was no scent, there was no light, there is no pain, or fear in this darkness. Sometimes, if you’re lucky you can feel the sheets around you as you sleep, feel them cradle and warm you; as they lightly and gently move to cup around you. It was that sort of darkness; my pain was forgotten, and it was the velvety darkness that I cradled and nurtured deep in the forgotten parts of my broken mind. A deep blackness, a dark sleep. Text: Copyright by Gigi Amora and Ribbon Studio, 2010 All rights reserved. Publication Date: November 10th 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-kinze15

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-makayla-abernathy-forever-always/

Makayla Abernathy Forever & Always Love never dies , but gets stronger. Publication Date: December 15th 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-makaylakathryn101

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Friedrich Schiller The Bride of Messina ISABELLA, Princess of Messina. DON MANUEL, her Sons. DON CAESAR BEATRICE. DIEGO, an ancient Servant. MESSENGERS. THE ELDERS OF MESSINA, mute. THE CHORUS, consisting of the Followers of the two Princes. SCENE I. A spacious hall, supported on columns, with entrances on both sides; at the back of the stage a large folding-door leading to a chapel. DONNA ISABELLA in mourning; the ELDERS OF MESSINA. ISABELLA. Forth from my silent chamber's deep recesses, Gray Fathers of the State, unwillingly I come; and, shrinking from your gaze, uplift The veil that shades my widowed brows: the light And glory of my days is fled forever! And best in solitude and kindred gloom To hide these sable weeds, this grief-worn frame, Beseems the mourner's heart. A mighty voice Inexorable - duty's stern command, Calls me to light again. Not twice the moon Has filled her orb since to the tomb ye bore My princely spouse, your city's lord, whose arm Against a world of envious foes around Hurled fierce defiance! Still his spirit lives In his heroic sons, their country's pride: Ye marked how sweetly from their childhood's bloom They grew in joyous promise to the years Of manhood's strength; yet in their secret hearts, From some mysterious root accursed, upsprung Unmitigable, deadly hate, that spurned All kindred ties, all youthful, fond affections, Still ripening with their thoughtful age; not mine The sweet accord of family bliss; though each Awoke a mother's rapture; each alike Smiled at my nourishing breast! for me alone Yet lives one mutual thought, of children's love; In these tempestuous souls discovered else By mortal strife and thirst of fierce revenge. While yet their father reigned, his stern control Tamed their hot spirits, and with iron yoke To awful justice bowed their stubborn will: Obedient to his voice, to outward seeming They calmed their wrathful mood, nor in array Ere met, of hostile arms; yet unappeased Sat brooding malice in their bosoms' depths; They little reek of hidden springs whose power Can quell the torrent's fury: scarce their sire In death had closed his eyes, when, as the spark That long in smouldering embers sullen lay, Shoots forth a towering flame; so unconfined Burst the wild storm of brothers' hate triumphant O'er nature's holiest bands. Ye saw, my friends, Your country's bleeding wounds, when princely strife Woke discord's maddening fires, and ranged her sons In mutual deadly conflict; all around Was heard the clash of arms, the din of carnage, And e'en these halls were stained with kindred gore. Torn was the state with civil rage, this heart With pangs that mothers feel; alas, unmindful Of aught but public woes, and pitiless You sought my widow's chamber - there with taunts And fierce reproaches for your country's ills From that polluted spring of brother's hate Derived, invoked a parent's warning voice, And threatening told of people's discontent And princes' crimes! "Ill-fated land! now wasted By thy unnatural sons, ere long the prey Of foeman's sword! Oh, haste," you cried, "and end This strife! bring peace again, or soon Messina Shall bow to other lords." Your stern decree Prevailed; this heart, with all a mother's anguish O'erlabored, owned the weight of public cares. I flew, and at my children's feet, distracted, A suppliant lay; till to my prayers and tears The voice of nature answered in their breasts! Here in the palace of their sires, unarmed, In peaceful guise Messina shall behold The long inveterate foes; this is the day! E'en now I wait the messenger that brings The tidings of my sons' approach: be ready To give your princes joyful welcome home With reverence such as vassals may beseem. Bethink ye to fulfil your subject duties, And leave to better wisdom weightier cares. Dire was their strife to them, and to the State Fruitful of ills; yet, in this happy bond Of peace united, know that they are mighty To stand against a world in arms, nor less Enforce their sovereign will against yourselves. [The ELDERS retire in silence; she beckons to an old attendant, who remains. Diego! DIEGO. Honored mistress! ISABELLA. Old faithful servant, then true heart, cone near me; Sharer of all a mother's woes, be thine The sweet communion of her joys: my treasure Shrined in thy heart, my dear and holy secret Shall pierce the envious veil, and shine triumphant To cheerful day; too long by harsh decrees, Silent and overpowered, affection yet Shall utterance find in Nature's tones of rapture! And this imprisoned heart leap to the embrace Of all it holds most dear, returned to glad My desolate halls; So bend thy aged steps To the old cloistered sanctuary that guards The darling of my soul, whose innocence To thy true love (sweet pledge of happier days)! Trusting I gave, and asked from fortune's storm A resting place and shrine. Oh, in this hour Of bliss; the dear reward of all thy cares. Give to my longing arms my child again! [Trumpets are heard in the distance. Haste! be thy footsteps winged with joy - I hear The trumpet's blast, that tells in warlike accents My sons are near: [Exit DIEGO. Music is heard in an opposite direction, and becomes gradually louder. Messina is awake! Hark! how the stream of tongues hoarse murmuring Rolls on the breeze, - 'tis they! my mother's heart Feels their approach, and beats with mighty throes Responsive to the loud, resounding march! They come! they come! my children! oh, my children! [Exit. The CHORUS enters. (It consists of two semi-choruses which enter at the same time from opposite sides, and after marching round the stage range themselves in rows, each on the side by which it entered. One semi-chorus consists of young knights, the other of older ones, each has its peculiar costume and ensigns. When the two choruses stand opposite to each other, the march ceases, and the two leaders speak.) [The first chorus consists of Cajetan, Berengar, Manfred, Tristan, and eight followers of Don Manuel. The second of Bohemund, Roger, Hippolyte, and nine others of the party of Don Caesar. First Chorus (CAJETAN). I greet ye, glittering halls Of olden time Cradle of kings! Hail! lordly roof, In pillared majesty sublime! Sheathed be the sword! In chains before the portal lies The fiend with tresses snake-entwined, Fell Discord! Gently treat the inviolate floor! Peace to this royal dome! Thus by the Furies' brood we swore, And all the dark, avenging Deities! Second Chorus (BOHEMUND). I rage! I burn! and scarce refrain To lift the glittering steel on high, For, lo! the Gorgon-visaged train Of the detested foeman nigh: Shall I my swelling heart control? To parley deign - or still in mortal strife The tumult of my soul? Dire sister, guardian of the spot, to thee Awe-struck I bend the knee, Nor dare with arms profane thy deep tranquillity! First Chorus (CAJETAN). Welcome the peaceful strain! Together we adore the guardian power Of these august abodes! Sacred the hour To kindred brotherly ties And reverend, holy sympathies; - Our hearts the genial charm shall own, And melt awhile at friendship's soothing tone: - But when in yonder plain We meet - then peace away! Come gleaming arms, and battle's deadly fray! The whole Chorus. But when in yonder plain We meet - then peace away! Come gleaming arms, and battle's deadly fray! First Chorus (BERENGAR). I hate thee not - nor call thee foe, My brother! this our native earth, The land that gave our fathers birth: - Of chief's behest the slave decreed, The vassal draws the sword at need, For chieftain's rage we strike the blow, For stranger lords our kindred blood must flow. Second Chorus (BOHEMUND). Hate fires their souls - we ask not why; - At honor's call to fight and die, Boast of the true and brave! Unworthy of a soldier's name Who burns not for his chieftain's fame! The whole Chorus. Unworthy of a soldier's name Who burns not for his chieftain's fame! One of the Chorus (BERENGAR). Thus spoke within my bosom's core The thought - as hitherward I strayed; And pensive 'mid the waving store, I mused, of autumn's yellow glade: - These gifts of nature's bounteous reign, - The teeming earth, and golden grain, Yon elms, among whose leaves entwine The tendrils of the clustering vine; - Gay children of our sunny clime, - Region of spring's eternal prime! Each charm should woo to love and joy, No cares the dream of bliss annoy, And pleasure through life's summer day Speed every laughing hour away. We rage in blood, - oh, dire disgrace! For this usurping, alien race; From some far distant land they came, Beyond the sun's departing flame. And owned upon our friendly shore The welcome of our sires of yore. Alas! their sons in thraldom pine, The vassals of this stranger line. A second (MANFRED). Yes! pleased, on our land, from his azure way, The sun ever smiles with unclouded ray. But never, fair isle, shall thy sons repose 'Mid the sweets which the faithless waves enclose. On their bosom they wafted the corsair bold, With his dreaded barks to our coast of old. For thee was thy dower of beauty vain, 'Twas the treasure that lured the spoiler's train. Oh, ne'er from these smiling vales shall rise A sword for our vanquished liberties; 'Tis not where the laughing Ceres reigns, And the jocund lord of the flowery plains: - Where the iron lies hid in the mountain cave, Is the cradle of empire - the home of the brave! [The folding-doors at the back of the stage are thrown open. DONNA ISABELLA appears between her sons, DON MANUEL and DON CAESAR. Both Choruses (CAJETAN). Lift high the notes of praise! Behold! where lies the awakening sun, She comes, and from her queenly brow Shoots glad, inspiring rays. Mistress, we bend to thee! First Chorus. Fair is the moon amid the starry choir That twinkle o'er the sky, Shining in silvery, mild tranquillity; - The mother with her sons more fair! See! blooming at her side, She leads the royal, youthful pair; With gentle grace, and soft, maternal pride, Attempering sweet their manly fire. Second Chorus (BERENGAR). From this fair stem a beauteous tree With ever-springing boughs shall smile, And with immortal verdure shade our isle; Mother of heroes, joy to thee! Triumphant as the sun thy kingly race Shall spread from clime to clime, And give a deathless name to rolling time! ISABELLA (comes forward with her SONS). Look down! benignant Queen of Heaven, and still, This proud tumultuous heart, that in my breast Swells with a mother's tide of ecstasy, As blazoned in these noble youths, my image More perfect shows; - Oh, blissful hour! the first That comprehends the fulness of my joy, When long-constrained affection dares to pour In unison of transport from my heart, Unchecked, a parent's undivided love: Oh! it was ever one - my sons were twain. Say - shall I revel in the dreams of bliss, And give my soul to Nature's dear emotions? Is this warm pressure of thy brother's hand A dagger in thy breast? [To DON MANUEL. Or when my eyes Feed on that brow with love's enraptured gaze, Is it a wrong to thee? [To DON CAESAR. Trembling, I pause, Lest e'en affection's breath should wake the fires Of slumbering hate. [After regarding both with inquiring looks Speak! In your secret hearts What purpose dwells? Is it the ancient feud Unreconciled, that in your father's halls A moment stilled; beyond the castle gates, Where sits infuriate war, and champs the bit - Shall rage anew in mortal, bloody conflict? Chorus (BOHEMUND). Concord or strife - the fate's decree Is bosomed yet in dark futurity! What comes, we little heed to know, Prepared for aught the hour may show! ISABELLA (looking round). What mean these arms? this warlike, dread array, That in the palace of your sires portends Some fearful issue? needs a mother's heart Outpoured, this rugged witness of her joys? Say, in these folding arms shall treason hide The deadly snare? Oh, these rude, pitiless men, The ministers of your wrath! - trust not the show Of seeming friendship; treachery in their breasts Lurks to betray, and long-dissembled hate. Ye are a race of other lands; your sires Profaned their soil; and ne'er the invader's yoke Was easy - never in the vassal's heart Languished the hope of sweet revenge; - our sway Not rooted in a people's love, but owns Allegiance from their fears; with secret joy - For conquest's ruthless sword, and thraldom's chains From age to age, they wait the atoning hour Of princes' downfall; - thus their bards awake The patriot strain, and thus from sire to son Rehearsed, the old traditionary tale Beguiles the winter's night. False is the world, My sons, and light are all the specious ties By fancy twined: friendship - deceitful name! Its gaudy flowers but deck our summer fortune, To wither at the first rude breath of autumn! So happy to whom heaven has given a brother; The friend by nature signed - the true and steadfast! Nature alone is honest - nature only - When all we trusted strews the wintry shore - On her eternal anchor lies at rest, Nor heeds the tempest's rage. DON MANUEL. My mother! DON CAESAR. Hear me ISABELLA (taking their hands). Be noble, and forget the fancied wrongs Of boyhood's age: more godlike is forgiveness Than victory, and in your father's grave Should sleep the ancient hate: - Oh, give your days Renewed henceforth to peace and holy love! [She recedes one or two steps, as if to give them space to approach each other. Both fix their eyes on the ground without regarding one another. ISABELLA (after awaiting for some time, with suppressed emotion, a demonstration on the part of her sons). I can no more; my prayers - my tears are vain: - 'Tis well! obey the demon in your hearts! Fulfil your dread intent, and stain with blood The holy altars of your household gods; - These halls that gave you birth, the stage where murder Shall hold his festival of mutual carnage Beneath a mother's eye! - then, foot to foot, Close, like the Theban pair, with maddening gripe, And fold each other in a last embrace! Each press with vengeful thrust the dagger home, And "Victory!" be your shriek of death: - nor then Shall discord rest appeased; the very flame That lights your funeral pyre shall tower dissevered In ruddy columns to the skies, and tell With horrid image - "thus they lived and died!" [She goes away; the BROTHERS stand as before. Chorus (CAJETAN). How have her words with soft control Resistless calmed the tempest of my soul! No guilt of kindred blood be mine! Thus with uplifted hands I prey; Think, brothers, on the awful day, And tremble at the wrath divine! DON CAESAR (without taking his eyes from the ground). Thou art my elder - speak - without dishonor I yield to thee. DON MANUEL. One gracious word, an instant, My tongue is rival in the strife of love! DON CAESAR. I am the guiltier - weaker - - DON MANUEL. Say not so! Who doubts thy noble heart, knows thee not well; The words were prouder, if thy soul were mean. DON CAESAR. It burns indignant at the thought of wrong - But thou - methinks - in passion's fiercest mood, 'Twas aught but scorn that harbored in thy breast. DON MANUEL. Oh! had I known thy spirit thus to peace Inclined, what thousand griefs had never torn A mother's heart! DON CAESAR. I find thee just and true: Men spoke thee proud of soul. DON MANUEL. The curse of greatness! Ears ever open to the babbler's tale. DON CAESAR. Thou art too proud to meanness - I to falsehood! DON MANUEL. We are deceived, betrayed! DON CAESAR. The sport of frenzy! DON MANUEL. And said my mother true, false is the world? DON CAESAR. Believe her, false as air. DON MANUEL. Give me thy hand! DON CAESAR. And thine be ever next my heart! [They stand clasping each other's hands, and regard each other in silence. DON MANUEL. I gaze Upon thy brow, and still behold my mother In some dear lineament. DON CAESAR. Her image looks From thine, and wondrous in my bosom wakes Affection's springs. DON MANUEL. And is it thou? - that smile Benignant on thy face? - thy lips that charm With gracious sounds of love and dear forgiveness? DON CAESAR. Is this my brother, this the hated foe? His mien all gentleness and truth, his voice, Whose soft prevailing accents breathe of friendship! [After a pause. DON MANUEL. Shall aught divide us? DON CAESAR. We are one forever! [They rush into each other's arms. First CHORUS (to the Second). Why stand we thus, and coldly gaze, While Nature's holy transports burn? No dear embrace of happier days The pledge - that discord never shall return! Brothers are they by kindred band; We own the ties of home and native land. [Both CHORUSES embrace. A MESSENGER enters. Second CHORUS to DON CAESAR (BOHEMUND). Rejoice, my prince, thy messenger returns And mark that beaming smile! the harbinger Of happy tidings. MESSENGER. Health to me, and health To this delivered state! Oh sight of bliss, That lights mine eyes with rapture! I behold Their hands in sweet accord entwined; the sons Of my departed lord, the princely pair Dissevered late by conflict's hottest rage. DON CAESAR. Yes, from the flames of hate, a new-born Phoenix, Our love aspires! MESSENGER. I bring another joy; My staff is green with flourishing shoots. DON CAESAR (taking him aside). Oh, tell me Thy gladsome message. MESSENGER. All is happiness On this auspicious day; long sought, the lost one Is found. DON CAESAR. Discovered! Oh, where is she? Speak! MESSENGER. Within Messina's walls she lies concealed. DON MANUEL (turning to the First SEMI-CHORUS). A ruddy glow mounts in my brother's cheek, And pleasure dances in his sparkling eye; Whate'er the spring, with sympathy of love My inmost heart partakes his joy. DON CAESAR (to the MESSENGER). Come, lead me; Farewell, Don Manuel; to meet again Enfolded in a mother's arms! I fly To cares of utmost need. [He is about to depart. DON MANUEL. Make no delay; And happiness attend thee! DON CAESAR (after a pause of reflection, he returns). How thy looks Awake my soul to transport! Yes, my brother, We shall be friends indeed! This hour is bright With glad presage of ever-springing love, That in the enlivening beam shall flourish fair, Sweet recompense of wasted years! DON MANUEL. The blossom Betokens goodly fruit. DON CAESAR. I tear myself Reluctant from thy arms, but think not less If thus I break this festal hour - my heart Thrills with a holy joy. DON MANUEL (with manifest absence of mind). Obey the moment! Our lives belong to love. DON CESAR. What calls me hence - - DON MANUEL. Enough! thou leav'st thy heart. DON CAESAR. No envious secret Shall part us long; soon the last darkening fold Shall vanish from my breast. [Turning to the CHORUS. Attend! Forever Stilled is our strife; he is my deadliest foe, Detested as the gates of hell, who dares To blow the fires of discord; none may hope To win my love, that with malicious tales Encroach upon a brother's ear, and point With busy zeal of false, officious friendship. The dart of some rash, angry word, escaped From passion's heat; it wounds not from the lips, But, swallowed by suspicion's greedy ear, Like a rank, poisonous weed, embittered creeps, And hangs about her with a thousand shoots, Perplexing nature's ties. [He embraces his brother again, and goes away accompanied by the Second CHORUS. Chorus (CAJETAN). Wondering, my prince, I gaze, for in thy looks some mystery Strange-seeming shows: scarce with abstracted mien And cold thou answered'st, when with earnest heart Thy brother poured the strain of dear affection. As in a dream thou stand'st, and lost in thought, As though - dissevered from its earthly frame - Thy spirit roved afar. Not thine the breast That deaf to nature's voice, ne'er owned the throbs Of kindred love: - nay more - like one entranced In bliss, thou look'st around, and smiles of rapture Play on thy cheek. DON MANUEL. How shall my lips declare The transports of my swelling heart? My brother Revels in glad surprise, and from his breast Instinct with strange new-felt emotions, pours The tide of joy; but mine - no hate came with me, Forgot the very spring of mutual strife! High o'er this earthly sphere, on rapture's wings, My spirit floats; and in the azure sea, Above - beneath - no track of envious night Disturbs the deep serene! I view these halls, And picture to my thoughts the timid joy Of my sweet bride, as through the palace gates, In pride of queenly state, I lead her home. She loved alone the loving one, the stranger, And little deems that on her beauteous brow Messina's prince shall 'twine the nuptial wreath. How sweet, with unexpected pomp of greatness, To glad the darling of my soul! too long I brook this dull delay of crowning bliss! Her beauty's self, that asks no borrowed charm, Shall shine refulgent, like the diamond's blaze That wins new lustre from the circling gold! Chorus (CAJETAN). Long have I marked thee, prince, with curious eye, Foreboding of some mystery deep enshrined Within thy laboring breast. This day, impatient, Thy lips have burst the seal; and unconstrained Confess a lover's joy; - the gladdening chase, The Olympian coursers, and the falcon's flight Can charm no more: - soon as the sun declines Beneath the ruddy west, thou hiest thee quick To some sequestered path, of mortal eye Unseen - not one of all our faithful train Companion of thy solitary way. Say, why so long concealed the blissful flame? Stranger to fear - ill-brooked thy princely heart One thought unuttered. DON MANUEL. Ever on the wing Is mortal joy; - with silence best we guard The fickle good; - but now, so near the goal Of all my cherished hopes, I dare to speak. To-morrow's sun shall see her mine! no power Of hell can make us twain! With timid stealth No longer will I creep at dusky eve, To taste the golden fruits of Cupid's tree, And snatch a fearful, fleeting bliss: to-day With bright to-morrow shall be one! So smooth As runs the limpid brook, or silvery sand That marks the flight of time, our lives shall flow In continuity of joy! Chorus (CAJETAN). Already Our hearts, my prince, with silent vows have blessed Thy happy love; and now from every tongue, For her - the royal, beauteous bride - should sound The glad acclaim; so tell what nook unseen, What deep umbrageous solitude, enshrines The charmer of thy heart? With magic spells Almost I deem she mocks our gaze, for oft In eager chase we scour each rustic path And forest dell; yet not a trace betrayed The lover's haunts, ne'er were the footsteps marked Of this mysterious fair. DON MANUEL. The spell is broke! And all shall be revealed: now list my tale: - 'Tis five months flown, - my father yet controlled The land, and bowed our necks with iron sway; Little I knew but the wild joys of arms, And mimic warfare of the chase; - One day, - Long had we tracked the boar with zealous toil On yonder woody ridge: - it chanced, pursuing A snow-white hind, far from your train I roved Amid the forest maze; - the timid beast, Along the windings of the narrow vale, Through rocky cleft and thick-entangled brake, Flew onward, scarce a moment lost, nor distant Beyond a javelin's throw; nearer I came not, Nor took an aim; when through a garden's gate, Sudden she vanished: - from my horse quick springing, I followed: - lo! the poor scared creature lay Stretched at the feet of a young, beauteous nun, That strove with fond caress of her fair hands To still its throbbing heart: wondering, I gazed; And motionless - my spear, in act to strike, High poised - while she, with her large piteous eyes For mercy sued - and thus we stood in silence Regarding one another. How long the pause I know not - time itself forgot; - it seemed Eternity of bliss: her glance of sweetness Flew to my soul; and quick the subtle flame Pervaded all my heart: - But what I spoke, And how this blessed creature answered, none May ask; it floats upon my thought, a dream Of childhood's happy dawn! Soon as my sense Returned, I felt her bosom throb responsive To mine, - then fell melodious on my ear The sound, as of a convent bell, that called To vesper song; and, like some shadowy vision That melts in air, she flitted from my sight, And was beheld no more. Chorus (CAJETAN). Thy story thrills My breast with pious awe! Prince, thou hast robbed The sanctuary, and for the bride of heaven Burned with unholy passion! Oh, remember The cloister's sacred vows! DON MANUEL. Thenceforth one path My footsteps wooed; the fickle train was still Of young desires - new felt my being's aim, My soul revealed! and as the pilgrim turns His wistful gaze, where, from the orient sky, With gracious lustre beams Redemption's star; - So to that brightest point of heaven, her presence, My hopes and longings centred all. No sun Sank in the western waves, but smiled farewell To two united lovers: - thus in stillness Our hearts were twined, - the all-seeing air above us Alone the faithful witness of our joys! Oh, golden hours! Oh, happy days! nor Heaven Indignant viewed our bliss; - no vows enchained Her spotless soul; naught but the link which bound it Eternally to mine! Chorus (CAJETAN). Those hallowed walls, Perchance the calm retreat of tender youth, No living grave? DON MANUEL. In infant innocence Consigned a holy pledge, ne'er has she left Her cloistered home. Chorus (CAJETAN). But what her royal line? The noble only spring from noble stem. DON MANUEL. A secret to herself, - she ne'er has learned Her name or fatherland. Chorus (CAJETAN). And not a trace Guides to her being's undiscovered springs? DON MANUEL. An old domestic, the sole messenger Sent by her unknown mother, oft bespeaks her Of kingly race. Chorus (CAJETAN). And hast thou won naught else From her garrulous age? DON MANUEL. Too much I feared to peril My secret bliss! Chorus (CAJETAN). What were his words? What tidings He bore - perchance thou know'st. DON MANUEL. Oft he has cheered her With promise of a happier time, when all Shall be revealed. Chorus (CAJETAN). Oh, say - betokens aught The time is near? DON MANUEL. Not distant far the day That to the arms of kindred love once more Shall give the long forsaken, orphaned maid - Thus with mysterious words the aged man Has shadowed oft what most I dread - for awe Of change disturbs the soul supremely blest: Nay, more; but yesterday his message spoke The end of all my joys - this very dawn, He told, should smile auspicious on her fate, And light to other scenes - no precious hour Delayed my quick resolves - by night I bore her In secret to Messina. Chorus (CAJETAN). Rash the deed Of sacrilegious spoil! forgive, my prince, The bold rebuke; thus to unthinking youth Old age may speak in friendship's warning voice. DON MANUEL. Hard by the convent of the Carmelites, In a sequestered garden's tranquil bound, And safe from curious eyes, I left her, - hastening To meet my brother: trembling there she counts The slow-paced hours, nor deems how soon triumphant In queenly state, high on the throne of fame, Messina shall behold my timid bride. For next, encompassed by your knightly train, With pomp of greatness in the festal show, Her lover's form shall meet her wondering gaze! Thus will I lead her to my mother; thus - While countless thousands on her passage wait Amid the loud acclaim - the royal bride Shall reach my palace gates! Chorus (CAJETAN). Command us, prince, We live but to obey! DON MANUEL. I tore myself Reluctant from her arms; my every thought Shall still be hers: so come along, my friends, To where the turbaned merchant spreads his store Of fabrics golden wrought with curious art; And all the gathered wealth of eastern climes. First choose the well-formed sandals - meet to guard And grace her delicate feet; then for her robe The tissue, pure as Etna's snow that lies Nearest the sun-light as the wreathy mist At summer dawn - so playful let it float About her airy limbs. A girdle next, Purple with gold embroidered o'er, to bind With witching grace the tunic that confines Her bosom's swelling charms: of silk the mantle, Gorgeous with like empurpled hues, and fixed With clasp of gold - remember, too, the bracelets To gird her beauteous arms; nor leave the treasure Of ocean's pearly deeps and coral caves. About her locks entwine a diadem Of purest gems - the ruby's fiery glow Commingling with the emerald's green. A veil, From her tiara pendent to her feet, Like a bright fleecy cloud shall circle round Her slender form; and let a myrtle wreath Crown the enchanting whole! Chorus (CAJETAN). We haste, my prince. Amid the Bazar's glittering rows, to cull Each rich adornment. DON MANUEL. From my stables lead A palfrey, milk-white as the steeds that draw The chariot of the sun; purple the housings, The bridle sparkling o'er with precious gems, For it shall bear my queen! Yourselves be ready With trumpet's cheerful clang, in martial train To lead your mistress home: let two attend me, The rest await my quick return; and each Guard well my secret purpose. [He goes away accompanied by two of the CHORUS. Chorus (CAJETAN). The princely strife is o'er, and say, What sport shall wing the slow-paced hours, And cheat the tedious day? With hope and fear's enlivening zest Disturb the slumber of the breast, And wake life's dull, untroubled sea With freshening airs of gay variety. One of the Chorus (MANFRED). Lovely is peace! A beauteous boy, Couched listless by the rivulet's glassy tide, 'Mid nature's tranquil scene, He views the lambs that skip with innocent joy, And crop the meadow's flowering pride: - Then with his flute's enchanting sound, He wakes the mountain echoes round, Or slumbers in the sunset's ruddy sheen, Lulled by the murmuring melody. But war for me! my spirit's treasure, Its stern delight, and wilder pleasure: I love the peril and the pain, And revel in the surge of fortune's boisterous main! A second (BERENGAR). Is there not love, and beauty's smile That lures with soft, resistless wile? 'Tis thrilling hope! 'tis rapturous fear 'Tis heaven upon this mortal sphere; When at her feet we bend the knee, And own the glance of kindred ecstasy For ever on life's checkered way, 'Tis love that tints the darkening hues of care With soft benignant ray: The mirthful daughter of the wave, Celestial Venus ever fair, Enchants our happy spring with fancy's gleam, And wakes the airy forms of passion's golden dream. First (MANFRED). To the wild woods away! Quick let us follow in the train Of her, chaste huntress of the silver bow; And from the rocks amain Track through the forest gloom the bounding roe, The war-god's merry bride, The chase recalls the battle's fray, And kindles victory's pride: - Up with the streaks of early morn, We scour with jocund hearts the misty vale, Loud echoing to the cheerful horn Over mountain - over dale - And every languid sense repair, Bathed in the rushing streams of cold, reviving air. Second (BERENGAR). Or shall we trust the ever-moving sea, The azure goddess, blithe and free. Whose face, the mirror of the cloudless sky, Lures to her bosom wooingly? Quick let us build on the dancing waves A floating castle gay, And merrily, merrily, swim away! Who ploughs with venturous keel the brine Of the ocean crystalline - His bride is fortune, the world his own, For him a harvest blooms unsown: - Here, like the wind that swift careers The circling bound of earth and sky, Flits ever-changeful destiny! Of airy chance 'tis the sportive reign, And hope ever broods on the boundless main A third (CAJETAN). Nor on the watery waste alone Of the tumultuous, heaving sea; - On the firm earth that sleeps secure, Based on the pillars of eternity. Say, when shall mortal joy endure? New bodings in my anxious breast, Waked by this sudden friendship, rise; Ne'er would I choose my home of rest On the stilled lava-stream, that cold Beneath the mountain lies Not thus was discord's flame controlled - Too deep the rooted hate - too long They brooded in their sullen hearts O'er unforgotten, treasured wrong. In warning visions oft dismayed, I read the signs of coming woe; And now from this mysterious maid My bosom tells the dreaded ills shall flow: Unblest, I deem, the bridal chain Shall knit their secret loves, accursed With holy cloisters' spoil profane. No crooked paths to virtue lead; Ill fruit has ever sprung from evil seed! BERENGAR. And thus to sad unhallowed rites Of an ill-omened nuptial tie, Too well ye know their father bore A bride of mournful destiny, Torn from his sire, whose awful curse has sped Heaven's vengeance on the impious bed! This fierce, unnatural rage atones A parent's crime - decreed by fate, Their mother's offspring, strife and hate! [The scene changes to a garden opening on the sea. BEATRICE (steps forward from an alcove. She walks to and fro with an agitated air, looking round in every direction. Suddenly she stands still and listens). No! 'tis not he: 'twas but the playful wind Rustling the pine-tops. To his ocean bed The sun declines, and with o'erwearied heart I count the lagging hours: an icy chill Creeps through my frame; the very solitude And awful silence fright my trembling soul! Where'er I turn naught meets my gaze - he leaves me Forsaken and alone! And like a rushing stream the city's hum Floats on the breeze, and dull the mighty sea Rolls murmuring to the rocks: I shrink to nothing With horrors compassed round; and like the leaf, Borne on the autumn blast, am hurried onward Through boundless space. Alas! that e'er I left My peaceful cell - no cares, no fond desires Disturbed my breast, unruffled as the stream That glides in sunshine through the verdant mead: Nor poor in joys. Now - on the mighty surge Of fortune, tempest-tossed - the world enfolds me With giant arms! Forgot my childhood's ties I listened to the lover's flattering tale - Listened, and trusted! From the sacred dome Allured - betrayed - for sure some hell-born magic Enchained my frenzied sense - I fled with him, The invader of religion's dread abodes! Where art thou, my beloved? Haste - return - With thy dear presence calm my struggling soul! [She listens. Hark! the sweet voice! No! 'twas the echoing surge That beats upon the shore; alas! he comes not. More faintly, o'er the distant waves, the sun Gleams with expiring ray; a deathlike shudder Creeps to my heart, and sadder, drearier grows E'en desolation's self. [She walks to and fro, and then listens again. Yes! from the thicket shade A voice resounds! 'tis he! the loved one! No fond illusion mocks my listening ear. 'Tis louder - nearer: to his arms I fly - To his breast! [She rushes with outstretched arms to the extremity of the garden. DON CAESAR meets her. DON CASAR. BEATRICE. BEATRICE (starting back in horror) What do I see? [At the same moment the Chorus comes forward. DON CAESAR. Angelic sweetness! fear not. [To the Chorus. Retire! your gleaming arms and rude array Affright the timorous maid. [To BEATRICE. Fear nothing! beauty And virgin shame are sacred in my eyes. [The Chorus steps aside. He approaches and takes her hand. Where hast thou been? for sure some envious power Has hid thee from my gaze: long have I sought thee: E'en from the hour when 'mid the funeral rites Of the dead prince, like some angelic vision, Lit with celestial brightness, on my sight Thou shonest, no other image in my breast Waking or dreaming, lives; nor to thyself Unknown thy potent spells; my glance of fire, My faltering accents, and my hand that lay Trembling in thine, bespoke my ecstasy! Aught else with solemn majesty the rite And holy place forbade: The bell proclaimed The awful sacrifice! With downcast eyes, And kneeling I adored: soon as I rose, And caught with eager gaze thy form again, Sudden it vanished; yet, with mighty magic Of love enchained, my spirit tracked thy presence; Nor ever, with unwearied quest, I cease At palace gates, amid the temple's throng, In secret paths retired, or public scenes, Where beauteous innocence perchance might rove, To mark each passing form - in vain; but, guided By some propitious deity this day One of my train, with happy vigilance, Espied thee in the neighboring church. [BEATRICE, who had stood trembling with averted eyes, here makes a gesture of terror. I see thee Once more; and may the spirit from this frame Be severed ere we part! Now let me snatch This glad, auspicious moment, and defy Or chance, or envious demon's power, to shake Henceforth my solid bliss; here I proclaim thee, Before this listening warlike train my bride, With pledge of knightly honors! [He shows her to the Chorus. Who thou art, I ask not: thou art mine! But that thy soul And birth are pure alike one glance informed My inmost heart; and though thy lot were mean, And poor thy lowly state, yet would I strain thee With rapture to my arms: no choice remains, Thou art my love - my wife! Know too, that lifted On fortune's height, I spurn control; my will Can raise thee to the pinnacle of greatness - Enough my name - I am Don Caesar! None Is nobler in Messina! [BEATRICE starts back in amazement. He remarks her agitation, and after a pause continues. What a grace Lives in thy soft surprise and modest silence! Yes! gentle humbleness is beauty's crown - The beautiful forever hid, and shrinking From its own lustre: but thy spirit needs Repose, for aught of strange - e'en sudden joy - Is terror-fraught. I leave thee. [Turning to the Chorus. From this hour She is your mistress, and my bride; so teach her With honors due to entertain the pomp Of queenly state. I will return with speed, And lead her home as fits Messina's princess. [He goes away. BEATRICE and the Chorus. Chorus (BOHEMUND). Fair maiden - hail to thee Thou lovely queen! Thine is the crown, and thine the victory! Of heroes to a distant age, The blooming mother thou shalt shine, Preserver of this kingly line. (ROGER). And thrice I bid thee hail, Thou happy fair! Sent in auspicious hour to bless This favored race - the god's peculiar care. Here twine the immortal wreaths of fame And evermore, from sire to son, Rolls on the sceptered sway, To heirs of old renown, a race of deathless name! (BOHEMUND). The household gods exultingly Thy coming wait; The ancient, honored sires, That on the portals frown sedate, Shall smile for thee! There blooming Hebe shall thy steps attend; And golden victory, that sits By Jove's eternal throne, with waving plumes For conquest ever spread, To welcome thee from heaven descend. (ROGER.) Ne'er from this queenly, bright array The crown of beauty fades, Departing to the realms of day, Each to the next, as good and fair, Extends the zone of feminine grace, And veil of purity: - Oh, happy race! What vision glads my raptured eye! Equal in nature's blooming pride, I see the mother and the virgin bride. BEATRICE (awaking from her reverie). Oh, luckless hour! Alas! ill-fated maid! Where shall I fly From these rude warlike men? Lost and betrayed! A shudder o'er me came, When of this race accursed - the brothers twain - Their hands embrued with kindred gore, I heard the dreaded name; Oft told, their strife and serpent hate With terror thrilled lay bosom's core: - And now - oh, hapless fate! I tremble, 'mid the rage of discord thrown, Deserted and alone! [She runs into the alcove. Chorus (BOHEMUND). Son of the immortal deities, And blest is he, the lord of power; His every joy the world can give; Of all that mortals prize He culls the flower. (ROGER). For him from ocean's azure caves The diver bears each pearl of purest ray; Whate'er from nature's boundless field Or toil or art has won, Obsequious at his feet we lay; His choice is ever free; We bow to chance, and fortune's blind decree. (BOHEMUND.) But this of princes' lot I deem The crowning treasure, joy supreme - Of love the triumph and the prize, The beauty, star of neighboring eyes! She blooms for him alone, He calls the fairest maid his own. (ROGER). Armed for the deadly fray, The corsair bounds upon the strand, And drags, amid the gloom of night, away, The shrieking captive train, Of wild desires the hapless prey; But ne'er his lawless hands profane The gem - the peerless flower - Whose charms shall deck the Sultan's bower. (BOHEMUND.) Now haste and watch, with curious eye, These hallowed precincts round, That no presumptuous foot come nigh The secret, solitary ground Guard well the maiden fair, Your chieftain's brightest jewel owns your care. [The Chorus withdraws to the background. [The scene changes to a chamber in the interior of the palace. DONNA ISABELLA between DON MANUEL and DON CAESAR. ISABELLA. The long-expected, festal day is come, My children's hearts are twined in one, as thus I fold their hands. Oh, blissful hour, when first A mother dares to speak in nature's voice, And no rude presence checks the tide of love. The clang of arms affrights mine ear no more; And as the owls, ill-omened brood of night, From some old, shattered homestead's ruined walls, Their ancient reign, fly forth a dusky swarm, Darkening the cheerful day; when absent long, The dwellers home return with joyous shouts, To build the pile anew; so Hate departs With all his grisly train; pale Envy, scowling Malice, And hollow-eyed Suspicion; from our gates, Hoarse murmuring, to the realms of night; while Peace, By Concord and fair Friendship led along, Comes smiling in his place. [She pauses. But not alone This day of joy to each restores a brother; It brings a sister! Wonderstruck you gaze! Yet now the truth, in silence guarded long, Bursts from my soul. Attend! I have a daughter! A sister lives, ordained by heaven to bind ye With ties unknown before. DON CAESAR. We have a sister! What hast thou said, my mother? never told Her being till this hour! DON MANUEL. In childhood's years, Oft of a sister we have heard, untimely Snatched in her cradle by remorseless death; So ran the tale. ISABELLA. She lives! DON CAESAR. And thou wert silent! ISABELLA. Hear how the seed was sown in early time, That now shall ripen to a joyful harvest. Ye bloomed in boyhood's tender age; e'en then By mutual, deadly hate, the bitter spring Of grief to this torn, anxious heart, dissevered; Oh, may your strife return no more! A vision, Strange and mysterious, in your father's breast Woke dire presage: it seemed that from his couch, With branches intertwined, two laurels grew, And in the midst a lily all in flames, That, catching swift the boughs and knotted stems, Burst forth with crackling rage, and o'er the house Spread in one mighty sea of fire: perplexed By this terrific dream, my husband sought An Arab, skilled to read the stars, and long The trusted oracle, whose counsels swayed His inmost purpose: thus the boding sage Spoke Fate's decrees: if I a daughter bore, Destruction to his sons and all his race From her should spring. Soon, by heaven's will, this child Of dreadful omen saw the light; your sire Commanded instant in the waves to throw The new-born innocent; a mother's love Prevailed, and, aided by a faithful servant, I snatched the babe from death. DON CAESAR. Blest be the hands The ministers of thy care! Oh, ever rich Of counsels was a parent's love! ISABELLA. But more Than Nature's mighty voice, a warning dream Impelled to save my child: while yet unborn She slumbered in my womb, sleeping I saw An infant, fair as of celestial kind, That played upon the grass; soon from the wood A lion rushed, and from his gory jaws, Caressing, in the infant's lap let fall His prey, new-caught; then through the air down swept An eagle, and with fond caress alike Dropped from his claws a trembling kid, and both Cowered at the infant's feet, a gentle pair. A monk, the saintly guide whose counsels poured In every earthly need, the balm of heaven Upon my troubled soul, my dream resolved. Thus spoke the man of God: a daughter, sent To knit the warring spirits of my sons In bonds of tender love, should recompense A mother's pains! Deep in my heart I treasured His words, and, reckless of the Pagan seer, Preserved the blessed child, ordained of heaven To still your growing strife; sweet pledge of hope And messenger of peace! DON MANUEL (embracing his brother). There needs no sister To join our hearts; she shall but bind them closer. ISABELLA. In a lone spot obscure, by stranger hands Nurtured, the secret flower has grown; to me Denied the joy to mark each infant charm And opening grace from that sad hour of parting; These arms ne'er clasped my child again! her sire, To jealousy's corroding fears a prey, And brooding dark suspicion, restless tracked Each day my steps. DON CAESAR. Yet three months flown, my father Sleeps in the tranquil grave; say, whence delayed The joyous tidings? Why so long concealed The maid, nor earlier taught our hearts to glow With brother's love? ISABELLA. The cause, your frenzied hate, That raging unconfined, e'en on the tomb Of your scarce buried father, lit the flames Of mortal strife. What! could I throw my daughter Betwixt your gleaming blades? Or 'mid the storm Of passion would ye list a woman's counsels? Could she, sweet pledge of peace, of all our hopes The last and holy anchor, 'mid the rage Of discord find a home? Ye stand as brothers, So will I give a sister to your arms! The reconciling angel comes; each hour I wait my messenger's return; he leads her From her sequestered cell, to glad once more A mother's eyes. DON MANUEL. Nor her alone this day Thy arms shall fold; joy pours through all our gates; Soon shall the desolate halls be full, the seat Of every blooming grace. Now hear my secret: A sister thou hast given; to thee I bring A daughter; bless thy son! My heart has found Its lasting shrine: ere this day's sun has set Don Manuel to thy feet shall lead his bride, The partner of his days. ISABELLA. And to my breast With transport will I clasp the chosen maid That makes my first-born happy. Joy shall spring Where'er she treads, and every flower that blooms Around the path of life smile in her presence! May bliss reward the son, that for my brows Has twined the choicest wreath a mother wears. DON CAESAR. Yet give not all the fulness of thy blessing To him, thy eldest born. If love be blest, I, too, can give thee joy. I bring a daughter, Another flower for thy most treasured garland! The maid that in this ice-cold bosom first Awoke the rapturous flame! Ere yonder sun Declines, Don Caesar's bride shall call thee mother. DON MANUEL. Almighty Love! thou godlike power - for well We call thee sovereign of the breast! Thy sway Controls each warring element, and tunes To soft accord; naught lives but owns thy greatness. Lo! the rude soul that long defied thee melts At thy command! [He embraces DON CAESAR. Now I can trust thy heart, And joyful strain thee to a brother's arms! I doubt thy faith no more, for thou canst love! ISABELLA. Thrice blest the day, when every gloomy care From my o'erlabored breast has flown. I see On steadfast columns reared our kingly race, And with contented spirit track the stream Of measureless time. In these deserted halls, Sad in my widow's veil, but yesterday Childless I roamed; and soon, in youthful charms Arrayed, three blooming daughters at my side Shall stand! Oh, happiest mother! Chief of women, In bliss supreme; can aught of earthly joy O'erbalance thine? But say, of royal stem, What maidens grace our isle? For ne'er my sons Would stoop to meaner brides. DON MANUEL. Seek not to raise The veil that hides my bliss; another day Shall tell thee all. Enough - Don Manuel's bride Is worthy of thy son and thee. ISABELLA. Thy sire Speaks in thy words; thus to himself retired Forever would he brood o'er counsels dark, And cloak his secret purpose; - your delay Be short, my son. [Turning to DON CAESAR. But thou - some royal maid, Daughter of kings, hath stirred thy soul to love; So speak - her name - - DON CAESAR. I have no art to veil My thoughts with mystery's garb - my spirit free And open as my brows; which thou wouldst know Concerned me never. What illumes above Heaven's flaming orb? Himself! On all the world He shines, and with his beaming glory tells From light he sprung: - in her pure eyes I gazed, I looked into her heart of hearts: - the brightness Revealed the pearl. Her race - her name - my mother, Ask not of me! ISABELLA. My son, explain thy words, For, like some voice divine, the sudden charm Has thralled thy soul: to deeds of rash emprise Thy nature prompted, not to fantasies Of boyish love: - tell me, what swayed thy choice? DON CAESAR. My choice? my mother! Is it choice when man Obeys the might of destiny, that brings The awful hour? I sought no beauteous bride, No fond delusion stirred my tranquil breast, Still as the house of death; for there, unsought, I found the treasure of my soul. Thou know'st That, heedless ever of the giddy race, I looked on beauty's charms with cold disdain, Nor deemed of womankind there lived another Like thee - whom my idolatrous fancy decked With heavenly graces: - 'Twas the solemn rite Of my dead father's obsequies; we stood Amid the countless throng, with strange attire Hid from each other's glance; for thus ordained Thy thoughtful care lest with outbursting rage, E' en by the holy place unawed, our strife Should mar the funeral pomp. With sable gauze The nave was all o'erhung; the altar round Stood twenty giant saints, uplifting each A torch; and in the midst reposed on high The coffin, with o'erspreading pall, that showed, In white, redemption's sign; - thereon were laid The staff of sovereignty, the princely crown, The golden spurs of knighthood, and the sword, With diamond-studded belt: - And all was hushed In silent prayer, when from the lofty choir, Unseen, the pealing organ spoke, and loud From hundred voices burst the choral strain! Then, 'mid the tide of song, the coffin sank With the descending floor beneath, forever Down to the world below: - but, wide outspread Above the yawning grave, the pall upheld The gauds of earthly state, nor with the corpse To darkness fell; yet on the seraph wings Of harmony, the enfranchised spirit soared To heaven and mercy's throne: Thus to thy thought, My mother, I have waked the scene anew, And say, if aught of passion in my breast Profaned the solemn hour; yet then the beams Of mighty love - so willed my guiding star - First lit my soul; but how it chanced, myself I ask in vain. ISABELLA. I would hear all; so end Thy tale. DON CAESAR. What brought her to my side, or whence She came, I know not: - from her presence quick Some secret all-pervading inward charm Awoke; 'twas not the magic of a smile, Nor playful Cupid in her cheeks, nor more, The form of peerless grace; - 'twas beauty's soul, The speaking virtue, modesty inborn, That as with magic spells, impalpable To sense, my being thralled. We breathed together The air of heaven: - enough! - no utterance asked Of words, our spiritual converse; - in my heart, Though strange, yet with familiar ties inwrought She seemed, and instant spake the thought - 'tis she! Or none that lives! DON MANUEL (interposing with eagerness). That is the sacred fire From heaven! the spark of love - that on the soul Bursts like the lightning's flash, and mounts in flame, When kindred bosoms meet! No choice remains - Who shall resist? What mortal break the band That heaven has knit? Brother, my blissful fortune Was echoed in thy tale - well thou hast raised The veil that shadows yet my secret love. ISABELLA. Thus destiny has marked the wayward course Of my two sons: the mighty torrent sweeps Down from the precipice; with rage he wears His proper bed, nor heeds the channel traced By art and prudent care. So to the powers That darkly sway the fortunes of our house, Trembling I yield. One pledge of hope remains; Great as their birth - their noble souls. ISABELLA, DON MANUEL, DON CAESAR. DIEGO is seen at the door. ISABELLA. But see, My faithful messenger returns. Come near me, Honest Diego. Quick! Where is she? Tell me, Where is my child? There is no secret here. Oh, speak! No longer from my eyes conceal her; Come! we are ready for the height of joy. [She is about to lead him towards the door. What means this pause? Thou lingerest - thou art dumb - Thy looks are terror-fraught - a shudder creeps Through all my frame - declare thy tidings! - speak! Where is she? Where is Beatrice? [She is about to rush from the chamber. DON MANUEL (to himself abstractedly). Beatrice! DIEGO (holding back the PRINCESS). Be still! ISABELLA. Where is she? Anguish tears my breast! DIEGO. She comes not. I bring no daughter to thy arms. ISABELLA. Declare Thy message! Speak! by all the saints! What has befallen? DON MANUEL. Where is my sister? Tell us, Thou harbinger of ill! DIEGO. The maid is stolen By corsairs! lost! Oh! that I ne'er had seen This day of woe! DON MANUEL. Compose thyself, my mother! DON CAESAR. Be calm; list all this tale. DIEGO. At thy command I sought in haste the well-known path that leads To the old sanctuary: - joy winged my footsteps; The journey was my last! DON CAESAR. Be brief! DON MANUEL. Proceed! DIEGO. Soon as I trod the convent's court - impatient - I ask - "Where is thy daughter?" Terror sate In every eye; and straight, with horror mute, I heard the worst. [ISABELLA sinks, pale and trembling, upon a chair; DON MANUEL is busied about her. DON CAESAR. Say'st thou by pirates stolen? Who saw the band? - what tongue relates the spoil? DIEGO. Not far a Moorish galley was descried, At anchor in the bay - - DON CAESAR. The refuge oft From tempests' rage; where is the bark? DIEGO. At down, With favoring breeze she stood to sea. DON CAESAR. But never One prey contents the Moor; say, have they told Of other spoil? DIEGO. A herd that pastured near Was dragged away. DON CAESAR. Yet from the convent's bound How tear the maid unseen? DIEGO. 'Tis thought with ladders They scaled the wall. DON CAESAR. Thou knowest what jealous care Enshrines the bride of Heaven; scarce could their steps Invade the secret cells. DIEGO. Bound by no vows The maiden roved at will; oft would she seek Alone the garden's shade. Alas! this day, Ne'er to return! DON CAESAR. Saidst thou - the prize of corsairs? Perchance, at other bidding, she forsook The sheltering dome - - ISABELLA (rising suddenly). 'Twas force! 'twas savage spoil! Ne'er has my child, reckless of honor's ties With vile seducer fled! My sons! Awake! I thought to give a sister to your arms; I ask a daughter from your swords! Arise! Avenge this wrong! To arms! Launch every ship! Scour all our coasts! From sea to sea pursue them! Oh, bring my daughter! haste! DON CAESAR. Farewell - I fly To vengeance! [He goes away. [DON MANUEL arouses himself from a state of abstraction, and turns, with an air of agitation, to DIEGO. DON MANUEL. Speak! within the convent's walls When first unseen - - DIEGO. This day at dawn. DON MANUEL (to ISABELLA). Her name Thou say'st is Beatrice? ISABELLA. No question! Fly! DON MANUEL. Yet tell me - - ISABELLA. Haste! Begone! Why this delay? Follow thy brother. DON MANUEL. I conjure thee - speak - - ISABELLA (dragging him away). Behold my tears! DON MANUEL. Where was she hid? What region Concealed my sister? ISABELLA. Scarce from curious eyes In the deep bosom of the earth more safe My child had been! DIEGO. Oh! now a sudden horror Starts in my breast. DON MANUEL. What gives thee fear? DIEGO. 'Twas I That guiltless caused this woe! ISABELLA. Unhappy man! What hast thou done? DIEGO. To spare thy mother's heart One anxious pang, my mistress, I concealed What now my lips shall tell: 'twas on the day When thy dead husband in the silent tomb Was laid; from every side the unnumbered throng Pressed eager to the solemn rites; thy daughter - For e'en amid the cloistered shade was noised The funeral pomp, urged me, with ceaseless prayers, To lead her to the festival of Death. In evil hour I gave consent; and, shrouded In sable weeds of mourning, she surveyed Her father's obsequies. With keen reproach My bosom tells (for through the veil her charms Resistless shone), 'twas there, perchance, the spoiler Lurked to betray. DON MANUEL (to himself). Thrice happy words! I live! It was another! ISABELLA (to DIEGO). Faithless! Ill betide Thy treacherous age! DIEGO. Oh, never have I strayed From duty's path! My mistress, in her prayers I heard the voice of Nature; thus from Heaven Ordained, - methought, the secret impulse moves Of kindred blood, to hallow with her tears A father's grave: the tender office owned Thy servant's care, and thus with good intent I wrought but ill. DON MANUEL (to himself). Why stand I thus a prey To torturing fears! No longer will I bear The dread suspense - -I will know all! DON CAESAR (who returns). Forgive me, I follow thee. DON MANUEL. Away! Let no man follow. [Exit. DON CAESAR (looking after him in surprise). What means my brother? Speak - - ISABELLA. In wonder lost I gaze; some mystery lurks - - DON CAESAR. Thou mark'st, my mother, My quick return; with eager zeal I flew At thy command, nor asked one trace to guide My footsteps to thy daughter. Whence was torn Thy treasure? Say, what cloistered solitude Enshrined the beauteous maid? ISABELLA. 'Tis consecrate To St. Cecilia; deep in forest shades, Beyond the woody ridge that slowly climbs Toward's Etna's towering throne, it seems a refuge Of parted souls! DON CAESAR. Have courage, trust thy sons; She shall be thine, though with unwearied quest O'er every land and sea I track her presence To earth's extremest bounds: one thought alone Disturbs, - in stranger hands my timorous bride Waits my return; to thy protecting arms I give the pledge of all my joy! She comes; Soon on her faithful bosom thou shalt rest In sweet oblivion of thy cares. [Exit. ISABELLA. When will the ancient curse be stilled that weighs Upon our house? Some mocking demon sports With every new-formed hope, nor envious leaves One hour of joy. So near the haven smiled - So smooth the treacherous main - secure I deemed My happiness: the storm was lulled; and bright In evening's lustre gleamed the sunny shore! Then through the placid air the tempest sweeps, And bears me to the roaring surge again! [She goes into the interior of the palace, followed by DIEGO. The Scene changes to the Garden. Both Choruses, afterwards BEATRICE. The Chorus of DON MANUEL enters in solemn procession, adorned with garlands, and bearing the bridal ornaments above mentioned. The Chorus of DON CAESAR opposes their entrance. First Chorus (CAJETAN). Begone! Second Chorus (BOHEMUND). Not at thy bidding! CAJETAN. Seest thou not Thy presence irks? BOHEMUND. Thou hast it, then, the longer! CAJETAN. My place is here! What arm repels me? BOHEMUND, Mine! CAJETAN. Don Manuel sent me hither. BOHEMUND. I obey My Lord Don Caesar. CAJETAN. To the eldest born Thy master reverence owes. BOHEMUND. The world belongs To him that wins! CAJETAN. Unmannered knave, give place! BOHEMUND. Our swords be measured first! CAJETAN. I find thee ever A serpent in my path. BOHEMUND. Where'er I list Thus will I meet thee! CAJETAN. Say, why cam'st thou hither To spy? - - BOHEMUND. And thou to question and command? CAJETAN. To parley I disdain! BOHEMUND. Too much I grace thee By words! CAJETAN. Thy hot, impetuous youth should bow To reverend age. BOHEMUND. Older thou art - not braver. BEATRICE (rushing from her place of concealment). Alas! What mean these warlike men? CAJETAN (to BOHEMUND). I heed not Thy threats and lofty mien. BOHEMUND. I serve a master Better than thine. BEATRICE. Alas! Should he appear! CAJETAN. Thou liest! Don Manuel thousandfold excels. BOHEMUND. In every strife the wreath of victory decks Don Caesar's brows! BEATRICE. Now he will come! Already The hour is past! CAJETAN. 'Tis peace, or thou shouldst know My vengeance! BOHEMUND. Fear, not peace, thy arm refrains. BEATRICE. Oh! Were he thousand miles remote! CAJETAN. Thy looks But move my scorn; the compact I obey. BOHEMUND. The coward's ready shield! CAJETAN. Come on! I follow. BOHEMUND. To arms! BEATRICE (in the greatest agitation). Their falchions gleam - the strife begins! Ye heavenly powers, his steps refrain! Some snare Throw round his feet, that in this hour of dread He come not: all ye angels, late implored To give him to my arms, reverse my prayers; Far, far from hence convey the loved one! [She runs into the alcove. At the moment when the two Choruses are about to engage, DON MANUEL appears. DON MANUEL, the Chorus. DON MANUEL. What do I see! First Chorus to the Second (CAJETAN, BERENGAR, MANFRED). Come on! Come on! Second Chorus (BOHEMUND, ROGER, HIPPOLYTE). Down with them! DON MANUEL (stepping between them with drawn sword). Hold! CAJETAN. 'Tis the prince! BOHEMUND. Be still! DON MANUEL. I stretch him dead Upon this verdant turf that with one glance Of scorn prolongs the strife, or threats his foe! Why rage ye thus? What maddening fiend impels To blow the flames of ancient hate anew, Forever reconciled? Say, who began The conflict? Speak - - First Chorus (CAJETAN, BERENGAR). My prince, we stood - - Second Chorus (ROGER, BOHEMUND) interrupting them. They came DON MANUEL (to the First Chorus). Speak thou! First Chorus (CAJETAN). With wreaths adorned, in festal train, We bore the bridal gifts; no thought of ill Disturbed our peaceful way; composed forever With holy pledge of love we deemed your strife, And trusting came; when here in rude array Of arms encamped they stood, and loud defied us! DON MANUEL. Slave! Is no refuge safe? Shall discord thus Profane the bower of virgin innocence, The home of sanctity and peace? [To the Second Chorus. Retire - Your warlike presence ill beseems; away! I would be private. [They hesitate. In your master's name I give command; our souls are one, our lips Declare each other's thoughts; begone! [To the First Chorus. Remain! And guard the entrance. BOHEMUND. So! What next? Our masters Are reconciled; that's plain; and less he wins Of thanks than peril, that with busy zeal In princely quarrel stirs; for when of strife His mightiness aweary feels, of guilt He throws the red-dyed mantle unconcerned On his poor follower's luckless head, and stands Arrayed in virtue's robes! So let them end E'en as they will their brawls, I hold it best That we obey. [Exit Second Chorus. The first withdraws to the back of the stage; at the same moment BEATRICE rushes forward, and throws herself into DON MANUEL'S arms. BEATRICE. 'Tis thou! Ah! cruel one, Again I see thee - clasp thee - long appalled, To thousand ills a prey, trembling I languish For thy return: no more - in thy loved arms I am at peace, nor think of dangers past, Thy breast my shield from every threatening harm. Quick! Let us fly! they see us not! - away! Nor lose the moment. Ha! Thy looks affright me! Thy sullen, cold reserve! Thou tear'st thyself Impatient from my circling arms, I know thee No more! Is this Don Manuel? My beloved? My husband? DON MANUEL. Beatrice! BEATRICE. No words! The moment Is precious! Haste. DON MANUEL. Yet tell me - - BEATRICE. Quick! Away! Ere those fierce men return. DON MANUEL. Be calm, for naught Shall trouble thee of ill. BEATRICE. Oh, fly! alas, Thou know'st them not! DON MANUEL. Protected by this arm Canst thou fear aught? BEATRICE. Oh, trust me; mighty men Are here! DON MANUEL. Beloved! mightier none than I! BEATRICE. And wouldst thou brave this warlike host alone? DON MANUEL. Alone! the men thou fear'st - - BEATRICE. Thou know'st them not, Nor whom they serve. DON MANUEL. Myself! I am their lord! BEATRICE. Thou art - a shudder creeps through all my frame! DON MANUEL. Far other than I seemed; learn at last To know me, Beatrice. Not the poor knight Am I, the stranger and unknown, that loving Taught thee to love; but what I am - my race - My power - - BEATRICE. And art thou not Don Manuel? Speak - Who art thou? DON MANUEL. Chief of all that bear the name, I am Don Manuel, Prince of Messina! BEATRICE. Art thou Don Manuel, Don Caesar's brother? DON MANUEL. Don Caesar is my brother. BEATRICE. Is thy brother! DON MANUEL. What means this terror? Know'st thou, then, Don Caesar? None other of my race? BEATRICE. Art thou Don Manuel, That with thy brother liv'st in bitter strife Of long inveterate hate? DON MANUEL. This very sun Smiled on our glad accord! Yes, we are brothers! Brothers in heart! BEATRICE. And reconciled? This day? DON MANUEL. What stirs this wild disorder? Hast thou known Aught but our name? Say, hast thou told me all? Is there no secret? Hast thou naught concealed? Nothing disguised? BEATRICE. Thy words are dark; explain, What shall I tell thee? DON MANUEL. Of thy mother naught Hast thou e'er told; who is she? If in words I paint her, bring her to thy sight - - BEATRICE. Thou know'st her! And thou wert silent! DON MANUEL. If I know thy mother, Horrors betide us both! BEATRICE. Oh, she is gracious As the sun's orient beam! Yes! I behold her; Fond memory wakes; - and from my bosom's depths Her godlike presence rises to my view! I see around her snowy neck descend The tresses of her raven hair, that shade The form of sculptured loveliness; I see The pale, high-thoughted brow; the darkening glance Of her large lustrous orbs; I hear the tones Of soul-fraught sweetness! DON MANUEL. 'Tis herself! BEATRICE. This day, Perchance had give me to her arms, and knit Our souls in everlasting love; - such bliss I have renounced, yes! I have lost a mother For thee! DON MANUEL. Console thyself, Messina's princess Henceforth shall call thee daughter; to her feet I lead thee; come - she waits. What hast thou said? BEATRICE. Thy mother and Don Caesar's? Never! never! DON MANUEL. Thou shudderest! Whence this horror? Hast thou known My mother? Speak - - BEATRICE. O grief! O dire misfortune! Alas! that e'er I live to see this day! DON MANUEL. What troubles thee? Thou know'st me, thou hast found, In the poor stranger knight, Messina's prince! BEATRICE. Give me the dear unknown again! With him On earth's remotest wilds I could be blest! DON CAESAR (behind the scene). Away! What rabble throng is here? BEATRICE. That voice! Oh heavens! Where shall I fly! DON MANUEL. Know'st thou that voice? No! thou hast never heard it; to thine ear 'Tis strange - - BEATRICE. Oh, come - delay not - - DON MANUEL. Wherefore I fly? It is my brother's voice! He seeks me - how He tracked my steps - - BEATRICE. By all the holy saints! Brave not his wrath! oh quit this place - avoid him - Meet not thy brother here! DON MANUEL. My soul! thy fears Confound; thou hear'st me not; our strife is o'er. Yes! we are reconciled. BEATRICE. Protect me, heaven, In this dread hour! DON MANUEL. A sudden dire presage Starts in my breast - I shudder at the thought: If it be true! Oh, horror! Could she know That voice! Wert thou - my tongue denies to utter The words of fearful import - Beatrice! Say, wert thou present at the funeral rites Of my dead sire? BEATRICE. Alas! DON MANUEL. Thou wert! BEATRICE. Forgive me! DON MANUEL. Unhappy woman! BEATRICE. I was present! DON MANUEL. Horror! BEATRICE. Some mighty impulse urged me to the scene - Oh, be not angry - to thyself I owned The ardent fond desire; with darkening brow Thou listened'st to my prayer, and I was silent, But what misguiding inauspicious star Allured, I know not; from my inmost soul The wish, the dear emotion spoke; and vain Aught else: - Diego gave consent - oh, pardon me! I disobeyed thee. [She advances towards him imploringly; at the same moment DON CAESAR enters, accompanied by the whole Chorus. BOTH BROTHERS, BOTH CHORUSES, BEATRICE. Second Chorus (BOHEMUND) to DON CAESAR. Thou heliev'st us not - Believe thine eyes! DON CAESAR (rushes forward furiously, and at the sight of his brother starts back with horror). Some hell-born magic cheats My senses; in her arms! Envenomed snake! Is this thy love? For this thy treacherous heart Could lure with guise of friendship! Oh, from heaven Breathed my immortal hate! Down, down to hell, Thou soul of falsehood! [He stabs him, DON MANUEL falls. DON MANUEL. Beatrice! - my brother! I die! [Dies. BEATRICE sinks lifeless at his side. First Chorus (CAJETAN). Help! Help! To arms! Avenge with blood The bloody deed! Second Chorus (BOHEMUND). The fortune of the day Is ours! The strife forever stilled: - Messina Obeys one lord. First Chorus (CAJETAN, BERENGAR, MANFRED). Revenge! The murderer Shall die! Quick, offer to your master's shade Appeasing sacrifice! Second Chorus (BOHEMUND, ROGER, HIPPOLYTE). My prince! fear nothing, Thy friends are true. DON CAESAR (steps between them, looking around). Be still! The foe is slain That practised on my trusting, honest heart With snares of brother's love. Oh, direful shows The deed of death! But righteous heaven hath judged. First Chorus (CAJETAN). Alas to thee, Messina! Woe forever! Sad city! From thy blood-stained walls this deed Of nameless horror taints the skies; ill fare Thy mothers and thy children, youth and age, And offspring yet, unborn! DON CAESAR. Too late your grief - Here give your help. [Pointing to BEATRICE. Call her to life, and quick Depart this scene of terror and of death. I must away and seek my sister: - Hence! Conduct her to my mother - And tell her that her son, Don Caesar, sends her! [Exit. [The senseless BEATRICE is placed on a litter and carried away by the Second Chorus. The First Chorus remains with the body, round which the boys who bear the bridal presents range themselves in a semicircle. Chorus (CAJETAN). List, how with dreaded mystery Was signed to my prophetic soul, Of kindred blood the dire decree: - Hither with noiseless, giant stride I saw the hideous fiend of terror glide! 'Tis past! I strive not to control My shuddering awe - so swift of ill The Fates the warning sign fulfil. Lo! to my sense dismayed, Sudden the deed of death has shown Whate'er my boding fears portrayed. The visioned thought was pain; The present horror curdles every vein One of the Chorus (MANFRED). Sound, sound the plaint of woe! Beautiful youth! Outstretched and pale he lies, Untimely cropped in early bloom; The heavy night of death has sealed his eyes; - In this glad hour of nuptial joy, Snatched by relentless doom, He sleeps - while echoing to the sky, Of sorrow bursts the loud, despairing cry! A second (CAJETAN). We come, we come, in festal pride, To greet the beauteous bride; Behold! the nuptial gifts, the rich attire The banquet waits, the guests are there; They bid thee to the solemn rite Of hymen quick repair. Thou hear'st them not - the sportive lyre, The frolic dance, shall ne'er invite; Nor wake thee from thy lowly bed, For deep the slumber of the dead! The whole Chorus. No more the echoing horn shall cheer Nor bride with tones of sweetness charm his ear. On the cold earth he lies, In death's eternal slumber closed his eyes. A third (CAJETAN). What are the hopes, and fond desires Of mortals' transitory race? This day, with harmony of voice and soul, Ye woke the long-extinguished fires Of brothers' love - yon flaming orb Lit with his earliest beams your dear embrace At eve, upon the gory sand Thou liest - a reeking corpse! Stretched by a brother's murderous hand. Vain projects, treacherous hopes, Child of the fleeting hour are thine; Fond man! thou rear'st on dust each bold design, Chorus (BERENGAR). To thy mother I will bear The burden of unutterable woe! Quick shall yon cypress, blooming fair, Bend to the axe's murderous blow Then twine the mournful bier! For ne'er with verdant life the tree shall smile That grew on death's devoted soil; Ne'er in the breeze the branches play, Nor shade the wanderer in the noontide ray; 'Twas marked to bear the fruits of doom, Cursed to the service of the tomb. First (CAJETAN). Woe to the murderer! Woe That sped exulting in his pride, Behold! the parched earth drinks the crimson tide. Down, down it flows, unceasingly, To the dim caverned halls below, Where throned in kindred gloom the sister train, Of Themis progeny severe, Brood in their songless, silent reign! Stern minister of wrath's decree, They catch in swarthy cups thy streaming gore, And pledge with horrid rites for vengeance evermore. Second (BERENGAR). Though swift of deed the traces fade From earth, before the enlivening ray; As o'er the brow the transient shade Of thought, the hues of fancy flit away: - Yet in the mystic womb unseen, Of the dark ruling hours that sway Our mortal lot, whate'er has been, With new creative germ defies decay. The blooming field is time For nature's ever-teeming shoot, And all is seed, and all is fruit. [The Chorus goes away, bearing the corpse of DON MANUEL on a bier. SCENE - The hall of pillars. It is night. The stage is lighted from above by a single large lamp. DONNA ISABELLA and DIEGO advance to the front. ISABELLA. As yet no joyful tidings, not a trace Found of the lost one! DIEGO. Nothing have we heard, My mistress; yet o'er every track, unwearied, Thy sons pursue. Ere long the rescued maid Shall smile at dangers past. ISABELLA. Alas! Diego, My heart is sad; 'twas I that caused this woe! DIEGO. Vex not thy anxious bosom; naught escaped Thy thoughtful care. ISABELLA. Oh! had I earlier shown The hidden treasure! DIEGO. Prudent were thy counsels, Wisely thou left'st her in retirement's shade; So, trust in heaven. ISABELLA. Alas! no joy is perfect Without this chance of ill my bliss were pure. DIEGO. Thy happiness is but delayed; enjoy The concord of thy sons. ISABELLA. The sight was rapture Supreme, when, locked in one another's arms, They glowed with brothers' love. DIEGO. And in the heart It burns; for ne'er their princely souls have stooped To mean disguise. ISABELLA. Now, too, their bosoms wake To gentler thoughts, and own their softening sway Of love. No more their hot, impetuous youth Revels in liberty untamed, and spurns Restraint of law, attempered passion's self, With modest, chaste reserve. To thee, Diego, I will unfold my secret heart; this hour Of feeling's opening bloom, expected long, Wakes boding fears: thou know'st to sudden rage Love stirs tumultuous breasts; and if this flame With jealousy should rouse the slumbering fires Of ancient hate - I shudder at the thought! If these discordant souls perchance have thrilled In fatal unison! Enough; the clouds That black with thundering menace o'er me hung Are past; some angel sped them tranquil by, And my enfranchised spirit breathes again. DIEGO. Rejoice, my mistress; for thy gentle sense And soft, prevailing art more weal have wrought Than all thy husband's power. Be praise to thee And thy auspicious star! ISABELLA. Yes, fortune smiled; Nor light the task, so long with apt disguise To veil the cherished secret of my heart, And cheat my ever-jealous lord: more hard To stifle mighty nature's pleading voice, That, like a prisoned fire, forever strove To rend its confines. DIEGO. All shall yet be well; Fortune, propitious to our hopes, gave pledge Of bliss that time will show. ISABELLA. I praise not yet My natal star, while darkening o'er my fate This mystery hangs: too well the dire mischance Tells of the fiend whose never-slumbering rage Pursues our house. Now list what I have done, And praise or blame me as thou wilt; from thee My bosom guards no secret: ill I brook This dull repose, while swift o'er land and sea My sons unwearied, track their sister's flight, Yes, I have sought; heaven counsels oft, when vain All mortal aid. DIEGO. What I may know, my mistress, Declare. ISABELLA. On Etna's solitary height A reverend hermit dwells, - benamed of old The mountain seer, - who to the realms of light More near abiding than the toilsome race Of mortals here below, with purer air Has cleansed each earthly, grosser sense away; And from the lofty peak of gathered years, As from his mountain home, with downward glance Surveys the crooked paths of worldly strife. To him are known the fortunes of our house; Oft has the holy sage besought response From heaven, and many a curse with earnest prayer Averted: thither at my bidding flew, On wings of youthful haste, a messenger, To ask some tidings of my child: each hour I wait his homeward footsteps. DIEGO. If mine eyes Deceive me not, he comes; and well his speed Has earned thy praise. MESSENGER, ISABELLA, DIEGO. ISABELLA (to MESSENGER). Now speak, and nothing hide Of weal or woe; be truth upon thy lips! What tidings bear'st thou from the mountain seer? MESSENGER. His answer: "Quick! retrace thy steps; the lost one Is found." ISABELLA. Auspicious tongue! Celestial sounds Of peace and joy! thus ever to my vows. Thrice honored sage, thy kindly message spoke! But say, which heaven-directed brother traced My daughter? MESSENGER. 'Twas thy eldest born that found The deep-secluded maid. ISABELLA. Is it Don Manuel That gives her to my arms? Oh, he was ever The child of blessing! Tell me, hast thou borne My offering to the aged man? the tapers To burn before his saint? for gifts, the prize Of worldly hearts, the man of God disdains. MESSENGER. He took the torches from my hands in silence And stepping to the altar - where the lamp Burned to his saint - illumed them at his fire, And instant set in flames the hermit cell, Where he has honored God these ninety years! ISABELLA. What hast thou said? What horrors fright my soul? MESSENGER. And three times shrieking "Woe!" with downward course, He fled; but silent with uplifted arm Beckoned me not to follow, nor regard him So hither I have hastened, terror-sped. ISABELLA. Oh, I am tossed amid the surge again Of doubt and anxious fears; thy tale appals With ominous sounds of ill. My daughter found - Thou sayest; and by my eldest born, Don Manuel? The tidings ne'er shall bless, that heralded This deed of woe! MESSENGER. My mistress! look around Behold the hermit's message to thine eyes Fulfilled. Some charm deludes my sense, or hither Thy daughter comes, girt by the warlike train Of thy two sons! [BEATRICE is carried in by the Second Chorus on a litter, and placed in the front of the stage. She is still without perception, and motionless. ISABELLA, DIEGO, MESSENGER, BEATRICE. Chorus (BOHEMUND, ROGER, HIPPOLYTE, and the other nine followers of DON CAESAR.) Chorus (BOHEMUND). Here at thy feet we lay The maid, obedient to our lord's command: 'Twas thus he spoke - "Conduct her to my mother; And tell her that her son, Don Caesar, sends her!" ISABELLA (is advancing towards her with outstretched arms, and starts back in horror). Heavens! she is motionless and pale! Chorus (BOHEMUND). She lives, She will awake, but give her time to rouse From the dread shock that holds each sense enthralled. ISABELLA. My daughter! Child of all my cares and pains! And is it thus I see thee once again? Thus thou returnest to thy father's halls! Oh, let my breath relume thy vital spark; Yes! I will strain thee to a mother's arms And hold thee fast - till from the frost of death Released thy life-warm current throbs again. [To the Chorus. Where hast thou found her? Speak! What dire mischance Has caused this sight of woe? Chorus (BOHEMUND). My lips are dumb! Ask not of me: thy son will tell thee all - Don Caesar - for 'tis he that sends her. ISABELLA 'Tell me Would'st thou not say Don Manuel? Chorus (BOHEMUND). 'Tis Don Caesar That sends her to thee. ISABELLA (to the MESSENGER). How declared the Seer? Speak! Was it not Don Manuel? MESSENGER. 'Twas he! Thy elder born. ISABELLA. Be blessings on his head Which e'er it be; to him I owe a daughter, Alas! that in this blissful hour, so long Expected, long implored, some envious fiend Should mar my joy! Oh, I must stem the tide Of nature's transport! In her childhood's home I see my daughter; me she knows not - heeds not - Nor answers to a mother's voice of love Ope, ye dear eyelids - hands be warm - and heave Thou lifeless bosom with responsive throbs To mine! 'Tis she! Diego, look! 'tis Beatrice! The long-concealed - the lost - the rescued one! Before the world I claim her for my own! Chorus (BOHEMUND). New signs of terror to my boding soul Are pictured; - in amazement lost I stand! What light shall pierce this gloom of mystery? ISABELLA (to the Chorus, who exhibit marks of confusion and embarrassment). Oh, ye hard hearts! Ye rude unpitying men! A mother's transport from your breast of steel Rebounds, as from the rocks the heaving surge! I look around your train, nor mark one glance Of soft regard. Where are my sons? Oh, tell me Why come they not, and from their beaming eyes Speak comfort to my soul? For here environed I stand amid the desert's raging brood, Or monsters of the deep! DIEGO. She opes her eyes! She moves! She lives! ISABELLA. She lives! On me be thrown Her earliest glance! DIEGO. See! They are closed again - She shudders! ISABELLA (to the Chorus). Quick! Retire - your aspect frights her. [Chorus steps back. RORER. Well pleased I shun her sight. DIEGO. With outstretched eyes, And wonderstruck, she seems to measure thee. BEATRICE. Not strange those lineaments - where am I? ISABELLA. Slowly Her sense returns. DIEGO. Behold! upon her knees She sinks. BEATRICE. Oh, angel visage of my mother! ISABELLA. Child of my heart! BEATRICE. See! kneeling at thy feet The guilty one! ISABELLA. I hold thee in my arms! Enough - forgotten all! DIEGO. Look in my face, Canst thou remember me? BEATRICE. The reverend brows Of honest old Diego! ISABELLA. Faithful guardian Of thy young years. BEATRICE. And am I once again With kindred? ISABELLA. Naught but death shall part us more! BEATRICE. Will thou ne'er send me to the stranger? ISABELLA. Never! Fate is appeased. BEATRICE. And am I next thy heart? And was it all a dream - a hideous dream? My mother! at my feet he fell! I know not What brought me hither - yet 'tis well. Oh, bliss! That I am safe in thy protecting arms; They would have ta'en me to the princess, mother - Sooner to death! ISABELLA. My daughter, calm thy fears; Messina's princess - - BEATRICE. Name her not again! At that ill-omened sound the chill of death Creeps through my trembling frame. ISABELLA. My child! but hear me - - BEATRICE. She has two sons by mortal hate dissevered, Don Manuel and Don Caesar - - ISABELLA. 'Tis myself! Behold thy mother! BEATRICE. Have I heard thee? Speak! ISABELLA. I am thy mother, and Messina's princess! BEATRICE. Art thou Don Manuel's and Don Caesar's mother? ISABELLA. And thine! They are thy brethren whom thou namest. BEATRICE. Oh, gleam of horrid light! ISABELLA. What troubles thee? Say, whence this strange emotion? BEATRICE. Yes! 'twas they! Now I remember all; no dream deceived me, They met - 'tis fearful truth! Unhappy men! Where have ye hid him? [She rushes towards the Chorus; they turn away from her. A funeral march is heard in the distance. CHORUS. Horror! Horror! ISABELLA. Hid! Speak - who is hid? and what is true? Ye stand In silent dull amaze - as though ye fathomed Her words of mystery! In your faltering tones - Your brows - I read of horrors yet unknown, That would refrain my tongue! What is it? Tell me! I will know all! Why fix ye on the door That awe-struck gaze? What mournful music sounds? [The march is heard nearer. Chorus (BOHEMUND). It comes! it comes! and all shall be declared With terrible voice. My mistress! steel thy heart, Be firm, and bear with courage what awaits thee - For more than women's soul thy destined griefs Demand. ISABELLA. What comes? and what awaits me? Hark With fearful tones the death-wail smites mine ear - It echoes through the house! Where are my sons? [The first Semi-chorus brings in the body of DON MANUEL on a bier, which is placed at the side of the stage. A black pall is spread over it. ISABELLA, BEATRICE, DIEGO. Both Choruses. First Chorus (CAJETAN). With sorrow in his train, From street to street the King of Terror glides; With stealthy foot, and slow, He creeps where'er the fleeting race Of man abides In turn at every gate Is heard the dreaded knock of fate, The message of unutterable woe! BERENGAR. When, in the sere And autumn leaves decayed, The mournful forest tells how quickly fade The glories of the year! When in the silent tomb oppressed, Frail man, with weight of days, Sinks to his tranquil rest; Contented nature but obeys Her everlasting law, - The general doom awakes no shuddering awe! But, mortals, oh! prepare For mightier ills; with ruthless hand Fell murder cuts the holy band - The kindred tie: insatiate death, With unrelenting rage, Bears to his bark the flower of blooming age! CAJETAN. When clouds athwart the lowering sky Are driven - when bursts with hollow moan The thunder's peal - our trembling bosoms own The might of awful destiny! Yet oft the lightning's glare Darts sudden through the cloudless air: - Then in thy short delusive day Of bliss, oh! dread the treacherous snare; Nor prize the fleeting goods in vain, The flowers that bloom but to decay! Nor wealth, nor joy, nor aught but pain, Was e'er to mortal's lot secure: - Our first best lesson - to endure! ISABELLA. What shall I hear? What horrors lurk beneath This funeral pall? [She steps towards the bier, but suddenly pauses, and stands irresolute. Some strange, mysterious dread Enthrals my sense. I would approach, and sudden The ice-cold grasp of terror holds me back! [To BEATRICE, who has thrown herself between her and the bier. Whate'er it be, I will unveil - - [On raising the pall she discovers the body of DON MANUEL. Eternal Powers! it is my son! [She stands in mute horror. BEATRICE sinks to the ground with a shriek of anguish near the bier. CHORUS. Unhappy mother! 'tis thy son. Thy lips Have uttered what my faltering tongue denied. ISABELLA. My soul! My Manuel! Oh, eternal grief! And is it thus I see thee? Thus thy life Has bought thy sister from the spoiler's rage? Where was thy brother? Could no arm be found To shield thee? Oh, be cursed the hand that dug These gory wounds! A curse on her that bore The murderer of my son! Ten thousand curses On all their race! CHORUS. Woe! Woe! ISABELLA. And is it thus Ye keep your word, ye gods? Is this your truth? Alas for him that trusts with honest heart Your soothing wiles! Why have I hoped and trembled? And this the issue of my prayers! Attend, Ye terror-stricken witnesses, that feed Your gaze upon my anguish; learn to know How warning visions cheat, and boding seers But mock our credulous hopes; let none believe The voice of heaven! When in my teeming womb This daughter lay, her father, in a dream Saw from his nuptial couch two laurels grow, And in the midst a lily all in flames, That, catching swift the boughs and knotted stems Burst forth with crackling rage, and o'er the house Spread in one mighty sea of fire. Perplexed By this terrific dream my husband sought The counsels of the mystic art, and thus Pronounced the sage: "If I a daughter bore, The murderess of his sons, the destined spring Of ruin to our house, the baleful child Should see the light." Chorus (CAJETAN and BOHEMUND). What hast thou said, my mistress? Woe! Woe! ISABELLA. For this her ruthless father spoke The dire behest of death. I rescued her, The innocent, the doomed one; from my arms The babe was torn; to stay the curse of heaven, And save my sons, the mother gave her child; And now by robber hands her brother falls; My child is guiltless. Oh, she slew him not! CHORUS. Woe! Woe! ISABELLA. No trust the fabling readers of the stars Have e'er deserved. Hear how another spoke With comfort to my soul, and him I deemed Inspired to voice the secrets of the skies! "My daughter should unite in love the hearts Of my dissevered sons;" and thus their tales Of curse and blessing on her head proclaim Each other's falsehood. No, she ne'er has brought A curse, the innocent; nor time was given The blessed promise to fulfil; their tongues Were false alike; their boasted art is vain; With trick of words they cheat our credulous ears, Or are themselves deceived! Naught ye may know Of dark futurity, the sable streams Of hell the fountain of your hidden lore, Or yon bright spring of everlasting light! First Chorus (CAJETAN). Woe! Woe! thy tongue refrain! Oh, pause, nor thus with impious rage The might of heaven profane; The holy oracles are wise - Expect with awe thy coming destinies! ISABELLA. My tongue shall speak as prompts my swelling heart; My griefs shall cry to heaven. Why do we lift Our suppliant hands, and at the sacred shrines Kneel to adore? Good, easy dupes! What win we From faith and pious awe? to touch with prayers The tenants of yon azure realms on high, Were hard as with an arrow's point to pierce The silvery moon. Hid is the womb of time, Impregnable to mortal glance, and deaf The adamantine walls of heaven rebound The voice of anguish: - Oh, 'tis one, whate'er The flight of birds - the aspect of the stars! The book of nature is a maze - a dream The sage's art - and every sign a falsehood! Second Chorus (BOHEMUND). Woe! Woe! Ill-fated woman, stay Thy maddening blasphemies; Thou but disown'st, with purblind eyes, The flaming orb of day! Confess the gods, - they dwell on high - They circle thee with awful majesty! All the Knights. Confess the gods - they dwell on high - They circle thee with awful majesty! BEATRICE. Why hast thou saved thy daughter, and defied The curse of heaven, that marked me in thy womb The child of woe? Short-sighted mother! - vain Thy little arts to cheat the doom declared By the all-wise interpreters, that knit The far and near; and, with prophetic ken, See the late harvest spring in times unborn. Oh, thou hast brought destruction on thy race, Withholding from the avenging gods their prey; Threefold, with new embittered rage, they ask The direful penalty; no thanks thy boon Of life deserves - the fatal gift was sorrow! Second Chorus (BERENGAR) looking towards the door with signs of agitation. Hark to the sound of dread! The rattling, brazen din I hear! Of hell-born snakes the hissing tones are near! Yes - 'tis the furies' tread! CAJETAN. In crumbling ruin wide, Fall, fall, thou roof, and sink, thou trembling floor That bear'st the dread, unearthly stride! Ye sable damps arise! Mount from the abyss in smoky spray, And pall the brightness of the day! Vanish, ye guardian powers! They come! The avenging deities DON CAESAR, ISABELLA, BEATRICE. The Chorus. [On the entrance of DON CAESAR the Chorus station themselves before him imploringly. He remains standing alone in the centre of the stage. BEATRICE. Alas! 'tis he - - ISABELLA (stepping to meet him). My Caesar! Oh, my son! And is it thus I meet the? Look! Behold! The crime of hand accursed! [She leads him to the corpse. First Chorus (CAJETAN, BERENGAR). Break forth once more Ye wounds! Flow, flow, in swarthy flood, Thou streaming gore! ISABELLA. Shuddering with earnest gaze, and motionless, Thou stand'st. - yes! there my hopes repose, and all That earth has of thy brother; in the bud Nipped is your concord's tender flower, nor ever With beauteous fruit shall glad a mother's eyes, DON CAESAR. Be comforted; thy sons, with honest heart, To peace aspired, but heaven's decree was blood! ISABELLA. I know thou lovedst him well; I saw between ye, With joy, the bands old Nature sweetly twined; Thou wouldst have borne him in thy heart of hearts With rich atonement of long wasted years! But see - fell murder thwarts thy dear design, And naught remains but vengeance! DON CAESAR. Come, my mother, This is no place for thee. Oh, haste and leave This sight of woe. [He endeavors to drag her away. ISABELLA (throwing herself into his arms). Thou livest! I have a son! BEATRICE. Alas! my mother! DON CAESAR. On this faithful bosom Weep out thy pains; nor lost thy son, - his love Shall dwell immortal in thy Caesar's breast. First Chorus (CAJETAN, BERENGAR, MANFRED). Break forth, ye wounds! Dumb witness! the truth proclaim; Flow fast, thou gory stream! ISABELLA (clasping the hands of DON CAESAR and BEATRICE). My children! DON CAESAR. Oh, 'tis ecstasy! my mother, To see her in thy arms! henceforth in love A daughter - sister - - ISABELLA (interrupting him). Thou hast kept thy word. My son; to thee I owe the rescued one; Yes, thou hast sent her - - DON CAESAR (in astonishment). Whom, my mother, sayst thou, That I have sent? ISABELLA. She stands before thine eyes - Thy sister. DON CAESAR. She! My sister? ISABELLA. Ay, What other? DON CAESAR. My sister! ISABELLA. Thou hast sent her to me! DON CAESAR. Horror! His sister, too! CHORUS. Woe! woe! BEATRICE. Alas! my mother! ISABELLA. Speak! I am all amaze! DON CASAR. Be cursed the day When I was born! ISABELLA. Eternal powers! DON CAESAR. Accursed The womb that bore me; cursed the secret arts, The spring of all this woe; instant to crush thee, Though the dread thunder swept - ne'er should this arm Refrain the bolts of death: I slew my brother! Hear it and tremble! in her arms I found him; She was my love, my chosen bride; and he - My brother - in her arms! Thou hast heard all! If it be true - oh, if she be my sister - And his! then I have done a deed that mocks The power of sacrifice and prayers to ope The gates of mercy to my soul! Chorus (BOHEMUND). The tidings on thy heart dismayed Have burst, and naught remains; behold! 'Tis come, nor long delayed, Whate'er the warning seers foretold: They spoke the message from on high, Their lips proclaimed resistless destiny! The mortal shall the curse fulfil Who seeks to turn predestined ill. ISABELLA. The gods have done their worst; if they be true Or false, 'tis one - for nothing they can add To this - the measure of their rage is full. Why should I tremble that have naught to fear? My darling son lies murdered, and the living I call my son no more. Oh! I have borne And nourished at my breast a basilisk That stung my best-beloved child. My daughter, haste, And leave this house of horrors - I devote it To the avenging fiends! In an evil hour 'Twas crime that brought me hither, and of crime The victim I depart. Unwillingly I came - in sorrow I have lived - despairing I quit these halls; on me, the innocent, Descends this weight of woe! Enough - 'tis shown That Heaven is just, and oracles are true! [Exit, followed by DIEGO. BEATRICE, DON CAESAR, the Chorus. DON CAESAR (detaining BEATRICE). My sister, wouldst thou leave me? On this head A mother's curse may fall - a brother's blood Cry with accusing voice to heaven - all nature Invoke eternal vengeance on my soul - But thou - oh! curse me not - I cannot bear it! [BEATRICE points with averted eyes to the body. I have not slain thy lover! 'twas thy brother, And mine that fell beneath my sword; and near As the departed one, the living owns The ties of blood: remember, too, 'tis I That most a sister's pity need - for pure His spirit winged its flight, and I am guilty! [BEATRICE bursts into an agony of tears. Weep! I will blend my tears with thine - nay, more, I will avenge thy brother; but the lover - Weep not for him - thy passionate, yearning tears My inmost heart. Oh! from the boundless depths Of our affliction, let me gather this, The last and only comfort - but to know That we are dear alike. One lot fulfilled Has made our rights and wretchedness the same; Entangled in one snare we fall together, Three hapless victims of unpitying fate, And share the mournful privilege of tears. But when I think that for the lover more Than for the brother bursts thy sorrow's tide, Then rage and envy mingle with my pain, And hope's last balm forsakes my withering soul? Nor joyful, as beseems, can I requite This inured shade: - yet after him content To mercy's throne my contrite spirit shall fly, Sped by this hand - if dying I may know That in one urn our ashes shall repose, With pious office of a sister's care. [He throws his arms around her with passionate tenderness. I loved thee, as I ne'er had loved before, When thou wert strange; and that I bear the curse Of brother's blood, 'tis but because I loved thee With measureless transport: love was all my guilt, But now thou art my sister, and I claim Soft pity's tribute. [He regards her with inquiring glances, and an air of painful suspense - then turns away with vehemence. No! in this dread presence I cannot bear these tears - my courage flies And doubt distracts my soul. Go, weep in secret - Leave me in error's maze - but never, never, Behold me more: I will not look again On thee, nor on thy mother. Oh! how passion Laid bare her secret heart! She never loved me! She mourned her best-loved son - that was her cry Of grief - and naught was mine but show of fondness! And thou art false as she! make no disguise - Recoil with horror from my sight - this form Shall never shock thee more - begone forever! [Exit. [She stands irresolute in a tumult of conflicting passions - then tears herself from the spot. Chorus (CAJETAN). Happy the man - his lot I prize That far from pomps and turmoil vain, Childlike on nature's bosom lies Amid the stillness of the plain. My heart is sad in the princely hall, When from the towering pride of state, I see with headlong ruin fall, How swift! the good and great! And he - from fortune's storm at rest Smiles, in the quiet haven laid Who, timely warned, has owned how blest The refuge of the cloistered shade; To honor's race has bade farewell, Its idle joys and empty shows; Insatiate wishes learned to quell, And lulled in wisdom's calm repose: - No more shall passion's maddening brood Impel the busy scenes to try, Nor on his peaceful cell intrude The form of sad humanity! 'Mid crowds and strife each mortal ill Abides' - the grisly train of woe Shuns like the pest the breezy hill, To haunt the smoky marts below. BERENGAR, BOHEMUND, and MANFRED. On the mountains is freedom! the breath of decay Never sullies the fresh flowing air; Oh, Nature is perfect wherever we stray; 'Tis man that deforms it with care. The whole Chorus repeats. On the mountains is freedom, etc., etc. DON CAESAR, the Chorus. DON CAESAR (more collected). I use the princely rights - 'tis the last time - To give this body to the ground, and pay Fit honors to the dead. So mark, my friends, My bosom's firm resolve, and quick fulfil Your lord's behest. Fresh in your memory lives The mournful pomp, when to the tomb ye bore So late my royal sire; scarce in these halls Are stilled the echoes of the funeral wail; Another corpse succeeds, and in the grave Weighs down its fellow-dust - almost our torch With borrowed lustre from the last, may pierce The monumental gloom; and on the stair, Blends in one throng confused two mourning trains. Then in the sacred royal dome that guards The ashes of my sire, prepare with speed The funeral rites; unseen of mortal eye, And noiseless be your task - let all be graced, As then, with circumstances of kingly state. BOHEMUND. My prince, it shall be quickly done; for still Upreared, the gorgeous catafalque recalls The dread solemnity; no hand disturbed The edifice of death. DON CAESAR. The yawning grave Amid the haunts of life? No goodly sign Was this: the rites fulfilled, why lingered yet The trappings of the funeral show? BOHEMUND. Your strife With fresh embittered hate o'er all Messina Woke discord's maddening flames, and from the deed Our cares withdrew - so resolute remained, And closed the sanctuary. DON CAESAR. Make no delay; This very night fulfil your task, for well Beseems the midnight gloom! To-morrow's sun Shall find this palace cleansed of every stain, And light a happier race. [Exit the Second Chorus, with the body of DON MANUEL. CAJETAN. Shall I invite The brotherhood of monks, with rights ordained By holy church of old, to celebrate The office of departed souls, and hymn The buried one to everlasting rest? DON CAESAR. Their strains above my tomb shall sound for ever Amid the torches' blaze - no solemn rites Beseem the day when gory murder scares Heaven's pardoning grace. CAJETAN. Oh, let not wild despair Tempt thee to impious, rash resolve. My prince No mortal arm shall e'er avenge this deed; And penance calms, with soft, atoning power, The wrath on high. DON CAESAR. If for eternal justice Earth has no minister, myself shall wield The avenging sword; though heaven, with gracious ear, Inclines to sinners' prayers, with blood alone Atoned is murder's guilt. CAJETAN. To stem the tide Of dire misfortune, that with maddening rage Bursts o'er your house, were nobler than to pile Accumulated woe. DON CAESAR. The curse of old Shall die with me! Death self-imposed alone Can break the chain of fate. CAJETAN. Thou owest thyself A sovereign to this orphaned land, by thee Robbed of its other lord! DON CAESAR. The avenging gods Demand their prey - some other deity May guard the living! CAJETAN. Wide as e'er the sun In glory beams, the realm of hope extends; But - oh remember! nothing may we gain From Death! DON CAESAR. Remember thou thy vassal's duty; Remember and be silent! Leave to me To follow, as I list, the spirit of power That leads me to the goal. No happy one May look into my breast: but if thy prince Owns not a subject's homage, dread at least The murderer! - the accursed! - and to the head Of the unhappy - sacred to the gods - Give honors due. The pangs that rend my soul - What I have suffered - what I feel - have left No place for earthly thoughts! DONNA ISABELLA, DON CAESAR, The Chorus. ISABELLA (enters with hesitating steps, and looks irresolutely towards DON CAESAR; at last she approaches, and addresses him with collected tones). I thought mine eyes should ne'er behold thee more; Thus I had vowed despairing! Oh, my son! How quickly all a mother's strong resolves Melt into air! 'Twas but the cry of rage That stifled nature's pleading voice; but now What tidings of mysterious import call me From the desolate chambers of my sorrow? Shall I believe it? Is it true? one day Robs me of both my sons? Chorus. Behold! with willing steps and free, Thy son prepares to tread The paths of dark eternity The silent mansions of the dead. My prayers are vain; but thou, with power confessed, Of nature's holiest passion, storm his breast! ISABELLA. I call the curses back - that in the frenzy Of blind despair on thy beloved head I poured. A mother may not curse the child That from her nourishing breast drew life, and gave Sweet recompense for all her travail past; Heaven would not hear the impious vows; they fell With quick rebound, and heavy with my tears Down from the flaming vault! Live! live! my son! For I may rather bear to look on thee - The murderer of one child - than weep for both! DON CAESAR. Heedless and vain, my mother, are thy prayers For me and for thyself; I have no place Among the living: if thine eyes may brook The murderer's sight abhorred - I could not bear The mute reproach of thy eternal sorrow. ISABELLA. Silent or loud, my son, reproach shall never Disturb thy breast - ne'er in these halls shall sound The voice of wailing, gently on my tears My griefs shall flow away: the sport alike Of pitiless fate together we will mourn, And veil the deed of blood. DON CAESAR (with a faltering voice, and taking her hand). Thus it shall be, My mother - thus with silent, gentle woe Thy grief shall fade: but when one common tomb The murderer and his victim closes round - When o'er our dust one monumental stone Is rolled - the curse shall cease - thy love no more Unequal bless thy sons: the precious tears Thine eyes of beauty weep shall sanctify Alike our memories. Yes! In death are quenched The fires of rage; and hatred owns subdued, The mighty reconciler. Pity bends An angel form above the funeral urn, With weeping, dear embrace. Then to the tomb Stay not my passage: - Oh, forbid me not, Thus with atoning sacrifice to quell The curse of heaven. ISABELLA. All Christendom is rich In shrines of mercy, where the troubled heart May find repose. Oh! many a heavy burden Have sinners in Loretto's mansion laid; And Heaven's peculiar blessing breathes around The grave that has redeemed the world! The prayers Of the devout are precious - fraught with store Of grace, they win forgiveness from the skies; - And on the soil by gory murder stained Shall rise the purifying fane. DON CAESAR. We pluck The arrow from the wound - but the torn heart Shall ne'er be healed. Let him who can, drag on A weary life of penance and of pain, To cleanse the spot of everlasting guilt; - I would not live the victim of despair; No! I must meet with beaming eye the smile Of happy ones, and breathe erect the air Of liberty and joy. While yet alike We shared thy love, then o'er my days of youth Pale envy cast his withering shade; and now, Think'st thou my heart could brook the dearer ties That bind thee in thy sorrow to the dead? Death, in his undecaying palace throned, To the pure diamond of perfect virtue Sublimes the mortal, and with chastening fire Each gathered stain of frail humanity Purges and burns away: high as the stars Tower o'er this earthly sphere, he soars above me; And as by ancient hate dissevered long, Brethren and equal denizens we lived, So now my restless soul with envy pines, That he has won from me the glorious prize Of immortality, and like a god In memory marches on to times unborn! ISABELLA. My Sons! Why have I called you to Messina To find for each a grave? I brought ye hither To calm your strife to peace. Lo! Fate has turned My hopes to blank despair. DON CAESAR. Whate'er was spoke, My mother, is fulfilled! Blame not the end By Heaven ordained. We trode our father's halls With hopes of peace; and reconciled forever, Together we shall sleep in death. ISABELLA. My son, Live for thy mother! In the stranger's land, Say, wouldst thou leave me friendless and alone, To cruel scorn a prey - no filial arm To shield my helpless age? DON CAESAR. When all the world With heartless taunts pursues thee, to our grave For refuge fly, my mother, and invoke Thy sons' divinity - we shall be gods! And we will hear thy prayers: - and as the twins Of heaven, a beaming star of comfort shine To the tossed shipman - we will hover near thee With present help, and soothe thy troubled soul! ISABELLA. Live - for thy mother, live, my son - Must I lose all? [She throws her arms about him with passionate emotion. He gently disengages himself, and turning his face away extends to her his hand. DON CAESAR. Farewell! ISABELLA. I can no more; Too well my tortured bosom owns how weak A mother's prayers: a mightier voice shall sound Resistless on thy heart. [She goes towards the entrance of the scene. My daughter, come. A brother calls him to the realms of night; Perchance with golden hues of earthly joy The sister, the beloved, may gently lure The wanderer to life again. [BEATRICE appears at the entrance of the scene. DONNA ISABELLA, DON CAESAR, and the Chorus. DON CAESAR (on seeing her, covers his face with his hands). My mother! What hast thou done? ISABELLA (leading BEATRICE forwards). A mother's prayers are vain! Kneel at his feet - conjure him - melt his heart! Oh, bid him live! DON CAESAR. Deceitful mother, thus Thou triest thy son! And wouldst thou stir my soul Again to passion's strife, and make the sun Beloved once more, now when I tread the paths Of everlasting night? See where he stands - Angel of life! - and wondrous beautiful, Shakes from his plenteous horn the fragrant store Of golden fruits and flowers, that breathe around Divinest airs of joy; - my heart awakes In the warm sunbeam - hope returns, and life Thrills in my breast anew. ISABELLA (to BEATRICE). Thou wilt prevail! Or none! Implore him that he live, nor rob The staff and comfort of our days. BEATRICE. The loved one A sacrifice demands. Oh, let me die To soothe a brother's shade! Yes, I will be The victim! Ere I saw the light forewarned To death, I live a wrong to heaven! The curse Pursues me still: 'twas I that slew thy son - I waked the slumbering furies of their strife - Be mine the atoning blood! CAJETAN. Ill-fated mother! Impatient all thy children haste to doom, And leave thee on the desolate waste alone Of joyous life. BEATRICE. Oh, spare thy precious days For nature's band. Thy mother needs a son; My brother, live for her! Light were the pang To lose a daughter - but a moment shown, Then snatched away! DON CAESAR (with deep emotion). 'Tis one to live or die, Blest with a sister's love! BEATRICE. Say, dost thou envy Thy brother's ashes? DON CAESAR. In thy grief he lives A hallowed life! - my doom is death forever! BEATRICE. My brother! DON CAESAR. Sister! are thy tears for me? BEATRICE. Live for our mother! DON CAESAR (dropping her hand, and stepping back). For our mother? BEATRICE (hiding her head in his breast). Live For her and for thy sister! Chorus (BOHEMUND). She has won! Resistless are her prayers. Despairing mother, Awake to hope again - his choice is made! Thy son shall live! [At this moment an anthem is heard. The folding doors are thrown open, and in the church is seen the catafalque erected, and the coffin surrounded with candlesticks. DON CAESAR (turning to the coffin). I will not rob thee, brother! The sacrifice is thine: - Hark! from the tomb, Mightier than mother's tears, or sister's love, Thy voice resistless cries: - my arms enfold A treasure, potent with celestial joys, To deck this earthly sphere, and make a lot Worthy the gods! but shall I live in bliss, While in the tomb thy sainted innocence Sleeps unavenged? Thou, Ruler of our days, All just - all wise - let not the world behold Thy partial care! I saw her tears! - enough - They flowed for me! I am content: my brother! I come! [He stabs himself with a dagger, and falls dead at his sister's feet. She throws herself into her mother's arms. Chorus, CAJETAN (after a deep silence). In dread amaze I stand, nor know If I should mourn his fate. One truth revealed Speaks in my breast; - no good supreme is life; But all of earthly ills the chief is - Guilt! THE END Publication Date: May 21st 2008 https://www.bookrix.com/-bx.schiller

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-dave-donahue-three-short-stories-of-life-1/

Dave Donahue Three short stories of life A book about different senarios Text: Dave Donahue Images: Dave Donahue Editing: Cheryl Berkes All rights reserved. Publication Date: July 10th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-dobguy1

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-belinda-h-the-demons-waypoint/

Belinda H., MsMario317@deviantart.com H. The Demons Waypoint Book 1 To the paranormal :D The Contract is Valid A young girl opened her eyes as she awoke in a thick forest. She could feel the wetness of her blood on her side. What had happened? Why couldn't she remember anything? Was she in a fight? As she sat up a wince escaped her lips. She held her head as a voice echoed through her head." You are safe." She blinked and sighed." Who are you?" She asked out loud." I am your guardian, but only until you achieve your wish." She looked around confused." What's my wish?" She said as she stood up while noticing a strange symbol carved on her side." You don't remember, but you will soon. Do you remember your name?" The voice said to her." No." She said and held her side to try and slow the bleeding." How about I call you Rose?" The male voice said to her." Ok. What's your name?" Rose asked him." Raum. Would you like to see me now Rose?" He asked her quietly." Yes I...I'm ready." She said with a quiver in her voice. A figure walked out from behind a tree and smiled at her. The smile made her shiver in fear. He had medium length white hair with grey eyes, and pale skin." Do I scare you?" His smooth voice said to her. She shook her head no." Where are we?" She asked as he walked over to her. He appeared to be at least 5'8 and was wearing a black shirt with a punisher skull on it with black jeans. Then he began to observe his new master. She had dark brown hair, her eyes were a deep green and shown fear in them which made him chuckle." Your only 16 you know that right Rose?" She shook her head no. 'So she really doesn't remember anything...' Raum thought to himself." Don't worry. We're going somewhere that no one knows you. You'll be safe. Well until they know what you've done~" He placed a hand and her head as his grey eyes glowed red." Sleep." He said and she passed out." This is going to be a great adventure." A Home for Rosie Rose awoke in what looked to be a log cabin.' Where am I?' She thought to herself and sat up." Your in Pluckley, Kent, UK. This place we are in is known as the screaming forest." Raum said as he was gutting what seemed to be a rabbit. She was about to ask how he knew what she was thinking, but suddenly the caw of a crow caught her attention. It was sitting on a perch next to a thrush and raven." Do you like birds?" She asked him." Thrush, Crow, and Raven." He said as he threw the guts out the cabin window." What about doves?" She asked and he stopped what he was doing." I find them to be to pure. Same with white roses." He told her then continued what he was doing. Rose hummed in thought then came up with something." Do you like Vultures?" She asked while still on topic." I prefer ravens or crows, but vultures are alright in my eyes." He said as he started to skin the fur off the rabbit. He had some spices in the corner of his countertop probably to season it. Then she noticed the blood was in a once empty jar with a seal on top." What's the blood for?" She asked as she got up." He turned to her and gripped her chin roughly." You sure do ask many questions. Is that an order for me to tell you?" He said as his eyes glowed red. Rose frowned and shook her head no." Then I'm not going to tell you." He said and walked back over to his table." Fine it's and order." She said and glared at him." It's just in case I need to summon anything that I can use to protect you Rose." He said as he placed the container in a cupboard. Her stomach growled and she blushed when he chuckled." Hungry are you? Well this rabbit will be ready in at least 30 minutes to an hour." He said as he started to dry rub the spices into the rabbit." What are you?" She asked him and he grinned which made her shiver in discomfort." I am....none of your business my lady." He said as he opened a door for her." This room is for you. It will have everything you need until your wish is complete, then after that.....I get what I want." She pouted and was about to order him to tell her what he was when he spoke." Demon." He said and left her alone in the room." A....demon?"  Unpleasant Meal Rose was sitting in her room staring at the mirror trying to fix her hair." This suits you." Raum's voice announced as he put a pink rose in her hair. She looked back at him and smiled." Lunch is ready milady." He said and lead her outside. There was a soft purple blanket ,with the food on it, sitting in the grass. During her munching Rose stopped and looked at her protector to see him not eating anything." Aren't you hungry?" She asked with a look of confusion." I don't eat normal, human, food." He said and smiled that creepy grin of his." Well.....w-what do you eat?" Rose asked nervously." Souls. Human and Angel souls, and don't forget blood and wine." He said and chuckled at her frightened look." Your soul is mine once your wish is fulfilled." He said and held her chin is his hand." Your soul....so pure...so untainted." He whispered  to her and leaned forward to brush his lips against her ear that made her shiver." St-stop it!" She said as she pushed him away. He chuckled and grinned." I will leave you be for now." He said softly and stood." Call my name if you need me." He said and left her side. Lord Terry Many months later, Raum and Rose were in London." It's so beautiful." Rose said in awe." I've been in this area far to many times." Raum said with a blank expression." Who is this lovely lady?" A soft male voice said calmly." W-who me?" Rose said as se looked at the handsome lad. He had amber brown eyes and back hair." Yes you. Who did you think I was speaking of? I would never address a common man like that." He said and pushed Raum out of the way. Raum growled darkly and tightened his fists as his eyes glowed red. The man kissed Rose's hand and smiled." I'm Lord Terry, and you are?" Terry asked her with a grin." I-I'm Rose." She stuttered." Ah what a beautiful name. Would you like to have some tea at my manor?" He asked and held her hand." I would love to!" Rose said happily." Can we go? Please Raum?" She said to him pleadingly." Frolic in your filthy customs? I haven't the faintest idea if I should allow you to." Raum said as he was glaring angrily." That's an order Raum." Rose growled to him. Raum frowned then sighed." As you wish my Mistress." He said her and followed her to the horse drawn carriage.' This is going to be a painfully long day.' Raum thought to himself. The Beast Has Been Bested At the manor after Rose and Terry had tea they were in a beautiful room with a balcony and green velvet wallpaper." Have you ever used a Ouija board before?" Terry asked with a grin." A-aren't those dangerous..." Rose asked unsurely." It's perfectly harmless." Terry said and got into the position to use it.Raum was aimlessly walking around the manor until he sensed Rose was in danger. He sprinted to where she was and listened closely behind the locked door."Does anyone wish to speak to us?" Terry asked aloud." Y.E.S." Terry announced as the piece moved to the letters. Rose looked shocked." What's your name?" She asked and leaned closer to the board." W.H.E.R.E I.S R.A.U.M." Terry said as it spelled out that sentence." Where is Raum, How do you know Raum?" Rose asked then screamed as tentacles burst out of the wall followed by a pitch black figure with green glowing eyes." Bloody Hell!!!" Terry yelled out in shock and tried to open the door." IT WON'T OPEN!!" He cried out."Move out of the way!" Raum yelled through the door. Terry moved and Raum broke down the door." Raummmmmm~" The evil creature purred. Raum's eyes glowed red as he took up a fighting stance." What do you want with me!?" Raum growled at the creature." Soullll Hungry neeeeeed~" The creature rumbled." Go to hell foul monster." Raum growled a took a sword off of a display on the wall. He cut of multiple tentacles as he continued to fight the creature. The monster howled in pain and produced more tentacles as it attacked Rose instead. The tentacles wrapped around her and one went up her shorts." AHH!!" She yelled in shock. Raum growled louder as a dark aura surrounded him. He cut those tentacles off then quickly stabbed the monster in the throat. With its last dying breath it took a sharp tentacle and stabbed it through Raum's stomachs then it dissolved into nothing." RAUM!!" Rose cried and ran to him as he was bleeding on the floor. Raum coughed and blood ran down his chin." I NEED A NURSE!! NOW!!" Terry ordered passing servants who quickly followed their Master's order." R...Rose." Raum stuttered out." Yes?" Rose asked softly and pet his head." I'll......b...e.....fine." He said as the nurses took him to the medical room as his hand slipped from Rose's." I need you...Raum." Rose said sadly as she felt the lingering warmth from Raum's hand." I really need you..."  A Lightness of Heart Raum was laying down in one of the guest rooms soft beds. He slowly opened his eyes and sat up, but hissed in pain and held his stomach. Being the healthy demon he was he was partially healed already." Raum!" Rose yelled and ran into the room." Oh thank goodness your ok." She said and sighed as she sat in a chair next to the bed." How long have I been out?" Raum asked softly." About three days." Rose said with a sad frown." Well I'm awake now. Don't worry ok?" He said and held her hand. Then he felt something. His dark heart felt lighter. Was he ill? Raum wondered." What's wrong? You look spacey." Rose said with a soft smile." I'm still healing so I'm sensitive." Raum said plainly and let go of her hand. Rose chuckled and smiled wider." Oh really~" She purred out." Don't you dare do anything to me." Raum said with a strict look." Ok. Ok. I won't." She said and got up." What do you want to eat? You must be hungry." Rose said happily." Yeah I am. Can you get me some dark red wine and some garlic bread?" He asked and smiled back at her." Sure. I'll ask Terry to get his servants to make some of that for you." She said then left. Then Raum felt another feeling he rarely felt. He felt...lonely. He sighed softly then said, " This is gonna be a real bother."  Publication Date: March 4th 2014 https://www.bookrix.com/-iqe1bf3dfe3f425

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-tabitha-posey-the-life-of-a-teenage-girl/

Tabitha Posey The Life Of A Teenage Girl Lost and Found On January 22,1991 Jane and Walter had a beautiful baby girl and named her Crystal. As a child Crystal only knew her little sister Danielle. They were more than sisters they were best friends to. There mom and dad gave them everything there was nothing in the world they wanted for. There dad was always at work and the only thing he liked to do with them was go fishing. Even though Crystal didnt like fishing she still went,because her father was her hero. There mom was more than wonderful she did everthing with them. They had a play ground in there backyard so that there dad woludnt have to go anywhere other than outside to be with them. As they got older they got alot more they was the only kids with bikes that had radios on them. Publication Date: June 29th 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-tabbi123

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-millie-annaliece-smile-belle-chiquita/

Millie Annaliece Smile Belle Chiquita Smile Belle Chiquita I stared at my reflection in the full length mirror in my bedroom. Who was this goddess staring back at me? Black jeweled thong flip flops peeking out from under the hem of a full length red, silk dress. Perfectly shaped toenails in the same shade of red as the dress. The dress skimmed over this goddess's curves beautifully, drawing the eye up with a jeweled empire waist that lifted her chest up and added curves. And finally blonde hair that was curled and fell over her shoulders. And flawless- absolutely flawless- makeup. There was only one problem. This beautiful girl in the mirror wouldn't smile. "Smile, belle chiquita." I whispered. Her lips only copied mine. I sighed giving up. I had only to wait for Liam, my beautiful, perfectionist, wonderful date to arrive. He was taking me to prom, my first being 16, his last. I grabbed my sparkly animal print clutch and walked into the living room. "Come here Kristen," my Mom said. She adjusted the straps on my dress and smiled at her handiwork, but not at me. I sighed, already feeling defeated. "Do I look allright?" I asked. "Yes Kristen. You're beautiful," she said absently.  Just as I sat down, the doorbell rang. It was Liam, and I almost fainted at his gorgeousness. I was so excited I ran to him and threw my arms around his neck. He hugged me tightly around the waist spinning me in a circle. "Liam," I said breathless. "You are beautiful, Kristen," he said grabbing my hand. I interlaced my fingers through his and he kissed my cheek. "Ms. Teen," he said to my mom, "Thank you for letting me take Kristen to prom." "Your welcome. Don't forget one o' clock." "Allright," I said. "I love you, Mom. See ya afterwhile." I followed Liam to his truck and once inside I pulled the keys from his hand and put them beside me. "Kristen!" he protested. "Liam," I said teasing. I kissed him on the lips, stopping him from getting the keys. I sat on my knees so I was taller than him and french kissed him. He kissed me back trying to get me to sit down. I sat down and gave him the keys. I lived an hour from his school and we had three hours before pictures. SO about fortyfive minutes later I convinced him to pull onto a backroad. I placed my hand on his cheek palm down. "I love you, Liam." I said quietly. I felt myself getting goosebumps and looked away. "I love you too, Kris. Tell me what's going on." I wrapped my arms around him and rest my head on his chest. He wrapped me up tightly and said "Talk to me, Kris." "I have nothing I can say. i just want you to know that."  I said. "I love you. I really do." He pulled me away from him to see my face. "Are you scared of losing me?" he asked concerned. Unable to speak, I just nodded. "Oh, Kristen!" he exclaimed.  He kissed me gently on the lips holding my hands in his. I felt the emotions he tried so hard to control. They almost overwhelmed me. I knew he had lost resolve just by this one simple gesture. "Liam, talk to me!" I exclaimed. "Kristen, what is it? I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." "Yes you will." I bit my lip and let him stare at me with that crazy look. He was confused, and I was scared if I cried, I'd mess up my makeup. He grabbed my hand. "I'll make you a deal. After the dance, on the way home you can tell me what's going on. But right now you gotta smile, okay?" I nodded. "Smile, belle chiquita," he said. I smiled in spite of myself, that he was telling me the same thing I always told myself. That was very sweet in him. Later after a million pictures, a dozen dances, and a few drinks it was time to go. To me it was a glorified school dance you had to dress up for. Add a romantic mood, and about a zillion times better decorations, maybe a couple proposals-- that's what it seemed to be. Don't get me wrong- it was the best time of my life; I had a ton of fun and got a few more kisses. But I was really more chill than a princess pagaent. Who gots the hottest guy in a tux? Who can dance in the highest heels? Who paid the most for their dress? Ugh, not the drama I wanted from a bunch of frilly princesses in six inch heels they can't even walk in. As we crawled in his truck afterwards, I remembered the deal. I stared out the window, absently braiding a strand of hair. I felt Liam eyeing me and I shivered. He draped his tuxedo jacket over my shoulders. "Thanks Liam." I whispered. "Remember the deal, Kris?" he asked. "Yeah," I answered. "Do I have to?" "No, but it will make you feel better." I laughed dryly. He was so damn innocent. And he had just hit a nerve. I snapped. "How do you know what will make me feel better? You think you know, and yeah for the most part you just might. But you're not with me every minute of every day. At school, at home, at church. I'm trapped in my own mind Liam. So do you? Do you know what will help me?" He studied the road as he drove, and I swear I could feel his astonishment. I had hurt him with my petty pride. How could I do that to him?! I felt awful. Finally he spoke. "Yes Kris. Actually I do know." I peered at him cautiously. I waited for him to continue. "You're sick and tired, Kris, of trying to be Miss Perfect, of people trying to change you, of- of not being good enough. But you are good enough, Kris. You're absolutely perfect to me. Why do you refuse to see that?" "I- Liam- I just don't know." I blinked back tears; I didn't want him to see me cry. "Kris. Listen to me. Just close your eyes and listen to me." I closed my eyes but was unable to face the fact that Liam was right, and he knew he was even if I wouldn't admit it. "Now I don't know everything going on in your life; frankly, I don't want to. You are your own person. And the sooner you realize that, the better things are going to get. I won't leave you Kris. I love you."  By the time he got me home, he'd admitted every thing he'd ever felt about me. My heart was unable to sink, knowing that he would never give up on me, knowing he never had. When we got to the door he kissed my forehead sweetly and said "Smile Belle Chiquita. Our dance has only just begun." Publication Date: September 8th 2014 https://www.bookrix.com/-baby.girl

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-william-shakespeare-the-history-of-troilus-and-cressida/

William Shakespeare The History of Troilus and Cressida DRAMATIS PERSONAE PRIAM, King of Troy His sons: HECTOR TROILUS PARIS DEIPHOBUS HELENUS MARGARELON, a bastard son of Priam Trojan commanders: AENEAS ANTENOR CALCHAS, a Trojan priest, taking part with the Greeks PANDARUS, uncle to Cressida AGAMEMNON, the Greek general MENELAUS, his brother Greek commanders: ACHILLES AJAX ULYSSES NESTOR DIOMEDES PATROCLUS THERSITES, a deformed and scurrilous Greek ALEXANDER, servant to Cressida SERVANT to Troilus SERVANT to Paris SERVANT to Diomedes HELEN, wife to Menelaus ANDROMACHE, wife to Hector CASSANDRA, daughter to Priam, a prophetess CRESSIDA, daughter to Calchas Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants SCENE: Troy and the Greek camp before it PROLOGUE TROILUS AND CRESSIDA In Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of Greece The princes orgulous, their high blood chaf'd, Have to the port of Athens sent their ships Fraught with the ministers and instruments Of cruel war. Sixty and nine that wore Their crownets regal from the Athenian bay Put forth toward Phrygia; and their vow is made To ransack Troy, within whose strong immures The ravish'd Helen, Menelaus' queen, With wanton Paris sleeps - and that's the quarrel. To Tenedos they come, And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge Their war-like fraughtage. Now on Dardan plains The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch Their brave pavilions: Priam's six-gated city, Dardan, and Tymbria, Ilias, Chetas, Troien, And Antenorides, with massy staples And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts, Sperr up the sons of Troy. Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits On one and other side, Troyan and Greek, Sets all on hazard. And hither am I come A prologue arm'd, but not in confidence Of author's pen or actor's voice, but suited In like conditions as our argument, To tell you, fair beholders, that our play Leaps o'er the vaunt and firstlings of those broils, Beginning in the middle; starting thence away, To what may be digested in a play. Like or find fault; do as your pleasures are; Now good or bad, 'tis but the chance of war. ACT I. SCENE 1. Troy. Before PRIAM'S palace [Enter TROILUS armed, and PANDARUS.] TROILUS. Call here my varlet; I'll unarm again. Why should I war without the walls of Troy That find such cruel battle here within? Each Trojan that is master of his heart, Let him to field; Troilus, alas! hath none. PANDARUS. Will this gear ne'er be mended? TROILUS. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength, Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant; But I am weaker than a woman's tear, Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance, Less valiant than the virgin in the night, And skilless as unpractis'd infancy. PANDARUS. Well, I have told you enough of this; for my part, I'll not meddle nor make no further. He that will have a cake out of the wheat must tarry the grinding. TROILUS. Have I not tarried? PANDARUS. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting. TROILUS. Have I not tarried? PANDARUS. Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the leavening. TROILUS. Still have I tarried. PANDARUS. Ay, to the leavening; but here's yet in the word 'hereafter' the kneading, the making of the cake, the heating of the oven, and the baking; nay, you must stay the cooling too, or you may chance to burn your lips. TROILUS. Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be, Doth lesser blench at suff'rance than I do. At Priam's royal table do I sit; And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts, So, traitor! 'when she comes'! when she is thence? PANDARUS. Well, she look'd yesternight fairer than ever I saw her look, or any woman else. TROILUS. I was about to tell thee: when my heart, As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain, Lest Hector or my father should perceive me, I have, as when the sun doth light a storm, Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile. But sorrow that is couch'd in seeming gladness Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness. PANDARUS. An her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen's, well, go to, there were no more comparison between the women. But, for my part, she is my kinswoman; I would not, as they term it, praise her, but I would somebody had heard her talk yesterday, as I did. I will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit; but - TROILUS. O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus, When I do tell thee there my hopes lie drown'd, Reply not in how many fathoms deep They lie indrench'd. I tell thee I am mad In Cressid's love. Thou answer'st 'She is fair'; Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice, Handlest in thy discourse. O! that her hand, In whose comparison all whites are ink Writing their own reproach; to whose soft seizure The cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense Hard as the palm of ploughman! This thou tell'st me, As true thou tell'st me, when I say I love her; But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm, Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me The knife that made it. PANDARUS. I speak no more than truth. TROILUS. Thou dost not speak so much. PANDARUS. Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as she is: if she be fair, 'tis the better for her; an she be not, she has the mends in her own hands. TROILUS. Good Pandarus! How now, Pandarus! PANDARUS. I have had my labour for my travail, ill thought on of her and ill thought on of you; gone between and between, but small thanks for my labour. TROILUS. What! art thou angry, Pandarus? What! with me? PANDARUS. Because she's kin to me, therefore she's not so fair as Helen. An she were not kin to me, she would be as fair on Friday as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I? I care not an she were a blackamoor; 'tis all one to me. TROILUS. Say I she is not fair? PANDARUS. I do not care whether you do or no. She's a fool to stay behind her father. Let her to the Greeks; and so I'll tell her the next time I see her. For my part, I'll meddle nor make no more i' the matter. TROILUS. Pandarus PANDARUS. Not I. TROILUS. Sweet Pandarus - PANDARUS. Pray you, speak no more to me: I will leave all as I found it, and there an end. [Exit PANDARUS. An alarum.] TROILUS. Peace, you ungracious clamours! Peace, rude sounds! Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair, When with your blood you daily paint her thus. I cannot fight upon this argument; It is too starv'd a subject for my sword. But Pandarus, O gods! how do you plague me! I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar; And he's as tetchy to be woo'd to woo As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit. Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love, What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we? Her bed is India; there she lies, a pearl; Between our Ilium and where she resides Let it be call'd the wild and wandering flood; Ourself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark. [Alarum. Enter AENEAS.] AENEAS. How now, Prince Troilus! Wherefore not afield? TROILUS. Because not there. This woman's answer sorts, For womanish it is to be from thence. What news, Aeneas, from the field to-day? AENEAS. That Paris is returned home, and hurt. TROILUS. By whom, Aeneas? AENEAS. Troilus, by Menelaus. TROILUS. Let Paris bleed: 'tis but a scar to scorn; Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn. [Alarum.] AENEAS. Hark what good sport is out of town to-day! TROILUS. Better at home, if 'would I might' were 'may.' But to the sport abroad. Are you bound thither? AENEAS. In all swift haste. TROILUS. Come, go we then together. [Exeunt.] ACT I. SCENE 2. Troy. A street [Enter CRESSIDA and her man ALEXANDER.] CRESSIDA. Who were those went by? ALEXANDER. Queen Hecuba and Helen. CRESSIDA. And whither go they? ALEXANDER. Up to the eastern tower, Whose height commands as subject all the vale, To see the battle. Hector, whose patience Is as a virtue fix'd, to-day was mov'd. He chid Andromache, and struck his armourer; And, like as there were husbandry in war, Before the sun rose he was harness'd light, And to the field goes he; where every flower Did as a prophet weep what it foresaw In Hector's wrath. CRESSIDA. What was his cause of anger? ALEXANDER. The noise goes, this: there is among the Greeks A lord of Troyan blood, nephew to Hector; They call him Ajax. CRESSIDA. Good; and what of him? ALEXANDER. They say he is a very man per se, And stands alone. CRESSIDA. So do all men, unless they are drunk, sick, or have no legs. ALEXANDER. This man, lady, hath robb'd many beasts of their particular additions: he is as valiant as a lion, churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant - a man into whom nature hath so crowded humours that his valour is crush'd into folly, his folly sauced with discretion. There is no man hath a virtue that he hath not a glimpse of, nor any man an attaint but he carries some stain of it; he is melancholy without cause and merry against the hair; he hath the joints of every thing; but everything so out of joint that he is a gouty Briareus, many hands and no use, or purblind Argus, all eyes and no sight. CRESSIDA. But how should this man, that makes me smile, make Hector angry? ALEXANDER. They say he yesterday cop'd Hector in the battle and struck him down, the disdain and shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting and waking. [Enter PANDARUS.] CRESSIDA. Who comes here? ALEXANDER. Madam, your uncle Pandarus. CRESSIDA. Hector's a gallant man. ALEXANDER. As may be in the world, lady. PANDARUS. What's that? What's that? CRESSIDA. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus. PANDARUS. Good morrow, cousin Cressid. What do you talk of? - Good morrow, Alexander. - How do you, cousin? When were you at Ilium? CRESSIDA. This morning, uncle. PANDARUS. What were you talking of when I came? Was Hector arm'd and gone ere you came to Ilium? Helen was not up, was she? CRESSIDA. Hector was gone; but Helen was not up. PANDARUS. E'en so. Hector was stirring early. CRESSIDA. That were we talking of, and of his anger. PANDARUS. Was he angry? CRESSIDA. So he says here. PANDARUS. True, he was so; I know the cause too; he'll lay about him today, I can tell them that. And there's Troilus will not come far behind him; let them take heed of Troilus, I can tell them that too. CRESSIDA. What, is he angry too? PANDARUS. Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man of the two. CRESSIDA. O Jupiter! there's no comparison. PANDARUS. What, not between Troilus and Hector? Do you know a man if you see him? CRESSIDA. Ay, if I ever saw him before and knew him. PANDARUS. Well, I say Troilus is Troilus. CRESSIDA. Then you say as I say, for I am sure he is not Hector. PANDARUS. No, nor Hector is not Troilus in some degrees. CRESSIDA. 'Tis just to each of them: he is himself. PANDARUS. Himself! Alas, poor Troilus! I would he were! CRESSIDA. So he is. PANDARUS. Condition I had gone barefoot to India. CRESSIDA. He is not Hector. PANDARUS. Himself! no, he's not himself. Would 'a were himself! Well, the gods are above; time must friend or end. Well, Troilus, well! I would my heart were in her body! No, Hector is not a better man than Troilus. CRESSIDA. Excuse me. PANDARUS. He is elder. CRESSIDA. Pardon me, pardon me. PANDARUS. Th' other's not come to't; you shall tell me another tale when th' other's come to't. Hector shall not have his wit this year. CRESSIDA. He shall not need it if he have his own. ANDARUS. Nor his qualities. CRESSIDA. No matter. PANDARUS. Nor his beauty. CRESSIDA. 'Twould not become him: his own's better. PANDARUS. You have no judgment, niece. Helen herself swore th' other day that Troilus, for a brown favour, for so 'tis, I must confess - not brown neither - CRESSIDA. No, but brown. PANDARUS. Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown. CRESSIDA. To say the truth, true and not true. PANDARUS. She prais'd his complexion above Paris. CRESSIDA. Why, Paris hath colour enough. PANDARUS. So he has. CRESSIDA. Then Troilus should have too much. If she prais'd him above, his complexion is higher than his; he having colour enough, and the other higher, is too flaming praise for a good complexion. I had as lief Helen's golden tongue had commended Troilus for a copper nose. PANDARUS. I swear to you I think Helen loves him better than Paris. CRESSIDA. Then she's a merry Greek indeed. PANDARUS. Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him th' other day into the compass'd window - and you know he has not past three or four hairs on his chin - CRESSIDA. Indeed a tapster's arithmetic may soon bring his particulars therein to a total. PANDARUS. Why, he is very young, and yet will he within three pound lift as much as his brother Hector. CRESSIDA. Is he so young a man and so old a lifter? PANDARUS. But to prove to you that Helen loves him: she came and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin - CRESSIDA. Juno have mercy! How came it cloven? PANDARUS. Why, you know, 'tis dimpled. I think his smiling becomes him better than any man in all Phrygia. CRESSIDA. O, he smiles valiantly! PANDARUS. Does he not? CRESSIDA. O yes, an 'twere a cloud in autumn! PANDARUS. Why, go to, then! But to prove to you that Helen loves Troilus - CRESSIDA. Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll prove it so. PANDARUS. Troilus! Why, he esteems her no more than I esteem an addle egg. CRESSIDA. If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head, you would eat chickens i' th' shell. PANDARUS. I cannot choose but laugh to think how she tickled his chin. Indeed, she has a marvell's white hand, I must needs confess. CRESSIDA. Without the rack. PANDARUS. And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on his chin. CRESSIDA. Alas, poor chin! Many a wart is richer. PANDARUS. But there was such laughing! Queen Hecuba laugh'd that her eyes ran o'er. CRESSIDA. With millstones. PANDARUS. And Cassandra laugh'd. CRESSIDA. But there was a more temperate fire under the pot of her eyes. Did her eyes run o'er too? PANDARUS. And Hector laugh'd. CRESSIDA. At what was all this laughing? PANDARUS. Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus' chin. CRESSIDA. An't had been a green hair I should have laugh'd too. PANDARUS. They laugh'd not so much at the hair as at his pretty answer. CRESSIDA. What was his answer? PANDARUS. Quoth she 'Here's but two and fifty hairs on your chin, and one of them is white.' CRESSIDA. This is her question. PANDARUS. That's true; make no question of that. 'Two and fifty hairs,' quoth he 'and one white. That white hair is my father, and all the rest are his sons.' 'Jupiter!' quoth she 'which of these hairs is Paris my husband?' 'The forked one,' quoth he, 'pluck't out and give it him.' But there was such laughing! and Helen so blush'd, and Paris so chaf'd; and all the rest so laugh'd that it pass'd. CRESSIDA. So let it now; for it has been a great while going by. PANDARUS. Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday; think on't. CRESSIDA. So I do. PANDARUS. I'll be sworn 'tis true; he will weep you, and 'twere a man born in April. CRESSIDA. And I'll spring up in his tears, an 'twere a nettle against May. [Sound a retreat.] PANDARUS. Hark! they are coming from the field. Shall we stand up here and see them as they pass toward Ilium? Good niece, do, sweet niece Cressida. CRESSIDA. At your pleasure. PANDARUS. Here, here, here's an excellent place; here we may see most bravely. I'll tell you them all by their names as they pass by; but mark Troilus above the rest. [AENEAS passes.] CRESSIDA. Speak not so loud. PANDARUS. That's Aeneas. Is not that a brave man? He's one of the flowers of Troy, I can tell you. But mark Troilus; you shall see anon. [ANTENOR passes.] CRESSIDA. Who's that? PANDARUS. That's Antenor. He has a shrewd wit, I can tell you; and he's a man good enough; he's one o' th' soundest judgments in Troy, whosoever, and a proper man of person. When comes Troilus? I'll show you Troilus anon. If he see me, you shall see him nod at me. CRESSIDA. Will he give you the nod? PANDARUS. You shall see. CRESSIDA. If he do, the rich shall have more. [HECTOR passes.] PANDARUS. That's Hector, that, that, look you, that; there's a fellow! Go thy way, Hector! There's a brave man, niece. O brave Hector! Look how he looks. There's a countenance! Is't not a brave man? CRESSIDA. O, a brave man! PANDARUS. Is 'a not? It does a man's heart good. Look you what hacks are on his helmet! Look you yonder, do you see? Look you there. There's no jesting; there's laying on; take't off who will, as they say. There be hacks. CRESSIDA. Be those with swords? PANDARUS. Swords! anything, he cares not; an the devil come to him, it's all one. By God's lid, it does one's heart good. Yonder comes Paris, yonder comes Paris. [PARIS passes.] Look ye yonder, niece; is't not a gallant man too, is't not? Why, this is brave now. Who said he came hurt home to-day? He's not hurt. Why, this will do Helen's heart good now, ha! Would I could see Troilus now! You shall see Troilus anon. [HELENUS passes.] CRESSIDA. Who's that? PANDARUS. That's Helenus. I marvel where Troilus is. That's Helenus. I think he went not forth to-day. That's Helenus. CRESSIDA. Can Helenus fight, uncle? PANDARUS. Helenus! no. Yes, he'll fight indifferent well. I marvel where Troilus is. Hark! do you not hear the people cry 'Troilus'? Helenus is a priest. CRESSIDA. What sneaking fellow comes yonder? [TROILUS passes.] PANDARUS. Where? yonder? That's Deiphobus. 'Tis Troilus. There's a man, niece. Hem! Brave Troilus, the prince of chivalry! CRESSIDA. Peace, for shame, peace! PANDARUS. Mark him; note him. O brave Troilus! Look well upon him, niece; look you how his sword is bloodied, and his helm more hack'd than Hector's; and how he looks, and how he goes! O admirable youth! he never saw three and twenty. Go thy way, Troilus, go thy way. Had I a sister were a grace or a daughter a goddess, he should take his choice. O admirable man! Paris? Paris is dirt to him; and, I warrant, Helen, to change, would give an eye to boot. CRESSIDA. Here comes more. [Common soldiers pass.] PANDARUS. Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, chaff and bran! porridge after meat! I could live and die in the eyes of Troilus. Ne'er look, ne'er look; the eagles are gone. Crows and daws, crows and daws! I had rather be such a man as Troilus than Agamemnon and all Greece. CRESSIDA. There is amongst the Greeks Achilles, a better man than Troilus. PANDARUS. Achilles? A drayman, a porter, a very camel! CRESSIDA. Well, well. PANDARUS. Well, well! Why, have you any discretion? Have you any eyes? Do you know what a man is? Is not birth, beauty, good shape, discourse, manhood, learning, gentleness, virtue, youth, liberality, and such like, the spice and salt that season a man? CRESSIDA. Ay, a minc'd man; and then to be bak'd with no date in the pie, for then the man's date is out. PANDARUS. You are such a woman! A man knows not at what ward you lie. CRESSIDA. Upon my back, to defend my belly; upon my wit, to defend my wiles; upon my secrecy, to defend mine honesty; my mask, to defend my beauty; and you, to defend all these; and at all these wards I lie at, at a thousand watches. PANDARUS. Say one of your watches. CRESSIDA. Nay, I'll watch you for that; and that's one of the chiefest of them too. If I cannot ward what I would not have hit, I can watch you for telling how I took the blow; unless it swell past hiding, and then it's past watching PANDARUS. You are such another! [Enter TROILUS' BOY.] BOY. Sir, my lord would instantly speak with you. PANDARUS. Where? BOY. At your own house; there he unarms him. PANDARUS. Good boy, tell him I come.Exit Boy I doubt he be hurt. Fare ye well, good niece. CRESSIDA. Adieu, uncle. PANDARUS. I will be with you, niece, by and by. CRESSIDA. To bring, uncle. PANDARUS. Ay, a token from Troilus. CRESSIDA. By the same token, you are a bawd. [Exit PANDARUS.] Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full sacrifice, He offers in another's enterprise; But more in Troilus thousand-fold I see Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be, Yet hold I off. Women are angels, wooing: Things won are done; joy's soul lies in the doing. That she belov'd knows nought that knows not this: Men prize the thing ungain'd more than it is. That she was never yet that ever knew Love got so sweet as when desire did sue; Therefore this maxim out of love I teach: Achievement is command; ungain'd, beseech. Then though my heart's content firm love doth bear, Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear. [Exit.] ACT I. SCENE 3. The Grecian camp. Before AGAMEMNON'S tent [Sennet. Enter AGAMEMNON, NESTOR, ULYSSES, DIOMEDES, MENELAUS, and others.] AGAMEMNON. Princes, What grief hath set these jaundies o'er your cheeks? The ample proposition that hope makes In all designs begun on earth below Fails in the promis'd largeness; checks and disasters Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd, As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap, Infects the sound pine, and diverts his grain Tortive and errant from his course of growth. Nor, princes, is it matter new to us That we come short of our suppose so far That after seven years' siege yet Troy walls stand; Sith every action that hath gone before, Whereof we have record, trial did draw Bias and thwart, not answering the aim, And that unbodied figure of the thought That gave't surmised shape. Why then, you princes, Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works And call them shames, which are, indeed, nought else But the protractive trials of great Jove To find persistive constancy in men; The fineness of which metal is not found In fortune's love? For then the bold and coward, The wise and fool, the artist and unread, The hard and soft, seem all affin'd and kin. But in the wind and tempest of her frown Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan, Puffing at all, winnows the light away; And what hath mass or matter by itself Lies rich in virtue and unmingled. NESTOR. With due observance of thy godlike seat, Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply Thy latest words. In the reproof of chance Lies the true proof of men. The sea being smooth, How many shallow bauble boats dare sail Upon her patient breast, making their way With those of nobler bulk! But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage The gentle Thetis, and anon behold The strong-ribb'd bark through liquid mountains cut, Bounding between the two moist elements Like Perseus' horse. Where's then the saucy boat, Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now Co-rivall'd greatness? Either to harbour fled Or made a toast for Neptune. Even so Doth valour's show and valour's worth divide In storms of fortune; for in her ray and brightness The herd hath more annoyance by the breeze Than by the tiger; but when the splitting wind Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks, And flies fled under shade - why, then the thing of courage As rous'd with rage, with rage doth sympathise, And with an accent tun'd in self-same key Retorts to chiding fortune. ULYSSES. Agamemnon, Thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece, Heart of our numbers, soul and only spirit In whom the tempers and the minds of all Should be shut up - hear what Ulysses speaks. Besides the applause and approbation The which, [To AGAMEMNON] most mighty, for thy place and sway, [To NESTOR] And, thou most reverend, for thy stretch'd-out life, I give to both your speeches - which were such As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece Should hold up high in brass; and such again As venerable Nestor, hatch'd in silver, Should with a bond of air, strong as the axle-tree On which heaven rides, knit all the Greekish ears To his experienc'd tongue - yet let it please both, Thou great, and wise, to hear Ulysses speak. AGAMEMNON. Speak, Prince of Ithaca; and be't of less expect That matter needless, of importless burden, Divide thy lips than we are confident, When rank Thersites opes his mastic jaws, We shall hear music, wit, and oracle. ULYSSES. Troy, yet upon his basis, had been down, And the great Hector's sword had lack'd a master, But for these instances: The specialty of rule hath been neglected; And look how many Grecian tents do stand Hollow upon this plain, so many hollow factions. When that the general is not like the hive, To whom the foragers shall all repair, What honey is expected? Degree being vizarded, Th' unworthiest shows as fairly in the mask. The heavens themselves, the planets, and this centre, Observe degree, priority, and place, Insisture, course, proportion, season, form, Office, and custom, in all line of order; And therefore is the glorious planet Sol In noble eminence enthron'd and spher'd Amidst the other, whose med'cinable eye Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil, And posts, like the commandment of a king, Sans check, to good and bad. But when the planets In evil mixture to disorder wander, What plagues and what portents, what mutiny, What raging of the sea, shaking of earth, Commotion in the winds! Frights, changes, horrors, Divert and crack, rend and deracinate, The unity and married calm of states Quite from their fixture! O, when degree is shak'd, Which is the ladder of all high designs, The enterprise is sick! How could communities, Degrees in schools, and brotherhoods in cities, Peaceful commerce from dividable shores, The primogenity and due of birth, Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels, But by degree, stand in authentic place? Take but degree away, untune that string, And hark what discord follows! Each thing melts In mere oppugnancy: the bounded waters Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores, And make a sop of all this solid globe; Strength should be lord of imbecility, And the rude son should strike his father dead; Force should be right; or, rather, right and wrong - Between whose endless jar justice resides - Should lose their names, and so should justice too. Then everything includes itself in power, Power into will, will into appetite; And appetite, an universal wolf, So doubly seconded with will and power, Must make perforce an universal prey, And last eat up himself. Great Agamemnon, This chaos, when degree is suffocate, Follows the choking. And this neglection of degree it is That by a pace goes backward, with a purpose It hath to climb. The general's disdain'd By him one step below, he by the next, That next by him beneath; so ever step, Exampl'd by the first pace that is sick Of his superior, grows to an envious fever Of pale and bloodless emulation. And 'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot, Not her own sinews. To end a tale of length, Troy in our weakness stands, not in her strength. NESTOR. Most wisely hath Ulysses here discover'd The fever whereof all our power is sick. AGAMEMNON. The nature of the sickness found, Ulysses, What is the remedy? ULYSSES. The great Achilles, whom opinion crowns The sinew and the forehand of our host, Having his ear full of his airy fame, Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent Lies mocking our designs; with him Patroclus Upon a lazy bed the livelong day Breaks scurril jests; And with ridiculous and awkward action - Which, slanderer, he imitation calls - He pageants us. Sometime, great Agamemnon, Thy topless deputation he puts on; And like a strutting player whose conceit Lies in his hamstring, and doth think it rich To hear the wooden dialogue and sound 'Twixt his stretch'd footing and the scaffoldage - Such to-be-pitied and o'er-wrested seeming He acts thy greatness in; and when he speaks 'Tis like a chime a-mending; with terms unsquar'd, Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropp'd, Would seem hyperboles. At this fusty stuff The large Achilles, on his press'd bed lolling, From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause; Cries 'Excellent! 'tis Agamemnon just. Now play me Nestor; hem, and stroke thy beard, As he being drest to some oration.' That's done - as near as the extremest ends Of parallels, as like Vulcan and his wife; Yet god Achilles still cries 'Excellent! 'Tis Nestor right. Now play him me, Patroclus, Arming to answer in a night alarm.' And then, forsooth, the faint defects of age Must be the scene of mirth: to cough and spit And, with a palsy-fumbling on his gorget, Shake in and out the rivet. And at this sport Sir Valour dies; cries 'O, enough, Patroclus; Or give me ribs of steel! I shall split all In pleasure of my spleen.' And in this fashion All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes, Severals and generals of grace exact, Achievements, plots, orders, preventions, Excitements to the field or speech for truce, Success or loss, what is or is not, serves As stuff for these two to make paradoxes. NESTOR. And in the imitation of these twain - Who, as Ulysses says, opinion crowns With an imperial voice - many are infect. Ajax is grown self-will'd and bears his head In such a rein, in full as proud a place As broad Achilles; keeps his tent like him; Makes factious feasts; rails on our state of war Bold as an oracle, and sets Thersites, A slave whose gall coins slanders like a mint, To match us in comparisons with dirt, To weaken and discredit our exposure, How rank soever rounded in with danger. ULYSSES. They tax our policy and call it cowardice, Count wisdom as no member of the war, Forestall prescience, and esteem no act But that of hand. The still and mental parts That do contrive how many hands shall strike When fitness calls them on, and know, by measure Of their observant toil, the enemies' weight - Why, this hath not a finger's dignity: They call this bed-work, mapp'ry, closet-war; So that the ram that batters down the wall, For the great swinge and rudeness of his poise, They place before his hand that made the engine, Or those that with the fineness of their souls By reason guide his execution. NESTOR. Let this be granted, and Achilles' horse Makes many Thetis' sons. [Tucket.] AGAMEMNON. What trumpet? Look, Menelaus. MENELAUS. From Troy. [Enter AENEAS.] AGAMEMNON. What would you fore our tent? AENEAS. Is this great Agamemnon's tent, I pray you? AGAMEMNON. Even this. AENEAS. May one that is a herald and a prince Do a fair message to his kingly eyes? AGAMEMNON. With surety stronger than Achilles' an Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice Call Agamemnon head and general. AENEAS. Fair leave and large security. How may A stranger to those most imperial looks Know them from eyes of other mortals? AGAMEMNON. How? AENEAS. Ay; I ask, that I might waken reverence, And bid the cheek be ready with a blush Modest as Morning when she coldly eyes The youthful Phoebus. Which is that god in office, guiding men? Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon? AGAMEMNON. This Troyan scorns us, or the men of Troy Are ceremonious courtiers. AENEAS. Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarm'd, As bending angels; that's their fame in peace. But when they would seem soldiers, they have galls, Good arms, strong joints, true swords; and, Jove's accord, Nothing so full of heart. But peace, Aeneas, Peace, Troyan; lay thy finger on thy lips. The worthiness of praise distains his worth, If that the prais'd himself bring the praise forth; But what the repining enemy commends, That breath fame blows; that praise, sole pure, transcends. AGAMEMNON. Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself Aeneas? AENEAS. Ay, Greek, that is my name. AGAMEMNON. What's your affair, I pray you? AENEAS. Sir, pardon; 'tis for Agamemnon's ears. AGAME He hears nought privately that comes from Troy. AENEAS. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper with him; I bring a trumpet to awake his ear, To set his sense on the attentive bent, And then to speak. AGAMEMNON. Speak frankly as the wind; It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour. That thou shalt know, Troyan, he is awake, He tells thee so himself. AENEAS. Trumpet, blow loud, Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents; And every Greek of mettle, let him know What Troy means fairly shall be spoke aloud. [Sound trumpet.] We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy A prince called Hector-Priam is his father - Who in this dull and long-continued truce Is resty grown; he bade me take a trumpet And to this purpose speak: Kings, princes, lords! If there be one among the fair'st of Greece That holds his honour higher than his ease, That seeks his praise more than he fears his peril, That knows his valour and knows not his fear, That loves his mistress more than in confession With truant vows to her own lips he loves, And dare avow her beauty and her worth In other arms than hers-to him this challenge. Hector, in view of Troyans and of Greeks, Shall make it good or do his best to do it: He hath a lady wiser, fairer, truer, Than ever Greek did couple in his arms; And will to-morrow with his trumpet call Mid-way between your tents and walls of Troy To rouse a Grecian that is true in love. If any come, Hector shall honour him; If none, he'll say in Troy, when he retires, The Grecian dames are sunburnt and not worth The splinter of a lance. Even so much. AGAMEMNON. This shall be told our lovers, Lord Aeneas. If none of them have soul in such a kind, We left them all at home. But we are soldiers; And may that soldier a mere recreant prove That means not, hath not, or is not in love. If then one is, or hath, or means to be, That one meets Hector; if none else, I am he. NESTOR. Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man When Hector's grandsire suck'd. He is old now; But if there be not in our Grecian mould One noble man that hath one spark of fire To answer for his love, tell him from me I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver, And in my vantbrace put this wither'd brawn, And, meeting him, will tell him that my lady Was fairer than his grandame, and as chaste As may be in the world. His youth in flood, I'll prove this truth with my three drops of blood. AENEAS. Now heavens forfend such scarcity of youth! ULYSSES. Amen. AGAMEMNON. Fair Lord Aeneas, let me touch your hand; To our pavilion shall I lead you, first. Achilles shall have word of this intent; So shall each lord of Greece, from tent to tent. Yourself shall feast with us before you go, And find the welcome of a noble foe. [Exeunt all but ULYSSES and NESTOR.] ULYSSES. Nestor! NESTOR. What says Ulysses? ULYSSES. I have a young conception in my brain; Be you my time to bring it to some shape. NESTOR. What is't? ULYSSES. This 'tis: Blunt wedges rive hard knots. The seeded pride That hath to this maturity blown up In rank Achilles must or now be cropp'd Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like evil To overbulk us all. NESTOR. Well, and how? ULYSSES. This challenge that the gallant Hector sends, However it is spread in general name, Relates in purpose only to Achilles. NESTOR. True. The purpose is perspicuous even as substance Whose grossness little characters sum up; And, in the publication, make no strain But that Achilles, were his brain as barren As banks of Libya - though, Apollo knows, 'Tis dry enough - will with great speed of judgment, Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose Pointing on him. ULYSSES. And wake him to the answer, think you? NESTOR. Why, 'tis most meet. Who may you else oppose That can from Hector bring those honours off, If not Achilles? Though 't be a sportful combat, Yet in this trial much opinion dwells For here the Troyans taste our dear'st repute With their fin'st palate; and trust to me, Ulysses, Our imputation shall be oddly pois'd In this vile action; for the success, Although particular, shall give a scantling Of good or bad unto the general; And in such indexes, although small pricks To their subsequent volumes, there is seen The baby figure of the giant mas Of things to come at large. It is suppos'd He that meets Hector issues from our choice; And choice, being mutual act of all our souls, Makes merit her election, and doth boil, As 'twere from forth us all, a man distill'd Out of our virtues; who miscarrying, What heart receives from hence a conquering part, To steel a strong opinion to themselves? Which entertain'd, limbs are his instruments, In no less working than are swords and bows Directive by the limbs. ULYSSES. Give pardon to my speech. Therefore 'tis meet Achilles meet not Hector. Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares And think perchance they'll sell; if not, the lustre Of the better yet to show shall show the better, By showing the worst first. Do not consent That ever Hector and Achilles meet; For both our honour and our shame in this Are dogg'd with two strange followers. NESTOR. I see them not with my old eyes. What are they? ULYSSES. What glory our Achilles shares from Hector, Were he not proud, we all should wear with him; But he already is too insolent; And it were better parch in Afric sun Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes, Should he scape Hector fair. If he were foil'd, Why, then we do our main opinion crush In taint of our best man. No, make a lott'ry; And, by device, let blockish Ajax draw The sort to fight with Hector. Among ourselves Give him allowance for the better man; For that will physic the great Myrmidon, Who broils in loud applause, and make him fall His crest, that prouder than blue Iris bends. If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off, We'll dress him up in voices; if he fail, Yet go we under our opinion still That we have better men. But, hit or miss, Our project's life this shape of sense assumes - Ajax employ'd plucks down Achilles' plumes. NESTOR. Now, Ulysses, I begin to relish thy advice; And I will give a taste thereof forthwith To Agamemnon. Go we to him straight. Two curs shall tame each other: pride alone Must tarre the mastiffs on, as 'twere their bone. [Exeunt.] ACT II. SCENE 1. The Grecian camp [Enter Ajax and THERSITES.] AJAX. Thersites! THERSITES. Agamemnon - how if he had boils full, an over, generally? AJAX. Thersites! THERSITES. And those boils did run - say so. Did not the general run then? Were not that a botchy core? AJAX. Dog! THERSITES. Then there would come some matter from him; I see none now. AJAX. Thou bitch-wolf's son, canst thou not hear? Feel, then. [Strikes him.] THERSITES. The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mongrel beef-witted lord! AJAX. Speak, then, thou whinid'st leaven, speak. I will beat thee into handsomeness. THERSITES. I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness; but I think thy horse will sooner con an oration than thou learn a prayer without book. Thou canst strike, canst thou? A red murrain o' thy jade's tricks! AJAX. Toadstool, learn me the proclamation. THERSITES. Dost thou think I have no sense, thou strikest me thus? AJAX. The proclamation! THERSITES. Thou art proclaim'd, a fool, I think. AJAX. Do not, porpentine, do not; my fingers itch. THERSITES. I would thou didst itch from head to foot and I had the scratching of thee; I would make thee the loathsomest scab in Greece. When thou art forth in the incursions, thou strikest as slow as another. AJAX. I say, the proclamation. THERSITES. Thou grumblest and railest every hour on Achilles; and thou art as full of envy at his greatness as Cerberus is at Proserpina's beauty - ay, that thou bark'st at him. AJAX. Mistress Thersites! THERSITES. Thou shouldst strike him. AJAX. Cobloaf! THERSITES. He would pun thee into shivers with his fist, as a sailor breaks a biscuit. AJAX. You whoreson cur! [Strikes him.] THERSITES. Do, do. AJAX. Thou stool for a witch! THERSITES. Ay, do, do; thou sodden-witted lord! Thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows; an assinico may tutor thee. You scurvy valiant ass! Thou art here but to thrash Troyans, and thou art bought and sold among those of any wit like a barbarian slave. If thou use to beat me, I will begin at thy heel and tell what thou art by inches, thou thing of no bowels, thou! AJAX. You dog! THERSITES. You scurvy lord! AJAX. You cur! [Strikes him.] THERSITES. Mars his idiot! Do, rudeness; do, camel; do, do. [Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS.] ACHILLES. Why, how now, Ajax! Wherefore do you thus? How now, Thersites! What's the matter, man? THERSITES. You see him there, do you? ACHILLES. Ay; what's the matter? THERSITES. Nay, look upon him. ACHILLES. So I do. What's the matter? THERSITES. Nay, but regard him well. ACHILLES. Well! why, so I do. THERSITES. But yet you look not well upon him; for who some ever you take him to be, he is Ajax. ACHILLES. I know that, fool. THERSITES. Ay, but that fool knows not himself. AJAX. Therefore I beat thee. THERSITES. Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters! His evasions have ears thus long. I have bobb'd his brain more than he has beat my bones. I will buy nine sparrows for a penny, and his pia mater is not worth the ninth part of a sparrow. This lord, Achilles, Ajax - who wears his wit in his belly and his guts in his head - I'll tell you what I say of him. ACHILLES. What? THERSITES. I say this Ajax - [AJAX offers to strike him.] ACHILLES. Nay, good Ajax. THERSITES. Has not so much wit - ACHILLES. Nay, I must hold you. THERSITES. As will stop the eye of Helen's needle, for whom he comes to fight. ACHILLES. Peace, fool. THERSITES. I would have peace and quietness, but the fool will not - he there; that he; look you there. AJAX. O thou damned cur! I shall - ACHILLES. Will you set your wit to a fool's? THERSITES. No, I warrant you, the fool's will shame it. PATROCLUS. Good words, Thersites. ACHILLES. What's the quarrel? AJAX. I bade the vile owl go learn me the tenour of the proclamation, and he rails upon me. THERSITES. I serve thee not. AJAX. Well, go to, go to. THERSITES. I serve here voluntary. ACHILLES. Your last service was suff'rance; 'twas not voluntary. No man is beaten voluntary. Ajax was here the voluntary, and you as under an impress. THERSITES. E'en so; a great deal of your wit too lies in your sinews, or else there be liars. Hector shall have a great catch an he knock out either of your brains: 'a were as good crack a fusty nut with no kernel. ACHILLES. What, with me too, Thersites? THERSITES. There's Ulysses and old Nestor - whose wit was mouldy ere your grandsires had nails on their toes - yoke you like draught oxen, and make you plough up the wars. ACHILLES. What, what? THERSITES. Yes, good sooth. To Achilles, to Ajax, to - AJAX. I shall cut out your tongue. THERSITES. 'Tis no matter; I shall speak as much as thou afterwards. PATROCLUS. No more words, Thersites; peace! THERSITES. I will hold my peace when Achilles' brach bids me, shall I? ACHILLES. There's for you, Patroclus. THERSITES. I will see you hang'd like clotpoles ere I come any more to your tents. I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools. [Exit.] PATROCLUS. A good riddance. ACHILLES. Marry, this, sir, is proclaim'd through all our host, That Hector, by the fifth hour of the sun, Will with a trumpet 'twixt our tents and Troy, To-morrow morning, call some knight to arms That hath a stomach; and such a one that dare Maintain I know not what; 'tis trash. Farewell. AJAX. Farewell. Who shall answer him? ACHILLES. I know not; 'tis put to lott'ry. Otherwise. He knew his man. AJAX. O, meaning you! I will go learn more of it. [Exeunt.] ACT II. SCENE 2. Troy. PRIAM'S palace [Enter PRIAM, HECTOR, TROILUS, PARIS, and HELENUS.] PRIAM. After so many hours, lives, speeches, spent, Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks: 'Deliver Helen, and all damage else - As honour, loss of time, travail, expense, Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is consum'd In hot digestion of this cormorant war - Shall be struck off.' Hector, what say you to't? HECTOR. Though no man lesser fears the Greeks than I, As far as toucheth my particular, Yet, dread Priam, There is no lady of more softer bowels, More spongy to suck in the sense of fear, More ready to cry out 'Who knows what follows?' Than Hector is. The wound of peace is surety, Surety secure; but modest doubt is call'd The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches To th' bottom of the worst. Let Helen go. Since the first sword was drawn about this question, Every tithe soul 'mongst many thousand dismes Hath been as dear as Helen - I mean, of ours. If we have lost so many tenths of ours To guard a thing not ours, nor worth to us, Had it our name, the value of one ten, What merit's in that reason which denies The yielding of her up? TROILUS. Fie, fie, my brother! Weigh you the worth and honour of a king, So great as our dread father's, in a scale Of common ounces? Will you with counters sum The past-proportion of his infinite, And buckle in a waist most fathomless With spans and inches so diminutive As fears and reasons? Fie, for godly shame! HELENUS. No marvel though you bite so sharp at reasons, You are so empty of them. Should not our father Bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons, Because your speech hath none that tells him so? TROILUS. You are for dreams and slumbers, brother priest; You fur your gloves with reason. Here are your reasons: You know an enemy intends you harm; You know a sword employ'd is perilous, And reason flies the object of all harm. Who marvels, then, when Helenus beholds A Grecian and his sword, if he do set The very wings of reason to his heels And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove, Or like a star disorb'd? Nay, if we talk of reason, Let's shut our gates and sleep. Manhood and honour Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their thoughts With this cramm'd reason. Reason and respect Make livers pale and lustihood deject. HECTOR. Brother, she is not worth what she doth, cost The keeping. TROILUS. What's aught but as 'tis valued? HECTOR. But value dwells not in particular will: It holds his estimate and dignity As well wherein 'tis precious of itself As in the prizer. 'Tis mad idolatry To make the service greater than the god - I And the will dotes that is attributive To what infectiously itself affects, Without some image of th' affected merit. TROILUS. I take to-day a wife, and my election Is led on in the conduct of my will; My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears, Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores Of will and judgment: how may I avoid, Although my will distaste what it elected, The wife I chose? There can be no evasion To blench from this and to stand firm by honour. We turn not back the silks upon the merchant When we have soil'd them; nor the remainder viands We do not throw in unrespective sieve, Because we now are full. It was thought meet Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks; Your breath with full consent benied his sails; The seas and winds, old wranglers, took a truce, And did him service. He touch'd the ports desir'd; And for an old aunt whom the Greeks held captive He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and freshness Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes stale the morning. Why keep we her? The Grecians keep our aunt. Is she worth keeping? Why, she is a Whose price hath launch'd above a thousand ships, And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants. If you'll avouch 'twas wisdom Paris went - As you must needs, for you all cried 'Go, go' - If you'll confess he brought home worthy prize - As you must needs, for you all clapp'd your hands, And cried 'Inestimable!' - why do you now The issue of your proper wisdoms rate, And do a deed that never fortune did - Beggar the estimation which you priz'd Richer than sea and land? O theft most base, That we have stol'n what we do fear to keep! But thieves unworthy of a thing so stol'n That in their country did them that disgrace We fear to warrant in our native place! CASSANDRA. [Within.] Cry, Troyans, cry. PRIAM. What noise, what shriek is this? TROILUS. 'Tis our mad sister; I do know her voice. CASSANDRA. [Within.] Cry, Troyans. HECTOR. It is Cassandra. [Enter CASSANDRA, raving.] CASSANDRA. Cry, Troyans, cry. Lend me ten thousand eyes, And I will fill them with prophetic tears. HECTOR. Peace, sister, peace. CASSANDRA. Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled eld, Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry, Add to my clamours. Let us pay betimes A moiety of that mass of moan to come. Cry, Troyans, cry. Practise your eyes with tears. Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilion stand; Our firebrand brother, Paris, burns us all. Cry, Troyans, cry, A Helen and a woe! Cry, cry. Troy burns, or else let Helen go. [Exit.] HECTOR. Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high strains Of divination in our sister work Some touches of remorse, or is your blood So madly hot that no discourse of reason, Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause, Can qualify the same? TROILUS. Why, brother Hector, We may not think the justness of each act Such and no other than event doth form it; Nor once deject the courage of our minds Because Cassandra's mad. Her brain-sick raptures Cannot distaste the goodness of a quarrel Which hath our several honours all engag'd To make it gracious. For my private part, I am no more touch'd than all Priam's sons; And Jove forbid there should be done amongst us Such things as might offend the weakest spleen To fight for and maintain. PARIS. Else might the world convince of levity As well my undertakings as your counsels; But I attest the gods, your full consent Gave wings to my propension, and cut of All fears attending on so dire a project. For what, alas, can these my single arms? What propugnation is in one man's valour To stand the push and enmity of those This quarrel would excite? Yet, I protest, Were I alone to pass the difficulties, And had as ample power as I have will, Paris should ne'er retract what he hath done Nor faint in the pursuit. PRIAM. Paris, you speak Like one besotted on your sweet delights. You have the honey still, but these the gall; So to be valiant is no praise at all. PARIS. Sir, I propose not merely to myself The pleasures such a beauty brings with it; But I would have the soil of her fair rape Wip'd off in honourable keeping her. What treason were it to the ransack'd queen, Disgrace to your great worths, and shame to me, Now to deliver her possession up On terms of base compulsion! Can it be That so degenerate a strain as this Should once set footing in your generous bosoms? There's not the meanest spirit on our party Without a heart to dare or sword to draw When Helen is defended; nor none so noble Whose life were ill bestow'd or death unfam'd Where Helen is the subject. Then, I say, Well may we fight for her whom we know well The world's large spaces cannot parallel. HECTOR. Paris and Troilus, you have both said well; And on the cause and question now in hand Have gloz'd, but superficially; not much Unlike young men, whom Aristode thought Unfit to hear moral philosophy. The reasons you allege do more conduce To the hot passion of distemp'red blood Than to make up a free determination 'Twixt right and wrong; for pleasure and revenge Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice Of any true decision. Nature craves All dues be rend'red to their owners. Now, What nearer debt in all humanity Than wife is to the husband? If this law Of nature be corrupted through affection; And that great minds, of partial indulgence To their benumbed wills, resist the same; There is a law in each well-order'd nation To curb those raging appetites that are Most disobedient and refractory. If Helen, then, be wife to Sparta's king - As it is known she is-these moral laws Of nature and of nations speak aloud To have her back return'd. Thus to persist In doing wrong extenuates not wrong, But makes it much more heavy. Hector's opinion Is this, in way of truth. Yet, ne'er the less, My spritely brethren, I propend to you In resolution to keep Helen still; For 'tis a cause that hath no mean dependence Upon our joint and several dignities. TROILUS. Why, there you touch'd the life of our design. Were it not glory that we more affected Than the performance of our heaving spleens, I would not wish a drop of Troyan blood Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector, She is a theme of honour and renown, A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds, Whose present courage may beat down our foes, And fame in time to come canonize us; For I presume brave Hector would not lose So rich advantage of a promis'd glory As smiles upon the forehead of this action For the wide world's revenue. HECTOR. I am yours, You valiant offspring of great Priamus. I have a roisting challenge sent amongst The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks Will strike amazement to their drowsy spirits. I was advertis'd their great general slept, Whilst emulation in the army crept. This, I presume, will wake him. [Exeunt.] ACT II. SCENE 3. The Grecian camp. Before the tent of ACHILLES [Enter THERSITES, solus.] THERSITES. How now, Thersites! What, lost in the labyrinth of thy fury? Shall the elephant Ajax carry it thus? He beats me, and I rail at him. O worthy satisfaction! Would it were otherwise: that I could beat him, whilst he rail'd at me! 'Sfoot, I'll learn to conjure and raise devils, but I'll see some issue of my spiteful execrations. Then there's Achilles, a rare engineer! If Troy be not taken till these two undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall of themselves. O thou great thunder-darter of Olympus, forget that thou art Jove, the king of gods, and, Mercury, lose all the serpentine craft of thy caduceus, if ye take not that little little less-than-little wit from them that they have! which short-arm'd ignorance itself knows is so abundant scarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a fly from a spider without drawing their massy irons and cutting the web. After this, the vengeance on the whole camp! or, rather, the Neapolitan bone-ache! for that, methinks, is the curse depending on those that war for a placket. I have said my prayers; and devil Envy say 'Amen.' What ho! my Lord Achilles! [Enter PATROCLUS.] PATROCLUS. Who's there? Thersites! Good Thersites, come in and rail. THERSITES. If I could 'a rememb'red a gilt counterfeit, thou wouldst not have slipp'd out of my contemplation; but it is no matter; thyself upon thyself! The common curse of mankind, folly and ignorance, be thine in great revenue! Heaven bless thee from a tutor, and discipline come not near thee! Let thy blood be thy direction till thy death. Then if she that lays thee out says thou art a fair corse, I'll be sworn and sworn upon't she never shrouded any but lazars. Amen. Where's Achilles? PATROCLUS. What, art thou devout? Wast thou in prayer? THERSITES. Ay, the heavens hear me! PATROCLUS. Amen. [Enter ACHILLES.] ACHILLES. Who's there? PATROCLUS. Thersites, my lord. ACHILLES. Where, where? O, where? Art thou come? Why, my cheese, my digestion, why hast thou not served thyself in to my table so many meals? Come, what's Agamemnon? THERSITES. Thy commander, Achilles. Then tell me, Patroclus, what's Achilles? PATROCLUS. Thy lord, Thersites. Then tell me, I pray thee, what's Thersites? THERSITES. Thy knower, Patroclus. Then tell me, Patroclus, what art thou? PATROCLUS. Thou must tell that knowest. ACHILLES. O, tell, tell, THERSITES. I'll decline the whole question. Agamemnon commands Achilles; Achilles is my lord; I am Patroclus' knower; and Patroclus is a fool. PATROCLUS. You rascal! THERSITES. Peace, fool! I have not done. ACHILLES. He is a privileg'd man. Proceed, Thersites. THERSITES. Agamemnon is a fool; Achilles is a fool; Thersites is a fool; and, as aforesaid, Patroclus is a fool. ACHILLES. Derive this; come. THERSITES. Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command Achilles; Achilles is a fool to be commanded of Agamemnon; Thersites is a fool to serve such a fool; and this Patroclus is a fool positive. PATROCLUS. Why am I a fool? THERSITES. Make that demand of the Creator. It suffices me thou art. Look you, who comes here? ACHILLES. Come, Patroclus, I'll speak with nobody. Come in with me, Thersites. [Exit.] THERSITES. Here is such patchery, such juggling, and such knavery. All the argument is a whore and a cuckold-a good quarrel to draw emulous factions and bleed to death upon. Now the dry serpigo on the subject, and war and lechery confound all! Exit [Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, NESTOR, DIOMEDES, AJAX, and CALCHAS.] AGAMEMNON. Where is Achilles? PATROCLUS. Within his tent; but ill-dispos'd, my lord. AGAMEMNON. Let it be known to him that we are here. He shent our messengers; and we lay by Our appertainings, visiting of him. Let him be told so; lest, perchance, he think We dare not move the question of our place Or know not what we are. PATROCLUS. I shall say so to him. [Exit.] ULYSSES. We saw him at the opening of his tent. He is not sick. AJAX. Yes, lion-sick, sick of proud heart. You may call it melancholy, if you will favour the man; but, by my head, 'tis pride. But why, why? Let him show us a cause. A word, my lord. [Takes AGAMEMNON aside.] NESTOR. What moves Ajax thus to bay at him? ULYSSES. Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him. NESTOR. Who, Thersites? ULYSSES. He. NESTOR. Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost his argument ULYSSES. No; you see he is his argument that has his argument - Achilles. NESTOR. All the better; their fraction is more our wish than their faction. But it was a strong composure a fool could disunite! ULYSSES. The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may easily untie. [Re-enter PATROCLUS.] Here comes Patroclus. NESTOR. No Achilles with him. ULYSSES. The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesy; his legs are legs for necessity, not for flexure. PATROCLUS. Achilles bids me say he is much sorry If any thing more than your sport and pleasure Did move your greatness and this noble state To call upon him; he hopes it is no other But for your health and your digestion sake, An after-dinner's breath. AGAMEMNON. Hear you, Patroclus. We are too well acquainted with these answers; But his evasion, wing'd thus swift with scorn, Cannot outfly our apprehensions. Much attribute he hath, and much the reason Why we ascribe it to him. Yet all his virtues, Not virtuously on his own part beheld, Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss; Yea, like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish, Are like to rot untasted. Go and tell him We come to speak with him; and you shall not sin If you do say we think him over-proud And under-honest, in self-assumption greater Than in the note of judgment; and worthier than himself Here tend the savage strangeness he puts on, Disguise the holy strength of their command, And underwrite in an observing kind His humorous predominance; yea, watch His pettish lunes, his ebbs, his flows, as if The passage and whole carriage of this action Rode on his tide. Go tell him this, and ad That if he overhold his price so much We'll none of him, but let him, like an engine Not portable, lie under this report: Bring action hither; this cannot go to war. A stirring dwarf we do allowance give Before a sleeping giant. Tell him so. PATROCLUS. I shall, and bring his answer presently. [Exit.] AGAMEMNON. In second voice we'll not be satisfied; We come to speak with him. Ulysses, enter you. [Exit ULYSSES.] AJAX. What is he more than another? AGAMEMNON. No more than what he thinks he is. AJAX. Is he so much? Do you not think he thinks himself a better man than I am? AGAMEMNON. No question. AJAX. Will you subscribe his thought and say he is? AGAMEMNON. No, noble Ajax; you are as strong, as valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether more tractable. AJAX. Why should a man be proud? How doth pride grow? I know not what pride is. AGAMEMNON. Your mind is the clearer, Ajax, and your virtues the fairer. He that is proud eats up himself. Pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises itself but in the deed devours the deed in the praise. [Re-enter ULYSSES.] AJAX. I do hate a proud man as I do hate the engend'ring of toads. NESTOR. [Aside] And yet he loves himself: is't not strange? ULYSSES. Achilles will not to the field to-morrow. AGAMEMNON. What's his excuse? ULYSSES. He doth rely on none; But carries on the stream of his dispose, Without observance or respect of any, In will peculiar and in self-admission. AGAMEMNON. Why will he not, upon our fair request, Untent his person and share the air with us? ULYSSES. Things small as nothing, for request's sake only, He makes important; possess'd he is with greatness, And speaks not to himself but with a pride That quarrels at self-breath. Imagin'd worth Holds in his blood such swol'n and hot discourse That 'twixt his mental and his active parts Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages, And batters down himself. What should I say? He is so plaguy proud that the death tokens of it Cry 'No recovery.' AGAMEMNON. Let Ajax go to him. Dear lord, go you and greet him in his tent. 'Tis said he holds you well; and will be led At your request a little from himself. ULYSSES. O Agamemnon, let it not be so! We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes When they go from Achilles. Shall the proud lord That bastes his arrogance with his own seam And never suffers matter of the world Enter his thoughts, save such as doth revolve And ruminate himself - shall he be worshipp'd Of that we hold an idol more than he? No, this thrice-worthy and right valiant lord Shall not so stale his palm, nobly acquir'd, Nor, by my will, assubjugate his merit, As amply titled as Achilles is, By going to Achilles. That were to enlard his fat-already pride, And add more coals to Cancer when he burns With entertaining great Hyperion. This lord go to him! Jupiter forbid, And say in thunder 'Achilles go to him.' NESTOR. [Aside.] O, this is well! He rubs the vein of him. DIOMEDES. [Aside.] And how his silence drinks up this applause! AJAX. If I go to him, with my armed fist I'll pash him o'er the face. AGAMEMNON. O, no, you shall not go. AJAX. An 'a be proud with me I'll pheeze his pride. Let me go to him. ULYSSES. Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel. AJAX. A paltry, insolent fellow! NESTOR. [Aside.] How he describes himself! AJAX. Can he not be sociable? ULYSSES. [Aside.] The raven chides blackness. AJAX. I'll let his humours blood. AGAMEMNON. [Aside.] He will be the physician that should be the patient. AJAX. An all men were a my mind - ULYSSES. [Aside.] Wit would be out of fashion. AJAX. 'A should not bear it so, 'a should eat's words first. Shall pride carry it? NESTOR. [Aside.] An 'twould, you'd carry half. ULYSSES. [Aside.] 'A would have ten shares. AJAX. I will knead him, I'll make him supple. NESTOR. [Aside.] He's not yet through warm. Force him with praises; pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry. ULYSSES. [To AGAMEMNON.] My lord, you feed too much on this dislike. NESTOR. Our noble general, do not do so. DIOMEDES. You must prepare to fight without Achilles. ULYSSES. Why 'tis this naming of him does him harm. Here is a man-but 'tis before his face; I will be silent. NESTOR. Wherefore should you so? He is not emulous, as Achilles is. ULYSSES. Know the whole world, he is as valiant. AJAX. A whoreson dog, that shall palter with us thus! Would he were a Troyan! NESTOR. What a vice were it in Ajax now - ULYSSES. If he were proud. DIOMEDES. Or covetous of praise. ULYSSES. Ay, or surly borne. DIOMEDES. Or strange, or self-affected. ULYSSES. Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet composure Praise him that gat thee, she that gave thee suck; Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature Thrice-fam'd beyond, beyond all erudition; But he that disciplin'd thine arms to fight - Let Mars divide eternity in twain And give him half; and, for thy vigour, Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom, Which, like a bourn, a pale, a shore, confines Thy spacious and dilated parts. Here's Nestor, Instructed by the antiquary times - He must, he is, he cannot but be wise; But pardon, father Nestor, were your days As green as Ajax' and your brain so temper'd, You should not have the eminence of him, But be as Ajax. AJAX. Shall I call you father? NESTOR. Ay, my good son. DIOMEDES. Be rul'd by him, Lord Ajax. ULYSSES. There is no tarrying here; the hart Achilles Keeps thicket. Please it our great general To call together all his state of war; Fresh kings are come to Troy. To-morrow We must with all our main of power stand fast; And here's a lord - come knights from east to west And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best. AGAMEMNON. Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep. Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw deep. [Exeunt.] ACT III. SCENE 1. Troy. PRIAM'S palace [Music sounds within. Enter PANDARUS and a SERVANT.] PANDARUS. Friend, you - pray you, a word. Do you not follow the young Lord Paris? SERVANT. Ay, sir, when he goes before me. PANDARUS. You depend upon him, I mean? SERVANT. Sir, I do depend upon the lord. PANDARUS. You depend upon a notable gentleman; I must needs praise him. SERVANT. The lord be praised! PANDARUS. You know me, do you not? SERVANT. Faith, sir, superficially. PANDARUS. Friend, know me better: I am the Lord Pandarus. SERVANT. I hope I shall know your honour better. PANDARUS. I do desire it. SERVANT. You are in the state of grace. PANDARUS. Grace! Not so, friend; honour and lordship are my titles. What music is this? SERVANT. I do but partly know, sir; it is music in parts. PANDARUS. Know you the musicians? SERVANT. Wholly, sir. PANDARUS. Who play they to? SERVANT. To the hearers, sir. PANDARUS. At whose pleasure, friend? SERVANT. At mine, sir, and theirs that love music. PANDARUS. Command, I mean, friend. SERVANT. Who shall I command, sir? PANDARUS. Friend, we understand not one another: I am too courtly, and thou art too cunning. At whose request do these men play? SERVANT. That's to't, indeed, sir. Marry, sir, at the request of Paris my lord, who is there in person; with him the mortal Venus, the heart-blood of beauty, love's invisible soul - PANDARUS. Who, my cousin, Cressida? SERVANT. No, sir, Helen. Could not you find out that by her attributes? PANDARUS. It should seem, fellow, that thou hast not seen the Lady Cressida. I come to speak with Paris from the Prince Troilus; I will make a complimental assault upon him, for my business seethes. SERVANT. Sodden business! There's a stew'd phrase indeed! [Enter PARIS and HELEN, attended.] PANDARUS. Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair company! Fair desires, in all fair measure, fairly guide them - especially to you, fair queen! Fair thoughts be your fair pillow. HELEN. Dear lord, you are full of fair words. PANDARUS. You speak your fair pleasure, sweet queen. Fair prince, here is good broken music. PARIS. You have broke it, cousin; and by my life, you shall make it whole again; you shall piece it out with a piece of your performance. HELEN. He is full of harmony. PANDARUS. Truly, lady, no. HELEN. O, sir - PANDARUS. Rude, in sooth; in good sooth, very rude. PARIS. Well said, my lord. Well, you say so in fits. PANDARUS. I have business to my lord, dear queen. My lord, will you vouchsafe me a word? HELEN. Nay, this shall not hedge us out. We'll hear you sing, certainly - PANDARUS. Well sweet queen, you are pleasant with me. But, marry, thus, my lord: my dear lord and most esteemed friend, your brother Troilus - HELEN. My Lord Pandarus, honey-sweet lord - PANDARUS. Go to, sweet queen, go to - commends himself most affectionately to you - HELEN. You shall not bob us out of our melody. If you do, our melancholy upon your head! PANDARUS. Sweet queen, sweet queen; that's a sweet queen, i' faith. HELEN. And to make a sweet lady sad is a sour offence. PANDARUS. Nay, that shall not serve your turn; that shall it not, in truth, la. Nay, I care not for such words; no, no. - And, my lord, he desires you that, if the King call for him at supper, you will make his excuse. HELEN. My Lord Pandarus! PANDARUS. What says my sweet queen, my very very sweet queen? PARIS. What exploit's in hand? Where sups he to-night? HELEN. Nay, but, my lord - PANDARUS. What says my sweet queen?-My cousin will fall out with you. HELEN. You must not know where he sups. PARIS. I'll lay my life, with my disposer Cressida. PANDARUS. No, no, no such matter; you are wide. Come, your disposer is sick. PARIS. Well, I'll make's excuse. PANDARUS. Ay, good my lord. Why should you say Cressida? No, your poor disposer's sick. PARIS. I spy. PANDARUS. You spy! What do you spy? - Come, give me an instrument. Now, sweet queen. HELEN. Why, this is kindly done. PANDARUS. My niece is horribly in love with a thing you have, sweet queen. HELEN. She shall have it, my lord, if it be not my Lord Paris. PANDARUS. He! No, she'll none of him; they two are twain. HELEN. Falling in, after falling out, may make them three. PANDARUS. Come, come. I'll hear no more of this; I'll sing you a song now. HELEN. Ay, ay, prithee now. By my troth, sweet lord, thou hast a fine forehead. PANDARUS. Ay, you may, you may. HELEN. Let thy song be love. This love will undo us all. O Cupid, Cupid, Cupid! PANDARUS. Love! Ay, that it shall, i' faith. PARIS. Ay, good now, love, love, nothing but love. PANDARUS. In good troth, it begins so. [Sings.] Love, love, nothing but love, still love, still more! For, oh, love's bow Shoots buck and doe; The shaft confounds Not that it wounds, But tickles still the sore. These lovers cry, O ho, they die! Yet that which seems the wound to kill Doth turn O ho! to ha! ha! he! So dying love lives still. O ho! a while, but ha! ha! ha! O ho! groans out for ha! ha! ha!-hey ho! HELEN. In love, i' faith, to the very tip of the nose. PARIS. He eats nothing but doves, love; and that breeds hot blood, and hot blood begets hot thoughts, and hot thoughts beget hot deeds, and hot deeds is love. PANDARUS. Is this the generation of love: hot blood, hot thoughts, and hot deeds? Why, they are vipers. Is love a generation of vipers? Sweet lord, who's a-field today? PARIS. Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, and all the gallantry of Troy. I would fain have arm'd to-day, but my Nell would not have it so. How chance my brothe HELEN. He hangs the lip at something. You know all, Lord Pandarus. PANDARUS. Not I, honey-sweet queen. I long to hear how they spend to-day. You'll remember your brother's excuse? PARIS. To a hair. PANDARUS. Farewell, sweet queen. HELEN. Commend me to your niece. PANDARUS. I will, sweet queen. [Exit. Sound a retreat.] PARIS. They're come from the field. Let us to Priam's hall To greet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must woo you To help unarm our Hector. His stubborn buckles, With these your white enchanting fingers touch'd, Shall more obey than to the edge of steel Or force of Greekish sinews; you shall do more Than all the island kings - disarm great Hector. HELEN. 'Twill make us proud to be his servant, Paris; Yea, what he shall receive of us in duty Gives us more palm in beauty than we have, Yea, overshines ourself. PARIS. Sweet, above thought I love thee.Exeunt ACT III. SCENE 2. Troy. PANDARUS' orchard [Enter PANDARUS and TROILUS' BOY, meeting.] PANDARUS. How now! Where's thy master? At my cousin Cressida's? BOY. No, sir; he stays for you to conduct him thither. [Enter TROILUS.] PANDARUS. O, here he comes. How now, how now! TROILUS. Sirrah, walk off. [Exit Boy.] PANDARUS. Have you seen my cousin? TROILUS. No, Pandarus. I stalk about her door Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon, And give me swift transportance to these fields Where I may wallow in the lily beds Propos'd for the deserver! O gentle Pandar, from Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings, and fly with me to Cressid! PANDARUS. Walk here i' th' orchard, I'll bring her straight. [Exit.] TROILUS. I am giddy; expectation whirls me round. Th' imaginary relish is so sweet That it enchants my sense; what will it be When that the wat'ry palate tastes indeed Love's thrice-repured nectar? Death, I fear me; Swooning destruction; or some joy too fine, Too subtle-potent, tun'd too sharp in sweetness, For the capacity of my ruder powers. I fear it much; and I do fear besides That I shall lose distinction in my joys; As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps The enemy flying. [Re-enter PANDARUS.] PANDARUS. She's making her ready, she'll come straight; you must be witty now. She does so blush, and fetches her wind so short, as if she were fray'd with a sprite. I'll fetch her. It is the prettiest villain; she fetches her breath as short as a new-ta'en sparrow. [Exit.] TROILUS. Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom. My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse, And all my powers do their bestowing lose, Like vassalage at unawares encount'ring The eye of majesty. [Re-enter PANDARUS With CRESSIDA.] PANDARUS. Come, come, what need you blush? Shame's a baby. - Here she is now; swear the oaths now to her that you have sworn to me. - What, are you gone again? You must be watch'd ere you be made tame, must you? Come your ways, come your ways; an you draw backward, we'll put you i' th' fills. - Why do you not speak to her? - Come, draw this curtain and let's see your picture. Alas the day, how loath you are to offend daylight! An 'twere dark, you'd close sooner. So, so; rub on, and kiss the mistress How now, a kiss in fee-farm! Build there, carpenter; the air is sweet. Nay, you shall fight your hearts out ere I part you. The falcon as the tercel, for all the ducks i' th' river. Go to, go to. TROILUS. You have bereft me of all words, lady. PANDARUS. Words pay no debts, give her deeds; but she'll bereave you o' th' deeds too, if she call your activity in question. What, billing again? Here's 'In witness whereof the parties interchangeably.' Come in, come in; I'll go get a fire. [Exit.] CRESSIDA. Will you walk in, my lord? TROILUS. O Cressid, how often have I wish'd me thus! CRESSIDA. Wish'd, my lord! The gods grant - O my lord! TROILUS. What should they grant? What makes this pretty abruption? What too curious dreg espies my sweet lady in the fountain of our love? CRESSIDA. More dregs than water, if my fears have eyes. TROILUS. Fears make devils of cherubims; they never see truly. CRESSIDA. Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds safer footing than blind reason stumbling without fear. To fear the worst oft cures the worse. TROILUS. O, let my lady apprehend no fear! In all Cupid's pageant there is presented no monster. CRESSIDA. Nor nothing monstrous neither? TROILUS. Nothing, but our undertakings when we vow to weep seas, live in fire, eat rocks, tame tigers; thinking it harder for our mistress to devise imposition enough than for us to undergo any difficulty imposed. This is the monstruosity in love, lady, that the will is infinite, and the execution confin'd; that the desire is boundless, and the act a slave to limit. CRESSIDA. They say all lovers swear more performance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform; vowing more than the perfection of ten, and discharging less than the tenth part of one. They that have the voice of lions and the act of hares, are they not monsters? TROILUS. Are there such? Such are not we. Praise us as we are tasted, allow us as we prove; our head shall go bare till merit crown it. No perfection in reversion shall have a praise in present. We will not name desert before his birth; and, being born, his addition shall be humble. Few words to fair faith: Troilus shall be such to Cressid as what envy can say worst shall be a mock for his truth; and what truth can speak truest not truer than Troilus. CRESSIDA. Will you walk in, my lord? [Re-enter PANDARUS.] PANDARUS. What, blushing still? Have you not done talking yet? CRESSIDA. Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I dedicate to you. PANDARUS. I thank you for that; if my lord get a boy of you, you'll give him me. Be true to my lord; if he flinch, chide me for it. TROILUS. You know now your hostages: your uncle's word and my firm faith. PANDARUS. Nay, I'll give my word for her too: our kindred, though they be long ere they are wooed, they are constant being won; they are burs, I can tell you; they'll stick where they are thrown. CRESSIDA. Boldness comes to me now and brings me heart. Prince Troilus, I have lov'd you night and day For many weary months. TROILUS. Why was my Cressid then so hard to win? CRESSIDA. Hard to seem won; but I was won, my lord, With the first glance that ever-pardon me. If I confess much, you will play the tyrant. I love you now; but till now not so much But I might master it. In faith, I lie; My thoughts were like unbridled children, grown Too headstrong for their mother. See, we fools! Why have I blabb'd? Who shall be true to us, When we are so unsecret to ourselves? But, though I lov'd you well, I woo'd you not; And yet, good faith, I wish'd myself a man, Or that we women had men's privilege Of speaking first. Sweet, bid me hold my tongue, For in this rapture I shall surely speak The thing I shall repent. See, see, your silence, Cunning in dumbness, from my weakness draws My very soul of counsel. Stop my mouth. TROILUS. And shall, albeit sweet music issues thence. PANDARUS. Pretty, i' faith. CRESSIDA. My lord, I do beseech you, pardon me; 'Twas not my purpose thus to beg a kiss. I am asham'd. O heavens! what have I done? For this time will I take my leave, my lord. TROILUS. Your leave, sweet Cressid! PANDARUS. Leave! An you take leave till to-morrow morning - CRESSIDA. Pray you, content you. TROILUS. What offends you, lady? CRESSIDA. Sir, mine own company. TROILUS. You cannot shun yourself. CRESSIDA. Let me go and try. I have a kind of self resides with you; But an unkind self, that itself will leave To be another's fool. I would be gone. Where is my wit? I know not what I speak. TROILUS. Well know they what they speak that speak so wisely. CRESSIDA. Perchance, my lord, I show more craft than love; And fell so roundly to a large confession To angle for your thoughts; but you are wise - Or else you love not; for to be wise and love Exceeds man's might; that dwells with gods above. TROILUS. O that I thought it could be in a woman - As, if it can, I will presume in you - To feed for aye her lamp and flames of love; To keep her constancy in plight and youth, Outliving beauty's outward, with a mind That doth renew swifter than blood decays! Or that persuasion could but thus convince me That my integrity and truth to you Might be affronted with the match and weight Of such a winnowed purity in love. How were I then uplifted! but, alas, I am as true as truth's simplicity, And simpler than the infancy of truth. CRESSIDA. In that I'll war with you. TROILUS. O virtuous fight, When right with right wars who shall be most right! True swains in love shall in the world to come Approve their truth by Troilus, when their rhymes, Full of protest, of oath, and big compare, Want similes, truth tir'd with iteration - As true as steel, as plantage to the moon, As sun to day, as turtle to her mate, As iron to adamant, as earth to th' centre - Yet, after all comparisons of truth, As truth's authentic author to be cited, 'As true as Troilus' shall crown up the verse And sanctify the numbers. CRESSIDA. Prophet may you be! If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth, When time is old and hath forgot itself, When waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy, And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up, And mighty states characterless are grated To dusty nothing - yet let memory From false to false, among false maids in love, Upbraid my falsehood when th' have said 'As false As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth, As fox to lamb, or wolf to heifer's calf, Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son' - Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood, 'As false as Cressid.' PANDARUS. Go to, a bargain made; seal it, seal it; I'll be the witness. Here I hold your hand; here my cousin's. If ever you prove false one to another, since I have taken such pains to bring you together, let all pitiful goers-between be call'd to the world's end after my name - call them all Pandars; let all constant men be Troiluses, all false women Cressids, and all brokers between Pandars. Say 'Amen.' TROILUS. Amen. CRESSIDA. Amen. PANDARUS. Amen. Whereupon I will show you a chamber and a bed; which bed, because it shall not speak of your pretty encounters, press it to death. Away! And Cupid grant all tongue-tied maidens here, Bed, chamber, pander, to provide this gear! [Exeunt.] ACT III. SCENE 3. The Greek camp [Flourish. Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, DIOMEDES, NESTOR, AJAX, MENELAUS, and CALCHAS.] CALCHAS. Now, Princes, for the service I have done, Th' advantage of the time prompts me aloud To call for recompense. Appear it to your mind That, through the sight I bear in things to come, I have abandon'd Troy, left my possession, Incurr'd a traitor's name, expos'd myself From certain and possess'd conveniences To doubtful fortunes, sequest'ring from me all That time, acquaintance, custom, and condition, Made tame and most familiar to my nature; And here, to do you service, am become As new into the world, strange, unacquainted - I do beseech you, as in way of taste, To give me now a little benefit Out of those many regist'red in promise, Which you say live to come in my behalf. AGAMEMNON. What wouldst thou of us, Troyan? Make demand. CALCHAS. You have a Troyan prisoner call'd Antenor, Yesterday took; Troy holds him very dear. Oft have you - often have you thanks therefore - Desir'd my Cressid in right great exchange, Whom Troy hath still denied; but this Antenor, I know, is such a wrest in their affairs That their negotiations all must slack Wanting his manage; and they will almost Give us a prince of blood, a son of Priam, In change of him. Let him be sent, great Princes, And he shall buy my daughter; and her presence Shall quite strike off all service I have done In most accepted pain. AGAMEMNON. Let Diomedes bear him, And bring us Cressid hither. Calchas shall have What he requests of us. Good Diomed, Furnish you fairly for this interchange; Withal, bring word if Hector will to-morrow Be answer'd in his challenge. Ajax is ready. DIOMEDES. This shall I undertake; and 'tis a burden Which I am proud to bear. [Exeunt DIOMEDES and CALCHAS.] [ACHILLES and PATROCLUS stand in their tent.] ULYSSES. Achilles stands i' th' entrance of his tent. Please it our general pass strangely by him, As if he were forgot; and, Princes all, Lay negligent and loose regard upon him. I will come last. 'Tis like he'll question me Why such unplausive eyes are bent, why turn'd on him? If so, I have derision med'cinable To use between your strangeness and his pride, Which his own will shall have desire to drink. It may do good. Pride hath no other glass To show itself but pride; for supple knees Feed arrogance and are the proud man's fees. AGAMEMNON. We'll execute your purpose, and put on A form of strangeness as we pass along. So do each lord; and either greet him not, Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him more Than if not look'd on. I will lead the way. ACHILLES. What comes the general to speak with me? You know my mind. I'll fight no more 'gainst Troy. AGAMEMNON. What says Achilles? Would he aught with us? NESTOR. Would you, my lord, aught with the general? ACHILLES. No. NESTOR. Nothing, my lord. AGAMEMNON. The better. [Exeunt AGAMEMNON and NESTOR.] ACHILLES. Good day, good day. MENELAUS. How do you? How do you? [Exit.] ACHILLES. What, does the cuckold scorn me? AJAX. How now, Patroclus? ACHILLES. Good morrow, Ajax. AJAX. Ha? ACHILLES. Good morrow. AJAX. Ay, and good next day too. [Exit.] ACHILLES. What mean these fellows? Know they not Achilles? PATROCLUS. They pass by strangely. They were us'd to bend, To send their smiles before them to Achilles, To come as humbly as they us'd to creep To holy altars. ACHILLES. What, am I poor of late? 'Tis certain, greatness, once fall'n out with fortune, Must fall out with men too. What the declin'd is, He shall as soon read in the eyes of others As feel in his own fall; for men, like butterflies, Show not their mealy wings but to the summer; And not a man for being simply man Hath any honour, but honour for those honours That are without him, as place, riches, and favour, Prizes of accident, as oft as merit; Which when they fall, as being slippery standers, The love that lean'd on them as slippery too, Doth one pluck down another, and together Die in the fall. But 'tis not so with me: Fortune and I are friends; I do enjoy At ample point all that I did possess Save these men's looks; who do, methinks, find out Something not worth in me such rich beholding As they have often given. Here is Ulysses. I'll interrupt his reading. How now, Ulysses! ULYSSES. Now, great Thetis' son! ACHILLES. What are you reading? ULYSSES. A strange fellow here Writes me that man - how dearly ever parted, How much in having, or without or in - Cannot make boast to have that which he hath, Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection; As when his virtues shining upon others Heat them, and they retort that heat again To the first giver. ACHILLES. This is not strange, Ulysses. The beauty that is borne here in the face The bearer knows not, but commends itself To others' eyes; nor doth the eye itself - That most pure spirit of sense - behold itself, Not going from itself; but eye to eye opposed Salutes each other with each other's form; For speculation turns not to itself Till it hath travell'd, and is mirror'd there Where it may see itself. This is not strange at all. ULYSSES. I do not strain at the position - It is familiar - but at the author's drift; Who, in his circumstance, expressly proves That no man is the lord of anything, Though in and of him there be much consisting, Till he communicate his parts to others; Nor doth he of himself know them for aught Till he behold them formed in th' applause Where th' are extended; who, like an arch, reverb'rate The voice again; or, like a gate of steel Fronting the sun, receives and renders back His figure and his heat. I was much rapt in this; And apprehended here immediately Th' unknown Ajax. Heavens, what a man is there! A very horse that has he knows not what! Nature, what things there are Most abject in regard and dear in use! What things again most dear in the esteem And poor in worth! Now shall we see to-morrow - An act that very chance doth throw upon him - Ajax renown'd. O heavens, what some men do, While some men leave to do! How some men creep in skittish Fortune's-hall, Whiles others play the idiots in her eyes! How one man eats into another's pride, While pride is fasting in his wantonness! To see these Grecian lords! - why, even already They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder, As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast, And great Troy shrinking. ACHILLES. I do believe it; for they pass'd by me As misers do by beggars-neither gave to me Good word nor look. What, are my deeds forgot? ULYSSES. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-siz'd monster of ingratitudes. Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done. Perseverance, dear my lord, Keeps honour bright. To have done is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mock'ry. Take the instant way; For honour travels in a strait so narrow - Where one but goes abreast. Keep then the path, For emulation hath a thousand sons That one by one pursue; if you give way, Or hedge aside from the direct forthright, Like to an ent'red tide they all rush by And leave you hindmost; Or, like a gallant horse fall'n in first rank, Lie there for pavement to the abject rear, O'er-run and trampled on. Then what they do in present, Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours; For Time is like a fashionable host, That slightly shakes his parting guest by th' hand; And with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly, Grasps in the corner. The welcome ever smiles, And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not virtue seek Remuneration for the thing it was; For beauty, wit, High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all To envious and calumniating Time. One touch of nature makes the whole world kin - That all with one consent praise new-born gawds, Though they are made and moulded of things past, And give to dust that is a little gilt More laud than gilt o'er-dusted. The present eye praises the present object. Then marvel not, thou great and complete man, That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax, Since things in motion sooner catch the eye Than what stirs not. The cry went once on thee, And still it might, and yet it may again, If thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive And case thy reputation in thy tent, Whose glorious deeds but in these fields of late Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods themselves, And drave great Mars to faction. ACHILLES. Of this my privacy I have strong reasons. ULYSSES. But 'gainst your privacy The reasons are more potent and heroical. 'Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love With one of Priam's daughters. ACHILLES. Ha! known! ULYSSES. Is that a wonder? The providence that's in a watchful state Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold; Finds bottom in th' uncomprehensive deeps; Keeps place with thought, and almost, like the gods, Do thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles. There is a mystery - with whom relation Durst never meddle - in the soul of state, Which hath an operation more divine Than breath or pen can give expressure to. All the commerce that you have had with Troy As perfectly is ours as yours, my lord; And better would it fit Achilles much To throw down Hector than Polyxena. But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at home, When fame shall in our island sound her trump, And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing 'Great Hector's sister did Achilles win; But our great Ajax bravely beat down him.' Farewell, my lord. I as your lover speak. The fool slides o'er the ice that you should break. [Exit.] PATROCLUS. To this effect, Achilles, have I mov'd you. A woman impudent and mannish grown Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man In time of action. I stand condemn'd for this; They think my little stomach to the war And your great love to me restrains you thus. Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold, And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, Be shook to airy air. ACHILLES. Shall Ajax fight with Hector? PATROCLUS. Ay, and perhaps receive much honour by him. ACHILLES. I see my reputation is at stake; My fame is shrewdly gor'd. PATROCLUS. O, then, beware: Those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves; Omission to do what is necessary Seals a commission to a blank of danger; And danger, like an ague, subtly taints Even then when they sit idly in the sun. ACHILLES. Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus. I'll send the fool to Ajax, and desire him T' invite the Troyan lords, after the combat, To see us here unarm'd. I have a woman's longing, An appetite that I am sick withal, To see great Hector in his weeds of peace; To talk with him, and to behold his visage, Even to my full of view. [Enter THERSITES.] A labour sav'd! THERSITES. A wonder! ACHILLES. What? THERSITES. Ajax goes up and down the field asking for himself. ACHILLES. How so? THERSITES. He must fight singly to-morrow with Hector, and is so prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling that he raves in saying nothing. ACHILLES. How can that be? THERSITES. Why, 'a stalks up and down like a peacock - a stride and a stand; ruminaies like an hostess that hath no arithmetic but her brain to set down her reckoning, bites his lip with a politic regard, as who should say 'There were wit in this head, an 'twould out'; and so there is; but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not show without knocking. The man's undone for ever; for if Hector break not his neck i' th' combat, he'll break't himself in vainglory. He knows not me. I said 'Good morrow, Ajax'; and he replies 'Thanks, Agamemnon.' What think you of this man that takes me for the general? He's grown a very land fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! A man may wear it on both sides, like leather jerkin. ACHILLES. Thou must be my ambassador to him, Thersites. THERSITES. Who, I? Why, he'll answer nobody; he professes not answering. Speaking is for beggars: he wears his tongue in's arms. I will put on his presence. Let Patroclus make his demands to me, you shall see the pageant of Ajax. ACHILLES. To him, Patroclus. Tell him I humbly desire the valiant Ajax to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarm'd to my tent; and to procure safe conduct for his person of the magnanimous and most illustrious six-or-seven-times-honour'd Captain General of the Grecian army, et cetera, Agamemnon. Do this. PATROCLUS. Jove bless great Ajax! THERSITES. Hum! PATROCLUS. I come from the worthy Achilles - THERSITES. Ha! PATROCLUS. Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his tent - THERSITES. Hum! PATROCLUS. And to procure safe conduct from Agamemnon. THERSITES. Agamemnon! PATROCLUS. Ay, my lord. THERSITES. Ha! PATROCLUS. What you say to't? THERSITES. God buy you, with all my heart. PATROCLUS. Your answer, sir. THERSITES. If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven of the clock it will go one way or other. Howsoever, he shall pay for me ere he has me. PATROCLUS. Your answer, sir. THERSITES. Fare ye well, with all my heart. ACHILLES. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he? THERSITES. No, but he's out a tune thus. What music will be in him when Hector has knock'd out his brains I know not; but, I am sure, none; unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings on. ACHILLES. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight. THERSITES. Let me carry another to his horse; for that's the more capable creature. ACHILLES. My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd; And I myself see not the bottom of it. [Exeunt ACHILLES and PATROCLUS.] THERSITES. Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that I might water an ass at it. I had rather be a tick in a sheep than such a valiant ignorance. [Exit.] ACT IV. SCENE 1. Troy. A street [Enter, at one side, AENEAS, and servant with a torch; at another, PARIS, DEIPHOBUS, ANTENOR, DIOMEDES the Grecian, and others, with torches.] PARIS. See, ho! Who is that there? DEIPHOBUS. It is the Lord Aeneas. AENEAS. Is the Prince there in person? Had I so good occasion to lie long As you, Prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business Should rob my bed-mate of my company. DIOMEDES. That's my mind too. Good morrow, Lord Aeneas. PARIS. A valiant Greek, Aeneas - take his hand: Witness the process of your speech, wherein You told how Diomed, a whole week by days, Did haunt you in the field. AENEAS. Health to you, valiant sir, During all question of the gentle truce; But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance As heart can think or courage execute. DIOMEDES. The one and other Diomed embraces. Our bloods are now in calm; and so long health! But when contention and occasion meet, By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life With all my force, pursuit, and policy. AENEAS. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly With his face backward. In humane gentleness, Welcome to Troy! now, by Anchises' life, Welcome indeed! By Venus' hand I swear No man alive can love in such a sort The thing he means to kill, more excellently. DIOMEDES. We sympathise. Jove let Aeneas live, If to my sword his fate be not the glory, A thousand complete courses of the sun! But in mine emulous honour let him die With every joint a wound, and that to-morrow! AENEAS. We know each other well. DIOMEDES. We do; and long to know each other worse. PARIS. This is the most despiteful'st gentle greeting The noblest hateful love, that e'er I heard of. What business, lord, so early? AENEAS. I was sent for to the King; but why, I know not. PARIS. His purpose meets you: 'twas to bring this Greek To Calchas' house, and there to render him, For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Cressid. Let's have your company; or, if you please, Haste there before us. I constantly believe - Or rather call my thought a certain knowledge - My brother Troilus lodges there to-night. Rouse him and give him note of our approach, With the whole quality wherefore; I fear We shall be much unwelcome. AENEAS. That I assure you: Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece Than Cressid borne from Troy. PARIS. There is no help; The bitter disposition of the time Will have it so. On, lord; we'll follow you. AENEAS. Good morrow, all. [Exit with servant.] PARIS. And tell me, noble Diomed-faith, tell me true, Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship - Who in your thoughts deserves fair Helen best, Myself or Menelaus? DIOMEDES. Both alike: He merits well to have her that doth seek her, Not making any scruple of her soilure, With such a hell of pain and world of charge; And you as well to keep her that d Not palating the taste of her dishonour, With such a costly loss of wealth and friends. He like a puling cuckold would drink up The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece; You, like a lecher, out of whorish loins Are pleas'd to breed out your inheritors. Both merits pois'd, each weighs nor less nor more; But he as he, the heavier for a whore. PARIS. You are too bitter to your country-woman. DIOMEDES. She's bitter to her country. Hear me, Paris: For every false drop in her bawdy veins A Grecian's life hath sunk; for every scruple Of her contaminated carrion weight A Troyan hath been slain; since she could speak, She hath not given so many good words breath As for her Greeks and Troyans suff'red death. PARIS. Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do, Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy; But we in silence hold this virtue well: We'll not commend what we intend to sell. Here lies our way. [Exeunt.] ACT IV. SCENE 2. Troy. The court of PANDARUS' house [Enter TROILUS and CRESSIDA.] TROILUS. Dear, trouble not yourself; the morn is cold. CRESSIDA. Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine uncle down; He shall unbolt the gates. TROILUS. Trouble him not; To bed, to bed! Sleep kill those pretty eyes, And give as soft attachment to thy senses As infants' empty of all thought! CRESSIDA. Good morrow, then. TROILUS. I prithee now, to bed. CRESSIDA. Are you aweary of me? TROILUS. O Cressida! but that the busy day, Wak'd by the lark, hath rous'd the ribald crows, And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, I would not from thee. CRESSIDA. Night hath been too brief. TROILUS. Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights she stays As tediously as hell, but flies the grasps of love With wings more momentary-swift than thought. You will catch cold, and curse me. CRESSIDA. Prithee tarry. You men will never tarry. O foolish Cressid! I might have still held off, And then you would have tarried. Hark! there's one up. PANDARUS. [Within] What's all the doors open here? TROILUS. It is your uncle. [Enter PANDARUS.] CRESSIDA. A pestilence on him! Now will he be mocking. I shall have such a life! PANDARUS. How now, how now! How go maidenheads? Here, you maid! Where's my cousin Cressid? CRESSIDA. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle. You bring me to do, and then you flout me too. PANDARUS. To do what? to do what? Let her say what. What have I brought you to do? CRESSIDA. Come, come, beshrew your heart! You'll ne'er be good, Nor suffer others. PANDARUS. Ha, ha! Alas, poor wretch! a poor capocchia! hast not slept to-night? Would he not, a naughty man, let it sleep? A bugbear take him! CRESSIDA. Did not I tell you? Would he were knock'd i' th' head! [One knocks.] Who's that at door? Good uncle, go and see. My lord, come you again into my chamber. You smile and mock me, as if I meant naughtily. TROILUS. Ha! ha! CRESSIDA. Come, you are deceiv'd, I think of no such thing. [Knock.] How earnestly they knock! Pray you come in: I would not for half Troy have you seen here. [Exeunt TROILUS and CRESSIDA.] PANDARUS. Who's there? What's the matter? Will you beat down the door? How now? What's the matter? [Enter AENEAS.] AENEAS. Good morrow, lord, good morrow. PANDARUS. Who's there? My lord Aeneas? By my troth, I knew you not. What news with you so early? AENEAS. Is not Prince Troilus here? PANDARUS. Here! What should he do here? AENEAS. Come, he is here, my lord; do not deny him. It doth import him much to speak with me. PANDARUS. Is he here, say you? It's more than I know, I'll be sworn. For my own part, I came in late. What should he do here? AENEAS. Who! - nay, then. Come, come, you'll do him wrong ere you are ware; you'll be so true to him to be false to him. Do not you know of him, but yet go fetch him hither; go. [Re-enter TROILUS.] TROILUS. How now! What's the matter? AENEAS. My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you, My matter is so rash. There is at hand Paris your brother, and Deiphobus, The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor Deliver'd to us; and for him forthwith, Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour, We must give up to Diomedes' hand The Lady Cressida. TROILUS. Is it so concluded? AENEAS. By Priam, and the general state of Troy. They are at hand and ready to effect it. TROILUS. How my achievements mock me! I will go meet them; and, my lord Aeneas, We met by chance; you did not find me here. AENEAS. Good, good, my lord, the secrets of neighbour Pandar Have not more gift in taciturnity. [Exeunt TROILUS and AENEAS.] PANDARUS. Is't possible? No sooner got but lost? The devil take Antenor! The young prince will go mad. A plague upon Antenor! I would they had broke's neck. [Re-enter CRESSIDA.] CRESSIDA. How now! What's the matter? Who was here? PANDARUS. Ah, ah! CRESSIDA. Why sigh you so profoundly? Where's my lord? Gone? Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter? PANDARUS. Would I were as deep under the earth as I am above! CRESSIDA. O the gods! What's the matter? PANDARUS. Pray thee, get thee in. Would thou hadst ne'er been born! I knew thou wouldst be his death! O, poor gentleman! A plague upon Antenor! CRESSIDA. Good uncle, I beseech you, on my knees I beseech you, what's the matter? PANDARUS. Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be gone; thou art chang'd for Antenor; thou must to thy father, and be gone from Troilus. 'Twill be his death; 'twill be his bane; he cannot bear it. CRESSIDA. O you immortal gods! I will not go. PANDARUS. Thou must. CRESSIDA. I will not, uncle. I have forgot my father; I know no touch of consanguinity, No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me As the sweet Troilus. O you gods divine, Make Cressid's name the very crown of falsehood, If ever she leave Troilus! Time, force, and death, Do to this body what extremes you can, But the strong base and building of my love Is as the very centre of the earth, Drawing all things to it. I'll go in and weep - PANDARUS. Do, do. CRESSIDA. Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised cheeks, Crack my clear voice with sobs and break my heart, With sounding 'Troilus.' I will not go from Troy. [Exeunt.] ACT IV. SCENE 3. Troy. A street before PANDARUS' house [Enter PARIS, TROILUS, AENEAS, DEIPHOBUS, ANTENOR, and DIOMEDES.] PARIS. It is great morning; and the hour prefix'd For her delivery to this valiant Greek Comes fast upon. Good my brother Troilus, Tell you the lady what she is to do And haste her to the purpose. TROILUS. Walk into her house. I'll bring her to the Grecian presently; And to his hand when I deliver her, Think it an altar, and thy brother Troilus A priest, there off'ring to it his own heart. [Exit.] PARIS. I know what 'tis to love, And would, as I shall pity, I could help! Please you walk in, my lords. [Exeunt.] ACT IV. SCENE 4. Troy. PANDARUS' house [Enter PANDARUS and CRESSIDA.] PANDARUS. Be moderate, be moderate. CRESSIDA. Why tell you me of moderation? The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste, And violenteth in a sense as strong As that which causeth it. How can I moderate it? If I could temporize with my affections Or brew it to a weak and colder palate, The like allayment could I give my grief. My love admits no qualifying dross; No more my grief, in such a precious loss. [Enter TROILUS.] PANDARUS. Here, here, here he comes. Ah, sweet ducks! CRESSIDA. [Embracing him.] O Troilus! Troilus! PANDARUS. What a pair of spectacles is here! Let me embrace too. 'O heart,' as the goodly saying is, - O heart, heavy heart, Why sigh'st thou without breaking? when he answers again Because thou canst not ease thy smart By friendship nor by speaking. There was never a truer rhyme. Let us cast away nothing, for we may live to have need of such a verse. We see it, we see it. How now, lambs! TROILUS. Cressid, I love thee in so strain'd a purity That the bless'd gods, as angry with my fancy, More bright in zeal than the devotion which Cold lips blow to their deities, take thee from me. CRESSIDA. Have the gods envy? PANDARUS. Ay, ay, ay; 'tis too plain a case. CRESSIDA. And is it true that I must go from Troy? TROILUS. A hateful truth. CRESSIDA. What! and from Troilus too? TROILUS. From Troy and Troilus. CRESSIDA. Is it possible? TROILUS. And suddenly; where injury of chance Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows Even in the birth of our own labouring breath. We two, that with so many thousand sighs Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves With the rude brevity and discharge of one. Injurious time now with a robber's haste Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how. As many farewells as be stars in heaven, With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to them, He fumbles up into a loose adieu, And scants us with a single famish'd kiss, Distasted with the salt of broken tears. AENEAS. [Within.] My lord, is the lady ready? TROILUS. Hark! you are call'd. Some say the Genius so Cries 'Come!' to him that instantly must die. Bid them have patience; she shall come anon. PANDARUS. Where are my tears? Rain, to lay this wind, or my heart will be blown up by the root! [Exit.] CRESSIDA. I must then to the Grecians? TROILUS. No remedy. CRESSIDA. A woeful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks! When shall we see again? TROILUS. Hear me, my love. Be thou but true of heart CRESSIDA. I true! how now! What wicked deem is this? TROILUS. Nay, we must use expostulation kindly, For it is parting from us. I speak not 'Be thou true' as fearing thee, For I will throw my glove to Death himself That there's no maculation in thy heart; But 'Be thou true' say I to fashion in My sequent protestation: be thou true, And I will see thee. CRESSIDA. O! you shall be expos'd, my lord, to dangers As infinite as imminent! But I'll be true. TROILUS. And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve. CRESSIDA. And you this glove. When shall I see you? TROILUS. I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels To give thee nightly visitation. But yet be true. CRESSIDA. O heavens! 'Be true' again! TROILUS. Hear why I speak it, love. The Grecian youths are full of quality; They're loving, well compos'd, with gifts of nature, Flowing and swelling o'er with arts and exercise. How novelty may move, and parts with person, Alas, a kind of godly jealousy, Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin, Makes me afear'd. CRESSIDA. O heavens! you love me not. TROILUS. Die I a villain, then! In this I do not call your faith in question So mainly as my merit. I cannot sing, Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk, Nor play at subtle games; fair virtues all, To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant; But I can tell that in each grace of these There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil That tempts most cunningly. But be not tempted. CRESSIDA. Do you think I will? TROILUS. No. But something may be done that we will not; And sometimes we are devils to ourselves, When we will tempt the frailty of our powers, Presuming on their changeful potency. AENEAS. [Within.] Nay, good my lord! TROILUS. Come, kiss; and let us part. PARIS. [Within.] Brother Troilus! TROILUS. Good brother, come you hither; And bring Aeneas and the Grecian with you. CRESSIDA. My lord, will you be true? TROILUS. Who, I? Alas, it is my vice, my fault! Whiles others fish with craft for great opinion, I with great truth catch mere simplicity; Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns, With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare. Fear not my truth: the moral of my wit Is plain and true; there's all the reach of it. [Enter AENEAS, PARIS, ANTENOR, DEIPHOBUS, and DIOMEDES.] Welcome, Sir Diomed! Here is the lady Which for Antenor we deliver you; At the port, lord, I'll give her to thy hand, And by the way possess thee what she is. Entreat her fair; and, by my soul, fair Greek, If e'er thou stand at mercy of my sword, Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe As Priam is in Ilion. DIOMEDES. Fair Lady Cressid, So please you, save the thanks this prince expects. The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek, Pleads your fair usage; and to Diomed You shall be mistress, and command him wholly. TROILUS. Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously To shame the zeal of my petition to thee In praising her. I tell thee, lord of Greece, She is as far high-soaring o'er thy praises As thou unworthy to be call'd her servant. I charge thee use her well, even for my charge; For, by the dreadful Pluto, if thou dost not, Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard, I'll cut thy throat. DIOMEDES. O, be not mov'd, Prince Troilus. Let me be privileg'd by my place and message To be a speaker free: when I am hence I'll answer to my lust. And know you, lord, I'll nothing do on charge: to her own worth She shall be priz'd. But that you say 'Be't so,' I speak it in my spirit and honour, 'No.' TROILUS. Come, to the port. I'll tell thee, Diomed, This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head. Lady, give me your hand; and, as we walk, To our own selves bend we our needful talk. [Exeunt TROILUS, CRESSIDA, and DIOMEDES.] [Sound trumpet.] PARIS. Hark! Hector's trumpet. AENEAS. How have we spent this morning! The Prince must think me tardy and remiss, That swore to ride before him to the field. PARIS. 'Tis Troilus' fault. Come, come to field with him. DEIPHOBUS. Let us make ready straight. AENEAS. Yea, with a bridegroom's fresh alacrity Let us address to tend on Hector's heels. The glory of our Troy doth this day lie On his fair worth and single chivalry. [Exeunt.] ACT IV. SCENE 5. The Grecian camp. Lists set out [Enter AJAX, armed; AGAMEMNON, ACHILLES, PATROCLUS, MENELAUS, ULYSSES, NESTOR, and others.] AGAMEMNON. Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair, Anticipating time with starting courage. Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy, Thou dreadful Ajax, that the appalled air May pierce the head of the great combatant, And hale him hither. AJAX. Thou, trumpet, there's my purse. Now crack thy lungs and split thy brazen pipe; Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek Outswell the colic of puff'd Aquilon. Come, stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes spout blood: Thou blowest for Hector. [Trumpet sounds.] ULYSSES. No trumpet answers. ACHILLES. 'Tis but early days. [Enter DIOMEDES, with CRESSIDA.] AGAMEMNON. Is not yond Diomed, with Calchas' daughter? ULYSSES. 'Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait: He rises on the toe. That spirit of his In aspiration lifts him from the earth. [Enter DIOMEDES with CRESSIDA.] AGAMEMNON. Is this the lady Cressid? DIOMEDES. Even she. AGAMEMNON. Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, sweet lady. NESTOR. Our general doth salute you with a kiss. ULYSSES. Yet is the kindness but particular; 'Twere better she were kiss'd in general. NESTOR. And very courtly counsel: I'll begin. So much for Nestor. ACHILLES. I'll take that winter from your lips, fair lady. Achilles bids you welcome. MENELAUS. I had good argument for kissing once. PATROCLUS. But that's no argument for kissing now; For thus popp'd Paris in his hardiment, And parted thus you and your argument. ULYSSES. O deadly gall, and theme of all our scorns! For which we lose our heads to gild his horns. PATROCLUS. The first was Menelaus' kiss; this, mine: Patroclus kisses you. MENELAUS. O, this is trim! PATROCLUS. Paris and I kiss evermore for him. MENELAUS. I'll have my kiss, sir. Lady, by your leave. CRESSIDA. In kissing, do you render or receive? PATROCLUS. Both take and give. CRESSIDA. I'll make my match to live, The kiss you take is better than you give; Therefore no kiss. MENELAUS. I'll give you boot; I'll give you three for one. CRESSIDA. You are an odd man; give even or give none. MENELAUS. An odd man, lady! Every man is odd. CRESSIDA. No, Paris is not; for you know 'tis true That you are odd, and he is even with you. MENELAUS. You fillip me o' the head. CRESSIDA. No, I'll be sworn. ULYSSES. It were no match, your nail against his horn. May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you? CRESSIDA. You may. ULYSSES. I do desire it. CRESSIDA. Why, beg then. ULYSSES. Why then, for Venus' sake give me a kiss When Helen is a maid again, and his. CRESSIDA. I am your debtor; claim it when 'tis due. ULYSSES. Never's my day, and then a kiss of you. DIOMEDES. Lady, a word. I'll bring you to your father. [Exit with CRESSIDA.] NESTOR. A woman of quick sense. ULYSSES. Fie, fie upon her! There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look out At every joint and motive of her body. O! these encounterers so glib of tongue That give a coasting welcome ere it comes, And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts To every tickling reader! Set them down For sluttish spoils of opportunity, And daughters of the game. [Trumpet within.] ALL. The Trojans' trumpet. AGAMEMNON. Yonder comes the troop. [Enter HECTOR, armed; AENEAS, TROILUS, PARIS, HELENUS, and other Trojans, with attendants.] AENEAS. Hail, all you state of Greece! What shall be done To him that victory commands? Or do you purpose A victor shall be known? Will you the knights Shall to the edge of all extremity Pursue each other, or shall be divided By any voice or order of the field? Hector bade ask. AGAMEMNON. Which way would Hector have it? AENEAS. He cares not; he'll obey conditions. ACHILLES. 'Tis done like Hector; but securely done, A little proudly, and great deal misprising The knight oppos'd. AENEAS. If not Achilles, sir, What is your name? ACHILLES. If not Achilles, nothing. AENEAS. Therefore Achilles. But whate'er, know this: In the extremity of great and little Valour and pride excel themselves in Hector; The one almost as infinite as all, The other blank as nothing. Weigh him well, And that which looks like pride is courtesy. This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood; In love whereof half Hector stays at home; Half heart, half hand, half Hector comes to seek This blended knight, half Trojan and half Greek. ACHILLES. A maiden battle then? O! I perceive you. [Re-enter DIOMEDES.] AGAMEMNON. Here is Sir Diomed. Go, gentle knight, Stand by our Ajax. As you and Lord Aeneas Consent upon the order of their fight, So be it; either to the uttermost, Or else a breath. The combatants being kin Half stints their strife before their strokes begin. [AJAX and HECTOR enter the lists.] ULYSSES. They are oppos'd already. AGAMEMNON. What Trojan is that same that looks so heavy? ULYSSES. The youngest son of Priam, a true knight; Not yet mature, yet matchless; firm of word; Speaking in deeds and deedless in his tongue; Not soon provok'd, nor being provok'd soon calm'd; His heart and hand both open and both free; For what he has he gives, what thinks he shows, Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty, Nor dignifies an impure thought with breath; Manly as Hector, but more dangerous; For Hector in his blaze of wrath subscribes To tender objects, but he in heat of action Is more vindicative than jealous love. They call him Troilus, and on him erect A second hope as fairly built as Hector. Thus says Aeneas, one that knows the youth Even to his inches, and, with private soul, Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me. [Alarum. HECTOR and AJAX fight.] AGAMEMNON. They are in action. NESTOR. Now, Ajax, hold thine own! TROILUS. Hector, thou sleep'st; Awake thee! AGAMEMNON. His blows are well dispos'd. There, Ajax! DIOMEDES. You must no more. [Trumpets cease.] AENEAS. Princes, enough, so please you. AJAX. I am not warm yet; let us fight again. DIOMEDES. As Hector pleases. HECTOR. Why, then will I no more. Thou art, great lord, my father's sister's son, A cousin-german to great Priam's seed; The obligation of our blood forbids A gory emulation 'twixt us twain: Were thy commixtion Greek and Trojan so That thou could'st say 'This hand is Grecian all, And this is Trojan; the sinews of this leg All Greek, and this all Troy; my mother's blood Runs on the dexter cheek, and this sinister Bounds in my father's; by Jove multipotent, Thou shouldst not bear from me a Greekish member Wherein my sword had not impressure made Of our rank feud; but the just gods gainsay That any drop thou borrow'dst from thy mother, My sacred aunt, should by my mortal sword Be drained! Let me embrace thee, Ajax. By him that thunders, thou hast lusty arms; Hector would have them fall upon him thus. Cousin, all honour to thee! AJAX. I thank thee, Hector. Thou art too gentle and too free a man. I came to kill thee, cousin, and bear hence A great addition earned in thy death. HECTOR. Not Neoptolemus so mirable, On whose bright crest Fame with her loud'st Oyes Cries 'This is he!' could promise to himself A thought of added honour torn from Hector. AENEAS. There is expectance here from both the sides What further you will do. HECTOR. We'll answer it: The issue is embracement. Ajax, farewell. AJAX. If I might in entreaties find success, As seld' I have the chance, I would desire My famous cousin to our Grecian tents. DIOMEDES. 'Tis Agamemnon's wish; and great Achilles Doth long to see unarm'd the valiant Hector. HECTOR. Aeneas, call my brother Troilus to me, And signify this loving interview To the expecters of our Trojan part; Desire them home. Give me thy hand, my cousin; I will go eat with thee, and see your knights. [AGAMEMNON and the rest of the Greeks come forward.] AJAX. Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here. HECTOR. The worthiest of them tell me name by name; But for Achilles, my own searching eyes Shall find him by his large and portly size. AGAMEMNON. Worthy of arms! as welcome as to one That would be rid of such an enemy. But that's no welcome. Understand more clear, What's past and what's to come is strew'd with husks And formless ruin of oblivion; But in this extant moment, faith and troth, Strain'd purely from all hollow bias-drawing, Bids thee with most divine integrity, From heart of very heart, great Hector, welcome. HECTOR. I thank thee, most imperious Agamemnon. AGAMEMNON. [To Troilus] My well-fam'd lord of Troy, no less to you. MENELAUS. Let me confirm my princely brother's greeting. You brace of warlike brothers, welcome hither. HECTOR. Who must we answer? AENEAS. The noble Menelaus. HECTOR. O you, my lord? By Mars his gauntlet, thanks! Mock not that I affect the untraded oath; Your quondam wife swears still by Venus' glove. She's well, but bade me not commend her to you. MENELAUS. Name her not now, sir; she's a deadly theme. HECTOR. O, pardon; I offend. NESTOR. I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oft, Labouring for destiny, make cruel way Through ranks of Greekish youth; and I have seen thee, As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed, Despising many forfeits and subduements, When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i' th' air, Not letting it decline on the declined; That I have said to some my standers-by 'Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life!' And I have seen thee pause and take thy breath, When that a ring of Greeks have hemm'd thee in, Like an Olympian wrestling. This have I seen; But this thy countenance, still lock'd in steel, I never saw till now. I knew thy grandsire, And once fought with him. He was a soldier good, But, by great Mars, the captain of us all, Never like thee. O, let an old man embrace thee; And, worthy warrior, welcome to our tents. AENEAS. 'Tis the old Nestor. HECTOR. Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle, That hast so long walk'd hand in hand with time. Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee. NESTOR. I would my arms could match thee in contention As they contend with thee in courtesy. HECTOR. I would they could. NESTOR. Ha! By this white beard, I'd fight with thee to-morrow. Well, welcome, welcome! I have seen the time. ULYSSES. I wonder now how yonder city stands, When we have here her base and pillar by us. HECTOR. I know your favour, Lord Ulysses, well. Ah, sir, there's many a Greek and Trojan dead, Since first I saw yourself and Diomed In Ilion on your Greekish embassy. ULYSSES. Sir, I foretold you then what would ensue. My prophecy is but half his journey yet; For yonder walls, that pertly front your town, Yond towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds, Must kiss their own feet. HECTOR. I must not believe you. There they stand yet; and modestly I think The fall of every Phrygian stone will cost A drop of Grecian blood. The end crowns all; And that old common arbitrator, Time, Will one day end it. ULYSSES. So to him we leave it. Most gentle and most valiant Hector, welcome. After the General, I beseech you next To feast with me and see me at my tent. ACHILLES. I shall forestall thee, Lord Ulysses, thou! Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee; I have with exact view perus'd thee, Hector, And quoted joint by joint. HECTOR. Is this Achilles? ACHILLES. I am Achilles. HECTOR. Stand fair, I pray thee; let me look on thee. ACHILLES. Behold thy fill. HECTOR. Nay, I have done already. ACHILLES. Thou art too brief. I will the second time, As I would buy thee, view thee limb by limb. HECTOR. O, like a book of sport thou'lt read me o'er; But there's more in me than thou understand'st. Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye? ACHILLES. Tell me, you heavens, in which part of his body Shall I destroy him? Whether there, or there, or there? That I may give the local wound a name, And make distinct the very breach whereout Hector's great spirit flew. Answer me, heavens. HECTOR. It would discredit the blest gods, proud man, To answer such a question. Stand again. Think'st thou to catch my life so pleasantly As to prenominate in nice conjecture Where thou wilt hit me dead? ACHILLES. I tell thee yea. HECTOR. Wert thou an oracle to tell me so, I'd not believe thee. Henceforth guard thee well; For I'll not kill thee there, nor there, nor there; But, by the forge that stithied Mars his helm, I'll kill thee everywhere, yea, o'er and o'er. You wisest Grecians, pardon me this brag. His insolence draws folly from my lips; But I'll endeavour deeds to match these words, Or may I never - AJAX. Do not chafe thee, cousin; And you, Achilles, let these threats alone Till accident or purpose bring you to't. You may have every day enough of Hector, If you have stomach. The general state, I fear, Can scarce entreat you to be odd with him. HECTOR. I pray you let us see you in the field; We have had pelting wars since you refus'd The Grecians' cause. ACHILLES. Dost thou entreat me, Hector? To-morrow do I meet thee, fell as death; To-night all friends. HECTOR. Thy hand upon that match. AGAMEMNON. First, all you peers of Greece, go to my tent; There in the full convive we; afterwards, As Hector's leisure and your bounties shall Concur together, severally entreat him. Beat loud the tambourines, let the trumpets blow, That this great soldier may his welcome know. [Exeunt all but TROILUS and ULYSSES.] TROILUS. My Lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you, In what place of the field doth Calchas keep? ULYSSES. At Menelaus' tent, most princely Troilus. There Diomed doth feast with him to-night, Who neither looks upon the heaven nor earth, But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view On the fair Cressid. TROILUS. Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to you so much, After we part from Agamemnon's tent, To bring me thither? ULYSSES. You shall command me, sir. As gentle tell me of what honour was This Cressida in Troy? Had she no lover there That wails her absence? TROILUS. O, sir, to such as boasting show their scars A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord? She was belov'd, she lov'd; she is, and doth; But still sweet love is food for fortune's tooth. [Exeunt.] ACT V. SCENE 1. The Grecian camp. Before the tent of ACHILLES [Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS.] ACHILLES. I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night, Which with my scimitar I'll cool to-morrow. Patroclus, let us feast him to the height. PATROCLUS. Here comes Thersites. [Enter THERSITES.] ACHILLES. How now, thou core of envy! Thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news? THERSITES. Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, and idol of idiot worshippers, here's a letter for thee. ACHILLES. From whence, fragment? THERSITES. Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy. PATROCLUS. Who keeps the tent now? THERSITES. The surgeon's box or the patient's wound. PATROCLUS. Well said, Adversity! and what needs these tricks? THERSITES. Prithee, be silent, boy; I profit not by thy talk; thou art said to be Achilles' male varlet. PATROCLUS. Male varlet, you rogue! What's that? THERSITES. Why, his masculine whore. Now, the rotten diseases of the south, the guts-griping ruptures, catarrhs, loads o' gravel in the back, lethargies, cold palsies, raw eyes, dirt-rotten livers, wheezing lungs, bladders full of imposthume, sciaticas, limekilns i' th' palm, incurable bone-ache, and the rivelled fee- simple of the tetter, take and take again such preposterous discoveries! PATROCLUS. Why, thou damnable box of envy, thou, what meanest thou to curse thus? THERSITES. Do I curse thee? PATROCLUS. Why, no, you ruinous butt; you whoreson indistinguishable cur, no. THERSITES. No! Why art thou, then, exasperate, thou idle immaterial skein of sleave silk, thou green sarcenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a prodigal's purse, thou? Ah, how the poor world is pestered with such water-flies, diminutives of nature! PATROCLUS. Out, gall! THERSITES. Finch egg! ACHILLES. My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite From my great purpose in to-morrow's battle. Here is a letter from Queen Hecuba, A token from her daughter, my fair love, Both taxing me and gaging me to keep An oath that I have sworn. I will not break it. Fall Greeks; fail fame; honour or go or stay; My major vow lies here, this I'll obey. Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent; This night in banqueting must all be spent. Away, Patroclus! [Exit with PATROCLUS.] THERSITES. With too much blood and too little brain these two may run mad; but, if with too much brain and to little blood they do, I'll be a curer of madmen. Here's Agamemnon, an honest fellow enough, and one that loves quails, but he has not so much brain as ear-wax; and the goodly transformation of Jupiter there, his brother, the bull, the primitive statue and oblique memorial of cuckolds, a thrifty shoeing-horn in a chain, hanging at his brother's leg, to what form but that he is, should wit larded with malice, and malice forced with wit, turn him to? To an ass, were nothing: he is both ass and ox. To an ox, were nothing: he is both ox and ass. To be a dog, a mule, a cat, a fitchew, a toad, a lizard, an owl, a put-tock, or a herring without a roe, I would not care; but to be Menelaus, I would conspire against destiny. Ask me not what I would be, if I were not Thersites; for I care not to be the louse of a lazar, so I were not Menelaus. Hey-day! sprites and fires! [Enter HECTOR, TROILUS, AJAX, AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, NESTOR, MENELAUS, and DIOMEDES, with lights.] AGAMEMNON. We go wrong, we go wrong. AJAX. No, yonder 'tis; There, where we see the lights. HECTOR. I trouble you. AJAX. No, not a whit. ULYSSES. Here comes himself to guide you. [Re-enter ACHILLES.] ACHILLES. Welcome, brave Hector; welcome, Princes all. AGAMEMNON. So now, fair Prince of Troy, I bid good night; Ajax commands the guard to tend on you. HECTOR. Thanks, and good night to the Greeks' general. MENELAUS. Good night, my lord. HECTOR. Good night, sweet Lord Menelaus. THERSITES. Sweet draught! 'Sweet' quoth a'! Sweet sink, sweet sewer! ACHILLES. Good night and welcome, both at once, to those That go or tarry. AGAMEMNON. Good night. [Exeunt AGAMEMNON and MENELAUS.] ACHILLES. Old Nestor tarries; and you too, Diomed, Keep Hector company an hour or two. DIOMEDES. I cannot, lord; I have important business, The tide whereof is now. Good night, great Hector. HECTOR. Give me your hand. ULYSSES. [Aside to TROILUS] Follow his torch; he goes to Calchas' tent; I'll keep you company. TROILUS. Sweet sir, you honour me. HECTOR. And so, good night. [Exit DIOMEDES; ULYSSES and TROILUS following.] ACHILLES. Come, come, enter my tent. [Exeunt all but THERSITES.] THERSITES. That same Diomed's a false-hearted rogue, a most unjust knave; I will no more trust him when he leers than I will a serpent when he hisses. He will spend his mouth and promise, like Brabbler the hound; but when he performs, astronomers foretell it: it is prodigious, there will come some change; the sun borrows of the moon when Diomed keeps his word. I will rather leave to see Hector than not to dog him. They say he keeps a Trojan drab, and uses the traitor Calchas' tent. I'll after. Nothing but lechery! All incontinent varlets! [Exit.] ACT V. SCENE 2. The Grecian camp. Before CALCHAS' tent [Enter DIOMEDES.] DIOMEDES. What, are you up here, ho! Speak. CALCHAS. [Within.] Who calls? DIOMEDES. Diomed. Calchas, I think. Where's your daughter? CALCHAS. [Within.] She comes to you. [Enter TROILUS and ULYSSES, at a distance; after them THERSITES.] ULYSSES. Stand where the torch may not discover us. [Enter CRESSIDA.] TROILUS. Cressid comes forth to him. DIOMEDES. How now, my charge! CRESSIDA. Now, my sweet guardian! Hark, a word with you. [Whispers.] TROILUS. Yea, so familiar! ULYSSES. She will sing any man at first sight. THERSITES. And any man may sing her, if he can take her cliff; she's noted. DIOMEDES. Will you remember? CRESSIDA. Remember! Yes. DIOMEDES. Nay, but do, then; And let your mind be coupled with your words. TROILUS. What should she remember? ULYSSES. List! CRESSIDA. Sweet honey Greek, tempt me no more to folly. THERSITES. Roguery! DIOMEDES. Nay, then CRESSIDA. I'll tell you what - DIOMEDES. Fo, fo! come, tell a pin; you are a forsworn. CRESSIDA. In faith, I cannot. What would you have me do? THERSITES. A juggling trick, to be secretly open. DIOMEDES. What did you swear you would bestow on me? CRESSIDA. I prithee, do not hold me to mine oath; Bid me do anything but that, sweet Greek. DIOMEDES. Good night. TROILUS. Hold, patience! ULYSSES. How now, Trojan! CRESSIDA. Diomed! DIOMEDES. No, no, good night; I'll be your fool no more. TROILUS. Thy better must. CRESSIDA. Hark! one word in your ear. TROILUS. O plague and madness! ULYSSES. You are moved, Prince; let us depart, I pray you, Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself To wrathful terms. This place is dangerous; The time right deadly; I beseech you, go. TROILUS. Behold, I pray you. ULYSSES. Nay, good my lord, go off; You flow to great distraction; come, my lord. TROILUS. I pray thee stay. ULYSSES. You have not patience; come. TROILUS. I pray you, stay; by hell and all hell's torments, I will not speak a word. DIOMEDES. And so, good night. CRESSIDA. Nay, but you part in anger. TROILUS. Doth that grieve thee? O withered truth! ULYSSES. How now, my lord? TROILUS. By Jove, I will be patient. CRESSIDA. Guardian! Why, Greek! DIOMEDES. Fo, fo! adieu! you palter. CRESSIDA. In faith, I do not. Come hither once again. ULYSSES. You shake, my lord, at something; will you go? You will break out. TROILUS. She strokes his cheek. ULYSSES. Come, come. TROILUS. Nay, stay; by Jove, I will not speak a word: There is between my will and all offences A guard of patience. Stay a little while. THERSITES. How the devil Luxury, with his fat rump and potato finger, tickles these together! Fry, lechery, fry! DIOMEDES. But will you, then? CRESSIDA. In faith, I will, la; never trust me else. DIOMEDES. Give me some token for the surety of it. CRESSIDA. I'll fetch you one. [Exit.] ULYSSES. You have sworn patience. TROILUS. Fear me not, my lord; I will not be myself, nor have cognition Of what I feel. I am all patience. [Re-enter CRESSIDA.] THERSITES. Now the pledge; now, now, now! CRESSIDA. Here, Diomed, keep this sleeve. TROILUS. O beauty! where is thy faith? ULYSSES. My lord! TROILUS. I will be patient; outwardly I will. CRESSIDA. You look upon that sleeve; behold it well. He lov'd me O false wench! Give't me again. DIOMEDES. Whose was't? CRESSIDA. It is no matter, now I have't again. I will not meet with you to-morrow night. I prithee, Diomed, visit me no more. THERSITES. Now she sharpens. Well said, whetstone. DIOMEDES. I shall have it. CRESSIDA. What, this? DIOMEDES. Ay, that. CRESSIDA. O all you gods! O pretty, pretty pledge! Thy master now lies thinking on his bed Of thee and me, and sighs, and takes my glove, And gives memorial dainty kisses to it, As I kiss thee. Nay, do not snatch it from me; He that takes that doth take my heart withal. DIOMEDES. I had your heart before; this follows it. TROILUS. I did swear patience. CRESSIDA. You shall not have it, Diomed; faith, you shall not; I'll give you something else. DIOMEDES. I will have this. Whose was it? CRESSIDA. It is no matter. DIOMEDES. Come, tell me whose it was. CRESSIDA. 'Twas one's that lov'd me better than you will. But, now you have it, take it. DIOMEDES. Whose was it? CRESSIDA. By all Diana's waiting women yond, And by herself, I will not tell you whose. DIOMEDES. To-morrow will I wear it on my helm, And grieve his spirit that dares not challenge it. TROILUS. Wert thou the devil and wor'st it on thy horn, It should be challeng'd. CRESSIDA. Well, well, 'tis done, 'tis past; and yet it is not; I will not keep my word. DIOMEDES. Why, then farewell; Thou never shalt mock Diomed again. CRESSIDA. You shall not go. One cannot speak a word But it straight starts you. DIOMEDES. I do not like this fooling. THERSITES. Nor I, by Pluto; but that that likes not you Pleases me best. DIOMEDES. What, shall I come? The hour? CRESSIDA. Ay, come-O Jove! Do come. I shall be plagu'd. DIOMEDES. Farewell till then. CRESSIDA. Good night. I prithee come. [Exit DIOMEDES.] Troilus, farewell! One eye yet looks on thee; But with my heart the other eye doth see. Ah, poor our sex! this fault in us I find, The error of our eye directs our mind. What error leads must err; O, then conclude, Minds sway'd by eyes are full of turpitude. [Exit.] THERSITES. A proof of strength she could not publish more, Unless she said 'My mind is now turn'd whore.' ULYSSES. All's done, my lord. TROILUS. It is. ULYSSES. Why stay we, then? TROILUS. To make a recordation to my soul Of every syllable that here was spoke. But if I tell how these two did co-act, Shall I not lie in publishing a truth? Sith yet there is a credence in my heart, An esperance so obstinately strong, That doth invert th' attest of eyes and ears; As if those organs had deceptious functions Created only to calumniate. Was Cressid here? ULYSSES. I cannot conjure, Trojan. TROILUS. She was not, sure. ULYSSES. Most sure she was. TROILUS. Why, my negation hath no taste of madness. ULYSSES. Nor mine, my lord. Cressid was here but now. TROILUS. Let it not be believ'd for womanhood. Think, we had mothers; do not give advantage To stubborn critics, apt, without a theme, For depravation, to square the general sex By Cressid's rule. Rather think this not Cressid. ULYSSES. What hath she done, Prince, that can soil our mothers? TROILUS. Nothing at all, unless that this were she. THERSITES. Will he swagger himself out on's own eyes? TROILUS. This she? No; this is Diomed's Cressida. If beauty have a soul, this is not she; If souls guide vows, if vows be sanctimony, If sanctimony be the god's delight, If there be rule in unity itself, This was not she. O madness of discourse, That cause sets up with and against itself! Bi-fold authority! where reason can revolt Without perdition, and loss assume all reason Without revolt: this is, and is not, Cressid. Within my soul there doth conduce a fight Of this strange nature, that a thing inseparate Divides more wider than the sky and earth; And yet the spacious breadth of this division Admits no orifice for a point as subtle As Ariachne's broken woof to enter. Instance, O instance! strong as Pluto's gates: Cressid is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven. Instance, O instance! strong as heaven itself: The bonds of heaven are slipp'd, dissolv'd, and loos'd; And with another knot, five-finger-tied, The fractions of her faith, orts of her love, The fragments, scraps, the bits, and greasy relics Of her o'er-eaten faith, are bound to Diomed. ULYSSES. May worthy Troilus be half-attach'd With that which here his passion doth express? TROILUS. Ay, Greek; and that shall be divulged well In characters as red as Mars his heart Inflam'd with Venus. Never did young man fancy With so eternal and so fix'd a soul. Hark, Greek: as much as I do Cressid love, So much by weight hate I her Diomed. That sleeve is mine that he'll bear on his helm; Were it a casque compos'd by Vulcan's skill My sword should bite it. Not the dreadful spout Which shipmen do the hurricano call, Constring'd in mass by the almighty sun, Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's ear In his descent than shall my prompted sword Falling on Diomed. THERSITES. He'll tickle it for his concupy. TROILUS. O Cressid! O false Cressid! false, false, false! Let all untruths stand by thy stained name, And they'll seem glorious. ULYSSES. O, contain yourself; Your passion draws ears hither. [Enter AENEAS.] AENEAS. I have been seeking you this hour, my lord. Hector, by this, is arming him in Troy; Ajax, your guard, stays to conduct you home. TROILUS. Have with you, Prince. My courteous lord, adieu. Fairwell, revolted fair! and, Diomed, Stand fast and wear a castle on thy head. ULYSSES. I'll bring you to the gates. TROILUS. Accept distracted thanks. [Exeunt TROILUS, AENEAS. and ULYSSES.] THERSITES. Would I could meet that rogue Diomed! I would croak like a raven; I would bode, I would bode. Patroclus will give me anything for the intelligence of this whore; the parrot will not do more for an almond than he for a commodious drab. Lechery, lechery! Still wars and lechery! Nothing else holds fashion. A burning devil take them! [Exit.] ACT V. SCENE 3. Troy. Before PRIAM'S palace [Enter HECTOR and ANDROMACHE.] ANDROMACHE. When was my lord so much ungently temper'd To stop his ears against admonishment? Unarm, unarm, and do not fight to-day. HECTOR. You train me to offend you; get you in. By all the everlasting gods, I'll go. ANDROMACHE. My dreams will, sure, prove ominous to the day. HECTOR. No more, I say. [Enter CASSANDRA.] CASSANDRA. Where is my brother Hector? ANDROMACHE. Here, sister, arm'd, and bloody in intent. Consort with me in loud and dear petition, Pursue we him on knees; for I have dreamt Of bloody turbulence, and this whole night Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of slaughter. CASSANDRA. O, 'tis true! HECTOR. Ho! bid my trumpet sound. CASSANDRA. No notes of sally, for the heavens, sweet brother! HECTOR. Be gone, I say. The gods have heard me swear. CASSANDRA. The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows; They are polluted off'rings, more abhorr'd Than spotted livers in the sacrifice. ANDROMACHE. O, be persuaded! Do not count it holy To hurt by being just. It is as lawful, For we would give much, to use violent thefts And rob in the behalf of charity. CASSANDRA. It is the purpose that makes strong the vow; But vows to every purpose must not hold. Unarm, sweet Hector. HECTOR. Hold you still, I say. Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate. Life every man holds dear; but the dear man Holds honour far more precious dear than life. [Enter TROILUS.] How now, young man! Mean'st thou to fight to-day? ANDROMACHE. Cassandra, call my father to persuade. [Exit CASSANDRA.] HECTOR. No, faith, young Troilus; doff thy harness, youth; I am to-day i' the vein of chivalry. Let grow thy sinews till their knots be strong, And tempt not yet the brushes of the war. Unarm thee, go; and doubt thou not, brave boy, I'll stand to-day for thee and me and Troy. TROILUS. Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you Which better fits a lion than a man. HECTOR. What vice is that, good Troilus? Chide me for it. TROILUS. When many times the captive Grecian falls, Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword, You bid them rise and live. HECTOR. O, 'tis fair play! TROILUS. Fool's play, by heaven, Hector. HECTOR. How now! how now! TROILUS. For th' love of all the gods, Let's leave the hermit Pity with our mothers; And when we have our armours buckled on, The venom'd vengeance ride upon our swords, Spur them to ruthful work, rein them from ruth! HECTOR. Fie, savage, fie! TROILUS. Hector, then 'tis wars. HECTOR. Troilus, I would not have you fight to-day. TROILUS. Who should withhold me? Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars Beckoning with fiery truncheon my retire; Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees, Their eyes o'ergalled with recourse of tears; Nor you, my brother, with your true sword drawn, Oppos'd to hinder me, should stop my way, But by my ruin. [Re-enter CASSANDRA, with PRIAM.] CASSANDRA. Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him fast; He is thy crutch; now if thou lose thy stay, Thou on him leaning, and all Troy on thee, Fall all together. PRIAM. Come, Hector, come, go back. Thy wife hath dreamt; thy mother hath had visions; Cassandra doth foresee; and I myself Am like a prophet suddenly enrapt To tell thee that this day is ominous. Therefore, come back. HECTOR. Aeneas is a-field; And I do stand engag'd to many Greeks, Even in the faith of valour, to appear This morning to them. PRIAM. Ay, but thou shalt not go. HECTOR. I must not break my faith. You know me dutiful; therefore, dear sir, Let me not shame respect; but give me leave To take that course by your consent and voice Which you do here forbid me, royal Priam. CASSANDRA. O Priam, yield not to him! ANDROMACHE. Do not, dear father. HECTOR. Andromache, I am offended with you. Upon the love you bear me, get you in. [Exit ANDROMACHE.] TROILUS. This foolish, dreaming, superstitious girl Makes all these bodements. CASSANDRA. O, farewell, dear Hector! Look how thou diest. Look how thy eye turns pale. Look how thy wounds do bleed at many vents. Hark how Troy roars; how Hecuba cries out; How poor Andromache shrills her dolours forth; Behold distraction, frenzy, and amazement, Like witless antics, one another meet, And all cry, Hector! Hector's dead! O Hector! TROILUS. Away, away! CASSANDRA. Farewell! yet, soft! Hector, I take my leave. Thou dost thyself and all our Troy deceive. [Exit.] HECTOR. You are amaz'd, my liege, at her exclaim. Go in, and cheer the town; we'll forth, and fight, Do deeds worth praise and tell you them at night. PRIAM. Farewell. The gods with safety stand about thee! [Exeunt severally PRIAM and HECTOR. Alarums.] TROILUS. They are at it, hark! Proud Diomed, believe, I come to lose my arm or win my sleeve. [Enter PANDARUS.] PANDARUS. Do you hear, my lord? Do you hear? TROILUS. What now? PANDARUS. Here's a letter come from yond poor girl. TROILUS. Let me read. PANDARUS. A whoreson tisick, a whoreson rascally tisick so troubles me, and the foolish fortune of this girl, and what one thing, what another, that I shall leave you one o' these days; and I have a rheum in mine eyes too, and such an ache in my bones that unless a man were curs'd I cannot tell what to think on't. What says she there? TROILUS. Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart; Th' effect doth operate another way. [Tearing the letter.] Go, wind, to wind, there turn and change together. My love with words and errors still she feeds, But edifies another with her deeds. [Exeunt severally.] ACT V. SCENE 4. The plain between Troy and the Grecian camp [Alarums. Excursions. Enter THERSITES.] THERSITES. Now they are clapper-clawing one another; I'll go look on. That dissembling abominable varlet, Diomed, has got that same scurvy doting foolish young knave's sleeve of Troy there in his helm. I would fain see them meet, that that same young Trojan ass that loves the whore there might send that Greekish whoremasterly villain with the sleeve back to the dissembling luxurious drab of a sleeve-less errand. O' the other side, the policy of those crafty swearing rascals that stale old mouse-eaten dry cheese, Nestor, and that same dog-fox, Ulysses, is not prov'd worth a blackberry. They set me up, in policy, that mongrel cur, Ajax, against that dog of as bad a kind, Achilles; and now is the cur, Ajax prouder than the cur Achilles, and will not arm to-day; whereupon the Grecians begin to proclaim barbarism, and policy grows into an ill opinion. [Enter DIOMEDES, TROILUS following.] Soft! here comes sleeve, and t'other. TROILUS. Fly not; for shouldst thou take the river Styx I would swim after. DIOMEDES. Thou dost miscall retire. I do not fly; but advantageous care Withdrew me from the odds of multitude. Have at thee. THERSITES. Hold thy whore, Grecian; now for thy whore, Trojan! now the sleeve, now the sleeve! [Exeunt TROILUS and DIOMEDES fighting.] [Enter HECTOR.] HECTOR. What art thou, Greek? Art thou for Hector's match? Art thou of blood and honour? THERSITES. No, no I am a rascal; a scurvy railing knave; a very filthy rogue. HECTOR. I do believe thee. Live. [Exit.] THERSITES. God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me; but a plague break thy neck for frighting me! What's become of the wenching rogues? I think they have swallowed one another. I would laugh at that miracle. Yet, in a sort, lechery eats itself. I'll seek them. [Exit.] ACT V. SCENE 5. Another part of the plain [Enter DIOMEDES and A SERVANT.] DIOMEDES. Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus' horse; Present the fair steed to my lady Cressid. Fellow, commend my service to her beauty; Tell her I have chastis'd the amorous Trojan, And am her knight by proof. SERVANT. I go, my lord. [Exit.] [Enter AGAMEMNON.] AGAMEMNON. Renew, renew! The fierce Polydamus Hath beat down Menon; bastard Margarelon Hath Doreus prisoner, And stands colossus-wise, waving his beam, Upon the pashed corses of the kings Epistrophus and Cedius. Polixenes is slain; Amphimacus and Thoas deadly hurt; Patroclus ta'en, or slain; and Palamedes Sore hurt and bruis'd. The dreadful Sagittary Appals our numbers. Haste we, Diomed, To reinforcement, or we perish all. [Enter NESTOR.] NESTOR. Go, bear Patroclus' body to Achilles, And bid the snail-pac'd Ajax arm for shame. There is a thousand Hectors in the field; Now here he fights on Galathe his horse, And there lacks work; anon he's there afoot, And there they fly or die, like scaled sculls Before the belching whale; then is he yonder, And there the strawy Greeks, ripe for his edge, Fall down before him like the mower's swath. Here, there, and everywhere, he leaves and takes; Dexterity so obeying appetite That what he will he does, and does so much That proof is call'd impossibility. [Enter ULYSSES.] ULYSSES. O, courage, courage, courage, Princes! Great Achilles is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance. Patroclus' wounds have rous'd his drowsy blood, Together with his mangled Myrmidons, That noseless, handless, hack'd and chipp'd, come to him, Crying on Hector. Ajax hath lost a friend And foams at mouth, and he is arm'd and at it, Roaring for Troilus; who hath done to-day Mad and fantastic execution, Engaging and redeeming of himself With such a careless force and forceless care As if that luck, in very spite of cunning, Bade him win all. [Enter AJAX.] AJAX. Troilus! thou coward Troilus! [Exit.] DIOMEDES. Ay, there, there. NESTOR. So, so, we draw together. [Exit.] [Enter ACHILLES.] ACHILLES. Where is this Hector? Come, come, thou boy-queller, show thy face; Know what it is to meet Achilles angry. Hector! where's Hector? I will none but Hector. [Exeunt.] ACT V. SCENE 6. Another part of the plain [Enter AJAX.] AJAX. Troilus, thou coward Troilus, show thy head. [Enter DIOMEDES.] DIOMEDES. Troilus, I say! Where's Troilus? AJAX. What wouldst thou? DIOMEDES. I would correct him. AJAX. Were I the general, thou shouldst have my office Ere that correction. Troilus, I say! What, Troilus! [Enter TROILUS.] TROILUS. O traitor Diomed! Turn thy false face, thou traitor, And pay thy life thou owest me for my horse. DIOMEDES. Ha! art thou there? AJAX. I'll fight with him alone. Stand, Diomed. DIOMEDES. He is my prize. I will not look upon. TROILUS. Come, both, you cogging Greeks; have at you - [Exeunt fighting.] [Enter HECTOR.] HECTOR. Yea, Troilus? O, well fought, my youngest brother! [Enter ACHILLES.] ACHILLES. Now do I see thee. Ha! have at thee, Hector! HECTOR. Pause, if thou wilt. ACHILLES. I do disdain thy courtesy, proud Trojan. Be happy that my arms are out of use; My rest and negligence befriend thee now, But thou anon shalt hear of me again; Till when, go seek thy fortune. [Exit.] HECTOR. Fare thee well. I would have been much more a fresher man, Had I expected thee. [Re-enter TROILUS.] How now, my brother! TROILUS. Ajax hath ta'en Aeneas. Shall it be? No, by the flame of yonder glorious heaven, He shall not carry him; I'll be ta'en too, Or bring him off. Fate, hear me what I say: I reck not though thou end my life to-day. [Exit.] [Enter one in armour.] HECTOR. Stand, stand, thou Greek; thou art a goodly mark. No? wilt thou not? I like thy armour well; I'll frush it and unlock the rivets all But I'll be master of it. Wilt thou not, beast, abide? Why then, fly on; I'll hunt thee for thy hide. [Exeunt.] ACT V. SCENE 7. Another part of the plain [Enter ACHILLES, with Myrmidons.] ACHILLES. Come here about me, you my Myrmidons; Mark what I say. Attend me where I wheel; Strike not a stroke, but keep yourselves in breath; And when I have the bloody Hector found, Empale him with your weapons round about; In fellest manner execute your aims. Follow me, sirs, and my proceedings eye. It is decreed Hector the great must die. [Exeunt.] [Enter MENELAUS and PARIS, fighting; then THERSITES.] THERSITES. The cuckold and the cuckold-maker are at it. Now, bull! now, dog! 'Loo, Paris, 'loo! now my double-henned sparrow! 'loo, Paris, 'loo! The bull has the game. 'Ware horns, ho! [Exeunt PARIS and MENELAUS.] [Enter MARGARELON.] MARGARELON. Turn, slave, and fight. THERSITES. What art thou? MARGARELON. A bastard son of Priam's. THERSITES. I am a bastard too; I love bastards. I am a bastard begot, bastard instructed, bastard in mind, bastard in valour, in everything illegitimate. One bear will not bite another, and wherefore should one bastard? Take heed, the quarrel's most ominous to us: if the son of a whore fight for a whore, he tempts judgment. Farewell, bastard. [Exit.] MARGARELON. The devil take thee, coward! [Exit.] ACT V. SCENE 8. Another part of the plain [Enter HECTOR.] HECTOR. Most putrified core so fair without, Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life. Now is my day's work done; I'll take good breath: Rest, sword; thou hast thy fill of blood and death! [Disarms.] [Enter ACHILLES and his Myrmidons.] ACHILLES. Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set; How ugly night comes breathing at his heels; Even with the vail and dark'ning of the sun, To close the day up, Hector's life is done. HECTOR. I am unarm'd; forego this vantage, Greek. ACHILLES. Strike, fellows, strike; this is the man I seek. [HECTOR falls.] So, Ilion, fall thou next! Now, Troy, sink down; Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone. On, Myrmidons, and cry you an amain 'Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain.' [A retreat sounded.] Hark! a retreat upon our Grecian part. MYRMIDON. The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my lord. ACHILLES. The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth And, stickler-like, the armies separates. My half-supp'd sword, that frankly would have fed, Pleas'd with this dainty bait, thus goes to bed. [Sheathes his sword.] Come, tie his body to my horse's tail; Along the field I will the Trojan trail. [Exeunt.] ACT V. SCENE 9. Another part of the plain [Sound retreat. Shout. Enter AGAMEMNON, AJAX, MENELAUS, NESTOR, DIOMEDES, and the rest, marching.] AGAMEMNON. Hark! hark! what shout is this? NESTOR. Peace, drums! SOLDIERS. [Within.] Achilles! Achilles! Hector's slain. Achilles! DIOMEDES. The bruit is Hector's slain, and by Achilles. AJAX. If it be so, yet bragless let it be; Great Hector was as good a man as he. AGAMEMNON. March patiently along. Let one be sent To pray Achilles see us at our tent. If in his death the gods have us befriended; Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are ended. [Exeunt.] ACT V. SCENE 10. Another part of the plain [Enter AENEAS, PARIS, ANTENOR, and DEIPHOBUS.] AENEAS. Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field. Never go home; here starve we out the night. [Enter TROILUS.] TROILUS. Hector is slain. ALL. Hector! The gods forbid! TROILUS. He's dead, and at the murderer's horse's tail, In beastly sort, dragg'd through the shameful field. Frown on, you heavens, effect your rage with speed. Sit, gods, upon your thrones, and smile at Troy. I say at once let your brief plagues be mercy, And linger not our sure destructions on. AENEAS. My lord, you do discomfort all the host. TROILUS. You understand me not that tell me so. I do not speak of flight, of fear of death, But dare all imminence that gods and men Address their dangers in. Hector is gone. Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba? Let him that will a screech-owl aye be call'd Go in to Troy, and say there 'Hector's dead.' There is a word will Priam turn to stone; Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives, Cold statues of the youth; and, in a word, Scare Troy out of itself. But, march away; Hector is dead; there is no more to say. Stay yet. You vile abominable tents, Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains, Let Titan rise as early as he dare, I'll through and through you. And, thou great-siz'd coward, No space of earth shall sunder our two hates; I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still, That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy's thoughts. Strike a free march to Troy. With comfort go; Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe. [Enter PANDARUS.] PANDARUS. But hear you, hear you! TROILUS. Hence, broker-lackey. Ignominy and shame Pursue thy life and live aye with thy name! [Exeunt all but PANDARUS.] PANDARUS. A goodly medicine for my aching bones! world! world! thus is the poor agent despis'd! traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set a-work, and how ill requited! Why should our endeavour be so lov'd, and the performance so loathed? What verse for it? What instance for it? Let me see - Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing Till he hath lost his honey and his sting; And being once subdu'd in armed trail, Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail. Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted cloths. As many as be here of pander's hall, Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar's fall; Or, if you cannot weep, yet give some groans, Though not for me, yet for your aching bones. Brethren and sisters of the hold-door trade, Some two months hence my will shall here be made. It should be now, but that my fear is this, Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss. Till then I'll sweat and seek about for eases, And at that time bequeath you my diseases. [Exit.] Publication Date: May 29th 2008 https://www.bookrix.com/-bx.shakespeare

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-jason-tru-january-9th/

Jason Tru, Jason Tru January 9th CALEB This book's dedicated to my best friend, 'Niki', as I'd call her, alone, with one 'k'. Thank you for being there for me, supporting me, and being the best friend that I can actually have. You've grown to be a part of me, and I respect that. Chapter 1; DAWN '' Hah, c'mon dude, stop '', '' No way. It's your dare, now do it. '', argued Caleb and Blake, while the group of beer-drinking friends, cheer on. '' Is anyone looking? Keep lookout! '' Blake demanded as he strips his clothing, looking frantically, back and forth. '' Okay, thee, two... '', '' Too late! '', Caleb screamed as he shoved Blake onto the dusty road, '' Run boy, run ! '', he'd chant, influencing the group of boys to cheer as well, as they'd drunkenly laugh and roll all over the ground, making a muddy mess in the dirt with their drinks. As Blake ran back, he tackled Caleb and wrestled him, friendly, on the floor, shoving his face into the mud, '' I'll get you when it's your turn. ''. As turn 'pon turn passed, morning rose, while annoying birds started filling the air. Having the last round of beer, everyone got tired and was leaving for bed, forgetting Caleb's turn. On a spark of remembrance, Blake popped up from his spot, nearly hopping in the dying campfire, itself. '' Caleb! It's your turn! Thought you could have gotten away? '', '' What? Oh, okay. No man, go on. I'm tired as can be. After this, is bed. '', Caleb replied. '' Well, I have to think of something. You're not going to get away. '', '' Well, hurry up? '', '' Ah, I dunno'. But, when I do, it'll be something. '', '' Bro', I'm tired as can be, please hurry '', Caleb fussed as his other friends started to whine about sleeping. '' Just give him something already! '', Matthew begged, '' Like, what?! '', '' I dunno', man. '', '' Well, if you don't have any ideas, then just butt out! '', '' We need to sleep! '', '' Too bad. '', '' Oh, just make him an organ donor or something for Christ's sake! Let us sleep! '' they argued. '' Oh, wait. That's not a bad idea. I've heard about organ donning. '', '' What? '', '' Nevermind. It's settled. You're signing up for organ donning. '', '' Is that the best you can do? '' Caleb teased. '' CALEB! JUST TAKE IT ALREADY! '', everyone exlaimed. '' Fine! '', he replied, in a joking manner, as they all scuffled into their tents to sleep. A few hours later, after their late nap, they all got up one-by-one, rolling out of the tents like ants, with headaches that could stop a truck; their breaths, stink of stale alcohol and muddy, dirty bodies was just ignored. As they all changed dove into the nearby river, a discussion blew up as they discussed their last days in their highschool, and the start of collage, soon. '' I'm not really looking forward to collage, to be honest, '' Matt started, '' I mean, I'm not sure yet. I guess I want to, but I don't even know what I'll study. ''. Coming out and sitting on a little rock, to where was named ' Caleb's rock ', Caleb responded that he wasn't sure as well. He's always wanted to explore the world, really. He expressed his dreams of moving out of the little town that they lived in and just exploring the world; living in a different country, living away from home. He described every little detail, to what he wanted it to be like and how far he wanted to go. Blake then admitted that all he really wanted was to go to collage, just to get away from his parents. He didn't mind staying in the town, but just the expierence of living alone that he craved. He'd talk about all the girls that he'd get and how they'd look, and how much alcohol he'd own. All of the guys chuckled underbreath, shoving eachother. '' Girls, man, girls! '', yelled Matt, following a burst of laughter. Standing on another rock, opposite Caleb's, he'd make random pelvic thrusts at everyone, as the water from his body flew everywhere, making all the guys scream, splashing water back at him, aiming to throw him back into the water, '' Aye, save that for the girls, would you?! '', yelled Caleb. After their fun, they all got dressed and cleaned up thier beer cans and garbage and bags, placing their tents, folded up at the side of a tree, to where they always leave it, being that they come there most weekends and most little holidays that they'd get away from school. Caleb would then brush his hands over his semi-shaved head, every time, before getting into vehicles. '' Is that like a ritual or something, dude? You always brush your hair, as short as it is. '' Jasper teased. '' No questioning me. '', Caleb'd reply as he jokingly went blank to the question as he started his old passed-down truck that his grandad owned, before everyone was in, forcing them to hurry. '' You know, starting it early won't make us pack faster. You could have at least come and help. '', '' It encourages you to hurry. '', '' Not me... '' Caleb cut Jasper short by stepping on it, moving the truck, quickly, a few feet away, having the bags emptied again. '' CALEB, AW MAN! '', everyone'd whine. '' Haha, oops? '', Caleb'd annoyingly reply to them. On the way, they stopped at a local diner, as they collected some food to go. '' Caleb, remember your dear. You still have to sign up for it. '', '' Fine, I will. I'll go do it before we get home, calm down. ''. They stopped along the way and applied, Caleb. He stopped singularly at their houses and dropped them off. 'Pon reaching home, he sank his tired face into his pillow, and completely blanked into sleep. Around two hours later, he got up in urge to use the bathroom. Walking over to the bathroom, he stretches and yawns as he zips down. Yawning one last time, his eyes started driftng and closing, again. Not too long after, his head started bobbing back and forth, finally falling asleep, losing total control. He woke up to a warm, wet feeling on his pants, as he soon fell to the floor. '' Aw, crap, man! What time is it, even?! '', he exlcaimed, raising his wet hand to look at his watch. '' Why am I even up at 3am? Ugh. '' he guffs, as he attempts to clean himself up and change into a night pants, before falling asleep again. Miraculously, he changed and slowly made his way out of the bathroom and back to his bed, before being annoyed by noises and random talking. '' Ugh, seriously? What is going on? '', he breathed out, raising the little blinds next to his window. '' Moving in? New people are moving in, oh. But, at this hour? Dear gosh. '', he whispered in a soft voice as if he'd bother any tired people in his room, when in reality, away from his little tired/hangover world, it's only him. He violently closed the blinds as he slammed his face into the pillow, once more, mumbling to himself, '' I'll see who it is tomorrow. ''.   Chapter 2; ARRIVAL '' Mum, I don't really like it here. Why can't we just stay where we used to? I feel so odd. '', '' Oh, stop it, alright? Just stop. Your father needed this job and it's hard as it is, already. And take off those bracelets! '', August's mum would yell as she'd scramble the bracelets, nearly ripping them, '' We're here in a new town and I will NOT allow you to embarrass me. Fix yourself; you're already a shame. God, why did I even have to give birth to you? You have no purpose, you're just an embarrassment. '', '' I have a purpose, '', '' And, that's what? To dress like a sick human and parade, making everyone's life hell, right? Is that it? Because, that's the only thing that you get done around here. '', '' That's not true; I... '', '' Oh, just stop. '', '' Mum... '', '' Stop! August, stop! Just, go upstairs or something. Just leave. '', she demanded as August held his wrist with the bracelet, running halfway up the stairs before tripping. '' Can't even walk right. God. '', she'd tease while he just tries to ignore and get back up again. He leans his head on a random door that he found, with scratches all over it, and little wholes. At that point, he didn't really care much. Just banging his head on the door over and over, he'd shove his head as hard as he can, against it, pressing all his anger out, not caring if he gets injured. In a high-pitched tone, he'd huff, as tears quickly escaped his wrinkled, eyelids, pushed together so neatly by the tense muscles in his forehead. A few of August's nails started braking while he repeatedly smashed his fists into the door, and clawed it, having his eyelids shoved together, tighter and tighter, raising all the veins in his neck, as his lips started bleeding, while he bit them. After a few minutes, his headache got unbearable, to where he could barely stand, so he unlocked the door and walked in, not caring to what's behind it. Closing the door as hard as he could, he sat inside the room, leaning on the door, in total darkness. '' Reason?... '', he mumbled softly, while holding his hands and one-by-one, ripping off the broken nails. His world just went black for a moment. His hands rose to his face and fingers gently glided over the quick-drying blood as he felt the small bruise that was made, questioning himself over and over, to why he did it. With one last breath, he closed his eyes and leaned on his side, touching the ice-cold floor. Still in the dark, he cared less to where he laid or what he was laying on. His knees curled up, into his chest, and his arms wrapped around them. His mind was just overworked and his body just gave into sleep. '' Ah, what is this?... '' August's mum, Kathy would guff, while opening the door and having it stopped by something. With several shoves, she voluntarily kicks the door open, seeing August's leg and sneakers on the floor. '' August! Wake up, it's time for school '' she expressed, and opens the door once more, before August can stand up, hitting him in the side of his tummy, '' Hurry. '', she masked as if she didn't know that she hit him. August holds his side tightly, as he still tries to wake up from his sleep. He stands and sees the sun peek through the small window next to his bed. Stretching his arms up and turning his head a bit to the left, letting it make a sharp crackling sound, he walks over to the window to close the blinds, before getting ready, for he wanted the sun to be away as long as possible. Rubbing his eyes, over and over, not knowing where his glasses are, he sits on the bed, next to the window, before closing the blinds and stretches more, tapping his feet on the floor while yawning. As he sat there for a bit, he tried to quickly, plan out his day, and to think of what he'll do next and how he'll survive, generally. He's at a new school and being himself, he knows from a start that this was not an easy task. Gently raising his hand, with some of the semi-broken nails, he kisses the bracelet, then holds it close to his chest. 'Pon getting up to leave, he leans over to close the window, but notices in the distance, another window, with someone in it. Not knowing who the person was, and his vision, half-blurred itself, from just waking up and not having his glasses, his eyebrows lowered and eyes squinted and his face got focused and firm, while he tried to settle his eyesight. His hand then raised to itch his head, as his vision finally cleared, only to notice that the guy was just standing there, looking back in only his night-pants. August fell to the floor, not realising that the window is open, with his rear, stuck in the air and his face, planted in the floor. '' God, he probably thinks that I'm a creepy goof! '', '' I heard that? '', '' He's still there?! '', '' I heard that too?...''. August just got up and scratched his head and laughed gently, scratching his head more, until he notices that he's still scratching and smiling, then stops both in a frantic. Still being awkward, he then realises that he's now paused, without a smile and his arm still in the air. With no words, he just turns and walks out of the room. Chapter 3; FIRST ENCOUNTERS '' Mm, haha... '', Caleb'd chuckle to himself, gently, after seeing the clumsy person, leave the room, as he looked down, fondling the drawstrings to his night pants, for over two minutes, before dropping them, with a smile, and walks to the bathroom to get ready for school. '' Who was that kid? Haha, that was interesting. Was it a kid, even? '', he'd softly mumble to himself, still smiling, while he generously smears shaving cream all over his sticky, prickly, stubble. As the cold blade of his razor met his skin, he'd move it roughly, up, against the hair's direction of his face, and drag it as close as he could. Being that his facial hair grows back painful at times, rates him to shaving twice per week. To his mind, shaving as close as he could, getting most off, would be best, removing most hair. In a sudden, without a warning, he sneezed, letting the razor slide against his skin, cutting his chin. The cut wasn't as deep, but was visible. Caleb just sighed and kept shaving the rest. '' Mum, do you have anything for this? '', he'd ask his mother. '' For what? '', '' This, on my face '', '' What? Oh let me see. Aw, you know that you should be careful with those things... '', she'd stress in a low voice, '' Just go put some ice on it until you've finished your breakfast and leave for school. ''. As Caleb finds something to eat, he held a ice cube on his wound, just as his mum asked, so it would ease the blood vessels, and not swell or be infected. He'd find leftovers in the bottom left of the fridge, every morning, and eat it as breakfast, if not, just go to school without anything. While walking out of the fridge with a bowl in his mouth, held by his teeth, and one in his other arm, he slips on a little puddle that the ice dripped, having both bowls fall. '' Caleb, be careful! '', his mum, Beth yelled as she'd slap him behind his head, having him drop the icecube onto the floor, splitting open. '' Are you serious?! '', she'd scream as she hit him once more, '' That one wasn't even my fault! '', Caleb replies. '' WHO EXACTLY ARE YOU RAISING YOUR VOICE TO? '', Caleb's mum, Beth would scream, waking half the neighbourhood up. '' No one... '', Caleb'd respond in a disappointed tone, looking down with puffy cheeks and a red, drippy cut on his chin. '' Oh, man up. '', she'd tease, forcing him to look up and walk away. Caleb immediately grabbed his jacket after getting out of the kitchen and headed to the truck. '' And, I'm late. Yeah, thanks mum. '', Caleb teases, underbreath, sarcastically while in his truck, knowing that he's a safe distance away from his mother's ears. Realising that he didn't brush his hands over his short hair, his face fades into a deep smile, with bright eyes. As he opens his mouth, pulling off a goofy smile, he'd close his eye and rub his right hand over his short hair, then burst into a light chuckle, to himself. '' I never really noticed how crazy I am... '', Caleb softly mentions to himself, as he smiles again, turning on the old radio, flipping from station-to-station, to find one that works. '' Ugh, dumb thing. You never wanna' give me a break and play, huh? '', he'd argue with the radio. With his attitude to fix it, and the radio's will to just, not work, Caleb finally sighs and gives up, '' You win this time, Mr. Radio. ''. With a sigh, Caleb fixes his eyebrow down, attempting to start the old, cold, truck. After, over twenty tries, it finally kicks up, making a puff of grey smoke in the back. '' You old dust trap. Didn't wanna' start, but I made you. Mwahahah' '', Caleb would tease the truck, once more, having it puff one more time during his laugh, '' Alright, alright. No jokes. Sorry, haha. ''. ''Great, no parking spot. '', Caleb nagged, while turning the stiff steering wheel, cornering the truck on the side, behind the school, parking it there. '' And, I forgot my lab book. Oh, just awesome. '', he'd sarcastically slur. As he got out of his truck, he'd rub his short hair, once more, before leaning back in the truck, getting his books. '' Ah, so, first period's Biology. I wonder if I could duck it. I'd need a note. Or, pretend that I'm not here. Oh, that'd be so great. I mean, I do want to miss class, after all. Actually, no. I want to be in school, being that it's the last year and all, but I'm so tired. Oh, and I still have a headache from the hangover, oh, that'd be my excuse. Yes, yes. It's all set. Oh, lord. No. I can't. I'm not going to lie. Ah, it's my last year anyway. What am I going to get? Suspended? Haha...'' Caleb would stop rambling by the sound of chanting. '' Oh, a fight? I'll miss these. '', he'd mention as he quickens his pace, using his ears as a sense of tool, to spot the fight. The chanting gently fades into laughter as he got closer. '' Haha, fag. '', '' Why are you even here? '', '' Go back to where you came from, you little shit. '', the chants and laughter would build. '' Caleb! Did you see the fag? Ugh, God. He's so sickening. '', questioned Deborah, Caleb's 'girlfriend', that Caleb's group of friends assigned him, as she bumped into Caleb, right in front of his face, nearly scaring him, to drop his books. '' What? Haha. '', Caleb'd reply, in a sort of confused voice. '' I don't know. I guess a gay guy moved into our school. '', she'd reply, leaning on his arms, stepping on her tip-toes to kiss Caleb at the side of his mouth. '' Well, where is he?...''. Caleb'd get cut off once more but a loud thudding sound. As he turned around quickly, to see what made the noise, he found what seemed at the time to be the 'gay-guy'. Another thud is heard when Matthew hit the guy from behind, in the middle of his back, having him bend forward in impact, dropping his books. As they fell to Caleb's feet, and having all eyes on him, he shoved it softly, forward, back to the guy, laughing along. As the guy picked the books up, Blake would point his fingers to the guy's head, shoving him forward, '' Why'd you come here, bro'? Hmm? Or, should I call you, sis? ''. With no reply, he'd shove the guy on his forehead harder, '' Answer me, man! '', he'd yell, having everyone chuckle, underbreath. Just being more silent than before, the guy would just cough, because of the lash to his back and close his eyes slightly, looking down at the floor. '' Aren't you going to answer me, pretty boy? '', Blake would annoy. '' Hey ! '', he'd yell again, this time, louder, scaring the guy as he lightly jumped in surprise. '' Oh, he's scared. Aww. '', teased Blake, as he looked back at Caleb, giggling to himself. '' And, what's this? '', Blake deviously slurs, grabbing the guy's arm, slipping his finger under his bracelet. '' No! Leave it alone, that's mine! '' the guy would finally exclaim, in a high-pitched tone as he pushed Blake by the chest, away with his weak arms. '' Excuse me? '', Blake would question as he pushed back, having the guy push Blake back, once more, automatically. Knowing what he did, his eyes were red and filled with fear, with Blake just tightening his fist. Before Blake could hit, Caleb gabbed Blake's arm, pulling it away from the bracelet quickly, then loudly hits the guy's books once more, having them fall to the floor on his feet, '' Don't shove Blake! Do you even know who he is, little man? Haha, '', Caleb teased having the bell ring in the dead silent moment. '' Aye, see you at lunch? '', '' Yeah, man. '' Alright. See ya' then, Caleb. Bye faggy! '', Blake teased one last time as he left with Matthew and Deborah. '' Coming, Caleb? '', questioned Jasper. '' Ah, yeah. I just forgot something in the truck. '', '' Alright, see you in class. '', Jasper replied, leaving slowly. Scratching his head, Caleb left, walking to his truck, knowing that there's nothing there. Walking back slowly, he peeks from behind a grey wall, and watches the guy kneel to the floor, as his eyes hastily starts leaking into tears, covering his face. Sitting on the floor, he uses his sleeve to wipe his right eye, as his nose and around his eye started getting puffy and red, from the tears. He coughs and holds his chest, as he buries his face into the sleeve of his forearm. Caleb, at this point, was unsure to what should be done or what he should do. He just stood there for a few moments, looking on. '' Should I go say something? Yes I should. But, what if someone sees me? No, I shouldn't. Why is this fag even here? Why does he look like that? I'm so confused right now...'', he'd mumble to himself, over and over, making literal body movement, forward and backwards, every time he agrees and disagrees to go look. Finally, he builds the courage, after seeing the guy, sit there, and cry as much. The guy leans forward, eyes still dripping, as he attempts to pick his books up. His tears dripped on something that splashed back to his face. With a sudden breath, he jolts up a bit, as he realises that it was a hand, on his book. '' Biology? Same class as me; only, I forgot this book. '', Caleb would softly mention in a low, whispery voice. '' Just freezing there, the guy refused to move for a moment out of shock. As he raised his head quickly to see who it was, his eyes widened, as he just stayed, knelt there, looking up in fear. '' I'm not going to hit you, dude. Haha, '' Caleb gently asures. '' Y-You're not? '', '' No, do you want me to? '', Caleb joked, as it went silent again. '' Uh, anyway. Are you okay?... '' Caleb asked. '' Yeah, I'm fine. '', the guy would reply, having Caleb kneel in front of him, picking up the books with him. '' You don't have to help; I'm fine. '', '' Ah, shush. '', Caleb softly joked, as he gathered the books, and helped the guy stand. '' Well, uh, what's your name? '', Caleb would ask, holding the books, over his. '' Oh; I'm August... '', the guy replied, airily, in a gentle, husky voice, as he held his throat. ''And, you're Caleb, I'm gussing. '', he'd mention, trying to sound a bit popular. '' Haha, yeah. I'm Caleb. Well, uh, we're both extremely late. We should get going, right? '', Caleb noted, while placing August's book in his arms, keeping back the Biology book. Pausing for a short second or two, '' Can I borrow this? ''. '' Oh, sure. '', August replied in a burst of panic, unsure to how to respond. '' Thanks '', Caleb masked, before taking off to class. '' Oh, wait! '', Exclaimed August, having Caleb turn around briskly, scaring August a bit, as he retreats, rephrasing in a softer tone, '' Hold on... '', '' Hmm? '', '' I don't really know where my class is or how to get there. '', '' Oh. '', '' Yeah... '', '' Well, that's a problem, hmm? '', Caleb replied, while he thought to himself and questioned how he was going to help, without anyone seeing. '' Ah, I'll help you find the school's office, alright? They'll help you from there. '', '' Thanks. '', August replied, softly, while he followed Caleb. '' There it is, right through those doors. Just ask at the desk for assistance. '', '' Okay, got it. '', '' Haha, alright, bye now. '', '' Bye. Haha '', they both chuckled as they departed. As Caleb walked to class, he looked at the ground with a smile, while he kept repeating what happened just now in his mind. Bushing his short hair once more, he'd laugh as he tried walking a bit faster to his class. '' God, I'm still shaken up. Why am I? And, why did that guy help me? '', August mumbles to himself as he makes his way to the front desk. '' Ah, hello? Is anyone here?. '', August would question, unnecessarily, seeing the people sitting there, ignoring his existence. '' Anyone? '', '' What do you want? And, why are you not in class? You are a student here, aren't you? '', one of the secretary asks. '' Oh, yes, I am. I'm new, but I can't really seem to find my class. ''. '' I'll just get the principal. She'll help you with a class. '', '' Alright, thanks '', '' Mhm. '', she replied with a sarcastic tone. Chapter 4; IDYLL '' Caleb? Why aren't you in class? '', questioned Mrs. Jasmin, in a firm voice. Mrs. Jasmin was Caleb's old teacher. She's an elderly teacher that's been teaching for years, and taught Caleb in multiple classes in the history of his school-life. She grew more so as a strict-playing mother to him. '' Oh, I just came a tad late... '', '' And, what's that on your chin, young man? '', '' Ah... '', '' Oh, her? '', '' Haha, nah'. This one was my fault. Shaving can be dangerous, kids. '' he'd tease, as they both shared a light chuckle. '' Be careful. '', '' Ah, I know. '', '' Alright, get to class now before I write you up. '', '' Alright '', Caleb would tease back, flashing his fingers in the air, in a sarcastic tone of voice. As Caleb reached the class's door, he expected everyone to somehow, know, that he helped a 'gay-guy', pick up his books. He was so new to the entire thing, and felt odd. Opening the door, finally, he walked in, sweating coldly, but to his surprise, no one even looked at him. Everyone was blissfully unaware, paying attention to class, and laughing to themselves to their own stupid jokes. They were passing notes and just enjoying their last year of high school. Knowing now, that they don't know, in some strange reasoning, Caleb walked in the most questionable way, possible, to his seat. He just sat there in suspense, looking left to right, gently clawing his teeth into his tongue. '' Boo! '', Debby screamed in a whispery tone, keeping her hands on his shoulder. '' Dude, jeez. What happened? '', '' Ah, I dunno'. You look like you've seen a ghost or something. ''. She'd joke, as she chewed on some gum, which was not allowed in school. '' Nothing. Haha. '', he replied, as he quickly opened his Biology book and started writing random things. With a curious mind, Debby runs her fingers along the side of the book, trying to seduce Caleb in a sense, before, finally grabbing it. '' Caleb, this book looks new. Where's all of your notes? '' Debby asked, flipping the pages. At this point, Caleb was about to surrender, putting his hands up and getting on his knees. He remembered, quicker than ever, that it was August's book. '' Shit, I forgot. It's Summer's book. Summer? Winter? Seriously? I've forgotten his name already? May. It's May, no, June, October? OH, IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT HIS NAME IS; IT'S HIS BOOK! '', Caleb argued with himself in his mind, taking a while in reality. '' Caleb? '', '' Hmm? Oh, that book. Well, see. That's a new book. '', '' Oh, new? '', '' Yes, new. I lost my old one and got a new one. '', '' Right, well Mr. Smartface, why'd you get a new one and we're at our ending class, anyway? '', '' Don't question my process, woman. '' he'd end. '' Alright, man. Haha. '' Debby would reply, as she quickly kissed Caleb, running back to her seat, next to him. '' Well, at least that's over with. '', Caleb would talk to himself, silently, as he ignored the teacher for his own thoughts, '' Why am I even panicing, anyway? ''. As Caleb sat, settling himself, he rocked back on his chair, putting his foot up on a small bar, on the bottom of the chair. As the words of the teacher started getting into his mind, he tried to figure the questions out, and remember things. Not too long, after he started settling down, he heard a bit of mumbling, by the class's door. While he squinted his eyes, trying to see what was going on, he saw a kid at the door, looking confused. the kid kept peeking in and walking back, then peeking again. At the moment when he realised that it was August, he nearly fell back, off of his chair. Gladly, no one noticed him nearly falling. He just sat forward, with his arms rest up against the table; sharpner in his left hand and pen in the right. '' He looks confused as hell. '' '' Am I going to help? Yes, yes I will. No, actually, no. But, he needs help. Oh, I'll just sit and wait. '', Caleb went back and forth in his mind. As time passed, August just stood outside the door, without budging. Breaking his vow, Caleb decided to go over to the door and help. As soon as he was about to stand, August opened the door, and stepped in. Caleb just sat back in his seat, quickly, before being noticed. '' Ever heard of knocking? '', Mr. Greg, the teacher, asked, before reaching forward for his drink. August just stood there, silently for a moment, looking back and forth, at the class and to the teacher, without moving his head. '' Are you going to talk? '', questioned Mr. Greg in a jaunty mood, as he sipped his drink. '' Yes, sir. '', August replied, singularly, with his hands clenched firmly on his books. '' Oh? '', Mr. Greg jokingly responded, in a high-pitched voice. '' Yes. '', August replied once more, leaving his replies, lesser and lesser of words, to which at a point, became quite amusing to the surrounding class. '' Well? Your presence in my classroom is because? '', he'd tease, raising his drink in an old-timely fashion. '' Well, sir, I was told that this was my new class... '', August would reply, being cut off by random scuffle and argument to the notion by the classroom. He'd turn his head back to the teacher, firmly keeping his eyes on him, trying his best to avoid visual contact with the class. '' The principal said that this was my new class... '', he'd get cut off, once more, as a paper ball hits him, directly in the face, having the entire class burst into a blazing laughter. '' Class! Keep it down, alright? '', Mr. Greg exclaimed, trying to contain them. '' So, the principal sent you here? Are you sure? '', '' Well, yes, sir. It's classroom B.6, isn't it? '', August questioned as he awkwardly tries to unravel the torn, little, white paper that he wrote the name of the classroom on. '' Yes, this is classroom B.6. Ah, just have a seat anywhere, alright? '', Mr. Greg replied, softly, as he angled his arm with the drink in it, pointing at the classroom. '' Oh, okay. '', replied August in a dubious tone. With his arms locked even more firmly around his books, he digs through the trash and garbage, having his head faced to the floor, in attempt to block any hits or things thrown towards him, while searching for a desk. Finding a dusty, old seat next to the wall, he exhales in relief, as he dives into it. Still not raising his head or looking at the class, he ignores their presence, while he tunes them out with the sound of his new teacher's voice. The noise of his other classmates grew so obstreperous, that he was forced to lay his head on the desk. At this point, Caleb kept looking back and forth at August, laying on the desk, unsure on how to react. August's mind just went a blur to everything, as the scuffling and mumbling, and giggling, started to increase, more than what it was, in his mind. Flashes of this morning to now, kept replaying, over and over, with the noise building to such a height, and his heart beating out of number, to where August was near a point of screaming or bursting out of the room, creating the final touches on the crescendo of it all, before the school's bell finally rings, having August hop up, scared to it, while the room went blank silent. August just looked around, and saw everyone packing their stuff in a rush, ignoring his presence. He thought that it was all in his head. He started grabbing his books once more, in his hand, and got up, beginning to walk to the door. '' Hey, where are you going, hen? '', '' What? Oh, I was just leaving. '', '' No, you stay there. Wait until real people leave. '', Blake blurted in an abhorrent manner, before pushing August by his chest. Blake stared at August in a disgustful way, before fixing his jacket, and leaving. August just sat there for a moment after Blake's leave, as he dug in his bag, trying to find a pill for his headache. Failing to find any, he realised that he'd probably left them at home. His eyes turned red. August quickly dropped his books in a panic, as he slammed his bag on the table, turning it upside down, looking in all directions to locate his medication. With a sigh of relief, he found one. August didn't realise that he had no water to drink it, though, until about a minute after he finished packing his stuff back in the bag. '' Oh God... '', he whimpered, '' Really? '', he'd question, no one in particular. August had no choice but to place the large pill in his mouth and swallow it dry. Not to long during his attempt, he choked, spitting it out in his hand. With his eyes, beginning to water from the taste of the pill, starting to dissolve on his tongue, and choking, he plopped his head backward, as he took his finger and forcibly shoved the pill down his throat. His face grew a few beads of sweat from the act and panic, but he was finally alright, once the pill was down and secure. '' Why are you still in class? '', '' Oh, I was just... '', '' Who are you? '', '' I'm August. I was just leaving, sir. '', '' But, why are you still here? '', '' I was just... '', '' Look, school's over and you need to leave. '', '' But, I was just about to... '', '' I said, leave. '', '' Okay, okay. '', August replied, confusingly to Mr. Greg. Mr. Greg stared at August in an odd way as August awkwardly left the room. He just snorted at August, before closing the classroom's door and walking in the opposite direction of August, to the Staff Room. August's bag slipped off his shoulder, and fell to his forearm. He flicked it up, back, quickly with his left hand, before walking out of the hallway, having the 3PM sunlight, hit his face. He easily dipped his head downward, letting his hair fall over his left eye, to his nose, blocking some of the sun. As August looked around at the quick-emptying parking lot and people leaving, he walked over to a nearby, shady tree and leaned against it, while taking out his wallet, finding some money for cab-fare to get back home. He gently placed his books on the grass as he counted the money. '' One, two, three, four, five, six, eight, nine... '', he'd stop himself, '' Wait, no. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, ten, eleven, '' he'd stop again, in frustration. '' Ugh, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. '', August ended, with a sigh of relief. He'd scratch his head while he mumbles to himself about his dyslexic mind. He'd always have problems with reading and interpreting letters, numbers and counting objects because of his dyslexia, but, in his mind, he doesn't have it. He ignores the existence of it, nor does he want to believe that he does. To him, he's just stupid and needed to work harder, more than he is already. He swiftly removed his glasses, as to where they laid on his head, left a wet print of sweat. Under the tree, a gentle wind started flowing, as the clouds eased over eachother, and over the vision of the sun. August rested his head back on the tree, looking up into the cool, green leaves as he watched them sway through the motion of wind. With the wind blowing over the beads of sweat on his forehead, his headache slowly started to ease, as the temperature gradually decreased. August sedately lowered himself, sitting on the soft grass, while he laid against the tree. As the light dimmed, August's eyes opened. He then rubbed his hand on his, now dry forehead, and sat up, as he collected his books and bag, once more. He braced himself o n the bark of the tree, while he lifted himself up, before dusting the back of his clothes from loose grass and leaves that might have stuck to him. August hastily walked over to the pavement, seeing less people standing there, from before. He waved his thumb around, trying to flag a taxicab, only to realise how much the cars ignored him. August stood there for a good while, maybe an hour, before finally getting one. The car was old and filled with dents and scratches. At this point, August had no say in if or not he'd be judgmental to the person's car. As he lowered his head, facing the car, he gave his address, and asked if the driver would be going that way. The driver, an old man, probably in his late fifties, giggled at the question, as he looked around at the area, seeing that August was alone, without anyone being with him. He nodded his head in approval with a warm smile, as he pat the front seat of his car, having it blow up a small amount of dust. August then opened the door, having it creak loudly, before slamming back. '' Ah, just pull it harder. It's an old door, that happens at times. '', the old man would mention in a jolly voice. '' Haha, alright. '', August replied, as he pulled it harder, attempting to go in. The door quickly close back, once more, as it hooked August's bag, pulling him against it. The old man laughed lightheartedly, as he leaned over, unhooking the bag, and opened the door himself. '' Get in quickly, boy '', he'd command in a husky voice. August smiled a bit before lowering his head, and sitting in the taxicab. With a puff of grey smoke, the old man flicked his gear, starting the taxicab on its way. '' So, who are you? I don't see you here often. Never saw you before, to be frank. '', The old guy would attempt to converse with August. '' Oh, I just moved here. And, I'm August '', August would reply. '' Oh? From where? You look quite different. I don't see much people like you around these neck of the woods. '', the old guy would state, as he flicked his cigarette out the window. '' What do you mean? '', August questioned, senselessly, for he knew exactly what the old-man meant. '' Haha, nothing. '', '' Nothing? '', '' It's nothing. Haha, just be careful, alright? '', the old man tried to say in the calmest way possible. '' Okay. '', August replied, lightly, as they both knew the meaning, but willingly avoided the topic. A solid five minutes past of awkward tension and silence, before August popped up with a question to break it. '' So, what's your name? '', August asked, breaking said silence, nearly scaring the old guy. '' Oh, I'm Mr. Hemreck. But, you can call me Denis for short. '', '' Denis? '', Yes, Denis. I hate when people call me Mr. Hemreck. It makes me feel old. '', Denis hissed, as they both burst into laughter. '' Oh, really now? '', '' Yes. I may be old, but you don't have to know it. Haha '', '' I guess not. '', '' Heck, I'm not even old. I can be like, twenty-five. You don't know. '', '' Oh, I'm pretty sure that you're not twenty-five...'' August would say in a funny manner. '' Who says? Haha. Hey, lemme' tell you. You're only as old as you feel. I feel like I'm young still. Time isn't going to stop me. '', Denis laughed, resting his right arm on his tummy. '' Oh, right around here. '', '' Around? '', '' Yeah, I'm not sure. '', '' You're not? When did you move in? '', '' Like, last night. Haha. '', '' Oh lord. You better learn your address young man, before you walk into the wrong house. '', they'd laugh once more. Denis stopped in a distance, not to a particular house, seeing that August's still confused. '' It's that one. I'm sure of it. '', August demanded. '' Sure, you're sure... '', Denis played in an iffy tone. '' Just stop here and you go find your house. Write on the door next time so you know. '', he'd joke. '' Alright, Mr. Denis. '', '' Ah-ah. No misters. '', '' Haha, alright then, ' Denis ' '', August would tease with air quotes. '' How much is it? '', August questioned as he took his wallet out, holding the ten dollars, counting them once more. Denis looked at August's hand with the ten dollars, seeing him count it, and looked back at August. '' Aye, no charge. '', '' No? '', '' Nah', it's fine. I'll give you this time free because you forgot your damn house. Haha. '', '' Aw, thanks. '', August replied in relief, knowing that he didn't have to count the money again, and give the wrong amount. '' Alright now, bye, August. '', '' Bye Mr. Denis '', '' Hey! '', Denis screamed in a playful manner as August ran to his home. Denis looked down and smiled for a bit, before starting the engine again, and taking off. '' Mum, I'm home! '', August yells in excitement. '' Stop talking like that! '', Kathy, replied in a disgusting tone, killing August's joy. He ignores it anyway, running up the stairs, tripping again. '' Not even going to comment. '', she'd remark as August giggled lightly to the harsh sense of humor and trotted up the stairs once more. Shoving his old, creaky door open, August ran in, full speed, tossing his bag on the floor as he dove into his bed, hitting his hands the pillow as he screamed into it out of excitement. August stayed there for a while, laying on the pillow, staring at the ceiling as he thought of his new friend, Denis. August didn't care much for his age or anything, but, more so to the fact that someone laughed with him. '' August, dinner's ready. '', Kathy assured, August. '' August? '', '' Hmm? Oh, I'm here. '', August blurted out with a smile, as he tries to break free of his cloud of happiness, and sink down into reality. '' Dinner's ready. '', she repeated. '' Oh, alright. Is dad coming home tonight? '', '' I don't think so. '', '' Oh. '', he'd respond in a softer, lower tone. '' He has more than one shifts. He'll be home soon. '', '' Alright '', they'd end the conversation. August got up, and walked into the bathroom, taking off his shirt, getting ready to take a bath. He splashed water on his face with his hands as he stared into the mirror with a smile that's unbreakable. He kept staring into the mirror as he wet his hair with the water, pulling it back, and holding it all to the side. '' A new friend. Haha '', he giggles with himself. '' I wonder if he's working tomorrow. I wonder when I'll see him again. '', he'd question with the smile still glaring. August's eyes slowly turned red, once more and his veins started showing at the side of his neck. August gradually froze, as his smile refused to end. Panicking, he tried to talk to call his mother, but his words never left. It was as if he's talking but the voice chooses not to sound. August hastily started falling to the floor, as his body started to refuse movement. Using his brain, he swiftly knocked some bottles off of the sink's counter, as he fell, having them break, making a loud noise. '' August? '', Kathy asked, from downstairs, as she heard the noise, looking around in a suspicious manner, but having no reply, she exclaimed in fright, '' AUGUST! ''. Kathy dropped her bottle of nail polish that she was painting her nails with as she bolted up the stairs, bursting to his room. With the door being jammed with his shoe, Kathy began to scream even harder as she started kicking the door until finally knocking it open. She looked around horridly, trying to find him, before noticing a stream of water, running from his bathroom's door. When she reached into the bathroom, August was laying on the floor without movement, with the sink overflowing, nearly covering his face with water. She quickly grabbed his arm, and dragged him out, trying with all of her might to carry him, being that he's taller than her, but only managed to reach him to the staircase. Kathy, at this point, was confused and screaming, trying to figure out how she's going to carry him downstairs and to a hospital when she has no car. She bursted out of the house, as she banged on the Asher's door - Caleb's parents -. '' Help! Someone, please help! '', she pleaded. Caleb's dad ran out, and grabbed Kathy firmly, trying to calm her down to understand what she was saying. Kathy could not speak. She just grabbed his arm and pulled him to her house, showing him August's body on the staircase. Michael, Caleb's dad, ripped the key off, out of his wallet and slammed it into her chest, as he ran up the stairs, trying to lift Caleb. Having the key slammed into her chest, with no words, she understood what he meant as she ran to his car and started it, driving it over, nearly knocking down a garbage bin. Caleb, through all of this, was out cold in sleep. Beth woke up and ran to the doorstep to witness what's happening. Michael nearly slid down the stairs from the water of August's body, while trying to reach the door. Beth ran down and opened the back door quickly, as she held August, pulling him in the car, while he laid on her lap. Kathy then got out and ran to the front seat, while Michael took the wheel, racing them to the nearest hospital. At the hospital, August was rushed on a gurney, strapped down, while other nurses prepped his head, putting an oxygen mask on his face, running with the gurney's movement. The doors slammed behind the gurney, keeping August's mum and Caleb's parents out. They all just sat outside, in a moment of silence and thoughts. Beth then grabbed Kathy's hand, along with Michael's, as they bowed their heads while she said a light prayer. '' And, God; please watch over her in the ER. Please put your hand over her head, heal her and let the light fix her. Don't let her be hurt '', she'd go on, for over a half-hour, before ending. '' How old is she? '', Beth asked, holding Kathy's hand. '' Well, seventeen. '', she'd reply in a lower volume. '' She's seventeen? But, she didn't come in yet? Late bloomer? '', Beth would question in an odd manner, gesturing at her breasts. '' No, it's a boy. His name's August. '', Kathy replied, turning her face. '' But, she doesn't have any muscles. I meant, 'he'. '', Beth would reason, looking back at Michael, then to Kathy. '' I know. '', Kathy responds, moving her hand away from Beth's, folding them, as she tried to keep herself warm. After about, two hours of silence, the doors were open. The doctor signaled them in, nodding his head. As they walked in one-by-one, they saw August, sitting on the bed with needles, an IV hooked up to both arms, and an oxygen mask over his face. He was still shirtless and somewhat wet, and his body soon began to shiver. The nurse moved the locks of ice-cold, wet hair, stuck together, in front of his face, and pulled them to the back, as she swirled them in a little washed-out blue towel, trying to dry them. '' Did he take his medication? '', the doctor asked, looking at everyone, not knowing which is the parent. Kathy raised her hand timidly, '' He did; well, I thought he did. ''. '' Well, mister... '', '' August. '', '' Right, Mr. August here, his heart disease is getting worse and he can't afford to be missing his medication for that and his diabetes medication, not to mention the insulin shots. We've found his files and he doesn't seem to be one hundred percent, per se. You can't afford to be missing these things. '' he warned, waving the papers. '' Yes, sir. '', Kathy'd respond as she reached over to August. '' Oh, no. We want to keep him here for a bit, '' her hands pulled back '' just to see how he'll react and what's going on. We're not keeping him overnight, but just for a few hours. Maybe, two or three? '', '' Oh, alright then. '', Michael would agree, in an understanding manner as placed his arm around Kathy's shoulder and walked her and Beth, both outside. '' Well, I'm just going to drop Beth home, okay? I'll come back for you and August in a few. Are you okay, waiting here? Or, do you want to come with us? '', Michael asked, as he stretched and folded up his sleeves. Knowing that she should just avoid time alone with them, she nodded her head and assured them that she'll be okay. Kathy gently dozed off, laying her head back on the cold hospital chair, while Michael and Beth drove left. With the car in eye's sight, Beth nudged Michael on the arm. As she reached the car, she wiped a bit of dew off of the window, creating a small circle, allowing her to see inside. '' What do you have to say about August? '', Beth asked in a rough manner. '' Well, I'm not sure. '', responded Michael, while they both got in the car and started on their way. '' It gave me the shivers when she said that it was a boy. It isn't right. '', '' Well, I mean, it looks like his body is like that. He looks so feeble and frail. '', '' No, and what about Caleb? Boys are supposed to have muscles. They're supposed to have strong shoulders, they're supposed to have strong belly's with abs. At his age, that's not right. '' she nagged in disgust. '' I guess so. '', Michael would slur. '' ...God's children. Boys should be boys, girls should be girls. '', she kept going on and on, while Michael agreed, tuning her out a bit with the radio while driving. '' I can honestly say that if that was my son, then I'd have no son. '', '' But, what if it was Caleb? '', '' It doesn't matter. '' Beth growled. With semi-loud cracking of stones under the tires, they pulled up at the driveway of their house. Beth sighed for a moment, '' What should we do? '', she questioned, running her unkept, short, bitten fingernails along the hem of her skirt. '' Hey, not out problem, remember? '', he'd respond lightly, placing his large hands on the steering wheel. '' I'd suppose. I just don't want 'it' around me or us, or, anything. '', '' Shh, just go and get some rest. Don't wait up for me, I don't know how long they'd take. I'll just go wait by a coffee shop. '', they agreed, before both waving and departing. Michael soon reached and eased his way into a parking lot at a nearby coffeehouse. He fixes his clothes and steps out, nearly stepping into a puddle, watching that one, not paying attention to the one in front of him. '' Crap '', he blurted, as he knelt over, rolling the damped edging of his pants up, tucking it in the back of his shoe. He then hissed at the puddle before storming into the coffeeshop. '' One coffee please, no cream, two sugar cubes. '', he orders, '' You've got it. '', the woman at the coffee shop assured in an annoying, pissed off sense of one, with a yawn, before making it. '' One cup, no cream, two cubes. '', she tiredly recited, handing him the coffee before walking back to her seat at the register to lay her tired head on the desk, only to doze off. Michael just sat there with the coffee in his hand, swirling the little spoon in it, as he just spaced out into thoughts. His mind kept racing in circles about August. He was unsure about it, but hated August. He thought that August was disgusting, but wasn't sure if it was because August was sick or if it was willingly. His body kept twitching while he thought over and over at August's appearance. His eyes just went into space, thinking of August's face and body and hair; he looked like a girl, but he also looked like a boy. '' Was he gay?... '', he'd question, in a whispery voice, trying not to allow anyone to hear, even though he's alone in the coffee shop with no one else in sight besides the sleeping waitress. He never met someone like this before, nonetheless touched one. '' What exactly happened? '', he'd sip his coffee. Realising that he'd spend more than a half-hour, there, he got up and slid the cup next to the sleeping waitress's head, and walked to the car. He silently started the car and slowly drove back to the hospital, to meet Kathy and August. As soon as he walked in, it was as if Kathy sensed it; her eyes opened immediately, and automatically, she stood. They both walked over to the doors and knocked, waiting on approval to enter. The doors opened and the doctor gave them a piece of written paper, to where he wrote a prescription, and stamped it. He then gestured them that they can leave. The both held August's arm around their necks, as the toted him to the car. Looking around like a wild animal, August jumped to the sound of Michael, rolling down the window to the car. '' Oh, you want it up? '', he'd ask, but August just stared at him in fear like a scared little, wet puppy. August didn't even know how he got there. '' Ha, up it is. '', Michael lightheartedly chuckled, as he sat at the wheel. While driving home, all August did was watch outside, and see the moving houses and colors, as he gradually started catching his senses and started thinking of his friend once more. He wasn't sure to what happened, but remembered that, that was the last thing he thought about before ending up, here, so August kept trying to change his mind, over and over out of fear. '' Alright, Ms. Kathy, are you guys okay from here? '', Michael asked, after reaching home and setting August safely on the sofa. '' Yeah, we're fine. '', she'd reply warmly. '' Okay, goodnight now. And, be safe. '', '' Thanks again, for helping. '', she softly spoke, while waving her hand, goodbye. While August slept, she shoved a towel under his head, and tried to dry his hair. August lightly woke up and looked at her. She slid his went pants off and got new, dry pajamas for him, resting it on the carpet. She gently turned August to the side and wiped a moist cotton on his lower bum, while she filled the syringe and flicked the needle. '' Just hold still, alright? '', Kathy asked in a soft, loving tone, as she tried to hold August's hand, for comfort, but instead, she held the area where he had the IV hooked up from earlier, and nearly ripped the bandaid off by accident. She apologized and moved her hand lower, and held him in care. August closed his eyes as hard as he could, as he bit his lip, with the oxygen mask over his face while the needle slowly entered his skin. He kept his eyes closed, and his forehead tense as she then pushed the syringe, and released the insulin. Kathy then rubbed it with the alcohol-absorbed cotton pad once more, having August fling his hips forward, moving from the sting. Kathy then helped him put on his pajamas, and laid him back on the sofa. She tucked his blanket over him and pet his head. Kathy just made her way to the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea. She sat in there until morning rose with it. Chapter 5; DELETERIOUS As the sun ascended, Kathy poured her cup of tea down the sink. She washed the cup roughly, in attempt to give her hands a pastime, while tossing little sprinkles of water on August, waking him up. Remembering Denis, August hopped up quickly and sped to the kitchen. '' Can I take these off? '', August whined, rubbing his fingers over the bandaids on his arms. '' Carefully '', Kathy growled, turning back and looking at him from washing her one cup. August dug his nails into the bandaids on his arms, wiggling them in, in attempt to claw them off. '' I told you about those nails. They look disgusting. '', '' Oh, mum. '', he laughed as he ran upstairs to his room. As he reached the top of his staircase, he gasped in shock, '' Mum, what happened to my bathroom? Why's it a mess? '', '' Ask yourself. '', Kathy snarled, as she climbed up the tiring stairs, to him, handing him a mop and broom. '' Was it that bad? '', he questioned, rubbing his arm. '' Next time, don't forget your medication! '', she'd yell, as she stormed back down the stairs. August swept the wet, broken bottles away and mopped behind it. After cleaning the bathroom, he turned on the shower and eased out of his pajamas, rubbing his bum with the insulin shot, still a bit swollen, before closing the door and stepping in. As he finished his shower, August turned knob off and stepped out. He coughed lightly, then brushed his wet hair back, and applied deodorant to his body. August stretched for a moment, still trying to warm and loosen the area up, where he got the insulin shot. While brushing his teeth, he stared into the mirror with a semi-angry face. He remembered this moment, as of earlier, to where he smiled in it, and ended up in the hospital. He just spat his mouth of minty foam out and reached for his glasses. August ran his wet hand on the new box of insulin, trying to find the edge, to open it. He briskly slid one of the bottles out and held it in the palm of his hands for a few moments, warming it, then started to roll it a bit being careful not to shake it, to avoid clumps. He then took the cap off and set it down. Ripping the packet for the syringe with his teeth, he flicked the needle's cap off, as he slowly pulled the plunger back, letting air in, to the equal amount of the insulin dosage that he needed. He then fixed his glasses and carefully inserted the needle into the bottle, and injected the air. Leaving the needle in the bottle, he turned it upside down, and pulled the plunger to fill the syringe with just a little more than the dose that he needs. He then pulls it out and taps the syringe with his finger, sending all possible air bubbles to the top, as he then pushes the plunger, squirting the excess amount out, along with the air bubbles. August then breathed out softly as he felt around his tummy for a loose area. Insulin's not supposed to be injected into the muscle, for it absorbs into the blood stream too fast. He settles on an area on his tummy, and pinches his soft skin, trying to pull it away from any possible muscles. With his right hand, he places the sharp, cold needle to his skin, and closes his eyes to the sight of injection. He quickly inserts it, as he bites his lip. He breathes slowly and counts to ten, ensuring that all of the insulin is inserted. August then removes the needle and throws it in the little bin to the side of the sink. He rubs the cotton pad over it and presses it there for a few seconds, before brushing it off and getting dressed. '' Mum, do you know where my bag is? '', he'd ask while running down the stairs. '' It was somewhere in your room, I believe. '', Kathy responded, while she began packing up the mess downstairs that was made the last night. '' Ugh, '', snorted August, as he ran back upstairs, looking for it. He found the bag behind the door, with all the books thrown about. '' Really? '', August sighed, packing the pens and papers back, which was scattered all over the floor. He ran downstairs speedily, nearly tripping again. '' August! '', Kathy'd yell at the sound of his accident. '' It's the stairs's fault! '', he'd joke, laughing at himself, with his mum, apparently not finding his humor. '' There's some food in the kitchen with your pills and other medication. You did take your shot, right? '', '' Yes, mum '', he'd whine. '' Good, now go in the kitchen and get your medication and breakfast. '' August lightly teased her before skipping into the kitchen. He devoured the sandwich in which she made, in such a manner, as if he hadn't eaten in years. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, '' Oh, mum! This is delicious! '', '' Stop talking like that! '', '' Sorry. '' he'd sigh, having his joy killed, once more. His voice is his voice and he always found it confusing and hurtful when she would force him to talk lower and deeper and make him into this built 'thing'. After he ate the sandwich, he shoved most of the pills in his mouth at once and swallowed with his orange juice. He then finished getting ready and came back for the rest, giving the pills time and spaces apart. '' Mum, I'm leaving. '', '' Did you get your bag? '', '' I did. '', '' Alright, go before you're late '', Kathy gestured at August with the blankets in her hand. August trotted outside to the pavement, as he searched for a spot and stood there in the misty, morning dew. There were really, no cars in sight. He stood there for a while, while everthing slowly started to take movement. The sun slowly started to take light to the roads and the fog and mist, slowly started to fade into the vision of the area. While August stood there, he randomly sat on an old bench near the road, somewhat a bus stop. No busses ever passed or stopped there. The bench was old and made of iron and concrete. The paint on the bench looks like they had a story as old as wars, itself, having chips and cracks everywhere. Half of the bench was in ruins. It was just broken and tarnished, but somehow, interested August. August started to cough, lightly, due to the coldness of the weather, but, it was as if it echoed. The place was so silent and empty that he heard his cough echo as loud as a monster's roar. '' Gee, that's loud '', he'd mumble to himself in his mind. August saw this time a good one to sketch something. He doesn't really enjoy drawing or anything, but, he doodles when he's bored. It's just a natural thing that happens that he really doesn't have much control of. August pulls out his little sketch pad from his bag and opens it. He gently runs his fingers through his soft hair, fluffing it a bit, to keep his face warm, while he tugs on the little yarn strings of his knitted hat, pulling it lower and lower. After fixing his warmth, he drew his pen and began on his doodles. With random winds keep blowing his hair in his face, he just pulls it to the right and tucks it. As the sun became even more prominent, cars eased their way in, one-by-one, not too long before multiple cars, driven by busy people, trying to get to work, took over. Caleb ended his little sketch while raising his head with squinted eyes, looking at the hustle of cars. He stood up and made his way to the pavement, no too long before flagging a taxicab, and getting a ride to school. '' One, two, three. Alright, here you go, sir. '', August handed the cab-fare with a smile, having the driver look back in confusion in somewhat a comical manner. Caleb hopped out of the car and scampered to the school's doors in the most delightful of moods. August totally ignored the existence of hate that he had or problems with the school; all he had on his mind was the ending of the day, the moment where he tries to find his friend once more. August fixed his knitted hat once more, before entering the compound. His smile turned everyone else's into a grimace. Their heads turned with his presence, as he walked passed them. August's dreamy mind gradually eased into non-existence, as he quickly sank back into reality. '' Mm, haha '', he awkwardly giggles in an undertone, while trying to make his way through the hateful crowd that kept building, more and more like smoke from a fire, just suffocating him. '' Excuse me '', he murmurs, sliding his hands through two girls who seemed to be like buildings next to him. '' No, excuse you. Don't touch me! '', one of them exclaimed, shoving him on his shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance. '' Yeah, don't touch her, or us. '', the other backed her up. '' Well, I just needed to get to class... '', August tried to explain in a soft voice which seemed to be fading into a whisper. '' Oh, shut up. Why are you in school? I don't think you deserve school. I don't think you deserve to be in our presence. '', the first girl, growls, while combing her shoulder-length, frizzy hair. August didn't know what to do, so he just stood there for a moment, looking at the floor or to the side, trying his best to avoid looking at them before they accuse him for not being worthy of seeing, now. The two girls stood there for a few seconds, chewing their gum before accusing him of being ugly, then leaving. August breathed out in relief, when he saw them walk away. He quietly picked up his pace to get to his class before anyone else notices him. His safty didn't really last long, when he slammed right into Blake's chest, falling to the floor, while running, with Blake standing there as a rock. Automatically, Blake kicked August's leg while on the floor, in anger, '' Watch where you're going, faggot! ''. Blake kept going, once more, as he gripped August by his shirt, lifting him up, ever so quickly, then shoving him again. August notices in the distance, Caleb walking by with Jasper, and completely tunes Blake out. As soon as Blake noticed August's ignorance, he smacked his cheek, '' Wake up, faggy. ''. While August was being slapped, Caleb took notice and pulled Jasper along with him, to witness. With August not saying a word, Blake got more and more angry. He twisted August's sweater even more firmly, having it pull tightly around his arm. '' Ah! Stop! '', August squeaked, closing his eyes tigtly in fear. '' Stop what, huh? Oh, this? You don't like that? '', Blake would tease, doing it harder. He tightened his grip and pulled August, bringing him close to his heated, red face. '' What're you going to do, faggy? '', he'd whisper in a monstrous manner, in August's ear. August just lost himself during the hold-up, as he looked at Caleb with his eyebrows raised at the front, and widned, glassed eyes, soon glaring red from the pain, waiting for Caleb to stop Blake. He kept staring at Caleb, waiting, and Caleb stared back as well, but in an oblivious way. '' Haha, hey, I'm gonna' go buy me a soda, alright? Coming? '', Jasper laughed, poking Caleb. He broke his eye contact with August, and laughed along with Jasper, walking away. He acted as if he never saw what was happening to August. August just stood there, being lifted by his shirt and having Blake insult him. He didn't understand what happened. He could not wrap his mind around why Caleb ignored him; he could not wrap his mind around why Caleb didn't stop Blake. He couldn't understand why he just became invisible. '' Fall asleep again, faggy?! '', Blake boomed as he scrambled at August's lower shirt, accidentally grabbing August's wound from the Insulin shot. August squirmed and kicked his feet, as he tried to get away from the grip. '' Stop! '', he yelled, trying to move Blake's hand from his tummy. '' Haha, oh you want me to stop? Alright then. '', Blake calmy teased, as he took his other hand and grabbed August's waist and squeezed it, before finally taking his fist and digging it into August's tummy, where he knew was injured. August's left leg flew back from impact, as he fell to his knees with his hands over his tummy. His eyes just saw blue and black for a moment, flashing over and over. All he could hear was the loud screech silence, as he took in the pain. Blake just walked off with his laughing friends, leaving August on the floor like that. August lifted his shirt and placed his little hands over the area where he was injured, and kept it there for a bit, trying to ease the pain. When he lifted his hands off, he saw it getting more and more, red, and having it feel like a heart was in it, beating as loud as trumpets. He quietly gathered his books once more and managed to make his way to class. August settled in his seat at the back of the class and opened his books, turning to the page instructed. '' Well, this seems alright. At least it's a bit safer now '', he'd whisper to himself, as he started to note the teacher's voice with his deep-purple pen. He's always been really fond of that pen, or purple in general. August was okay for a good few moments, writing the notes and finally being left alone, before being shot in the head, randomly, with wet spitballs. As he continued, another hit him. Snickering could just be heard from the back, raising, louder and louder. August refused, though, to turn and see the people that are doing it, nor to see the other people who enjoy having spitballs hit him, over and over. By the end of class, August darn well collected enough moist paper to build a sculpture. He just tried to dust them off and continue into his next class. By lunch, August, once more, skipped his meal. He did, this time, though, remember his medication and took it. He just left and went to a small opening at the back of the school and stood there until lunch was over. It was somewhat of a hideout in a sense that he found. It was an old messy place that no one ever goes to. He just used it as a hiding spot. The hideout was basically like, a forgotten supplies closet. After school, August waited for everyone to leave, as previously warned, and then left. The doors were heavy but never so light. He felt such a relief that the school's day has ended and he could go back home. He totally forgot about Denis for a while, before stepping outside and seeing the tree again. As soon as he saw the tree, he hopped and ran full-speed towards it, tossing his bag in the grass and hopping on it as well. This was the moment that he's been waiting for. '' Oh, Denis? '', he sang in his cheery mind, taking off his knitted hat and gloves, as he adjusted himself into the warmer atmosphere. '' Oh my. Where is he? '', August questioned, looking left to right at the road. '' Maybe if I close my eyes again, like last time, he'll show up. It's probably just the timing '', he mumbled in a relaxing voice. He sat there for a while, with closed eyes, waiting for Denis. '' How far are you?! '', he'd yell in his mind, at Denis. It didn't really take this long, last time. August just switched random positions, all over, having his feet on the tree, then standing, then using his bag as a pillow, just trying to wait. He remembered that he fell asleep, lightly, the last time, so to his odd mind, he tried to fall asleep. Obviously, this turned out to be an exceptional failure, because of August's excitement. He couldn't sleep at all. In the end, he just decided to take out his sketch pad and finish his doodle. He drew his pen once more, and began on it. '' Hey, kid! Need a ride? '', August popped up, ever so quickly, looking around, trying to see who said that. He looked past the car for over a minute, trying to find the person who said that, before catching his senses that, that was Denis's car. When he noticed, he literally jumped off of the grass, nearly hitting his head on a branch. '' Hey, watch it. '', Denis joked, as he reached over and opened the door that August found difficult. '' Oh, I'm fine, '' August replied, laughing along as he scratched the back of his head and walked over to the car. '' You took quite a while, today, huh? '', he playfully questioned as he bent down, fitting himself into the car. '' Aren't those your books? '', Denis questioned, pointing under the tree. '' Oh! Yes it is. '', August blurted, handing Denis his bag and bolting out the car to pick them up. '' What's that? '', Denis questioned, handing the bag back, with his eyes caught on the book on top of the rest. '' Oh, it's my sketch pad. Haha. '', '' Sketch pad? '', '' Yeah, or Sketchbook. It's just a little book that I doodle in when I'm bored '', '' Oh, you did that? '', he'd ask, while taking the book, seemingly permitted. '' Well, yeah. I don't really like drawing, per se, but I just do it when I have time. It's like, I don't know. It just happens. '', August'd try to explain himself. '' Who's this? '', Denis would question, rubbing his wrinkly fingers on top of the page, feeling the print of the pen's strokes and marks. '' Ah... '', '' Who is it? Haha, it looks like me. '' he laughed. '' Well, it is. '', August admitted, turning his face a bit, while Denis looked at him with a wrinkly smile, showing some of his missing teeth. '' Oh, it's me? '', he questioned pointlessly, as he looked back at the book and rubbed his fingers on the ridges of the words, '' BestFriends '', which were joined together at the bottom of his picture, like art. '' Well, I mean, this guy looks a it older than me, I'd admit. '', he commented, having the silence broken, as they both laughed loudly. '' Well, you know. You're only as old as you feel, right? '', '' Right! '', they both blew into laughter once more. '' But, best friend? What about your other friends? I'm sure, old me, I'm not the best. '', '' Ah, you're not old. '', August giggled, taking off Denis's hat and wearing it. '' And, well, I'm not; I mean... '', he struggles, '' I don't have any friends. ''. '' Nonsense! Fellow like you, no friends? '' Denis exlaimed, trying to lighten the moment. '' Eh, they don't really like me here, though. '', August sighed, lifting up his shirt, showing the marks on his body, letting them speak for itself. Knowing exactly what happened, Denis just rubbed his right hand over it and gently dusted it off, as if it had any dust to begin with. He added no comment, nor did he engage in the topic, for he knew that either way, they'll both not want to talk about it. He softly rubbed his thumb finger on it and put the shirt back down. '' Well, we should get going. We're still parked in the road. Haha '', they both timidly laughed, as he turned the key and started the car on its way. '' Remember your house this time? '', Denis lightheartedly questioned, as they neared the residence. '' Haha, I do. Don't worry. It's, there. Wait, no, there. '', '' Look, I'll just stop outside here from now on. I won't ask. Haha '', Denis teased. He smiled widely, and pat August's back, goodbye, before having August leave. While August waved and scampered his way over to his house, Denis stood in the car and looked from the distance, with the same smile, still prevalent. He sighed after a while, and placed his foot on the peddle. Without anymore tie wasted, he drove off. Chapter 6; NARCOLEPSY '' I wonder what happened to him... '' Caleb's mind circled the day's events. As he layed in his bed, his hands rose to his head, as he brushed the short hair, once more. He kept looking at the empty space between his eyes and the ceiling; it was as if he was staring at the ceiling, but not, so, it settled in the middle vision, while everything else went out of focus. He then used his right hand to rest and grip the ruffles of the bed sheet, pulling himself up, sitting with his legs crossed. The thoughts in his mind just left his body in awe, for his mind was in another place. He kept questioning to if or not he was okay, and what happened. He left before anything ended, which was the reason to his worries. He had no idea to what took place, after he left. He soon started to be angry with himself, and swear at himself in his mind, blaming everything on him, because, he ignored and never stopped Blake or said anything. It's not that he didn't want to or tried to; because, he did. His mind was blown into different areas in the actual events, to if or not he should help or just watch or leave. He was still scared of helping August, and to what other people would think. He didn't want the target of August to be placed on him, or have them think that he 'helps' a fag. The way that August was treated in general, scared Caleb so much. It was too much for him. He cared and wanted to help, but this was just not helping. '' Caleb? Are you coming down? Dinner's ready. '', Michael questioned at the door, noticing that something was on Caleb's mind. '' Sure, I'll be there soon. '', Caleb replied, in a questionable tone, as he hopped off of the bed and pulled the fabric, making the surface of the bed, smooth again. He walked in heavy, clanking footsteps to the bathroom. He yawned and stretched, and pulled the zipper of his pants, down, and rolled his head back, with closed eyes, as he started to urinate. His dad just stood at the door for a moment, listening, and thinking to himself. Since Caleb got home, he's been acting suspicious, like if he killed someone or something. It just wasn't like Caleb, and this worried him. '' Something's wrong. Caleb's never spaced out like this... '' he mumbles to himself, folding up the sleeves of his light green, undershirt that he wears for his work suit. He just looked at the door for a moment more, then nodded his head, thinking that it was nothing, and he probably just had it in his mind. As he shoves his weight on the door, to lightly push off and leave, Caleb opened it, having him nearly fall. '' What the; dad? '', Caleb questions in  a shocking/confusing way. '' Yes? '', '' Were you there the entire time? '', '' Oh, no. I just came up to get you and... '', '' And, what? You just decided to sniff my door? Haha '', '' Sure, let's say that. Haha. '', they both burst into laughter. '' But, your mother has dinner ready. We should get going. '', he softly reminds, gesturing to the stairs. Caleb nodded and followed, laughing still, lightly along with his dad. '' Well, you two seem to be in quite a delightful mood. '', Beth teases, while sweeping the floor. '' Ah, I guess. '', Michael noted, patting Caleb's shoulder. They all sat by their table and began on their meal, after Michael's prayer. '' So, how was your day, Michael? '', Beth weakly started the dinner conversation, digging the spikes of her fork into little strips of chicken that was served with the noodles she made. '' Oh, it was alright. They're talking about a strike again, and I can't really deal with that, though, '' he follows, '' I'm really not into the striking and fighting. ''. '' Well, you know what you have to do. Striking is an ungodly thing; you just stay away. For instance, for me, today, I fell asleep and had a dream. The dream was very well, actually, but, around the middle of the dream, there was a gay person. Ugh. '', she put her fork down, twisting her face. '' I enjoyed the dream, but as soon as that happened, I forced myself awake. God, it's like, you can't get away from them these days. '', she'd end, picking up her fork, giggling a bit, as she picked up another strip of chicken, twirling it with the wet noodles, '' And, you should see her. She had a shaved head and a drawn-on beard. ''. They both chuckled a bit, having Caleb awkwardly laugh along, as sweat visibly runs down his forehead. He didn't know if they knew August, or had any idea of him. He surely, at this point, didn't want them to know that he talked to him. '' Haha, a shaved head? '', Caleb tries to relate. '' Yes! '', Beth bursted into laughter. '' But, gay girls are bad as well? '', Caleb questioned, quickly eating his dinner, faster, realising what he'd just asked. The entire dinner table paused, and quietude went rampant. Caleb just froze with his fork to his mouth, and his jaw opened, in the motion of eating. He slowly moved the fork away, back to the plate. '' What happened? '', he questioned, looking at both of them, having them stare directly back. '' Caleb, all gays are bad. '' Beth stated in a soft, rude-intended voice, tilting her head. '' What kind of question is that? '', she continued, sitting back. '' Oh, I don't know. It was just a question. '', he tries to save himself. '' Caleb, you shouldn't be asking that question. You were raised in the church of God, and you should know to yourself that all gays are bad and should be put to death or forgotten. They're nasty people. They really don't deserve anything. '', she went on. '' Alright, alright. It's just a question, Beth. He probably meant it as a joke. '' Michael stepped in. '' A joke? Was it a joke, Caleb? '', she asked, in more of a light way. '' Ah, sure. It was a joke. Haha, you thought that I was serious. '', he played along, laughing lightly. '' Well, you shouldn't be joking about things like this, alright? This is a serious thing. '', she finished, looking at him for over a minute, before smiling and turning into laughter as well. '' Now, finish your dinner. '', she joked, as they all went back into their dinners. After dinner, Caleb took all the dishes and toted them to the sink, scraping the excess leftovers into a little bowl, that's used to give stray dogs in the village. He then lightly rinsed the dishes and trotted up to his room. '' Jeez, that was interesting. '', Caleb sighed, taking off his shirt as he dove his face into his pillows. After a while, Caleb rose and sat by the wall, pulling his feet to his chest, with his blanket over him. He couldn't sleep, and, his mind just won't go to rest on the subject. Time past, while still sitting in the same position. The room grew rather warm, for some reason, which pushed Caleb to just throw the blank et on the floor. After a few more minutes, Caleb just climbed off of the bed and walked around his room, searching in the dark for his backpack. He roughly pulled out a little grey-brown book which was his diary, and a pen, from the bag and followed the light of his window. He always keeps a diary, and, writes in it at the end of every day, specifically. Since he started, to now, he's never missed a day. It's just a way for him to get things out and to be more aware of stuff. He never really questioned himself, to why he keeps it, but, he just does. It's his unconscious habit that's stuck. The window creeks softly, while being pushed open. Caleb climbed out, gripping his feet on the roof, before reaching his arms on a long tree branch that reaches from his house to the other. He uses it as a safety object, so that he doesn't fall, when he comes out at night, to sit there and have his time alone from everyone. The tree barely moves when he's on it, showing the strength. The tree's an old tree that's been there for years, before he was even born. Him and his friends, as a kid, used to climb from the bottom, to the top, playing and carving their names into it, making little houses, everything possible, that a kid could think to do with a tree. Caleb slowly took his book out of his baggy pajama pant's pocket, resting it on the little branch, as he lifted his right leg up, crossing it on the tree, acting like a table. His mind then went at ease, as the cold wind of the night blew on his semi-sweaty back, and through the small strokes of his short hair, for, he was in his own place of comfort. It was as if he didn't feel comfortable much, in that moment, in his room or 'their' house. The sharp clinking of an object was heard, having him take notice, in half his writing. He ignored and continued his notes to his diary. As the wind blew once more, he heard it again, sounding like a wind charm, and then breathing or laughing, with it. At this point, he was quite concerned, and wanted to know where it came from. He then hooked the edge of the pen on the diary, shoving it back in his pocket as a treasure, and straightened his back, looking around for this noise. His eyes squinted, trying to see through the cool, thick blue light of the night, and the little flying gnats that formed little circles in the air. His eyes focused on a tiny glare. As he further looked, he saw the form of someone, sitting on their windowsill, their back facing him, and playing with a charm bracelet. Caleb automatically knocked himself back, nearly screaming out loud and falling off, for, he never had anyone with him on his tree or his little rooftop, hideaway. He slipped off of the branch, kneeling on the roof, as low as he could, as he kept staring, trying to figure out who this person was. It looked weird, and he just doesn't recall anyone like that.  '' Oh, the new neighbours! '', he exclaimed in a whispery tone, having the person, notice and turn around. Caleb just hung onto the branch, and went even lower, under vision. He stayed there for a bit, listening to hear a movement of some sort, but didn't. After a few minutes, his arms couldn't take it much more, so he pulled himself up, hooking his leg on the branch, his book nearly falling, once more. With a flick of movement, he tossed the book inside, and looked back to see if the person was still there. He didn't see anyone, but didn't take the chance of staying, so he made his way back inside, and immediately fell asleep. After his hours of bother, and time taken, to go to sleep, he just did, but, this sleep didn't last very long, for the morning rose in less than two hours. '' Caleb, time for school! '', Beth knocked on his door, having Caleb fall out of bed, eyes red and looking like a tired-mess. '' Caleb, hurry up. '', she banged again, before wiping her hands on her old, raggy skirt that she wore as a dress, before trotting downstairs. Caleb twisted his head, quickly, as it made a cracking sound and yawned, as he helped himself up, to his feet to go prepare himself for school.                                                                                                                                                       Chapter 7; INSOMNIA August, wake u... '', Kathy cuts herself off, noticing August, already woken up, sitting on his bed, '' You're up already? ''. '' Yes, mum. '', he replied, in a non-related tone. '' Oh, well, go get dressed. '', she softly suggested, before leaving. August still had his smile, oddly. He couldn't help himself, and couldn't wait to go, get through the day, so he could catch a ride with Denis, again. Once more, he'd forgotten the roughness that the day held. He more so ignored it. After taking his insulin shot, he moved downstairs, to get breakfast. '' August, have a seat. '', Kathy stopped him, pointing to the kitchen table's stool. '' Sure, what's wrong? '', he questioned. '' Well, how's school? '', '' Oh, it's awesome. '', he replied, keeping everything inside, just for safety reasons. He knew that if she knew that he was being treated differently, it'll just make things worse. He has enough problems at school about his difference, and needed less at home. Plus, he didn't want to lose Denis. It's his main reason for school, at this point. He just needs his friend. '' Are you sure? '', '' Oh, yes I am. It's all good. Don't even worry about it. Haha. '', he finishes, as he grabs his breakfast muffin and leaves the kitchen to find his jacket. '' Ah, there you are. '', he softly talks to himself, 'pon finding the jacket. He quickly grabbed and packed his bag, holding a few books in his arms, instead of in the bag. As he rose up, he saw that his window was still open, so he went to close it, stopping for a few moments at it, looking outside at the tree and the branches, wondering what happened last night and what it was that he heard. '' Eh. '', he sighed, before closing it and walking down to the door. '' Mum, leaving now. '', '' Alright, bye. '' she walked to the door with him and watched until he caught a car to school. Before getting in the car, August waved like a child at his mum, and Kathy, pausing for a bit in question, hesitated, but waved back, breaking into a smile. Publication Date: September 16th 2013 https://www.bookrix.com/-pm4d27cfc456325

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-chalen-d-keep-quiet/

Chalen D. Keep quiet What the hall happened PROLOUGE There's this thing inside of me that i can't name. irrataion is just another word that goes along with confusion. i can't tell you what it is, perhaps it's a little too dark for words. you say you understand, but it's just another unknown lie, that you placed inside of my mind. i can't explain what happens in my mind, it's just one major mees that i can't sourt through. Acusion come to mind, only when i think of you. lies and torrment, run through my mind, only stopping to remind me of the things, i can't get out of my mind. voices tell me that i'm not good enough and i should just give up already, but i know i'm better than that and i continue to go forward. No one knows the things i carry around with me, it's just a little painfull to say. so many people for just one mind and they all want to make themselfes known. i think i'm not worthy and hide myself away, i can't get close to people, cause i don't want to drag them down with me. My life is a downward spiral with no meaning to stop anytime soon. with all these things runing through my mind i think i might just yell! i'll never let people see inside, i'm afriad that they'll run away and hide. if i could run away from myself i would. i lay awake at night with all my thoughts. doing the things i love help keep me alive. i'm a troubled girl, that won't face the truth. there's something wrong with me. all my life, being different has gotten me beaten black and blue. i shut out knew faces, afraid of the things that they can do. something is wrong with me and i don't want to face it but have to. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ i looked up from my spot on my bed at my mom. she had her hands on her hips, and her mouth was moving like no tomorrow. "huh?" i asked, taking out my earphones. "i asked you to get the clothes out of the dryer." she said. "you did?" i asked. "yes." she said. "what'd i say?" i asked. "you said, you where on it remember?" she said. "nope." i said. i got up and went to the lundry room. "i swear it's like i'm talking to different people, and then another person takes over and she doesn't even remember." my mom told my step dad. "well maybe she needs help." he said. "the same way you need to get a wig that maches your eyebrow color?" i asked, to myself. "what do you mean?" she asked. "well, maybe she has a personality disorder." he said. i put the clothes basket by my mom. she looked up and smlied. "next time you want to talk shit about someone make sure they can't hear you." i said. "language." my mom said. "my language is english, and this mother fucker don't know about anything i went through." i said. i left the room. "i'm sorry." my mom said. "she's a teenager i get it." he said. i hit the wall. "don't hit things when your mad, i bought you a punching bag for a reson." she said. "yeah, and the first chance i get i'll print out a picture of darren and beat the shit out of it." i said, running up stairs. "i'm sorry." my mom said. i paced my room. i blasted a paramore song and was calm. i went down stairs and got a soda. "maybelle." darren said. "what?" i said, poping a grape into my mouth. "can we talk?" he asked. "i'm listening." i said. "i was talking with your mother and we think that you could use some help." he said. i took a drink of soda. "well i think that you need to put on some deodrant, but do you see me saying that? no." i said. "maybelle, be nice." my mom said. "we think maybe we should get you help and move to california, there's a great school, that deals with people like you." she said. "people like me." i said. "yes. just think it over." she said. "is it like a school, where i stay in a doorm room?" i asked. "yes." she said. "so in other words, a loney bin." i said. "it's called a mental ward, and no, this is like a thearapy home for teens." darren said. "look i already called, and told them about you and they said, they know what's wrong with you they want to help." he said. "you had no right to do that. you don't know me!" i screamed. "maybelle." my mom said. "you know what fine, let's go." i said. i tossed the keys on the table. "let's go get up." i said. "you want to get rid of me so lets go." i said. "maybelle, i don't want to get rid of you but you've changed." she said. "i changed after he came!" i said. "now that's not fair maybelle and you know it." she said. "i'm going to pack my bags." i said. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ i sat in a small office sandwiched between my mom and darren, across the desk was a man in a gray suit and a woman in a yellow dress. mom and darren where listening closly to them, while i picked at my finger nails. "maybelle?" the man asked. "oh what?" i asked. "did you hear anything i said?" he asked. "no. i wasn't listening." i siad. instead of getting mad he just asked. "what where you thinking about?" "food." i said. the woman smiled. "i'll take you to the mess hall. while, jack finishes up with your parents." she said. "i think you'll like it here maybelle." she said. if this was a school then i'd love to see what a prison is. black iron gates incricled the school, with point's sharp enough to do some major cutting. kids sat on tables with trays of food. some where overly happy and some looked so depressed that i actualy felt bad for them. which is something i don't do. ever. others seemed to look out into space, not even touching their food, while others talked and yelled at themselfs. i would probably be one of the kids that sat under a tree alone. faith, the girl, sat with me the first lunch. "so have you ever tryed to kill yourself?" she asked. i stared at her. "just trying to get you the proper help." she said. "yes." i said. a couple of heads turned to me, with truly pleased faces. "how?" she asked. i lowered my voice. "i held a knife up to my chest, and then when i realized what i was doing a tossed it." i said. it happened when my parents got a dicorce, and my mom got coustody of me. she nodded. "why don't i show you your room?" she said, as i finished. i nodded and stood. as we walked by a guy raised his fist and i bumped it with mine. we went to the room, faith opened the door. a girl looked up and rolled her eyes. "this is your room i'll send you your clothes." she said walking away. "how hard is it to close a damn door?" the girl yelled. she tugged the head phones out of her ears. and flew off her bed to shut the door. she was semi pale with green eyes and brown/blonde hair. i layed on my bed. i felt like i was being watched. i looked over at the girl. "what the fuck are you looking at?" i asked. she smiled. "i'm lucinda, call me luce." she said. "maybelle, call me belle." i said. the door opened, and faith put my things on my bed, and left. "shut the door!" luce yelled. the door shut and she relaxed. i put my clothes away, and pulled out my lap top. every student got issued one, as soon as they where inrolled. "so, meet any friends yet?" she asked. "no. and i'd like to keep it that way." i said. "well, welcome to hell." she said, with a semi smile. "look just don't touch my shit, and we'll get by just fine." i said. "cool, we have the same view." she said, putting her head phones back on. luce was pretty, her hair was braided down her right side. mine was pulled into a slopy bun. she wore black strech pants and a white tank top. i wore a black long sleaved shirt and jeans. i changed into a black shirt and shorts and sat on my bed. a knock sounded and the door opened. "did i tell you to come in?" luce asked, taking out her head phones. "relax luce. there's this party tonight at my place. you in?" a guy said. "yeah." she said. "you come to new girl." he said. "it's maybelle." i said. "cool, see you there, belle, by luce." he said. "by luke." she said. he shut the door and i layed back. "i don't like it when people look at me." i said. she laughed at me. "how do you know?" she asked. "i can feel it." i said. "your creepy." she said. "aren't we all though?" i asked. "right you are." she said. A gong went off. "what's that?" i asked. she sliped her feet into flipflops. "dinner gong, come on." she said. we all got food and separated into groups. "come sit with me." luce said, noding her head to a table under a oak tree. i followed her. scince she was my room mate i thought it would be okay to hang with her. she set her tray on the table and brushed orange and brown leaves off of the bench. i did the same and then sat down. luke joined us with the kid i bumped fists with. "so is there anything you guys need?" luke asked. "what do you mean?" i asked. "once your here there's no contact with the outside world, wich means, if you want something you come to me. what ever you need, no questions asked." he said. "i'm good." luce said, taking a bite of her grilled cheese. a good thing about the school was the food actualy tasted like food. "i'm fine." i said. "k just tell me belle, i've got your back." he said. the boy never took his eyes off of me scince they sat down. "that's gabe he stares a lot but he's tottaly bitching." luce said. she reached across the table and they bumped fists. we ate in scilence for a mintue cause a gaurd was walking around by our table. "he irratates me." luce said. "everyone irratates you." luke said. he took a rubber band off of his rist and pulled his long braids into a pony tail. "not everyone." luce objected. "ok." luke said, taking a bite of his potato salad. "i don't like to be stared at." i said. gabe looked down pulling his water bottle to him, he rested his chin on the cap. i touched his arm. "i'm sorry." i said. that's new. he offered a shy smile, and then picked up a fry. after dinner, we where given an hour in the bathroom before bed. we got ready and waited in bed. at midnight we snuck out. luce put her finger to her mouth and then started to point out cammras. i followed in her foot steps untill we where at luke's. we walked in. for a small space there sure where a lot of people. luke was in the midle of a anamaited story, throwing and waving his hands in the air, while his audiance, was doubbled over laughing. he quikly waved to us and went back to his story. luce went over to the snack table, and i looked around. my eyes met with a boy standing in the corner. he wore all black. he had rather dirty blonde hair or light brown. he smiled softly and then disapeared. i sat down with the rest of luke's audiance but didn't really pay atention. once the party thined out i went back to my room. luce flopped on her bed and fell asleep. i crawled under the covers and closed my eyes. i woke up and looked at the clock. 3:11. "belle?" luce asked. "yeah?" i said. she continued to look at the roof. "do you ever wonder if you've been adopted cause your so different from your family?" she asked. "yeah," i said, pulling my arms out of the blanket. "me too." she said. "sometimes i used to pretend that my real parents are coming for me." she said. "yeah? how's that working out for you, luce?" i asked. "it's just fantisy, belle." she said. she sat up. "want to sneek down to the kitchen and make some hot coco?" she asked. "sure." i said. we put pillows in our place and went to the kitchen. after we made the hot coco, we went to the lounge where a fire was still lit. i looked out the window where little snow flakes began to fall. " how long have you been here?" i asked. "scince the ninth grade." she said. i took a drink. we drank the coco, and then snuck back to our room. we got ready for the day, and went to the mess hall. we got our food and sat with luke and gabe. we bumped fists with gabe. "so, why wasn't i invited to your little pow wow?" luke asked. "huh?" luce and i asked. "little lucinda and maybelle, best friends." he said. " you could of came and sat with us instead of just watching, you freak." i said. luce and gabe laughed. yes he laughed. a gaurd walked by. i looked back to the mess hall, and watched the camras move. so they where mostion actavated. jack came over and sat down. "hey kids." he said. "hey, jack," luke said. gabe nodded and luce waved. "so, you guys being cool, too maybelle?" he asked. "yeah, man, she's cool." luke said. he brang out a leather box. luce scooted away from me, and the boys looked down. he opened it, and i saw a black leather band. "for the first week your here, you have to wear this. it tracks your process and sees where you are. if you freak out or get into a fight with someone, it shocks you." jack said. he picked it up, and i held out my wrist. he snaped it in place. "if you try to take it off it will also shock you." he said. he closed the box smiled and left. i stared at the leather band. "don't get to angry or it will go off." luce said. "it you hit something it will go off." luke said. "can they do this?"i asked. "no one said, they couldn't." luce said. i looked up and came eye to eye with the boy, brown hair and light brown eyes, which looked warm. i looked down. "look you might want to stay away. from andy." gabe said. we all looked at him. "just saying." he said. "he's crazy belle, stay away." luke said, putting a couple of braids behind his ear. "thanks." i said. snow had covered everything, making us have to push the snow off the benches and tables frezzing our fingers in the process. the trees where leaveless, and the sky was a odd gray. "Maybelle, Monroe, come to the front office please." a speaker said. i picked up my bag. "i'll bring your food back to the room." luce said. i thanked her and walked to the front office. a woman pointed to a door, and i went in. A woman with red hair maybe 40 sat in a chair. "maybelle, sit please." she said. she turned her back on me and continued to talk on the phone. as i sat down i saw my file. 'mother claims talking to maybelle is like talking to a wall at points.' below it where severil manetal deseases. one was circled in red pen. Schizophrenia (/ˌskɪtsɵˈfrɛniə/ or /ˌskɪtsɵˈfriːniə/) is a mental disorder characterized by a breakdown of thought processes and by poor emotional responsiveness.[1] It most commonly manifests itself as auditory hallucinations, paranoid or bizarre delusions, or disorganized speech and thinking, and it is accompanied by significant social or occupational dysfunction. The onset of symptoms typically occurs in young adulthood, with a global lifetime prevalence of about 0.3–0.7%.[2] Diagnosis is based on observed behavior and the patient's reported experiences. the woman spun around in her chairand i flew back onto the leather couch. " hi i'm maggie. i'll be dealing with your case." she said. "am i crazy?" i asked. "of course you aren't." she said. "sometimes i think i am." i said. she grabbed a note book and a pen. "why?" she asked. "cause my mom says i am." i said. "when you hear something non stop it kinda gets burned into your brain." i said. "how does that make you feel?" she asked. "confused." i said. "why?" she asked. "when people say they're confused it means they don't know." i said. she smiled, which only made me mad, and wrote something. "do you think people are out to get you?" she asked. i nodded. "sometimes, and sometimes i think people can read my mind, but then i remind myself that, that stuff doesn't really happen." i said. "good." she said. "is there something wrong with me?" i asked. " your differnt then others." she said. i looked at my hands. different. the word i hated the most. "why are you silent?" she asked. silent. the second word i hated the most. i shrugged my shoulders. "every monday wedsday and sunday, i want you to come see me, thoughs will be your tharapy days." she said. i nodded, picked up my bag and left. the boy with light brown hair stood from a bench and went into the room. i went to my room and ate the rest of my food. i walked around and saw a music room, i looked in and saw gabe. he and an acustic guitar pluged into a amp. i went into the room, quietly. he sat on a chair and played the guitar. "love of mine one day you will die, but i'll be close behind. i'll follow you into the dark," he sang. his voice was like gold, his playing godliy. i was in complete awe. he sang the rest of the song and jumped into another. i quietly left the room, and went to the pool area. it was in door and the roof was made of glass. luce lay on a chaise sun bathing. i walked over and sat in the chair next to her. "hey, belle." she said. "hey luce." i said. my mind went back to how gabe skillfully held and played the guitar. "you know not everyone is crazy that goes here." she said, interrupting my thoughts. "yeah?" i asked. "yep." she said, putting head phones into her ears. i went back to my room layed on my bed put in some ear phones and blasted music. i opened my eyes as the door opened. i sat up and went to the door. the hall was empty. i looked down and saw a blue flolded pice of paper. i picked it up, and read it. ~O~O~O~O~O~O~ you're not crazy. if only you knew the truth, just hang in there for awhile longer, and i'll explain everything. ~O~O~O~O~O~O~ i closed my door, and sat on my bed. i kept reading the note. luce came in with wet hair and a towle. "i'm going to lukes room, he need me for something." she said, with an eye roll. i got irratated with the note. i focused my anger on a wall mirror. it started to shake and then it flew off the wall and across the room. i stood up. "i'm not crazy i'm not crazy!" i said. i ran from my room, not closing the door. i ran down the hall around the courner and into andy's arms. he tightened his arms around me. "it's ok." he said. i didn't even know him, but i felt safer than i've ever been. i hid my face in his leater jaket. he held me at arms length. "what happened?" he asked. "i'm not crazy." i said. "i know you're not, may, what happened?" he said. "why'd you call me may?" i asked. he looked confused. "Only my brother called me that." i said i backed away from him. "í thought you go by may." he said. "i go by belle. never may." i said. i walked away from him. i went to the lounge. "there you are i was looking for you. you have mail." jack said. "thanks." i said. i looked at the address and ripped it open. i unfolded the letter and a golden charm braclet fell out. ~O~O~O~O~O~O~ MAY! i heard about them sending you to that school. what kind of parent does that? i miss you, and think about you every single day. what the hell am i supoused to to in forks with out my PIC? we turn 18 in 6 months and i promise i'm coming to get you. i have this website called chat n' meet. you can talk to freinds and meet new freinds, it's going really well. i made you an account so we could talk. your email is Maymonroeisawsome@ yahoo.com. your pass word is, mayandjonahforever. i sure do miss you sis. a lot. get on soon so we can talk. there's also a video chat. damn, i wish i was there to save you, what kinda big twin am i? i know i know, your probably saying that it wasn't my fault and there was nothing you could do. you are saying that right? hahaha! i love you may, can't wait to talk to you. when we turn 18 where going to leave, i promise. i'm kinda rich know. not to brag or anything. untill then ask me for anything you want. i reaserched the school, and it says i can send you what ever i want, as long as it's something that wont interfere with your recovery. Listen to me Maybelle, you are not crazy. mom and darren just don't get you. i wish dad got custody of you too, when they divorced. just remember your not crazy and what ever you do, i'm on your side. even if the thing you chose is wrong i'll be right there with you. i'll fall with you or help you up. you know whatever, you need. i'm sorry i can be there with you. i wish i could. i love you. i miss you. go get on line now! i don't care how late it is when you get this. -JONAH. ~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~ i held the letter to my chest. "it's not your fault jonah." i said. i put on the bracelet and ran to my room, not caring about the mirror. i got my lap top and logged in. ~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~% may: JONAH! jonah: MAY! OH MY GOD! may: I MISS YOU! jonah: I MISS YOU TOO, YOU WOULDN'T BELEIVE WHAT HAS BEEN HAPPENING. may: TELL ME EVERYTHING! jonah: I'LL VIDEO CHAT YOU. ~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~ I clicked the request and jonah came up. i smiled and waved. he smiled the smile i love most and waved back. "hi." he said. "oh, well look at you mister deep voice." i said. he laughed. "your hair is different." he said. "i cut it and it grew back brown." i said. "you look beuatiful, may." he said. "nice to know someone thinks that." i said. he leaned in. "don't listen to thoughs people may, come on now, your smarter than that." he said. "do you beleive in people being able to move things with their minds?" i asked. "yes." he said. "why?" i asked. "cause i can do it." he said. "good. then i'm not crazy." i said. "no your not, wait, can you so it to?" he asked. i nodded. "don't tell anyone, they'll put you in a loney bin, and never let you out." he said. "so what's going on over there?" i asked. "right. so dad got a new job, it pays big bucks. we live in forks right now cause of a bussines trip, and i'll tell you may i'm going nuts." he said. i laughed. " anyway, we live in hollywood and we should be back two days before christmas vacation. and dad got a new grilfreind." he said. "what? shut up?" i said. "i shit you not." he said. "jonah." a girl said. "i'm talking to my sister." he said. "oh sorry, your dad want's you." she said. "well tell him it will have to wait, whatever he want's me too do is less important than me talking to maybelle." he said. the door closed. "that was her, her name's jace, and i think they're getting serious." he said. "how?" i asked. "they're always together." he said. "belle?" i looked over. "oh hey luke." i said. "i need your help." he said. "what happened?" i asked. "it's luce. she drowned." he said. "what!" i yelled. i picled up my lap top and ran to the pool. "gabe talk to my brother." i said, shoving my lap top at him. i knelt down next to luce. "when did you find her?" i asked. "just now." he said. "she's breathing." i said. i started with CPR. "It's not working." i said. "don't give up may!" jonah said. gabe turned the lap top so i could see him. "remember that summer when gillie fell into the pool? you didn't give up them. save her." he said. i continued. "luke go get help." i said. he ran. "you can do this may, just keep clam." jonah said. she coffed but she didn't open her eyes. "luce can you hear me?" i asked. "lucinda!" i said. two medical tecs. came with a gurny. luke picked me up and held me. they put luce on a gurny and rolled her away. we all stared at the door, after it closed. "i'll let you go." jonah said. the screen went dark. i got out of lukes arms and ran out the door. "belle! you don't know where your going Maybelle!" he yelled. i ran to the front desk. never in my life have i ever been so scared. time to face the truth. i cared for luce and she was here to stay. "where's the infermary?" i asked. "down the hall to the right." the woman said. i went to the front desk. "lucinda karren." i said. "oh yes she's under treatment." the man said. "well, i mean is she going to live?" i asked. "her condition is very bad." he said. i went to the wall and sat down. "don't die. please don't die." i said. "miss?" the man said. i began to rock. "we have a code seven." the man siad into a speaker. six men came out and over to me. "don't touch me!" i yelled. they picked me up and i thrashed in there arms. "i want to see luce!" i yelled. "get the saringe!" someone yelled. "don't stick that in me!" i yelled. "maybelle." someone said. it was jack. "you have to calm down do you think you can do that for me?" he asked. "put me down!" i yelled. "can you calm down?" he asked. "let me go!" i yelled, still thrashing. "shoot her up." jack said. i felt a prick and it was lights out. when i woke up i was strapped to a bed. i started to feak out. A large hand covered mine. "don't freak out, they'll shoot you up again." he said. i looked over. "andy?" i asked. "i'm here." he said. i griped his hand. "where's luce please tell me she made it." i said. "i don't know." he said. i layed back. "how you feeling?"he asked. "like a peach." i said. luke ran in. "she's okay! she's alive, she's just in a comma." he said. "luke." i said. he ran to me and took my hand. "belle, are you okay?" he asked. "why am i here?" i asked. "they shot you up cause you freaked." he said. "why didn't the band work?" i asked. "it did. maybelle you didn't feel it." andy said. "can i get up?" i asked. i don't know." luke said, leaving to get someone. "what are you doing here?" i asked. "do you want me to leave?" he asked. i tightened my grip on his hand. "no." i said. "can you do me a favor?" i asked. "Get your lap top?" he asked putting it on my stomach. "gabe gave it to me." he said. "some guy named jonah is worried sick, about you, after gabe told him." he said. "who's jonah?" he asked. "can you open my lap top and sign in please?' i asked. he did and jonah popped up. "MAY! what happened?" he asked. "nothing i'm okay." i said. my dad came on. "daddy?" i asked. "they can't shock you like that, maybelle. i'm coming to get you." he said. "you can't mom singed a form only she can get me out, or i can get myself out at 18." i said. "where are you?" he asked. "straped to a bed." i said. "Jace? where's the phone?" he asked. he dissapered and jonah came back on. "i'll explain everything tomorrow. adny shut the lap top." i said. "may!" jonah said, before andy shut it. the nurse came over. "are you calm?" she asked. "can i see luce now?" i asked. she unstraped me and i followed luke to her room. she layed on a bed all hooked up. i took her hand. "luce, can you hear me?" i asked. her frightened eyes flew open, and she gripped my hand. "belle, get me out of here please." she begged. a doctor came in. looks like your all right." he said. "you'll have to stay the night though." he said. he unpluged her, and left. i took my shoes off and climbed in with her. she layed her head on my shoulder and closed her eyes. "thank you." she said. "always." i said. luke slept in the other bed, and gabe slept on the leather couch that was in there. i thought that it was amazing that three differnt teen's from different backrounds and different problems, that we could all come together for our friend when she was scared and felt alone. even though i didn't want to, i had made friends. lucus gaberel lucinda and maybelle, friends, in this thing together untill we got better. we all sat down under the tree for breakfast. "so you guys ready to go home for winter break?" luke asked. "we go home?" i asked. "yep." luce said. "i need to talk to the councler." i said. i went to her. "so how's your school work going?" she asked. "good, instead of going home can you send me to my dads?" i asked. "that can be aranged." she said. "i'll just type in a few things, and; there, your set. we'll drive you to the air port and you'll get on the first flight to hollywood." she said. i packed my clolthes, and got into a black limo. luce gabe and luke got in. "what are you guys doing?' i asked. "we all live in hollywood." luke said. "no way, we have to hang out." i said. "yeah, we'll show you all the cool places to be." luce said. once we arived at the airport we extranged numbers and hugged. we got in different cars, and drove to our houses. my dad's house was gray with the same black iron gates. we buzzed in. "name?" the gate keeper asked. "maybelle." i said. the gates opened and we drove in the driver dropped me off and then left. "look, all i'm saying is the first chance i get i'm taking my daughter." my dad said. "yeah, she doesn't deserve mom she's better than that." jonah said. "so why are we waiting?" a girl asked. "her mother, singed a paper and won't take maybelle out. she said, maybelle is crazy and she belongs there." my dad said. "how can you say that about your baby?" the girl asked. "she awlays says it." i said. coming into the kitchen and setting my bag on the counter. the kitchen was a five star kitchen. "may!" jonah yelled. he jumped off of the island stool and ran too me. he picked me up and spun me around. "AIR!" i said. he put me down, but still held me. once he let go my dad hugged me. "hi, daddy." i said. "hi bells." he said. "how'd you get here?" jonah asked. "they let us go home for the holidays." i said. "how long are you staying?" dad asked. "two weeks, and then i have to go back. "jade." he said. i hugged jonah again. "take maybelle's things to her room." he said. "i'm so happy to be here you have no idea." i said. "i'm maybelle." i said. "i'm jacelynn." she said, shaking my hand. "do you have a bathing suit?" jonah asked. "yeah." i told him. hand and pulled me to french doors. "you have to check this out." he said. he showed me the pool. "whoa." i said. "i really miss you may." he said. i pulled him into a hug. "i miss you joanah." i told him, holding back tears. "how about burgars for lunch!" dad called. "deffenitly." i said. me and jonah changed and went swimming while dad bbqed and jace made potato salad and baked potatos. "come and get it!" dad called. we sat outside and ate our food. "bells does your mom know your here?" dad asked. "no." i said. he gave me the phone. "i hate to be the bad guy, but call her." he said. "after dinner." i siad. "deal." he said. "i love you bells. i'm going to do whatever i can to get you out of that school." he said. "i love you too." i said. "why are you there?" jace asked. we all looked at her. "oh no, i didn't mean that to be rude, it's just you don't seem crazy." she said. "cause she's not." jonah said. we ate the rest of the food talking about plans. i told them i had to be plan free on friday through sunday, so i could hand with luke gabe and luce. i went to my room. i pushed open the door. this was not a guest bedroom. this was a bedroom desined with things i liked. did they think i would ever come here? i took a shower and sat on the bench below the baywindow and called her. "hello?" she asked. "hi mom." i said. "sweety! hey, when are you coming home for vacation?" she said. "i am home." i said. "what?" she asked, with a laugh. "mom, i'm not coming home." i said. "why not?" she asked. "look don't get mad at me. your the one that wanted to get rid of me in the first place." i said. "no," she began. "don't say that it's just another lie. i'm where i want to be can't you just be happy for me?" i asked. "where are you?" she demanded. "i'm not that stupid." i told her. "You are so crazy!" she said. "you say that a lot." i siad. "honey," she said. "bye mom." i said. i hung up the phone. "goodnight sweety." dad said. i got off of the bench and hugged him. "i want to come home daddy." i said. i held my tears back, perfectly. "i'll do everything i can." he said. he kissed my forehead and went to his study. i opened my window and crawled out on to the roof. "here." jonah said. he layed out a blanket and we layed down looking at the stars, like we did as kids when our parents fought. "you know your not crazy." he said. "why do you keep sayin that?" i asked. "cause maybe if i say it enough you'll beleive it." he said. "i love you jonah." i said. "i love you maybelle. a lot." he said. "i don't know what i'd do with out you." he said. "i won't kill myself." i said. "i'm happy here." i said. "i'm glad." he said. i took his hand. "me too." i said. untill four in the morning we stayed on the roof chatching up on the 5 years, that we had missed about eachothers life. jonah ended up with a big dislike for mom, and i decided that jace was ok, and way better than darren. at least jace wouldn't tell dad to put jonah in my school. not that dad would listen to her. we climbed through the window and went to sleep. i was shaken awake. "hon, your mom is on the phone." dad said. "hello?" i asked. "i'm coming to get you." she said. "i'm happy can't you just leave me be?" i asked. "you will come back with me." she said. "or what? don't threaten me i'm so sick of you." i said. dad took the phone from me. "listen here." he said, leaving my room. i went to the kitchen. jace was dressed in a white dress, and a yellow flower apron. "hey honey! want some waffles?" she asked. "i love waffles." i said. "good. what kind? apple, bannana, blueberry, rasberry, strawberry." she said. "i'll take strawberry, thanks." i said. "sure, no problem." she said. i sat down and jonah came into the kitchen he sat down and put his head on the table. "the usual, jo?" she asked. "yes, please." he said. she set out food down. "drinks?" she asked, going to the frige. "peachtea." jonah said. "me too." i said. she set down our cups. "thanks." we said, at the same time making us all laugh. she made some for her and dad, and we sat down as a family, and ate. this might not be the perfect family, far from it even, but at least everyone here is trying. " so, i thought that i could take maybelle shopping today. you can take jonah to the music store. " jace said. my dad nodded. "would you like that maybelle?" she asked. "sure." i said. we got ready and hit mellrose way. a girl bumped shoulders with me. we turned. "luce!" i said. "belle!" she yelled, throughing her arms around me. "belle." luke said. "hey." i said. hugging him. i bumped fists with gabe. "this is jace, my dad's girlfriend." i said. they shook her hand. even gabe, switched from his move to a shake. "luce, is my room mate back at the school. luke and gabe, are our best friends, we all look out for eachother." i said. "oh, well, i have to get to the office soon, so do you want to go shopping with them?" she asked. "are you sure?" i asked. "yeah. we can go shopping another time." she said she handed me a card, and then kissed my cheek. she walked off to the car. "who's hungry?" i asked. they all agreed. we went out to lunch and then went back to melrose. we went to everyshop, sometimes doing a fasion show. even the boys droped their hard rep, and joined in. let's just say that i had a blast, and we where closer than ever. we where sitting on a bench outside of a store. "i wish we could just stay here forever." i said. "guys?" luke asked. "what is it?" luce asked. "my dad found out about the bands, and he's taking me out of the school. he told them he has the money to take care of me privatly." he said. "wait what?" i asked. "me too." gabe said. "we can't just be torn apart." i said. "my mom's doing the same." she said. "so i'll be alone." i said. "not really. you said your mom put you in there right?" gabe said. i nodded. "my dad put me in there, and my mom said, she has the money to deal with me and they're relseing me to her. even though she doesn't have custody of me. it takes a week, so you better tell your dad to hurry." gabe said. "and me and luce will stay an extra week, so we can all be together." luke said. " yeah, and then we can all go to school, together, jonah too," luce said. "you guys think you can give me a ride home?" i asked. "sure." gabe said. we all got into gabe's car and we drove to my house. gabe pushed the botton on the box. "jeff." i said. "mistress Maybell, welcome home." he said. the gates opened and we drove in. "dad! i think you'll want to hear this." i said. luce sank down on the red leather couch. "I am so getting one of these in my room." she said. luke sat with her. "dad, this is gabe, he can help. luce luke that's the kitchen make yourselfs at home." i said. they looked at each other and jumped off the couch runing to the kitchen, the swinging door flying behind them. we went into my dads office. gabe told him everything he knew. my dad called the school, and put it on speaker phone. "main streem high school, how may i help you?" a woman asked. "yes. i'm looking to refer to my daughters case." he said. "name?" the woman asked. "Maybelle Monroe." he said. "ah yes she was put in here by her mother." the woman said. "yes i know, i have the means to get her help privatly." he said. " are you trying to get coutody of her? i need her case number." the woman said. "it should be in her files i sent the pappers to court yesterday." he said. he was trying to get coustody of me? "oh here it is. alright, well we'll have to wait a week for the custody pappers to go though, and then i'll give her to you." the woman said. "thank you." he said, haning up. "i didn't know about that part." gabe said. "it's ok, i have enough dirt on gale to put her away." my dad said. "you did good." he said, to gabe. they bumbed fists. "would you guys like to stay for dinner?" he asked. "sure. but luke and luce might of already cleaned out your fridge." gabe said. we laughed and went to the kitchen. "yo, your brother is the shit!" luke said. "yeah, belle, why'd you never tell us about him?" she asked. "i did, you weren't listening." i said. all three of them had a bowl of ice cream. "you guys want to stay for dinner?" i asked. "yeah sure. what are we having?" luke asked. we all looked at my dad. " home made fryed chicken, and potato salad." he said. "and something remotly healthy." jace said, kissing my dad. "guys i want to show you something." jonah said. we flollowed him to the bacement. "whoa." luce said. luke picked up a bass guitar. gabe picked up a guitar and amired it with a smile. luce got some drum sticks and sat at the drums. i ran my hand over the gray mic. gabe began to play a song. luke quickly picked up the song and added his bass as luce beat the drums. jonah picked up his guitar and joined in. they all had smiles on there faces. "come on belle!" gabe yelled. i got infront of the mic. "roberts got a quick hand. he'll look around the room, but he wont tell you his plans. he's got a rolled cigarette, hanging out of his mouth, he's a cowboy kid, yeah he found a six shooter gun. in his dad's closet hidden in a box of fun things i don't even know what, but he's coming for you yeah he's coming for you." i sang. "all the other kids with the pummed up kicks you better run better run out run my gun. all the other kids with the pummed up kicks you better run better run faster than my bullet. all the other kids with the pummed up kicks you better run better run out run my gun. all the other kids with the pummed up kicks you better run better run faster than my bullet." we all sang. we stopped playing and looked at eachother. "yo that is sick." luke said, hitting gabe's fist. "we should start a band," jonah said. "yeah, i'm in all the way." luce said. "me too," luke said. "i'm there." gabe said. they all looked at me. "i'm in." i said, although it sounded like a question. "yes!" luke said. "we need a name." luce said. "the survivors." me and jonah said. we all put our hands together. "the survivors!" we yelled. "whoo!" luke said. we all laughed. we might have problems everyone of us. but like i said, doing the things we love, help us stay alive, grounded even. "food!" dad yelled. we all sat out side. "this is awsome, Mr. m." luke said. "it really is." gabe said. i liked how gabe was talking more. "so i heard you guys playing." jace said. "what did you think?" we all asked. she laughed. "your good, way good." she said. "we started a band." jonah said. "really?" dad asked. "yeah, the survivors." luce said. " i like the name." he said. "jonah and belle, thought of it." gabe said. "well, then to the survivors!" dad said. we all cheered and drank our soda. "so i was thinking, that once we have at least five songs, we can go play at the park." i said. "good idea, i know how to get the word out." jonah said. "i can ask my dad if i can spend the night." luce said. "me too." luke said. "i'll asked my mom." gabe said. they all texted their parents. "it's a go." luke said. "i'm in." luce said. "it's fine." gabe said. "okay so right after dinner we can go to the bacement and work on it. you guys worry about the music and i'll worry about the lyrics." i said. they all agreed. we went to the bacement. everything was going smoothly. they had music playing and i had absoultley no lyrics. god. "dig deep." gabe said. i nodded. dig deep? dig where? i began to think. There's this thing inside of me that i can't name. irrataion is just another word that goes along with confusion. i can't tell you what it is, perhaps it's a little too dark for words. you say you understand, but it's just another unknown lie, that you placed inside of my mind. i can't explain what happens in my mind, it's just one major mees that i can't sourt through. Acusion come to mind, only when i think of you. lies and torrment, run through my mind, only stopping to remind me of the things, i can't get out of my mind. voices tell me that i'm not good enough and i should just give up already, but i know i'm better than that and i continue to go forward. No one knows the things i carry around with me, it's just a little painfull to say. so many people for just one mind and they all want to make themselfes known. i think i'm not worthy and hide myself away, i can't get close to people, cause i don't want to drag them down with me. My life is a downward spiral with no meaning to stop anytime soon. with all these things runing through my mind i think i might just yell! i'll never let people see inside, i'm afriad that they'll run away and hide. if i could run away from myself i would. i lay awake at night with all my thoughts. doing the things i love help keep me alive. i'm a troubled girl, that won't face the truth. there's something wrong with me. all my life, being different has gotten me beaten black and blue. i shut out knew faces, afraid of the things that they can do. ~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~ after i came up with five songs we practiced them non stop untill 4 in the morning when we started to drop like flys. after playing at the park we started to put everthing away. "hi." gabe said. "hi." i said. "oh just kiss her already!" luce said, putting an amp in the car. gabe became red and i looked at the floor. we all went out for pizza. "that was awesome i've never felt so alive." luke said. i looked down when something touched my hand. gabes hand was raped around mine. i looked up at him but he keep eating like nothing was wrong. and nothing was wrong. it's just that in the begining he barely even said, hi, and now he's grabbing my hand? i studied him. his black hair and blue eyes, where stunning. "eath to belle." luce said. "what?' i asked, looking to her, embarrased. " do you think this could be a regular thing?" she asked. "if we practice." i said. "but for now lets just work on getting out of the crazy school shall we?" gabe asked. at the same time everyone at the table drank their soda. we got a letter in the mail saying that we needed to go to the court house right away. so we did. only to find a verry peeved mom. "how dare you take my daughter! i'm taking her home and i'm filling for joanah to come and live with me." she said. "why so you can put me in the crazy school too?" he asked. "so we both can get ignored?' ia sked. a woman wrote something down. we where put into an immeadat custody battle. in the end dad one. i was taken from the crazy school, put in reagluar school with everyone else. i was in the kitchen when gabe came up to me. i smiled. "i want to try something." he siad. his voice was low, and warm. he leaned in and kissed me. Publication Date: January 7th 2018 https://www.bookrix.com/-chalen

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-sammie-sizemore-victoria-039-s-kidnapper/

Sammie Sizemore Victoria's Kidnapper The Party Victoria laughed as Dakota took her up stairs; she was drunk. They went into a dark room, Dakota layed her on the bed, and started to take his clothes off, and then he told Victoria to lie still, even though she was drunk, she knew what was happening. “No”, Victoria said. “I don’t want to”. Dakota started taking off her clothes, she struggled to get him off, Dakota slapped her, she weeped. The next thing she knew was waking up on a bed with her clothes lying on the floor; she didn’t know where she was at or what to do. Victoria finds her way to the door, and walks home. She got lucky; her parents are on a trip out of town, so she doesn’t have to answer any question from them. When she gets home, she passes out on her bed. Waking up on Monday morning to go to school; she realizes what had happened at the party with Dakota on Friday. When Victoria got to school she saw her boyfriend Aaron, and a few of her friends. She acted like nothing had happened over the weekend because she didn’t want Aaron, Lee, Lucy, Kristen, and Zack to find out what Dakota had done to her. Kristen thought Victoria was acting strange so she pulled her over to the side after school. “Hey what’s up? Kristen said”. “Nothing much, getting ready to head home.” “Are you ok”? “Yea, why”? “I don’t know. You have been acting weird all day. What happened this weekend?” “Nothing really, I just haven’t been feeling to well.” “Okay, well I’m here if you need me okay”? “Yea, thanks, later Kristen”. Having Some Fun! When Victoria had got home from school, she laid down and called Lucy. They talked for a little bit then Lucy and Victoria decided to call up Lee, Kristen, and Zack to invite them over. Lee brought the booze and Zack brought the drugs, they were so messed up. A little later they decided to sneak out, and go to Mount Ridge. When they got there Victoria noticed a big white van, with tented windows, she couldn’t see if anyone was in there, so she didn’t say anything to her friends. Lucy decided she wanted to swim, so they went looking for a river. They heard a few noises on their way, but decided to ignore them. Lee was the first in the River, then everyone else got in, they were having fun, but Kristen got tired, so she got out. At first they didn’t notice she was gone, but when they didn’t see her for a long while they started to worry. Zack got out and went looking for her. After an hour, Zack still didn’t come back with Kristen. Lee and Victoria got out of the river, and some how made it back to their car. Zack and Kristen were not there, but they noticed the van that Victoria had saw earlier that night was sort of moving, so Lee and Victoria walk over to the van and all of a sudden they get pulled in. The rest of the week Aaron didn’t see Victoria or the rest of the gang. He started to worry when Victoria didn’t meet him at his house on Saturday like they do every weekend. Victoria’s parents, Alicia and Billy, came back from their trip early because they hadn’t heard from their daughter Victoria since Monday morning. Alicia called Aaron and asked if he has heard from Victoria. “Hello”. Aaron answered the phone. “Hey Aaron, me and Billy came back from our trip early. We haven’t heard from Victoria since Monday morning and we was wondering if you have seen her any this week”. “No, she hasn’t been at school since Monday, and she didn’t meet me at the house yesterday”. “Oh I see, well do you think you can come over? And we will go looking for her”. “Yea ok be there in a few”. “All right, bye.” Searching When Aaron got to Victoria’s house, they called the police and told them that their daughter has gone missing. Then Aaron had said they might have gone up to Mount Ridge for a mid-night swim. Billy got his keys and said, “Come on”. When they got up to Mount Ridge parking lot, Aaron spotted Victoria’s car. Alicia got out of the car and ran to Victoria’s, the doors were unlocked and their cell phones were in the seat. The big white van that Victoria had seen on Monday night was up there. It was the only other car there in the parking lot, so Billy an Aaron walked over there and broke into it. Lying there in the back of the van was Victoria, Lee, Kristen, Lucy and Zack. They were tied up and unconscious. Billy yelled for Alicia to come over there. When she got to the van; she started to cry. Aaron got his phone out and called the police, while Billy tried to calm his wife down. When the cops got there, the 5 kids got took to the hospital, and the van was dusted for fingerprints. When the cops left, Aaron stayed and waited to see if the owner of the van would come back to it. At 4:30 in the morning Aaron heard some noises. He looked over at the van, and Dakota was there. Aaron walked over to the van, acting like he didn’t know anything, and started talking to Dakota. “Hey man, this your van”? Aaron asked. “Yea, why”? “Oh, you didn’t know there were 5 kids found in here. The cops found them yesterday”. “Dude you serious?” “Yea they are looking for the owner of this van”. “Oh”. "I think your behind all of this" Aaron had said. "Yeah, why is that?" "Because noone is going to just leave a van all the way out here, and come to it in the middle of the night." "Whatever man, I aint gotta listen to this." Back to school... Victoria, Lucy, Zack, Lee, and Kristen were back at school within the next few days. They stayed with each other every where they went. They were very cautious about anyone that went near them. Aaron had came in school late that morning, because he was up all night trying to figure out what to do with Dakota. He had planned to tell victoria and the rest of the group who had kidnapped them, but didn't know when the best time would be to tell them. After school Aaron met up with Victoria and the gang and asked if they all could go somewhere private to talk. They went to the old hill to talk, where noone could overhear there conversation. Aaron had started to explain to them why he was late getting to school and who he had talked to the night before. When Victoria found out that Dakota was the owner of the van and he was the one that had kidnapped them, she was really pissed. None of her friends had seen her that mad before. She had started to plan what was going to happen to Dakota, she wasn't about to let him get away kidnapping her and her friends. Publication Date: November 20th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-sammie.12

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-amber-edwards-insane/

Amber Edwards Insane A certain girl, she took my hand <3 I'll be gone when the morning comes A Tear stained letter from her Sheets|full|of|regret, Did|you|really|think|she|would|forget? Tears|fall|like|rain, They|glisten|with|pain. She|can't|be|fixed, You|broke|her|heart. "Oh|dear|God,|what|have|I|done?" You|ask|and|plead. Disappointment|roams|like|fog, He|isn't|coming|back, Her|heart|tells her|mind. "Shes|crazy!"|The|Therapist|announces. When|really,|she|isn't|just|Crazy, She's|crazy|for|you. Dear|one|and|only,|I|love|you. She|writes|this|on|a|tear-stained|paper. Is|there|really|no|hope|for|her? Through|all|of|this|tragedy, He|can't|bring|himself|to|understand. The|guilt|isn't|enough|to|bring|him|down. The|dark|nights|he|spends|alone. The|tears|he|savors,|to|remember|you. He|brings|himself|only|to|one|understanding. What|he|did|was|wrong,|but|was|it|wrong|enough? I sing loud and clear, watching the crowd scream with me. I jump around the stage."yeah!" I say, to the last note. MY band mates all smile and I see a guy in the crowd that would not only surround me with pure beautiful comments, but would take my problems away. Chp. 1 Tonight I stretch, looking into the dirty mirror. Where am I? Nevermind that. I hear the door open.I turn, not surprised to see the man come back for more. I smile. "What does your sorry ass want now?" I ask, combing my hair. "You sounded beautiful-listen, about last night, were you serious?" Same question every time. I sigh. "Of course not." I say, finally looking at him. I hate the relief that floods his eyes. I roll my eyes. "Get out, please." I say, turning to the mirror. He stands there a few seconds. Hope rises with each moment he stays. I close my eyes, letting a tear of pure joy fall. Then the sound of the door slaming breaks it all. I scream, smashing the mirror with my hand. I write down some vicious lyrics and get my stuff. I get in the little van my band and I own and sit in the back. "I know what an asshole he is." One of them says. "Me too, but I still sleep with them." I mutter. He laughs. "Exactly." I nod, my smile angry. right. ............3 hours later.............. I get on stage and wave to my fans. "How are you little fuc-fans?" THey laugh and give me the bird. I laugh and sing, "ALL|RIGHT|BITCHES!!!" I then go into a screamo. One of the good songs I usaully start out with, "The story of my life" I gasp for air as the sweat drips off of me to the floor. I srtum a few notes on my lovely guitar and start a new song... |She|twirls|in|The|rain|Cries|in|the|sun I sing in the slow mellow way, then scream. Theres|no|Time|To|Save|This|Mess|elli| She|Calls|HErself| Elli!|Elli!|Little|Elli! Chp. 2 dead gorgeous-wait, dead. Just DEAD. I pretend to come running at Christopher. He pretends to do his "no living" kick. He tries to kick me, but I dodge, kicking him. He pretends to fall, grabing is heart. "Oh, How I wait, How I stay in this pain! End it! I can't take-" I pin him down. "Give me I piece of paper! Don't you die on me, Chris!" I yell. He laughs. Someone with alot of bags stares. Eli, pronounced, E-LIE, gives me a peice of blank paper. "Idiot!" I say in an accent. "When do I ask for just a peice of paper?" A pen hits my head. I grab for it, and write on his chest. I name the new song, "End this" ...........2 hours later (at some bar-BIG bar)... "Do you want to hear a new song?" I yell into the microphone. People cheer, people scream, some laugh. "Allriiight!" I drag the word. "Lets end this, Bitches!" They reply with a chant, "End this! End it!" I start with a slow beat. Sad beat. She|Walks|ALone|She|Will|DIE!!! The|Man|left|his|his| his|Mark| Right|on|Her|Face| All|Around|her|pain|is there|surrounding|her| she|has|no|air!!!! I sing my heart out, then go backstage. No goodbyes. No, see you again! Nothing. Damien frowns. "Why is my drummer frowning, Chris?" I ask, taking a big gulp of water. "I put a pencil up my-" I put my hand on his mouth. "But UN-explained, Chrissy." I say, giving him a light kiss on his cheek. I give Damien a big sloppy one, making him roll his eyes and laugh. I give Eli a slap on the ass and bite his ear. Soooo demented. He laughs and returns the favor. I open the door and start towards the van. Sleep! "Hey," I turn. "Hello, mysterious man, what brings you hear?" I reply, flirting. I saw him in the crowd. something in my head goes, "Now, Moon, remember how the last ended." Endless one-night-stands. Shut up voice! I smile. He smiles back. "Want a couple of drinks?" He asks. "Want a three-way?" I ask. He blushes. He's my age. seventeen. never finished highschool. Brought my family to shame. Too bad! "depends." He says, putting his hands in his pokets, looking down, ltting his long bangs fall on his face. "Do I get an autograph?" I giggle. "Why not"? I say, raising my shoulders. He smiles. He comes closer. He pushes me on the van, lightly. I drop my water. He kisses me. This feels really good. Hello Happiness! Whoa. I need to remember that. His lips feel like...feathers. He stops. "I want you to play my song." He says. I stop. "Wh-What?" I stutter. He smiles. He pulls out a piece of paper, looks folded and old. He gives it to me. He gives me one more kiss. "Wait!" I yell. "What the hell is your name?" I ask. He smiles. "Mark." He says. I blush. "Kay, Mark. Can I have you number?" He laughs. I grab a pen from my poket and hand it to him. I give him my hand. He writes quickly, and waves, in a cute way and walks away. I fall to the ground and program his number in my phone. chp 3 See....theres this boy Okay, so there is this cool little get together that is really big, and it has big bands, and amature ones like us. WE don't even have a name. Well, we will. We are going to tell the fans there. It's where you sing a song by a band you like, this year, Eli picked. First, he wanted BLood on te dance floor, Hello Kitty. We all said, No. Wait, we said, HELL NO! Anyway, I can't remember the name, but were invited and our name is...(drum roll please) Hello Hysteria. Goodbye yesterday Yup. Don't wear it out. ha-ha. its long, so were Hysteria for short. yay! right? I looked at Marks song. really good! anyway, the song we our doing is, "OH MY GOD" by, Ida Maria. "Her words destroyed my planet" by, Motion city soundtrack. (My pick) "Lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off" by, Panic! at the disco.(Eli's pick) and "riot" by Three days grace. And the finally, were playing "The funeral" by The band of horses and playing, "Gravity" By Nico Vega. It lasts for three days! Its going to be fun! chp 4 Zombies. really? REALLY? zombies? jeez I test out my guitar. Band is not here yet. Late. Again. I'm suppose to play by the places the people are staying at until the its my time to play. I make sure its tuned. Ok. I start off with a song I listened to on the radio. If|I|Stand|Too|Close|I|Might|Fall|In| But|If|Too|Far|Gone|I'll|Never|Win| It's a good song by, Motion city soundtrack. I walk and play a little song on the guitar as I do. I go into the little store. I look around. I hit a bag off of the shelves. "Shit." I mutter, picking it up and putting back. I try not to gasp when I see Mark. He is there, and his lips look beautiful. I hurry and find a pen. I write down, hurt lyrics. Your|lips|look|soo|good|on|hers. Do|These|Weak|Tears|Look|Good|On|Me? I name the song, Hurt. I also take the piece of paper and throw it.I Love the song, hate your face. After all, it was just a kiss. Fuck! It was. Just like my one night stands. I slump my shoulders. I sit on the sidewalk, it begins to rain. I start writing more of the song. Do|they|look|good|on|me? Does|the|hate|in|my|eyes|make|me|look|pretty? It|was|just|a|kiss. My|whole|life|is|just|a|kiss.. One|night|stands Dead|to|me|Dead|to|myself. Remember|that|love|song? Love|the|song,|hate|your|face. If|it|was|just|a|kiss|why|am |I|crying? These|tears|arent|stopping. I'm|at|my|own|funeral. My|silent|sobbing. If|you|were|just|a|boy, It|was|just|a|kiss... "Just a fucking kiss." I say aloud. I put the paper in my jeans. I put my guitatr under a bag I see. I start singing. Someone walks by as I do. He takes a second glance, then stops. Oh Shit! I smile, waving. He waves back. "In the rain?" He asks. I smile wider. "Yeah, cleans the pores and washes your clothes." I say. He smiles. "Ah. Sounds, fun?" He says, giving a little laugh. Ohhh yeaahhh! "Better go inside, you might get wet." I say. He smiles. "Whats your band?" He asks. I smile. "Hello Hysteria, Goodbye Yesterday. Hysteria for short." I say. He nods thoughtfully. "Well, My band is Panic!at the disco." He says. I smile and blush. "Oh, I know. Were doing one of your songs." I say. He nods and waves goodbye. THe door opens. "Hey, I love your music!" A voice of some girl says. I thought the people coming weren't aloud in here. I keep my eyes closed, looking up, I smile. "Thats good, someone at least likes it." I say. "My boyfriend says he loves it." She says. Nod, no answer. "Would you play his song already? I mean, Hes went to every concert, and you still haven't played it." Oh great. Just great. I don't sigh. I wont sigh. I let out a sigh. "Yes. I guess I haven't." I say, calmly. He took advantage of me. Wow. Just found that off. "He wants his song back." She says. I smile. "Its on the floor in there." I say. I hear the doot shut. "Thanks." She mutters. "Its your love song." I mutter. The door slams, again. Shattering my heart. I have to play in an hour. Crap. I get up and grab my guitar, walking towards my room. I get dressed and ready. I have ten minutes to spare. I don't really care. I'll talk to the crowd. They half listen. I walk up to the stage with Eli. I go to get the piece of paper I wrote on, but it's gone. I look back. Nowhere. "Fuck!" I yell. Eli laughs. "We will later." He teases. I laugh and smack him. We find Damien and Chris. "Guys ready?" I ask. they shake their heads. I nod. Alright.I go out to the crowd. "Hellllooo!" I say. "Is anyone wet?" I ask, getting a reply from Eli. "Hell yes! Hurry! It doesn't last long." People laugh, people shout. I smile. I decide to get the piano out. "Ready? This is a song by Radio head, its called slow motion. It's been song over and over, I know. I just love it." I start. Miss|Jones|taught|me|english|But I|think|I|just|shot|her|son| I finish the song, and now Eli, Damien, and Chris are out on stage with me. I go up to the microphone. "This song is "OH MY GOD" BY Ida Maria." I say, then start to play. Find|a|cure| Find|a|cure|for|My|life I sing really good, for my condition. I sing other songs, like "@!#@!" BY motion city soundtrack. I see mark in the crowd. I just go freestyle. Its|time|For|You|To|Understand| Someday|You'll|figure|it|out I|Know|I|was|Never|good|enough| You'll|Get|what|you|want| I|know|I|wasted|your|time I|Keep|Telling|Myself| This, I point to my lips. Will|never|Make|you|proud| I go on. I see his face change. I end the song with a gutretching discovery. I'm|Finished| I hit the last note and walk off. Eli and the others play around. I smile at the crowd, and wave. I turn and run into Mark. I try to smile. "Oh, Hey." I say. "You wrote a song about me?" HE asks. I laugh. "What makes you think your that special, Mark?" I ask. He stares into my eyes. I dare to do the same. He grabs my hand and pulls me behind a room thing. "I want to know why you didn't play my song." He asks. "Becuase it's not mine." I say. I go to walk away, but he pulls me back and kisses me. I push him against the wall. "I'm finished." I push him harder. I feel like I'm dizzy. Everything ges blurry. I look out at the crowd, some are asking for pictures. I look up. MY knees give out and I hit the ground. My head hits the ground, but I don't feel it. I hear people yell. I look around. Why is there glass everywhere? Thats when I realize. I just got hit with something. I close my eyes. I'd like to die now. I open my eyes and I'm in somewhere really hot. I groan before saying, "Okay, whoevers in here, I'm taking some clothes off." I swallow. My mouth is really dry. "Are you okay?" I open my eyes and see mark. "WHat happened?" I ask. He smiles. "It was an innocent accident. Someone was throwing glass away, and you were in the way." I laugh. "Why'd I faint? I'm a wimp." He shrugs. "Your not a wimp." He says, brushing the hair out of my face. "I'm just a joke to you." I say, sitting up. I steady myself. "No, your not." He says, sitting next to me. "No, I'm more importnant? Oh, I know, I'm your fucking ticket to a guitar." I say. "I just wanted you to play my song." He says. I nod. "And when I didn't, I wasn't worth your while." I say. He goes to protest. "No, It's okay. I get it. I'm going to leave." I get up and hold myself up, leaning against the wall. I open the door and see Chris. He smiles and helps me to the room. Were only a few feet when I hear the yelling of Mark. "Moon!" He yells, getting closer. I look back. I see peice of paper I wrote earlier. I give it to him. "Here. Play MY song, Mark." I say and turn. "You know my song is worth playing, Moon!" He yells. I smile. "Well, It wouldn't do any good played by a worthless." I say and give him the bird. Chp. 5 Oh MY GOD!!!! I dance with the crowd. a guy notices me. I smile. "YOur really good." He says. I smile. "Thanks." I reply. "I'm going to go get a drink." I say and walk to the stand. "A water." I say, handing him a dollar. I look up. Oh, Jeez. He doesn't say anything. I drop my wallet. I bend down and pick it up. I turn and hes not in the stand. He's behind me. He grabs my shoulders. "Mark-" He kisses me. I try not to kiss back, but his hands pull me close. I kiss back. I stop and stare at him. Why not? I kiss him again. He pulls me somewhere. I know this isn't right. It isn't. I haven't even known him for an hour. There is a lake nearby. I take his shirt off. He takes mine off. I laugh. I strip to my underwear and bra. I start singing the song, "Dog days over" by Florence and the machine. I turn from him and sing louder. HE crashes into me, lifting me up and taking me to the water. "Hey! Love brids, the bands are having a rollerdurby!" He yells. Mark stops. I smile. We walk in with our rollerskates on. All he had on was his boxers. I had my bra and underwear. We walk in and people laugh. Some people start undressing. Eli screams, "YEah!" He takes his shirt off. I laugh. They explain how to play, and I get my band. "Ready?" I ask. THey nod. I smile. WE go out, and there are fans watching. I smile and wave. Were against another band. A girl lead singer. Shes with two other guys. Pink, black, gray, long colorful hair. I smile. "This is my band, the band. I'm Tess." She says, putting out her hand. I smile. "I like your shirt." I say. SHe smiles. "I like yours." We get in our places. "WEll, first we have the, Zombie$@ThEE' against The Z0MBIE$." I turn.. "Thats not us..." "I changed our name, Moon. It kind of sucked." HE says. I nod. "Right." I want to yell and destroy things, but I wont. "Go!" He yells. and we play for hours. Our new name is Zobie$@ThEE' I'm in love with the guy next to me, and well, I'm happy. truley happy. I got a name and number. I'm Moon. MY life doesn't suck anymore. Well, not totally, anymore. =] Next book- Hysteria Publication Date: December 22nd 2010 https://www.bookrix.com/-hellohysteria

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-janelle-johnson-would-bout-me/

Janelle Johnson Would bout me Friend dont stick for long Would about me I live in a beautiful city Columbia were its always nice and fresh I love if here its my 2rd home after moving here with my father not the right choice he still doesn't get the I'm 16 in BHH high school grown. " this morning has been a stressful morning for me I lost my purse and found out I left it at school not a place you want to leave it. Any who my daddy had big money he was called the "money man" down here down town. Most people love my dad for money,or just because he was too funny. I mean he's a funny man because he has money if you laugh at his joke you might get a 20 bill work when I was a kid. Mother and father spilt up because it wasn't working out he thought that he only loved him for his money witch was so true, but when I was little I didn't know what was right from left. She would take 120$ out the bank everyday for nothing I was woundering why every time she would pick me up from pre-k she had a new bag. Time for school of course my daddy wouldn't let me ride that bus if it was the last ride on the planet. He states "that bus Carries germ and you ain't getting on it" I alway wouldn't how bus felt siting by your best fried gossiping any-who speaking of bf's. my to friends Cj and my other girl Jane I both love of them like a sister and they love me back I would think so. ...... At school love this school drama,love,fun we have it all here at BHH high school. My boyfriend walks up while me Cj and jane is by our locker he's what you call not a great influence he a "bad boy" you know that I don't care what you say type . I love him though. He look like Chirs Brown he has a diamond earring in his ear. He walks up to me, "hi you didn't call last nite" I say. " I was busy" he says distrusted by this ugly boy on the soccer tea,. " u said that yesterday " I reply " bu this is different" he says smiling. Cj coughs and say he's a joke dump him. I laugh and say I hear you "what you mean " he says " I snap and says its over" boo Bo my girls hollor .....WANT MORE LIKE AN COMMENT Text: Janelle Johnson Images: Janelle Johnson Editing: Janelle Johnson Translation: Janelle Johnson All rights reserved. Publication Date: November 12th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-jjanelle5

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-santa-baby-the-heartbroken-murder/

santa baby The heartbroken murder To all the people who's hearts have been broken by some one they truly love or loved. The night before our anniversary I followed Eli wanting to surprise him with a little taste of what he would get all day, the next day. I thought he was going home, back to his place, he drove for a while though I knew getting to his place from his job wasn't a long drive so I just guessed he was taking the long way there, but instead he parked his Bentley in front of an unfamiliar house. The house was made of cement and red brick blocks, it had a nice roof top, like the one you drew in pictures when you were small, and a chimney so I knew there was a fire place inside. It reminded of an old cottage out of the story books I read as a kid. I parked my Jeep a few cars down with the house and his Bentley still in my view. Eli honked his car horn before getting out of his Bentley, the porch lights to the strangers house came on, the door open and then I saw her, the stranger. She had dark brown curls framing her light skinned face and green eyes. She wore a velvety red dress that hugged her curves making her breast and butt look bigger than what they actually were, she also wore black pumps that had red bottoms,they admittedly complimented her hairless smooth legs, I looked down at my own feet knowing we had on the exact same heels on. I watched as she approached my boyfriend, a smile on her face greeting him, wrapping her arms around his neck she hugged him tightly and laid a kiss on his dimpled cheek. The stranger led the way into her home and he followed. I watched from my Jeep as they disappeared behind the door, waiting in my Jeep I saw the porch lights go off and a soft light come on inside but the curtains blocked my view. Ten minutes passed then I saw the soft light go dark, I was expecting Eli to come out and say 'good-bye' to the green eyed stranger, to get back into his Bentley and drive off. Two minutes passed by but there was still no sight of Eli. I got out of my car and walked over to the house but instead of knocking on the front door I went around the side of the house and peeked through a window, the fire place was on although I couldn't see the light of it from my Jeep. In the home of the stranger it was the complete opposite of the way it looked outside. The walls were white like clouds, hanging above the fire place was a flat screen so big any man would love to watch the super bowl on it, the floor of the living room was covered in white carpet, one step above the living room a wood floor led to two glass doors with curtains on the other side, I thought it might be the den or study, the living room could be lit by a chandelier that's lights could be adjusted from bright to dull, a glass table lay on the white carpet between the fire place and two gray couches facing the fire place. On the glass table I saw two wine glasses with the red wine bottle next to it,even through I saw her lipstick on one of the glasses, they were still full of red wine. I heard a noise come from deeper within in the house so I crept around the perimeter of the house looking through windows as I went, I thought I saw a trail of clothing leading to the back of the house as I walked to the source of the noise. 'What?' I said to myself, I started thinking these crazy thoughts about Eli cheating on me with some cheap 'easy' whore but 'that's crazy he wouldn't, he just wouldn't' I thought to myself, I started having visions in my head of Eli and the stranger together, I denied it all and quickly pushed the thoughts away. I finally found the noise and then I saw them, she was on top of him, I then realized that the noise I was hearing was her moaning and that there was a trail of clothes leading to the back of the house, this room, her bed room. Time stopped for a few moments there was no sound in the world just silence, I started to hear the loud cracking and breaking of glass, I then saw my heart fall to pieces right before my eyes, then loud thuds of liquid started dropping, realizing that the liquid were tear drops coming from my dark brown eyes they quickly turned to ferocious anger. The world soon came back to me, I took another glimpse at them still in the same position, I ran back to the place where I saw the window that revealed the kitchen, before climbing through the window I took off my heels not wanting them to hear one sound, once inside I searched for the biggest knife I could find, 'found it !' I whispered excitedly, I crept around inside her home looking for the room I saw them in 'found it' I said again and crept inside. They were in a different position when I found them, he was on top of her, I saw her legs wrapped around his waist, her grabbing on his muscles. I eased into the candle lit room, that's when I learned her name, Angel. He spoke her name through his moans, I sneaked up behind them, although she didn't see me, must have been having too much fun, too bad she didn't know what was coming for her. I put a gag on both their mouths simultaneously, that's how close they were, the gags were dish rags out of her kitchen and I got the anesthesia that soaked the dish rags out of her 'under the sea' themed bathroom. I got the braided rope and duct tape from a hiking gear laying in the hallway. When Eli and Angel awaken, Angel lay naked on the bed, I could feel the terror, see it seeping from her eyes as I looked down upon her . Poor Angel couldn't even yell for help,duct tape covered that pretty little mouth of hers and it was impossible for her to move, her arms bound at the wrist and legs tied together at the ankle. My wonderful boyfriend Eli sat in a nice comfy chair in her bedroom, his wrist taped to the arm rest, his legs taped together at the ankles and his mouth taped shut. I choose her first I wanted him to watch her life being taking away and quite frankly to watch her heart being broken...... literally. Blood stains the walls and floor. I have committed the crime of love or passion as 'they' say . The scarlet red soaked my purple lingerie, bathes my Carmel shade skin and washes my jet black hair as it drips and pours from the ceiling, feeling warm and sticky. I slit her throat and stab her over and over watching the life drain out of her body with each penetration. My blood stained teeth showed as I smiled down at her lifeless body. I cut out her heart and stomped on it, walked all over it and crushed it but finally I broke it into one million pieces, as she had helped him do to me. The pieces lay there on her bedroom floor. I looked at my beloved Eli, his eyes, how dare he look at me with fear in his eyes now. ''Eli don't you dare, don't you dare look at me with those terrified eyes'' Nothing not even a muffle. '' I loved you, I love you how could you do this to after all we've been through together ? Years Eli years, you just had to go and ruin it didn't you? Well since this is your last conversation just answer me a few questions'' I walked towards him and sat on top of him, my legs over his, I snatched off the duct tape making him wench in pain, he didn't yell nor scream for help he didn't even call me crazy for what I was doing to him and his secret lover. So I started with my first question, the most important one. "So how long has this affair been going on between you two ?" Eli surprisingly responded to my question and says "Before you and I ever started dating" "Hmm interesting and where did you guys meet ? May I ask ? Oh of course I can I'm the one on top of you with the dagger and your tied down to a chair" I said teasingly "Angel and I have been together for a very long time, we grew up together and fell in love we've always had a secret relationship through all of her lovers and all of mine, you are the only girl I've been with who ever found out" "So why all the heartbreaks ? Why did you have to rip out my still beating heart ? You chewed it up and spit it out like poison in your mouth, why not just get married to the little slut ?" His eyes turned angry with tears, then he responded "Even though we loved each other very much we couldn't keep our eyes off other people so we have gone through our love loving each other and fucking other people" "I see, you wanna know something Eli ? If you would have told me the truth the first moment we began to be serious it would have been okay I would have not been hurt but no you just had to break my heart, you see this lingerie and these heels that you picked out I'm wearing it for you, I followed you tonight I wanted to fucking surprise you but I guess you had your own little surprise waiting for you huh ? Never mind it's a little too late for all of that now isn't it love ? I gave him a long hard kiss, her blood smeared on his lips and cheeks mixing with his tears, I licked off his tears and her blood with my tongue. I put a new piece of duct tape on his mouth without him even resisting me. "That was the last kiss you'll ever have, the kiss of death" More tears started running down his cheeks "oh baby don't cry you two will be together soon and hopefully rot in hell together as well, oh by the way sweetheart did you know that the human heart can still beat for six whole hours after being cut out of the body ?" I stabbed the knife into his chest making sure it wasn't fatal, I wanted him to suffer to go through a painful heartbreak, I started carving around his heart, his chunk of flesh fell from his very well alive body. I looked up at his tears and snot covered face feeling no remorse. The clock stroked midnight. "Happy anniversary" I said ripping out his still beating heart. Blood skirt out of his cold blooded body making new patterns to the ceiling. I tried to put it in my mouth, whole, I felt the pulse of his cold heart against my teeth but couldn't fit the heartless bastard's heart in my mouth so I ripped it in half putting both halves in my mouth one by one but instead of spitting them out, I chewed and swallowed, a little of his cold heart dripped out of my mouth while the rest, I felt sliding down my throat and digesting in my stomach. I hopped off his blood drained body, stepped back and looked at the scenery I've created. I smiled and showing my blood stained teeth once more, even darker now, before I go running out the bedroom window I untie his dead corpse and lay it down next to Angel's blood covered corpse, I took off the rope bounding her and relaxed her arms to her sides, both of them dead their bodies swimming in a pool of crimson. I wiped off the knife, made sure it was spotless and put it in her nightstand drawer, I didn't take any bloody foot prints the floor was soaked in blood, no one never saw me coming in the cottage home of the slut stranger and I don't have any hand prints nor finger prints on the window sill I came in through, and its a good thing I came in bear footed, and won't I be so heartbroken, the way I always am, when the police come to tell me my boyfriend has been murdered. I slipped through the window of the bedroom but before I could go I just had to look back at the art I created thinking to myself. "Magnificent absolutely beautiful" Publication Date: June 25th 2013 https://www.bookrix.com/-santa.baby

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-s-j-yours-truely/

S.J Yours Truely To all of my readers :) You're the best! Introducing me My name is Shapes Jaysum. Okay I know what you might be thinking, that my parents were probably on crack when they decided to name me but that isn't even the full story behind my name. My birth name is Siara Hope Jaysum. It's the name on my birth certificate and it's the name that my parents named me. So how I get stuck with Shapes you may wonder? Hmm.. Well that's a whole other story that you'll find out much later. Lucky you, I let you in on my complicated life and share everything with you, but just remember it's our little secret. Some people in my life you may like and some of which I know you'd absolutely hate. But that doesn't matter, once you're reeled in to my crazy life of drama, backstabbing, betrayal, and many other things, you'll absolutely want to scream. Kind of like I do myself. It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt, and believe me, someone always gets hurt. Just remember, not all stories have a happy ending. So with that being said; Welcome to My life. Completely Exhausted I stared at the black board in front of me while I tried desperately to keep my eyes open. I didn't get much sleep last night, and I guess that it was my own fault that I decided to stay up late and watch the desperate housewives marathon. I glanced at Jacelyn, who looked just as tired as I did and I wondered what her cause was. I quickly pulled out my cell phone, trying to keep it out of Mrs. Derby's sight, and began to text Jacelyn. Desperate Housewives? I watched as she cautiously slipped out her phone from her pocket, and read my text. She let out a smile and then began to txt me back. Ehh, really shapes? That lame show? Omg that is so not the reason. I just really hate this class. I glanced up at Mrs. Derby, who was now reading from our Physics book. It's really a shame if you ask me, that everyone in the class could be texting and writing pathetic little love notes to each other and she didn't even notice. It didn't help much that she was way older than my grandmother, but she was also the complete push-over. I mean, can you blame me if I want to text in class? The lady was nearly out of breath just from reading two sentences. It was complete torture. Whatevs, don't dare hate on my show. This class isn't exactly my favorite either. I'm practically thirty already. Jace nodded in agreement as she read my text. Just as she was going to text me back, the bell rung and everybody leaped happily from their seats. I gathered my books and slipped them into my bag, as happy as I was that this class was over I was still suffering from total exhaustion. I headed out the classroom with Jace and we walked to our lockers. I paused, seeing that Mason was already there. As you may have guessed, that Jacelyn Kizz is my best friend. Well, that's partially true. Jace is my beta, you know, the one in second place. But Mason Daze was my alpha, the bestest friend anyone could ask for. Eww, I know what you're thinking and that's so not the truth, I have a boyfriend ya' know. Mason and I have major history. Our parents have known each other since way before we were even born, and that may have something to do with us living right across the street from each other. "You look awful." He greeted. I rolled my eyes and carefully opened my locker. Once my books were in there, I quickly closed my locker and turned to look at him. "She was up watching that stupid show again." Jace informed him, grinning at me. It was like she wanted me to slap her across her pretty little face. Mase laughed. "Huh, is that so?" "Actually, Miss. Barbie, there was nothing else good on. so..." I folded my arms across my chest and let out a pouting face. Jace stuck her tongue out at me and then continued on down the hallways. I didn't understand why everyone loved to hate on the desperate housewives. Some of the little sluts at this school were like them in some ways. Especially Jacelyn. Don't get me wrong and all, Jace is my B.F.F and everything, but she can be a little over the top when it comes down to it. My thoughts were suddenly interrupted as someone's hands connected with my eyes. "Guess who?" they had said. I smiled, knowing exactly who it was. Duhh, my boyfriend. I turned around and gave him a hug, oh how incredibly happy I was to see him. Mase cleared his throat as a sign of disgust. "Well you two little love birds, I'm going to excuse myself from this... well, whatever this is." He begin to walk away, but I grabbed his arm stopping him. "You can't go anywhere, Mister. You have to take me home." I reminded him. Okay, so I know you may think I'm rich and all and I should have my own car, but once again you've got it all wrong. Truth is, I am not all that rich, well.. just a little. But daddy won't let me drive alone until he's absolutely sure I won't drive into a brick wall or something, so until then I'm stuck driving around with my dear friends. "I'll be waiting in the car." He freed his arm from my grip, and continued down the hall. Alex "my boyfriend" was grinning at me wildly as if he'd just got some good news or something. I smiled. It was always nice to see him so happy because most of the time, he was always pissed off about something. I mean seriously the kid has got some serious issues, but I love him anyway. I laughed. "What?" He shrugged. "What do you mean what? "Why are you staring at me all weird?" It was the same stare he had when he told me that he loved me for the first time, the same stare he had the first time when I met him and nearly made a fool of myself by tripping over my own two feet, and the same stare he had when... well, let's just say I'm very familiar with that stare. He continued grinning. "You just look beautiful as usual." Okay so I blushed a little, but you totally would too! A nice guy stares at you like you're the only girl in the world and then tells you over and over how good you look... nope, it doesn't get better than that. I smiled "Thanks." I noticed Mason standing at the end of the hallway by the school exit doors, looking completely annoyed. He waved his hand when he noticed me looking. I sighed. "I should go before he kills me." I quickly gave him a hug and a kiss and made my way down the hallway and out the school doors. It was really cold outside, like really cold. I swear my skin was about to literally turn into ice. I mean, geesh! I hurried into the passenger side of mase's car, shivering as I did so. Mason noticed my shivering and quickly turned the heater of the car on. Not Like Him Mason pulled into the driveway of my house. My mom and dad's cars weren't in the driveway so I knew they wasn't home as usual. My Mom has worked at a fashion agency for years now and she absolutely loves it. Talk about amazing! And Dad, well my daddy is a lawyer. A very good lawyer, that is. He's known around town as one of the youngest most successful lawyers. Anyway, they're both always so busy with their jobs. I glanced at Mase. "Going to Becca's party tonight?" He sighed. "Why the hell would I go to Becca's party?" I shrugged. "I dunno. I mean, I didn't even want to go either but Jace is dragging me along with her." "Good for you." He mumbled. I slowly got out of the car and then turned around to face him. There was something wrong but I couldn't really tell exactly what it was. Mason is never mad, I mean only rarely. He's Mayson, for goodness sake! Sweet, Kind, Adorable little Mason. It takes alot for him to get mad, like a whole lot. So when he does get mad, it's always best to stay away. "Is everything okay?" I wondered. He shrugged. "Whatever. I'll call you later." I watched as he quickly drove out of my driveway and into his own. He climbed out of his car and walked to his front door. He gave one last wave to me before disappearing into his house. I couldn't believe him, I am his bestfriend. If something is wrong he should know that he could talk to me. I let out a breath and headed into my house. I was really confused. Was it me or something I had said? Did something else happen? I had no idea why Mase was acting like this but I didn't like it all. I took off my jacket and hung it on the coat rack in the hall. Making my way upstairs and into my room, I quickly pulled off my clothes and went into the bathroom to take a shower. Yes... This is exaclty what I need at a time like this. Warm water is the perfect cure for whenever you're feeling the tiniest bit of stress. The warm water clung perfectly to my skin; the hot steamy mist in the atmosphere. It was that feeling of satisfaction I got whenever the hot stream of water peirced into my dry skin, giving me that great burning sensation. Weird, huh? Well you might be right, but I have been totally obsessed with heat for as long as I could remember. I don't know, I guess I just think things are alot better hot than cold. Although I never wanted to leave my miracle working tub, I knew that sooner of later all good things must come to an end. I climbed out of the tub, grabbed my towel, and wrapped it tightly around my body. Leaving the bathroom, I walked into my room and headed to the closet. Like I said before, I didn't really want to go to Becca's party but Jace could be pretty persausive when she wants something and usually what Jace wants, Jace Gets. Publication Date: January 5th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-jacelyn

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-naynalova-captured/

Naynalova CAPTURED Is it hopeless to run when all the signs are ponting in the other direction? to all of those who have survived during a troubled tome in there life I gazed up at the ceiling, just letting tears pour down my face. I did not know what to do. I know one thing: I will never forgive my father for what he has done. He Drugged me, and dragged me to this place. I trusted my dad all my life. He was there for me whenever i needed help. And now, thinking back, i should of cherished those moments. If only i knew what he was then. I hear my cell door creak open, and out came my dad. i jump up, off my bed, ready for anything. "Hello, my Daise", My dad starts. There is a period of silence. Then, he says "I love you. You know that? And I am sorry. So,So sorry" "NO!", I say, gettng up from the cot. "Don't do that you're not allowed to act all father-ish, Cuz your surly aren't the man i grew up with. The dad i knew, who would never hurt me;not under any circumstances" "Daisy" i did not look up at him. I don't dare. "DAISY. LOOK AT ME!" "NO!!" "what?" "I said no" "Fine", my father says, leaving. I smile in triupth, under my long banks. It turns out, I smiled a second to soon. What I thought was my dad leaving for good, was really my dad leaving to fetch the guards. "Take her", my dad orders the men. "What?", I question, shocked. Whats that supposed to mean? I barely have time to breathe, when Guard 1 and Guard 2 grap by the arms and put them behind my back. "What are you dong?" I ask the 2 goons. "Dad?" I look at my father, pleading with my eyes to tell me what is going on. But I can't seem to catch his eyes. The gaurds start to drag me out of the cell. "Dad?" I try to catch his eye. This time I do. But I wish didn't. His eyes were black as night. "This has to happen Daise" "Dad? Why are you doing this?" The gaurds and I are almost to the door. "Dad, tell them to stop. DAD!!" "Daise, stop fighting" "DAD!!!" "I SAID STOP!!!" I do as he says, transfixed. It seems as if I can't move. And niether can the guards. We just stand there. That is, until my dad looses my attention and I am not frozen anymmore. Deciding I need to do this quik and do this now, I backflip, landing on the goons, knockng them out. I then puch my dad in the nose. I head for the metal door at the end of the hall,, outside of the cell, only to meet up with more guards. I stop in my tracks and turn around only to be pulled back by the other goons. "dammit!" "You shouldn't have run, Daise" I see my dad with a bloody tisse on his nose. "Now. Lets see what your friends have to say to you", my dad says, smiling. What? What was my dad talking about? My friends were gone. Gone, along with my freedom. Now, even more gaurds are handleing me. And no matter how much I struggled, I couldn't get out. Couldn't do anything. Nothing but scream. "I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME DAD!! I REALLY BELIEVED YOU DID!!" Now we are turnng the corner, and I am only able to hear him say three words: "You thought wrong" ................................................................................................. It's hopeless to fight. I know that now. I am approaching a pair of steel doors, when I hear a scream. That scream sounds so familiar. So, so familiar. It sounds like...no, it can't be. We enter the room. "Celia?" I ask. "Daise?" "Celia, what are you doing here? Are you hurt?" "Daise, I don't think you should be talking to me" "Why? Your my best friend" "Used to be" A man steps out of thee shadows. "This girl used to be your best friend, Daise" , the man says,"Now, she is are little pet", the man says, touching Celias' face. She winces. And I now see there is a big briuse on her face. "Celia?" "He's right. I am not your friend anymore", Celia breathes deeply, as if this is hard for her to say. "What are you talking about, Celia? Of course I am your best friend. All I want to know is what you are doing here" "She is" starts the man, "being experimented on" And then the man smiled a cruel smile. "What?" I look at Celia. "He's right" "That can't be. You-guards, will you please let me go?" Text: dont copy me All rights reserved. Publication Date: March 26th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-naynalova

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-by-malak-mansour-sisters/

by : Malak Mansour sisters CH.1 I Want A Sister ! well,well,well,it started with a lonley girl her name was Christina she was born in 23/9/2002 and she always wanted to have a sister or a brother. Her mother (Nataly) was telling her that she doesn't need a sister or a brother cause she already have her cousins and her friends who are always with her but she always doesn't feel like they are her sisters and brothers cause they are truly not ! After a few months her mother discovered that she is pregnant with a girl... Nataly gived birth to the 2nd baby in 7/7/2014 at 7pm and she named her Carla... Carla was such a cute baby... After 3 years she grewed up and transformed from a cute kind girl to a cute naughty girl she always break the dolls of Christina &...&...&... but the problem with Christina cause she is still 9 is that she loves her sister no matter what...       CH.2 I Hate My Sister ! Carla grewed up & just newed that she doesn't have to annoy her sister so Carla went to Christina's room and told her that she really love her and she really wont annoy her again but Christina is thinking that Carla is lying but she isn't lying so Christina scraemed at Carla saying : GET OUT OF MY ROOOOOOM ! NO GET OUT OF MY LIIIIIIFE ! Carla was really scared so she went to her room while crying :'(  but Carla didn't cry cause she hate her sister no it's cause she knows that Christina is crying cause their mother and father died in an accident of a car last night...Christina and Carla were with them in the same accident Carla her arm is broken and Christina have a Psychological condition she doen't wanna talk to any one specially he sister cause her sister is the reason why her father got out of control while driving...   CH.3 You're my 2nd mother :) sister?? what do you want?! i just wanna talk with you can i? *Christina saying in her mind* ok,ok no matter what she is your sister don't be out of control *Christina saying to her sister* yes dear you could really?? yeah ok,so i just wanna say that you know that of course i didn't mean what happened last night but i'm really sorry and there's just somthing you have to know... so,what is it? mom is alive... what?! where is she?! when did you knew this?! she is at the hospital, i knewed this at the morning the doctor found that she isn't dead she's alive... and dad? where's he? uhhhh...ummm...he's...he's...dead *Christina replying while crying* dead?! why?!  it doesn't matter what matters now is that there's one of them alive... yeah...yeah you're right now let's go to see mom...yeah...yeah let's go  *nataly their mother* hell..hell..hello *Christina* what what's that why are sitting on this chair? *nataly* be..becau.because i...am...half-paralyzed... *Christina* no no D: *Carla saying to Christina* you are my 2nd mother:) so this is the end of the story Christina is now feeling better,Carla is having fun with her new friends...And their mother is really better than before and can talk and move her hands and all her body exept her legs... Publication Date: August 27th 2014 https://www.bookrix.com/-uxb7c0801b77f35

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-elizabeth-ogilvie-she-takes-a-lickin-039-but-keeps-on-tickin-039/

Elizabeth Ogilvie She Takes a Lickin' but Keeps on Tickin' My grandfather, Pop Pop, is a dentist and can handle any amount of blood and guts without getting uneasy. However, there is one thing that makes him instantly ill—throw up. One time my Pop Pop came over on a Friday night to give my parents a night off by taking me and my three siblings out to dinner. Before we left, my youngest sister, Caroline, said that her stomach hurt, but she is always so tough that nobody thought anything of it. Pop Pop decided that he would take us to a nice Italian restaurant if we could be good. Well, we were on our best behavior and went into the restaurant, which was packed with a Saturday night crowd. We gave our order to the waitress and were just getting our drinks, when Caroline mentioned that her tummy really didn’t feel good at all. Nobody paid any attention to her and we continued to talk. As the table next to us got their food, Caroline turned green and began to violently vomit into her “blankie.” At that point, the table next to us started to look sick, Pop Pop was looking ill, and the whole restaurant was looking at our table. Pop took a deep a giant deep breath and put the blankie covered in vomit into a plastic bag, while I took Caroline to the restroom. Pop Pop said he would be right back and was just going to put the blankie in his car. It was not an option for my sister Caroline to leave it behind. This is when things got really crazy. Caroline returned from the bathroom renewed and was ready to eat, but Pop Pop hadn’t returned yet. It turns out that Pop Pop was about to puke himself when he opened the trunk and was so anxious to get rid of the blanket that he shut the trunk before he took out his car keys. To make matters worse, Mom Mom was out of town meaning Pop Pop didn’t know where his car keys were. To make a long story short, Pop Pop came back in and we had a lovely dinner. Caroline recovered enough to have a full dinner and ice cream for dessert. My Aunt Colleen was able to find the extra set of car keys and deliver them to us. We got to go to a concert, my amazing little sister partied the whole night and my parents got a night without kids. Publication Date: January 24th 2010 https://www.bookrix.com/-ekogilvie

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-rwby-lover-kirito-039-s-surprise-part-10-1/

RWBY lover, Asuna Yuuki Kirito's Surprise part 10 The love circle Gal and Silica woke up with kazuto missing as they both looked at echouther with confusion "huh, where did he go" they both said with a confused look as they walked down stairs seeing him as he's cooking breakfast for them "good morning, and silica your mom sent you a letter" he said with a smile, as she opened it to read it she read it out aloud "my dearest daughter i am sending your stuff to kazuto's house so you can live with him and gal because you practically stay there all day any way now hand the letter to kazuto, dear kazuto take care of my daughter because she loves you so much so please dont break her heart and as for Gal take care of her to dont let her get in trouble, love Silicas mom" he close the letter as silica screamed with excitement and Gal and kazuto just smiled at her "its just like a slumber party except for im living here now with you three, at that moment kazuto's aunt came walking in to the kitchen as she opened her eyes wide "What, your coming to live with us silica" she asked with an amazed look as "mhm my mom is sending my stuff right now it should be here in a few minutes" she answered with a blush since shes going to be living with kazuto. "well we have an extra roo" she was about to finish as silica screamed "ill stay with kazuto in his room!" she said with a smile and a blush "now dont be thinking your gunna have him to your self, i mean he is Gals boyfreind" kazuto's aunt said with a smile, "i know that" she said with a slouch as Gal walked up to kazuto and kissed him, "i love you kazuto" Gal said with a smile as kazuto smiled at her and kissed her "i love you two " he smiled and kept cooking. "now take your seat so i can give you all breakfast", kazuto said with a caring voice as they all took there seats and ate breakfast with kazuto, after breakfast kazuto and gal walked up to his room and sat on his bed talking about having silica living with them and things they wont be albe to do but in the end they just agreed with it, "ok silica heres the rules no kissing kazuto, no pulling a fast one on him and no stealing him away from me" she said with a demanding voice "ok" she said with a sarcastic voice, "ok imma go down stairs and wait for my stuff to get here" she ran out of the room down the stairs. the love circle part 2 "it took a while for my stuff to get to your house didnt it kazuto" Silica said with a smile, "yeah it did which im amazed by, since you live pretty close by" he said with a confused look on his face "well anyway lets get my stuff up to your room" she said with a smile as they all started carrying things to his room, when they finished silica walked out of the room to make stuff to drink as Gal pushed kazuto on to the bed she started kissing him deeply as they started to get into it silica walked into the room as she tapped her foot looking at them "if you want to be alone you could just tell me" she said with an annoyed voice as she walked out of his room as gal and kazuto just started kissing again as gal was ontop of him as kazuto was looking at her, "i love you Gal" he said with a dazed face of looking at her as gal just started kissing him without stopping for anything as kazuto's aunt opened the door as she saw gal and kazuto kissing, "you could have locked the door you too and where's silica" Gal and kazuto stopped kissing as they looked at her "i think she went down stairs" Gal said with an annoyed face. kazuto's aunt closed the door as Gal stood up and locked it "sorry Gal we should have done that in the first place" he said with a kinda annoyed face as they heard a knock on the door as kazuto's aunt screamed "silicas gone" she said with a sad voice from on the other side of the door as Gal opened the door, but kazuto was the one to run out and go look for her "where could you have gone" he said talking to him self running around town as he finnally turned around the corner as she was hugging her knees in the alley just not talking as kazuto saw she was being bullied by two guys as he ran in and punched one of them as they started kicking him while he was down "huh, you're going to pay for that you little shit" one of the man that were kicking him said with an angered voice as Gal walked around the corner and grabbed on of the men by the leg and snapped his leg outta place, as the other guy swung at her she moved and grabbed his arm snapping it outta place as she just looked at them with no emotion on her face as she saw kazuto on the floor caughing up blood "kazuto!" she ran up to him and hugged him close "please be ok please be ok please be ok" she said repeatedly as she listened to his heart beat, and she started crying for fear of losing him as they took him to the hospital to await his health condition. Publication Date: October 11th 2013 https://www.bookrix.com/-narutolover11

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-brittany-finney-glam-squad/

Brittany Finney Glam Squad Book 1 GLAM SQUAD CHAT 101 Winnie Hey lovelies how are yaaaaaaaaaa? Meghan What do you want?? Anna BURRRRRRRRRRPPPPPP! Ashley Hi!:) Winnie EWWW ANNA! Meghan You guys are annoying... Ashley Hey besties! Meghan Shut up. Winnie Uhhhh Meghan? Ashley Mhmmmm sistas got ma side! Meghan Bye weirdos.. Anna -_- YOU MADE HER LEAVEEEEEEEEEE Ashley Ok bye.. :0 Winnie K bye girls! BASICALLY OUR CHAT... Publication Date: March 2nd 2013 https://www.bookrix.com/-brittanysbooksxx

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-william-shakespeare-cymbeline/

William Shakespeare Cymbeline Dramatis Personae CYMBELINE, king of Britain. CLOTEN, son to the Queen by a former husband. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS, a gentleman, husband to Imogen. BELARIUS, a banished lord disguised under the name of Morgan. GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS, sons to Cymbeline, disguised under the names of POLYDORE and CADWAL, supposed sons to Morgan. PHILARIO, Italian, friend to Posthumus. IACHIMO, Italian, friend to Philario. CAIUS LUCIUS, general of the Roman forces. PISANIO, servant to Posthumus. CORNELIUS, a physician. A Roman Captain. Two British Captains. A Frenchman, friend to Philario. Two Lords of Cymbeline's court. Two Gentlemen of the same. Two Gaolers. Queen, wife to Cymbeline. Imogen, daughter to Cymbeline by a former Queen. Helen, a lady attending on Imogen. Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes, a Soothsayer, a Dutchman, a Spaniard, Musicians, Officers, Captains, Soldiers, Messengers, and other Attendants. Apparitions. SCENE: Britain; Rome. ACT FIRST. SCENE I. Britain. The garden of Cymbeline's palace. FIRST GENTLEMAN. You do not meet a man but frowns. Our bloods No more obey the heavens than our courtiers Still seem as does the King. SECOND GENTLEMAN. But what's the matter? FIRST GENTLEMAN. His daughter, and the heir of's kingdom, whom He purpos'd to his wife's sole son - a widow That late he married - hath referr'd herself Unto a poor but worthy gentleman. She's wedded, Her husband banish'd, she imprison'd; all Is outward sorrow; though I think the King Be touch'd at very heart. SECOND GENTLEMAN. None but the King? FIRST GENTLEMAN. He that hath lost her too; so is the Queen, That most desir'd the match: but not a courtier, Although they wear their faces to the bent Of the King's looks, hath a heart that is not Glad at the thing they scowl at. SECOND GENTLEMAN. And why so? FIRST GENTLEMAN. He that hath miss'd the Princess is a thing Too bad for bad report; and he that hath her - I mean, that married her, alack, good man! And therefore banish'd - is a creature such As, to seek through the regions of the earth For one his like, there would be something failing In him that should compare. I do not think So fair an outward and such stuff within Endows a man but he. SECOND GENTLEMAN. You speak him far. FIRST GENTLEMAN. I do extend him, sir, within himself; Crush him together rather than unfold His measure duly. SECOND GENTLEMAN. What's his name and birth? FIRST GENTLEMAN. I cannot delve him to the root. His father Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour Against the Romans with Cassibelan, But had his titles by Tenantius whom He serv'd with glory and admir'd success, So gain'd the sur-addition Leonatus; And had, besides this gentleman in question, Two other sons, who in the wars o' the time, Died with their swords in hand; for which their father, Then old and fond of issue, took such sorrow That he quit being, and his gentle lady, Big of this gentleman our theme, deceas'd As he was born. The King he takes the babe To his protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus, Breeds him and makes him of his bed-chamber, Puts to him all the learnings that his time Could make him the receiver of; which he took, As we do air, fast as 'twas minist'red, And in's spring became a harvest; liv'd in court - Which rare it is to do - most prais'd, most lov'd, A sample to the youngest, to the more mature A glass that feated them, and to the graver A child that guided dotards; to his mistress, For whom he now is banish'd - her own price Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue; By her election may be truly read What kind of man he is. SECOND GENTLEMAN. I honour him Even out of your report. But, pray you, tell me, Is she sole child to the King? FIRST GENTLEMAN. His only child. He had two sons, - if this be worth your hearing, Mark it - the eldest of them at three years old, I' the swathing-clothes the other, from their nursery Were stolen, and to this hour no guess in knowledge Which way they went. SECOND GENTLEMAN. How long is this ago? FIRST GENTLEMAN. Some twenty years. SECOND GENTLEMAN. That a king's children should be so convey'd, So slackly guarded, and the search so slow, That could not trace them! FIRST GENTLEMAN. Howsoe'er 'tis strange, Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at, Yet is it true, sir. SECOND GENTLEMAN. I do well believe you. FIRST GENTLEMAN. We must forbear; here comes the gentleman, The Queen, and Princess. [Exeunt.] [Enter the QUEEN, POSTHUMUS, and IMOGEN.] QUEEN. No, be assur'd you shall not find me, daughter, After the slander of most stepmothers, Evil-ey'd unto you. You're my prisoner, but Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, So soon as I can win the offended King, I will be known your advocate. Marry, yet The fire of rage is in him, and 'twere good You lean'd unto his sentence with what patience Your wisdom may inform you. POSTHUMUS. Please your Highness, I will from hence to-day. QUEEN. You know the peril. I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying The pangs of barr'd affections, though the King Hath charg'd you should not speak together. [Exit.] IMOGEN. O dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband, I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing - Always reserv'd my holy duty - what His rage can do on me. You must be gone; And I shall here abide the hourly shot Of angry eyes, not comforted to live, But that there is this jewel in the world That I may see again. POSTHUMUS. My queen! my mistress! O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause To be suspected of more tenderness Than doth become a man. I will remain The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth. My residence in Rome at one Philario's, Who to my father was a friend, to me Known but by letter; thither write, my queen, And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send, Though ink be made of gall. [Re-enter QUEEN.] QUEEN. Be brief, I pray you. If the King come, I shall incur I know not How much of his displeasure. [Aside.] Yet I'll move him To walk this way. I never do him wrong But he does buy my injuries, to be friends; Pays dear for my offences. [Exit.] POSTHUMUS. Should we be taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live, The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu! IMOGEN. Nay, stay a little. Were you but riding forth to air yourself, Such parting were too petty. Look here, love; This diamond was my mother's. Take it, heart; But keep it till you woo another wife, When Imogen is dead. POSTHUMUS. How, how! another? You gentle gods, give me but this I have, And cere up my embracements from a next With bonds of death! Remain, remain thou here [Putting on the ring.] While sense can keep it on. And, sweetest, fairest, As I my poor self did exchange for you, To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles I still win of you; for my sake wear this. It is a manacle of love; I'll place it Upon this fairest prisoner. [Putting a bracelet upon her arm.] IMOGEN. O the gods! When shall we see again? [Enter CYMBELINE and LORDS.] POSTHUMUS. Alack, the King! CYMBELINE. Thou basest thing, avoid! Hence, from my sight! If after this command thou fraught the court With thy unworthiness, thou diest. Away! Thou'rt poison to my blood. POSTHUMUS. The gods protect you! And bless the good remainders of the court! I am gone. [Exit.] IMOGEN. There cannot be a pinch in death More sharp than this is. CYMBELINE. O disloyal thing, That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap'st A year's age on me! IMOGEN. I beseech you, sir, Harm not yourself with your vexation. I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare Subdues all pangs, all fears. CYMBELINE. Past grace? obedience? IMOGEN. Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace. CYMBELINE. That mightst have had the sole son of my queen! IMOGEN. O blest, that I might not! I chose an eagle, And did avoid a puttock. CYMBELINE. Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst have made my throne A seat for baseness. IMOGEN. No; I rather added A lustre to it. CYMBELINE. O thou vile one! IMOGEN. Sir, It is your fault that I have lov'd Posthumus. You bred him as my playfellow, and he is A man worth any woman; overbuys me Almost the sum he pays. CYMBELINE. What, art thou mad? IMOGEN. Almost, sir; heaven restore me! Would I were A neat-herd's daughter, and my Leonatus Our neighbour shepherd's son! [Re-enter QUEEN.] CYMBELINE. Thou foolish thing! - They were again together; you have done Not after our command. Away with her, And pen her up. QUEEN. Beseech your patience. Peace, Dear lady daughter, peace! Sweet sovereign, Leave us to ourselves, and make yourself some comfort Out of your best advice. CYMBELINE. Nay, let her languish A drop of blood a day; and, being aged, Die of this folly! [Exeunt CYMBELINE and LORDS.] [Enter PISANIO.] QUEEN. Fie! you must give way. Here is your servant. How now, sir! What news? PISANIO. My lord your son drew on my master. QUEEN. Ha! No harm, I trust, is done? PISANIO. There might have been, But that my master rather play'd than fought And had no help of anger. They were parted By gentlemen at hand. QUEEN. I am very glad on't. IMOGEN. Your son's my father's friend; he takes his part To draw upon an exile. O brave sir! I would they were in Afric both together; Myself by with a needle, that I might prick The goer-back. Why came you from your master? PISANIO. On his command. He would not suffer me To bring him to the haven; left these notes Of what commands I should be subject to, When't pleas'd you to employ me. QUEEN. This hath been Your faithful servant. I dare lay mine honour He will remain so. PISANIO. I humbly thank your Highness. QUEEN. Pray, walk a while. IMOGEN. About some half-hour hence, I Pray you, speak with me; you shall at least Go see my lord aboard. For this time leave me. [Exeunt.] SCENE II. The same. A public place. [Enter CLOTEN and two LORDS.] FIRST LORD. Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the violence of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice. Where air comes out, air comes in; there's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent. CLOTEN. If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt him? SECOND LORD. [Aside.] No, faith; not so much as his patience. FIRST LORD. Hurt him! His body's a passable carcass, if he be not hurt; it is a throughfare for steel, if it be not hurt. SECOND LORD. [Aside.] His steel was in debt; it went o' the backside the town. CLOTEN. The villain would not stand me. SECOND LORD. [Aside.] No; but he fled forward still, toward your face. FIRST LORD. Stand you! You have land enough of your own; but he added to your having, gave you some ground. SECOND LORD. [Aside.] As many inches as you have oceans. Puppies! CLOTEN. I would they had not come between us. SECOND LORD. [Aside.] So would I, till you had measur'd how long a fool you were upon the ground. CLOTEN. And that she should love this fellow and refuse me! SECOND LORD. [Aside.] If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damn'd. FIRST LORD. Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain go not together. She's a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit. SECOND LORD. [Aside.] She shines not upon fools, lest the reflection should hurt her. CLOTEN. Come, I'll to my chamber. Would there had been some hurt done! SECOND LORD. [Aside.] I wish not so; unless it had been the fall of an ass, which is no great hurt. CLOTEN. You'll go with us? FIRST LORD. I'll attend your lordship. CLOTEN. Nay, come, let's go together. SECOND LORD. Well, my lord. [Exeunt.] SCENE III. A room in CYMBELINE'S palace. [Enter IMOGEN and PISANIO.] IMOGEN. I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' the haven, And question'dst every sail. If he should write And I not have it, 'twere a paper lost, As offer'd mercy is. What was the last That he spake to thee? PISANIO. It was his queen, his queen! IMOGEN. Then wav'd his handkerchief? PISANIO. And kiss'd it, madam. IMOGEN. Senseless linen! happier therein than I! And that was all? PISANIO. No, madam; for so long As he could make me with this eye or ear Distinguish him from others, he did keep The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief, Still waving, as the fits and stirs of's mind Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on, How swift his ship. IMOGEN. Thou shouldst have made him As little as a crow, or less, ere left To after-eye him. PISANIO. Madam, so I did. IMOGEN. I would have broke mine eye-strings; crack'd them, but To look upon him, till the diminution Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle; Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from The smallness of a gnat to air, and then Have turn'd mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio, When shall we hear from him? PISANIO. Be assured, madam, With his next vantage. IMOGEN. I did not take my leave of him, but had Most pretty things to say. Ere I could tell him How I would think on him at certain hours Such thoughts and such, or I could make him swear The shes of Italy should not betray Mine interest and his honour, or have charg'd him, At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight, To encounter me with orisons, for then I am in heaven for him; or ere I could Give him that parting kiss which I had set Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father And like the tyrannous breathing of the north Shakes all our buds from growing. [Enter a LADY.] LADY. The Queen, madam, Desires your Highness' company. IMOGEN. Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch'd. I will attend the Queen. PISANIO. Madam, I shall. [Exeunt.] SCENE IV. Rome. PHILARIO'S house. [Enter PHILARIO, IACHIMO, a FRENCHMAN, a DUTCHMAN, and a SPANIARD.] IACHIMO. Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain. He was then of a crescent note, expected to prove so worthy as since he hath been allowed the name of; but I could then have look'd on him without the help of admiration, though the catalogue of his endowments had been tabled by his side and I to peruse him by items. PHILARIO. You speak of him when he was less furnish'd than now he is with that which makes him both without and within. FRENCHMAN. I have seen him in France. We had very many there could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he. IACHIMO. This matter of marrying his king's daughter, wherein he must be weighed rather by her value than his own, words him, I doubt not, a great deal from the matter. FRENCHMAN. And then his banishment. IACHIMO. Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this lamentable divorce under her colours are wonderfully to extend him; be it but to fortify her judgement, which else an easy battery might lay flat, for taking a beggar without less quality. But how comes it he is to sojourn with you? How creeps acquaintance? PHILARIO. His father and I were soldiers together; to whom I have been often bound for no less than my life. [Enter POSTHUMUS.] Here comes the Briton. Let him be so entertained amongst you as suits with gentlemen of your knowing to a stranger of his quality. - I beseech you all, be better known to this gentleman, whom I commend to you as a noble friend of mine. How worthy he is I will leave to appear hereafter, rather than story him in his own hearing. FRENCHMAN. Sir, we have known together in Orleans. POSTHUMUS. Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies, which I will be ever to pay and yet pay still. FRENCHMAN. Sir, you o'er-rate my poor kindness. I was glad I did atone my countryman and you. It had been pity you should have been put together with so mortal a purpose as then each bore, upon importance of so slight and trivial a nature. POSTHUMUS. By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveller; rather shunn'd to go even with what I heard than in my every action to be guided by others' experiences: but upon my mended judgement - if I offend [not] to say it is mended - my quarrel was not altogether slight. FRENCHMAN. Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords, and by such two that would by all likelihood have confounded one the other, or have fallen both. IACHIMO. Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference? FRENCHMAN. Safely, I think; 'twas a contention in public, which may, without contradiction, suffer the report. It was much like an argument that fell out last night, where each of us fell in praise of our country-mistresses; this gentleman at that time vouching - and upon warrant of bloody affirmation - his to be more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constant, qualified, and less attemptable than any the rarest of our ladies in France. IACHIMO. That lady is not now living, or this gentleman's opinion by this worn out. POSTHUMUS. She holds her virtue still, and I my mind. IACHIMO. You must not so far prefer her 'fore ours of Italy. POSTHUMUS. Being so far provok'd as I was in France, I would abate her nothing, though I profess myself her adorer, not her friend. IACHIMO. As fair and as good - a kind of hand-in-hand comparison - had been something too fair and too good for any lady in Britain. If she went before others I have seen, as that diamond of yours outlustres many I have beheld, I could not [but] believe she excelled many. But I have not seen the most precious diamond that is, nor you the lady. POSTHUMUS. I prais'd her as I rated her; so do I my stone. IACHIMO. What do you esteem it at? POSTHUMUS. More than the world enjoys. IACHIMO. Either your unparagon'd mistress is dead, or she's outpriz'd by a trifle. POSTHUMUS. You are mistaken. The one may be sold, or given, if there were wealth enough for the purchase, or merit for the gift; the other is not a thing for sale, and only the gift of the gods. IACHIMO. Which the gods have given you? POSTHUMUS. Which, by their graces, I will keep. IACHIMO. You may wear her in title yours; but, you know, strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds. Your ring may be stolen too; so your brace of unprizable estimations, the one is but frail and the other casual. A cunning thief, or a that-way- accomplish'd courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and last. POSTHUMUS. Your Italy contains none so accomplish'd a courtier to convince the honour of my mistress, if, in the holding or loss of that, you term her frail. I do nothing doubt you have store of thieves; notwithstanding, I fear not my ring. PHILARIO. Let us leave here, gentlemen. POSTHUMUS. Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signior, I thank him, makes no stranger of me; we are familiar at first. IACHIMO. With five times so much conversation, I should get ground of your fair mistress, make her go back, even to the yielding, had I admittance, and opportunity to friend. POSTHUMUS. No, no. IACHIMO. I dare thereupon pawn the moiety of my estate to your ring; which, in my opinion, o'ervalues it something. But I make my wager rather against your confidence than her reputation; and, to bar your offence herein too, I durst attempt it against any lady in the world. POSTHUMUS. You are a great deal abus'd in too bold a persuasion; and I doubt not you sustain what you're worthy of by your attempt. IACHIMO. What's that? POSTHUMUS. A repulse; though your attempt, as you call it, deserve more, - a punishment too. PHILARIO. Gentlemen, enough of this; it came in too suddenly. Let it die as it was born, and, I pray you, be better acquainted. IACHIMO. Would I had put my estate and my neighbour's on the approbation of what I have spoke! POSTHUMUS. What lady would you choose to assail? IACHIMO. Yours, whom in constancy you think stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring, that, commend me to the court where your lady is, with no more advantage than the opportunity of a second conference, and I will bring from thence that honour of hers which you imagine so reserv'd. POSTHUMUS. I will wage against your gold, gold to it. My ring I hold dear as my finger; 'tis part of it. IACHIMO. You are afraid, and therein the wiser. If you buy ladies' flesh at a million a dram, you cannot preserve it from tainting. But I see you have some religion in you, that you fear. POSTHUMUS. This is but a custom in your tongue; you bear a graver purpose, I hope. IACHIMO. I am the master of my speeches, and would undergo what's spoken, I swear. POSTHUMUS. Will you? I shall but lend my diamond till your return. Let there be covenants drawn between's. My mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your unworthy thinking. I dare you to this match: here's my ring. PHILARIO. I will have it no lay. IACHIMO. By the gods, it is one. If I bring you no sufficient testimony that I have enjoy'd the dearest bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats are yours; so is your diamond too. If I come off, and leave her in such honour as you have trust in, she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are yours; provided I have your commendation for my more free entertainment. POSTHUMUS. I embrace these conditions; let us have articles betwixt us. Only, thus far you shall answer: if you make your voyage upon her and give me directly to understand you have prevail'd, I am no further your enemy; she is not worth our debate. If she remain unseduc'd, you not making it appear otherwise, for your ill opinion and the assault you have made to her chastity you shall answer me with your sword. IACHIMO. Your hand; a covenant. We will have these things set down by lawful counsel, and straight away for Britain, lest the bargain should catch cold and starve. I will fetch my gold and have our two wagers recorded. POSTHUMUS. Agreed. [Exeunt POSTHUMUS and IACHIMO.] FRENCHMAN. Will this hold, think you? PHILARIO. Signior Iachimo will not from it. Pray, let us follow 'em. [Exeunt.] SCENE V. Britain. A room in CYMBELINE'S palace. [Enter QUEEN, LADIES, and CORNELIUS.] QUEEN. Whiles yet the dew's on ground, gather those flowers; Make haste. Who has the note of them? FIRST LADY. I, madam. QUEEN. Dispatch. [Exeunt LADIES.] Now, master doctor, have you brought those drugs? CORNELIUS. Pleaseth your Highness, ay. Here they are, madam. [Presenting a small box.] But I beseech your Grace, without offence, - My conscience bids me ask - wherefore you have Commanded of me these most poisonous compounds, Which are the movers of a languishing death, But though slow, deadly? QUEEN. I wonder, doctor, Thou ask'st me such a question. Have I not been Thy pupil long? Hast thou not learn'd me how To make perfumes? distil? preserve? yea, so That our great king himself doth woo me oft For my confections? Having thus far proceeded, - Unless thou think'st me devilish - is't not meet That I did amplify my judgement in Other conclusions? I will try the forces Of these thy compounds on such creatures as We count not worth the hanging, - but none human - To try the vigour of them and apply Allayments to their act, and by them gather Their several virtues and effects. CORNELIUS. Your Highness Shall from this practice but make hard your heart. Besides, the seeing these effects will be Both noisome and infectious. QUEEN. O, content thee. [Enter PISANIO.] [Aside.] Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him Will I first work. He's for his master, An enemy to my son. How now, Pisanio! Doctor, your service for this time is ended; Take your own way. CORNELIUS. [Aside.] I do suspect you, madam; But you shall do no harm. QUEEN. [To PISANIO] Hark thee, a word. CORNELIUS. [Aside.] I do not like her. She doth think she has Strange ling'ring poisons. I do know her spirit, And will not trust one of her malice with A drug of such damn'd nature. Those she has Will stupefy and dull the sense a while, Which first, perchance, she'll prove on cats and dogs, Then afterward up higher; but there is No danger in what show of death it makes, More than the locking-up the spirits a time, To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool'd With a most false effect; and I the truer, So to be false with her. QUEEN. No further service, doctor, Until I send for thee. CORNELIUS. I humbly take my leave. [Exit.] QUEEN. Weeps she still, say'st thou? Dost thou think in time She will not quench and let instructions enter Where folly now possesses? Do thou work. When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son, I'll tell thee on the instant thou art then As great as is thy master, - greater, for His fortunes all lie speechless and his name Is at last gasp. Return he cannot, nor Continue where he is. To shift his being Is to exchange one misery with another, And every day that comes comes to A day's work in him. What shalt thou expect, To be depender on a thing that leans, Who cannot be new built, nor has no friends So much as but to prop him? [The QUEEN drops the box: PISANIO takes it up.] Thou tak'st up Thou know'st not what; but take it for thy labour. It is a thing I made, which hath the King Five times redeem'd from death. I do not know What is more cordial. Nay, I prithee, take it; It is an earnest of a further good That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how The case stands with her; do't as from thyself. Think what a chance thou changest on; but think Thou hast thy mistress still; to boot, my son, Who shall take notice of thee. I'll move the King To any shape of thy preferment such As thou'lt desire; and then myself, I chiefly, That set thee on to this desert, am bound To load thy merit richly. Call my women. Think on my words. [Exit PISANIO.] A sly and constant knave, Not to be shak'd; the agent for his master And the remembrancer of her to hold The hand-fast to her lord. I have given him that Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her Of liegers for her sweet, and which she after, Except she bend her humour, shall be assur'd To taste of too. [Re-enter PISANIO and LADIES.] So, so; well done, well done. The violets, cowslips, and the primroses, Bear to my closet. Fare thee well, Pisanio; Think on my words. [Exeunt QUEEN and LADIES.] PISANIO. And shall do; But when to my good lord I prove untrue, I'll choke myself. There's all I'll do for you. [Exit.] SCENE VI. The same. Another room in the palace. [Enter IMOGEN.] IMOGEN. A father cruel, and a step-dame false; A foolish suitor to a wedded lady, That hath her husband banish'd; - O, that husband! My supreme crown of grief! and those repeated Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stolen, As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable Is the desire that's glorious. Blessed be those, How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills, Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fie! [Enter PISANIO and IACHIMO.] PISANIO. Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome Comes from my lord with letters. IACHIMO. Change you, madam? The worthy Leonatus is in safety And greets your Highness dearly. [Presents a letter] IMOGEN. Thanks, good sir; You're kindly welcome. IACHIMO. [Aside.] All of her that is out of door most rich! If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare, She is alone, the Arabian bird, and I Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend! Arm me, audacity, from head to foot! Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight; Rather, directly fly. IMOGEN. [Reads] " - He is one of the noblest note, to whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon him accordingly, as you value your trust - LEONATUS" So far I read aloud - But even the very middle of my heart Is warm'd by the rest - and take it thankfully. You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I Have words to bid you; and shall find it so In all that I can do. IACHIMO. Thanks, fairest lady. What, are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop Of sea and land, which can distinguish 'twixt The fiery orbs above and the twinn'd stones Upon the number'd beach, and can we not Partition make with spectacles so precious 'Twixt fair and foul? IMOGEN. What makes your admiration? IACHIMO. It cannot be i' the eye, for apes and monkeys 'Twixt two such shes would chatter this way and Contemn with mows the other; nor i' the judgement, For idiots in this case of favour would Be wisely definite; nor i' the appetite; Sluttery to such neat excellence oppos'd Should make desire vomit emptiness, Not so allur'd to feed. IMOGEN. What is the matter, trow? IACHIMO. The cloyed will, - That satiate yet unsatisfi'd desire, that tub Both fill'd and running, - ravening first the lamb, Longs after for the garbage. IMOGEN. What, dear sir, Thus raps you? Are you well? IACHIMO. Thanks, madam; well. [To PISANIO.] Beseech you, sir, desire My man's abode where I did leave him. He is strange and peevish. PISANIO. I was going, sir, To give him welcome. [Exit.] IMOGEN. Continues well my lord? His health, beseech you? IACHIMO. Well, madam. IMOGEN. Is he dispos'd to mirth? I hope he is. IACHIMO. Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there So merry and so gamesome. He is call'd The Briton reveller. IMOGEN. When he was here, He did incline to sadness, and oft-times Not knowing why. IACHIMO. I never saw him sad. There is a Frenchman his companion, one An eminent monsieur, that, it seems, much loves A Gallian girl at home. He furnaces The thick sighs from him; whiles the jolly Briton - Your lord, I mean - laughs from's free lungs, cries "O, Can my sides hold, to think that man, who knows By history, report, or his own proof, What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose But must be, will his free hours languish for Assured bondage?" IMOGEN. Will my lord say so? IACHIMO. Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter. It is a recreation to be by And hear him mock the Frenchman. But, heavens know, Some men are much to blame. IMOGEN. Not he, I hope. IACHIMO. Not he; but yet heaven's bounty towards him might Be used more thankfully. In himself, 'tis much; In you - which I account his - beyond all talents. Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound To pity too. IMOGEN. What do you pity, sir? IACHIMO. Two creatures heartily. IMOGEN. Am I one, sir? You look on me; what wreck discern you in me Deserves your pity? IACHIMO. Lamentable! What, To hide me from the radiant sun, and solace I' the dungeon by a snuff? IMOGEN. I pray you, sir, Deliver with more openness your answers To my demands. Why do you pity me? IACHIMO. That others do, I was about to say, enjoy your - But It is an office of the gods to venge it, Not mine to speak on't. IMOGEN. You do seem to know Something of me, or what concerns me: pray you, - Since doubting things go ill often hurts more Than to be sure they do; for certainties Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing, The remedy then born - discover to me What both you spur and stop. IACHIMO. Had I this cheek To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch, Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul To the oath of loyalty; this object, which Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye, Fixing it only here; should I, damn'd then, Slaver with lips as common as the stairs That mount the Capitol; join gripes with hands Made hard with hourly falsehood - falsehood, as With labour; then lie peeping in an eye Base and illustrious as the smoky light That's fed with stinking tallow: it were fit That all the plagues of hell should at one time Encounter such revolt. IMOGEN. My lord, I fear, Has forgot Britain. IACHIMO. And himself. Not I, Inclin'd to this intelligence, pronounce The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces That from my mutest conscience to my tongue Charms this report out. IMOGEN. Let me hear no more. IACHIMO. O dearest soul! your cause doth strike my heart With pity, that doth make me sick. A lady So fair, and fasten'd to an empery Would make the great'st king double, - to be partner'd With tomboys hir'd with that self-exhibition Which your own coffers yield! with diseas'd ventures That play with all infirmities for gold Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil'd stuff As well might poison poison! Be reveng'd; Or she that bore you was no queen, and you Recoil from your great stock. IMOGEN. Reveng'd! How should I be reveng'd? If this be true, As I have such a heart that both mine ears Must not in haste abuse - if it be true, How should I be reveng'd? IACHIMO. Should he make me Live, like Diana's priest, betwixt cold sheets, Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps, In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it. I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure, More noble than that runagate to your bed, And will continue fast to your affection, Still close as sure. IMOGEN. What ho, Pisanio! IACHIMO. Let me my service tender on your lips. IMOGEN. Away! I do condemn mine ears that have So long attended thee. If thou wert honourable, Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, not For such an end thou seek'st, - as base as strange. Thou wrong'st a gentleman, who is as far From thy report as thou from honour, and Solicit'st here a lady that disdains Thee and the devil alike. What, ho, Pisanio! The King my father shall be made acquainted Of thy assault. If he shall think it fit A saucy stranger in his court to mart As in a Romish stew, and to expound His beastly mind to us, he hath a court He little cares for and a daughter who He not respects at all. What, ho, Pisanio! IACHIMO. O happy Leonatus! I may say. The credit that thy lady hath of thee Deserves thy trust, and thy most perfect goodness Her assur'd credit. Blessed live you long A lady to the worthiest sir that ever Country call'd his! and you his mistress, only For the most worthiest fit! Give me your pardon. I have spoke this, to know if your affiance Were deeply rooted, and shall make your lord, That which he is, new o'er; and he is one The truest manner'd, such a holy witch That he enchants societies into him; Half all men's hearts are his. IMOGEN. You make amends. IACHIMO. He sits 'mongst men like a descended god: He hath a kind of honour sets him off, More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry, Most mighty princess, that I have adventur'd To try your taking of a false report; which hath Honour'd with confirmation your great judgement In the election of a sir so rare, Which you know cannot err. The love I bear him Made me to fan you thus; but the gods made you, Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray, your pardon. IMOGEN. All's well, sir. Take my power i' the court for yours. IACHIMO. My humble thanks. I had almost forgot To entreat your Grace but in a small request, And yet of moment too, for it concerns Your lord, myself, and other noble friends, Are partners in the business. IMOGEN. Pray, what is't? IACHIMO. Some dozen Romans of us and your lord - The best feather of our wing - have mingled sums To buy a present for the Emperor; Which I, the factor for the rest, have done In France. 'Tis plate of rare device, and jewels Of rich and exquisite form, their values great; And I am something curious, being strange, To have them in safe stowage. May it please you To take them in protection? IMOGEN. Willingly; And pawn mine honour for their safety. Since My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them In my bedchamber. IACHIMO. They are in a trunk, Attended by my men. I will make bold To send them to you, only for this night; I must aboard to-morrow. IMOGEN. O, no, no. IACHIMO. Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word By lengthening my return. From Gallia I cross'd the seas on purpose and on promise To see your Grace. IMOGEN. I thank you for your pains: But not away to-morrow! IACHIMO. O, I must, madam; Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please To greet your lord with writing; do't to-night. I have outstood my time; which is material To the tender of our present. IMOGEN. I will write. Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept, And truly yielded you. You're very welcome. [Exeunt.] ACT II. SCENE I. Britain. Before CYMBELINE'S palace. [Enter CLOTEN and the two LORDS.] CLOTEN. Was there ever man had such luck! When I kiss'd the jack, upon an up-cast to be hit away! I had a hundred pound on't; and then a whoreson jackanapes must take me up for swearing, as if I borrowed mine oaths of him and might not spend them at my pleasure. FIRST LORD. What got he by that? You have broke his pate with your bowl. SECOND LORD. [Aside.] If his wit had been like him that broke it, it would have run all out. CLOTEN. When a gentleman is dispos'd to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths, ha? SECOND LORD. No, my lord; [Aside.] nor crop the ears of them. CLOTEN. Whoreson dog! I give him satisfaction? Would he had been one of my rank! SECOND LORD. [Aside.] To have smelt like a fool. CLOTEN. I am not vex'd more at anything in the earth; a pox on't! I had rather not be so noble as I am. They dare not fight with me, because of the Queen my mother. Every Jack-slave hath his bellyful of fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that nobody can match. SECOND LORD. [Aside.] You are cock and capon too; and you crow, cock, with your comb on. CLOTEN. Sayest thou? SECOND LORD. It is not fit your lordship should undertake every companion that you give offence to. CLOTEN. No, I know that; but it is fit I should commit offence to my inferiors. SECOND LORD. Ay, it is fit for your lordship only. CLOTEN. Why, so I say. FIRST LORD. Did you hear of a stranger that's come to court to-night? CLOTEN. A stranger, and I not known on't! SECOND LORD. [Aside.] He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it not. FIRST LORD. There's an Italian come; and, 'tis thought, one of Leonatus' friends. CLOTEN. Leonatus! a banish'd rascal; and he's another, whatsoever he be. Who told you of this stranger? FIRST LORD. One of your lordship's pages. CLOTEN. Is it fit I went to look upon him? Is there no derogation in't? SECOND LORD. You cannot derogate, my lord. CLOTEN. Not easily, I think. SECOND LORD. [Aside.] You are a fool granted; therefore your issues, being foolish, do not derogate. CLOTEN. Come, I'll go see this Italian. What I have lost to-day at bowls I'll win to-night of him. Come, go. SECOND LORD. I'll attend your lordship. [Exeunt CLOTEN and FIRST LORD.] That such a crafty devil as is his mother Should yield the world this ass! A woman that Bears all down with her brain; and this her son Cannot take two from twenty, for his heart, And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess, Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'st, Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd, A mother hourly coining plots, a wooer More hateful than the foul expulsion is Of thy dear husband! Then that horrid act Of the divorce he'd make! The heavens hold firm The walls of thy dear honour, keep unshak'd That temple, thy fair mind, that thou mayst stand To enjoy thy banish'd lord and this great land! [Exit.] SCENE II. IMOGEN'S bedchamber in CYMBELINE'S palace: a trunk in one corner of it. [IMOGEN in bed [reading]; a LADY [attending.]] IMOGEN. Who's there? My woman Helen? LADY. Please you, madam. IMOGEN. What hour is it? LADY. Almost midnight, madam. IMOGEN. I have read three hours then. Mine eyes are weak. Fold down the leaf where I have left. To bed. Take not away the taper, leave it burning; And if thou canst awake by four o' the clock, I prithee, call me. Sleep hath seiz'd me wholly. [Exit LADY.] To your protection I commend me, gods. From fairies and the tempters of the night Guard me, beseech ye. [Sleeps. IACHIMO comes from the trunk.] IACHIMO. The crickets sing, and man's o'erlabour'd sense Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken'd The chastity he wounded. Cytherea! How bravely thou becom'st thy bed, fresh lily, And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch! But kiss one kiss! Rubies unparagon'd, How dearly they do't! 'Tis her breathing that Perfumes the chamber thus. The flame o' the taper Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids To see the enclosed lights, now canopied Under these windows white and azure, lac'd With blue of heaven's own tinct. But my design, To note the chamber. I will write all down: Such and such pictures; there the window; such The adornment of her bed; the arras; figures, Why, such and such; and the contents o' the story. Ah, but some natural notes about her body, Above ten thousand meaner moveables Would testify, to enrich mine inventory. O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her! And be her sense but as a monument, Thus in a chapel lying! Come off, come off! [Taking off her bracelet.] As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard! 'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly, As strongly as the conscience does within, To the madding of her lord. On her left breast A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops I' the bottom of a cowslip. Here's a voucher, Stronger than ever law could make; this secret Will force him think I have pick'd the lock and ta'en The treasure of her honour. No more. To what end? Why should I write this down, that's riveted, Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turn'd down Where Philomel gave up. I have enough. To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it. Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning May bare the raven's eye! I lodge in fear; Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. [Clock strikes.] One, two, three; time, time! [Goes into the trunk.] SCENE III. An ante-chamber adjoining IMOGEN'S apartments. [Enter CLOTEN and LORDS.] FIRST LORD. Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the most coldest that ever turn'd up ace. CLOTEN. It would make any man cold to lose. FIRST LORD. But not every man patient after the noble temper of your lordship. You are most hot and furious when you win. CLOTEN. Winning will put any man into courage. If I could get this foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough. It's almost morning, is't not? FIRST LORD. Day, my lord. CLOTEN. I would this music would come. I am advised to give her music o' mornings; they say it will penetrate. [Enter Musicians.] Come on; tune. If you can penetrate her with your fingering, so; we'll try with tongue too. If none will do, let her remain; but I'll never give o'er. First, a very excellent good-conceited thing; after, a wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich words to it; and then let her consider. SONG Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus gins arise His steeds to water at those springs On chalic'd flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes; With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise, Arise, arise. So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I will consider your music the better; if it do not, it is a vice in her ears, which horse-hairs and calves'-guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to boot, can never amend. [Exeunt Musicians.] [Enter CYMBELINE and QUEEN.] SECOND LORD. Here comes the King. CLOTEN. I am glad I was up so late, for that's the reason I was up so early. He cannot choose but take this service I have done fatherly. - Good morrow to your Majesty and to my gracious mother! CYMBELINE. Attend you here the door of our stern daughter? Will she not forth? CLOTEN. I have assail'd her with musics, but she vouchsafes no notice. CYMBELINE. The exile of her minion is too new; She hath not yet forgot him. Some more time Must wear the print of his remembrance on't, And then she's yours. QUEEN. You are most bound to the King, Who lets go by no vantages that may Prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself To orderly soliciting, and be friended With aptness of the season; make denials Increase your services; so seem as if You were inspir'd to do those duties which You tender to her; that you in all obey her, Save when command to your dismission tends, And therein you are senseless. CLOTEN. Senseless? Not so. [Enter a MESSENGER.] MESSENGER. So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome; The one is Caius Lucius. CYMBELINE. A worthy fellow, Albeit he comes on angry purpose now; But that's no fault of his. We must receive him According to the honour of his sender; And towards himself, his goodness forespent on us, We must extend our notice. Our dear son, When you have given good morning to your mistress, Attend the Queen and us; we shall have need To employ you towards this Roman. Come, our queen. [Exeunt all but CLOTEN.] CLOTEN. If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not, Let her lie still and dream. By your leave, ho! [Knocks.] I know her women are about her; what If I do line one of their hands? 'Tis gold Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and makes Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up Their deer to the stand o' the stealer; and 'tis gold Which makes the true man kill'd and saves the thief, Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true man. What Can it not do and undo? I will make One of her women lawyer to me, for I yet not understand the case myself. By your leave. [Knocks.] [Enter a LADY.] LADY. Who's there that knocks? CLOTEN. A gentleman. LADY. No more? CLOTEN. Yes, and a gentlewoman's son. LADY. That's more Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours, Can justly boast of. What's your lordship's pleasure? CLOTEN. Your lady's person. Is she ready? LADY. Ay, To keep her chamber. CLOTEN. There is gold for you; sell me your good report. LADY. How! my good name? Or to report of you What I shall think is good? - The Princess! [Enter IMOGEN.] CLOTEN. Good morrow, fairest. Sister, your sweet hand. [Exit LADY.] IMOGEN. Good morrow, sir. You lay out too much pains For purchasing but trouble. The thanks I give Is telling you that I am poor of thanks, And scarce can spare them. CLOTEN. Still, I swear I love you. IMOGEN. If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me. If you swear still, your recompense is still That I regard it not. CLOTEN. This is no answer. IMOGEN. But that you shall not say I yield being silent, I would not speak. I pray you, spare me. Faith, I shall unfold equal discourtesy To your best kindness. One of your great knowing Should learn, being taught, forbearance. CLOTEN. To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin. I will not. IMOGEN. Fools are not mad folks. CLOTEN. Do you call me fool? IMOGEN. As I am mad, I do. If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad; That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir, You put me to forget a lady's manners, By being so verbal; and learn now, for all, That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce, By the very truth of it, I care not for you, And am so near the lack of charity To accuse myself I hate you; which I had rather You felt than make't my boast. CLOTEN. You sin against Obedience, which you owe your father. For The contract you pretend with that base wretch, One bred of alms and foster'd with cold dishes, With scraps o' the court, it is no contract, none; And though it be allowed in meaner parties - Yet who than he more mean? - to knit their souls - On whom there is no more dependency But brats and beggary, - in self-figur'd knot, Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by The consequence o' the crown, and must not foil The precious note of it with a base slave, A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth, A pantler, not so eminent! IMOGEN. Profane fellow! Wert thou the son of Jupiter and no more But what thou art besides, thou wert too base To be his groom. Thou wert dignified enough, Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made Comparative for your virtues, to be styl'd The under-hangman of his kingdom, and hated For being preferr'd so well. CLOTEN. The south-fog rot him! IMOGEN. He never can meet more mischance than come To be but nam'd of thee. His mean'st garment That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer In my respect than all the hairs above thee, Were they all made such men. How now? [Missing the bracelet.] Pisanio! [Enter PISANIO.] CLOTEN. "His garments!" Now the devil - IMOGEN. To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently - CLOTEN. "His garment!" IMOGEN. I am sprited with a fool, Frighted, and ang'red worse. Go bid my woman Search for a jewel that too casually Hath left mine arm. It was thy master's. Shrew me, If I would lose it for a revenue Of any king's in Europe. I do think I saw't this morning; confident I am Last night 'twas on mine arm; I kiss'd it. I hope it be not gone to tell my lord That I kiss aught but he. PISANIO. 'Twill not be lost. IMOGEN. I hope so; go and search. [Exit PISANIO.] CLOTEN. You have abus'd me "His meanest garment!" IMOGEN. Ay, I said so, sir. If you will make't an action, call witness to't. CLOTEN. I will inform your father. IMOGEN. Your mother too. She's my good lady, and will conceive, I hope, But the worst of me. So, I leave you, sir, To the worst of discontent. [Exit.] CLOTEN. I'll be reveng'd. "His meanest garment!" Well. [Exit.] SCENE IV. Rome. PHILARIO'S house. [Enter POSTHUMUS and PHILARIO.] POSTHUMUS. Fear it not, sir; I would I were so sure To win the King as I am bold her honour Will remain hers. PHILARIO. What means do you make to him? POSTHUMUS. Not any, but abide the change of time, Quake in the present winter's state, and wish That warmer days would come. In these fear'd hopes, I barely gratify your love; they failing, I must die much your debtor. PHILARIO. Your very goodness and your company O'erpays all I can do. By this, your king Hath heard of great Augustus. Caius Lucius Will do's commission throughly; and I think He'll grant the tribute, send the arrearages, Or look upon our Romans, whose remembrance Is yet fresh in their grief. POSTHUMUS. I do believe, Statist though I am none, nor like to be, That this will prove a war; and you shall hear The legions now in Gallia sooner landed In our not-fearing Britain than have tidings Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen Are men more order'd than when Julius Caesar Smil'd at their lack of skill, but found their courage Worthy his frowning at. Their discipline, Now wing-led with their courages, will make known To their approvers they are people such That mend upon the world. [Enter IACHIMO.] PHILARIO. See! Iachimo! POSTHUMUS. The swiftest harts have posted you by land; And winds of all the comers kiss'd your sails, To make your vessel nimble. PHILARIO. Welcome, sir. POSTHUMUS. I hope the briefness of your answer made The speediness of your return. IACHIMO. Your lady Is one of the fairest that I have look'd upon. POSTHUMUS. And therewithal the best; or let her beauty Look through a casement to allure false hearts And be false with them. IACHIMO. Here are letters for you. POSTHUMUS. Their tenour good, I trust. IACHIMO. 'Tis very like. PHILARIO. Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court When you were there? IACHIMO. He was expected then, But not approach'd. POSTHUMUS. All is well yet. Sparkles this stone as it was wont, or is't not Too dull for your good wearing? IACHIMO. If I have lost it, I should have lost the worth of it in gold. I'll make a journey twice as far, to enjoy A second night of such sweet shortness which Was mine in Britain; for the ring is won. POSTHUMUS. The stone's too hard to come by. IACHIMO. Not a whit, Your lady being so easy. POSTHUMUS. Make not, sir, Your loss your sport. I hope you know that we Must not continue friends. IACHIMO. Good sir, we must, If you keep covenant. Had I not brought The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant We were to question farther; but I now Profess myself the winner of her honour, Together with your ring; and not the wronger Of her or you, having proceeded but By both your wills. POSTHUMUS. If you can make't apparent That you have tasted her in bed, my hand And ring is yours; if not, the foul opinion You had of her pure honour gains or loses Your sword or mine, or masterless leaves both To who shall find them. IACHIMO. Sir, my circumstances, Being so near the truth as I will make them, Must first induce you to believe; whose strength I will confirm with oath, which, I doubt not, You'll give me leave to spare, when you shall find You need it not. POSTHUMUS. Proceed. IACHIMO. First, her bedchamber, - Where, I confess, I slept not, but profess Had that was well worth watching - it was hang'd With tapestry of silk and silver; the story Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman, And Cydnus swell'd above the banks, or for The press of boats or pride; a piece of work So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive In workmanship and value; which I wonder'd Could be so rarely and exactly wrought, Since the true life on't was - POSTHUMUS. This is true; And this you might have heard of here, by me, Or by some other. IACHIMO. More particulars Must justify my knowledge. POSTHUMUS. So they must, Or do your honour injury. IACHIMO. The chimney Is south the chamber, and the chimney-piece Chaste Dian bathing. Never saw I figures So likely to report themselves. The cutter Was as another Nature, dumb; outwent her, Motion and breath left out. POSTHUMUS. This is a thing Which you might from relation likewise reap, Being, as it is, much spoke of. IACHIMO. The roof o' the chamber With golden cherubins is fretted. Her andirons - I had forgot them - were two winking Cupids Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely Depending on their brands. POSTHUMUS. This is her honour! Let it be granted you have seen all this - and praise Be given to your remembrance - the description Of what is in her chamber nothing saves The wager you have laid. IACHIMO. Then, if you can, [Showing the bracelet.] Be pale. I beg but leave to air this jewel; see! And now 'tis up again. It must be married To that your diamond; I'll keep them. POSTHUMUS. Jove! Once more let me behold it. Is it that Which I left with her? IACHIMO. Sir - I thank her - that. She stripp'd it from her arm. I see her yet. Her pretty action did outsell her gift, And yet enrich'd it too. She gave it me, and said She priz'd it once. POSTHUMUS. May be she pluck'd it off To send it me. IACHIMO. She writes so to you, doth she? POSTHUMUS. O, no, no, no! 'tis true. Here, take this too; [Gives the ring.] It is a basilisk unto mine eye, Kills me to look on't. Let there be no honour Where there is beauty; truth, where semblance; love Where there's another man. The vows of women Of no more bondage, be to where they are made, Than they are to their virtues, which is nothing. O, above measure false! PHILARIO. Have patience, sir, And take your ring again; 'tis not yet won. It may be probable she lost it, or Who knows if one her women, being corrupted, Hath stolen it from her? POSTHUMUS. Very true; And so, I hope, he came by't. Back my ring. Render to me some corporal sign about her, More evident than this; for this was stolen. IACHIMO. By Jupiter, I had it from her arm. POSTHUMUS. Hark you, he swears; by Jupiter he swears. 'Tis true - nay, keep the ring - 'tis true. I am sure She would not lose it. Her attendants are All sworn and honourable. They induced to steal it! And by a stranger! No, he hath enjoy'd her. The cognizance of her incontinency Is this. She hath bought the name of whore thus dearly. There, take thy hire; and all the fiends of hell Divide themselves between you! PHILARIO. Sir, be patient. This is not strong enough to be believ'd Of one persuaded well of - POSTHUMUS. Never talk on't; She hath been colted by him. IACHIMO. If you seek For further satisfying, under her breast - Worthy the pressing - lies a mole, right proud Of that most delicate lodging. By my life, I kiss'd it; and it gave me present hunger To feed again, though full. You do remember This stain upon her? POSTHUMUS. Ay, and it doth confirm Another stain, as big as hell can hold, Were there no more but it. IACHIMO. Will you hear more? POSTHUMUS. Spare your arithmetic; never count the turns; Once, and a million! IACHIMO. I'll be sworn - POSTHUMUS. No swearing. If you will swear you have not done't, you lie; And I will kill thee, if thou dost deny Thou'st made me cuckold. IACHIMO. I'll deny nothing. POSTHUMUS. O, that I had her here, to tear her limbmeal! I will go there and do't, i' the court, before Her father. I'll do something - [Exit.] PHILARIO. Quite besides The government of patience! You have won. Let's follow him, and pervert the present wrath He hath against himself. IACHIMO. With all my heart. [Exeunt.] SCENE V. Another room in PHILARIO'S house. [Enter POSTHUMUS.] POSTHUMUS. Is there no way for men to be, but women Must be half-workers? We are all bastards; And that most venerable man which I Did call my father, was I know not where When I was stamp'd. Some coiner with his tools Made me a counterfeit; yet my mother seem'd The Dian of that time. So doth my wife The nonpareil of this. O, vengeance, vengeance! Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd And pray'd me oft forbearance; did it with A pudency so rosy, the sweet view on't Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought her As chaste as unsunn'd snow. O, all the devils! This yellow Iachimo, in an hour, - was't not? - Or less, - at first? - perchance he spoke not, but, Like a full-acorn'd boar, a German one, Cried "O!" and mounted; found no opposition But what he look'd for should oppose and she Should from encounter guard. Could I find out The woman's part in me! For there's no motion That tends to vice in man, but I affirm It is the woman's part; be it lying, note it, The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers; Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers; Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain, Nice longing, slanders, mutability, All faults that may be nam'd, nay, that hell knows, Why, hers, in part or all; but rather, all. For even to vice They are not constant, but are changing still One vice, but of a minute old, for one Not half so old as that. I'll write against them, Detest them, curse them; yet 'tis greater skill In a true hate, to pray they have their will. The very devils cannot plague them better. [Exit.] ACT FIFTH. SCENE I. Britain. The Roman camp. [Enter POSTHUMUS [with a bloody handkerchief.] POSTHUMUS. Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee, for I wish'd Thou shouldst be colour'd thus. You married ones, If each of you should take this course, how many Must murder wives much better than themselves For wrying but a little! O Pisanio! Every good servant does not all commands; No bond but to do just ones. Gods! if you Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I never Had liv'd to put on this; so had you saved The noble Imogen to repent, and struck Me, wretch, more worth your vengeance. But, alack, You snatch some hence for little faults; that's love, To have them fall no more: you some permit To second ills with ills, each elder worse, And make them dread it, to the doer's thrift. But Imogen is your own; do your best wills, And make me blest to obey! I am brought hither Among the Italian gentry, and to fight Against my lady's kingdom. 'Tis enough That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress; peace! I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heavens, Hear patiently my purpose: I'll disrobe me Of these Italian weeds, and suit myself As does a Briton peasant; so I'll fight Against the part I come with; so I'll die For thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life Is every breath a death; and thus, unknown, Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril Myself I'll dedicate. Let me make men know More valour in me than my habits show. Gods, put the strength o' the Leonati in me! To shame the guise o' the world, I will begin The fashion, less without and more within. [Exit.] SCENE II. Field of battle between the British and Roman camps. [Enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and the Roman Army at one door; and the Briton army at another; LEONATUS POSTHUMUS following, like a poor soldier. They march over and go out. Alarums. Then enter again, in skirmish, IACHIMO, and POSTHUMUS: he vanquisheth and disarmeth IACHIMO, and then leaves him.] IACHIMO. The heaviness and guilt within my bosom Takes off my manhood. I have belied a lady, The Princess of this country, and the air on't Revengingly enfeebles me; or could this carl, A very drudge of nature's, have subdu'd me In my profession? Knighthoods and honours, borne As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn. If that thy gentry, Britain, go before This lout as he exceeds our lords, the odds Is that we scarce are men, and you are gods. [Exit.] [The battle continues; the BRITONS fly; CYMBELINE is taken: then enter, to his rescue, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.] BELARIUS. Stand, stand! We have the advantage of the ground; The lane is guarded. Nothing routs us but The villainy of our fears. GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS. Stand, stand, and fight! [Re-enter POSTHUMUS, and seconds the Britons. They rescue CYMBELINE, and exeunt. Then re-enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and IMOGEN.] LUCIUS. Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself; For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such As war were hoodwink'd. IACHIMO. 'Tis their fresh supplies. LUCIUS. It is a day turn'd strangely. Or betimes Let's reinforce, or fly. [Exeunt.] SCENE III. Another part of the field. [Enter POSTHUMUS and a Briton LORD.] LORD. Cam'st thou from where they made the stand? POSTHUMUS. I did; Though you, it seems, come from the fliers. LORD. I did. POSTHUMUS. No blame be to you, sir, for all was lost, But that the heavens fought; the King himself Of his wings destitute, the army broken, And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying, Through a strait lane; the enemy full-hearted, Lolling the tongue with slaught'ring, having work More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling Merely through fear, that the straight pass was damm'd With dead men hurt behind, and cowards living To die with length'ned shame. LORD. Where was this lane? POSTHUMUS. Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with turf; Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier, An honest one, I warrant; who deserv'd So long a breeding as his white beard came to, In doing this for's country. Athwart the lane, He, with two striplings - lads more like to run The country base than to commit such slaughter; With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer Than those for preservation cas'd, or shame, - Made good the passage; cried to those that fled, "Our Britain's harts die flying, not our men. To darkness fleet souls that fly backwards. Stand! Or we are Romans and will give you that Like beasts which you shun beastly, and may save But to look back in frown. Stand, stand!" These three, Three thousand confident, in act as many - For three performers are the file when all The rest do nothing - with this word "Stand, stand!" Accommodated by the place, more charming With their own nobleness, which could have turn'd A distaff to a lance, gilded pale looks. Part shame, part spirit renew'd; that some, turn'd coward But by example - O, a sin in war, Damn'd in the first beginners! - gan to look The way that they did, and to grin like lions Upon the pikes o' the hunters. Then began A stop i' the chaser, a retire, anon A rout, confusion thick. Forthwith they fly Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles; slaves, The strides they victors made: and now our cowards, Like fragments in hard voyages, became The life o' the need. Having found the back-door open Of the unguarded hearts, heavens, how they wound! Some slain before; some dying; some their friends O'erborne i' the former wave; ten, chas'd by one, Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty. Those that would die or ere resist are grown The mortal bugs o' the field. LORD. This was strange chance. A narrow lane, an old man, and two boys! POSTHUMUS. Nay, do not wonder at it; you are made Rather to wonder at the things you hear Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon't, And vent it for a mockery? Here is one: "Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane, Preserv'd the Britons, was the Romans' bane." LORD. Nay, be not angry, sir. POSTHUMUS. 'Lack, to what end? Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend; For if he'll do as he is made to do, I know he'll quickly fly my friendship too. You have put me into rhyme. LORD. Farewell; you're angry. [Exit.] POSTHUMUS. Still going? This is a lord! O noble misery, To be i' the field and ask "what news?" of me! To-day how many would have given their honours To have sav'd their carcasses! took heel to do't, And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charm'd, Could not find Death where I did hear him groan, Nor feel him where he struck. Being an ugly monster, 'Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds, Sweet words; or hath moe ministers than we That draw his knives i' the war. Well, I will find him; For being now a favourer to the Briton, No more a Briton, I have resum'd again The part I came in. Fight I will no more, But yield me to the veriest hind that shall Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is Here made by the Roman; great the answer be Britons must take. For me, my ransom's death. On either side I come to spend my breath; Which neither here I'll keep nor bear again, But end it by some means for Imogen. [Enter two [BRITISH] CAPTAINS and soldiers.] FIRST CAPTAIN. Great Jupiter be prais'd! Lucius is taken. 'Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels. SECOND CAPTAIN. There was a fourth man, in a silly habit, That gave the affront with them. FIRST CAPTAIN. So 'tis reported; But none of 'em can be found. Stand! who's there? POSTHUMUS. A Roman, Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds Had answer'd him. SECOND CAPTAIN. Lay hands on him; a dog! A leg of Rome shall not return to tell What crows have peck'd them here. He brags his service, As if he were of note. Bring him to the King. [Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, [SOLDIERS, ATTENDANTS] and Roman captives. The CAPTAINS present POSTHUMUS to CYMBELINE, who delivers him over to a Gaoler. [Then exeunt omnes.] SCENE IV. A British prison. [Enter POSTHUMUS and two GAOLERS.] FIRST GAOLER. You shall not now be stolen, you have locks upon you; So graze as you find pasture. SECOND GAOLER. Ay, or a stomach. [Exeunt GAOLERS.] POSTHUMUS. Most welcome bondage! for thou art a way, I think, to liberty; yet am I better Than one that's sick o' the gout; since he had rather Groan so in perpetuity than be cur'd By the sure physician, Death, who is the key To unbar these locks. My conscience, thou art fetter'd More than my shanks and wrists. You good gods, give me The penitent instrument to pick that bolt, Then, free for ever! Is't enough I am sorry? So children temporal fathers do appease; Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent, I cannot do it better than in gyves, Desir'd more than constrain'd: to satisfy, If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take No stricter render of me than my all. I know you are more clement than vile men, Who of their broken debtors take a third, A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again On their abatement. That's not my desire. For Imogen's dear life take mine; and though 'Tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life; you coin'd it. 'Tween man and man they weigh not every stamp; Though light, take pieces for the figure's sake; You rather mine, being yours; and so, great powers, If you will take this audit, take this life, And cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen! I'll speak to thee in silence. [Sleeps.] [Solemn music. Enter, as in an apparition, SICILIUS LEONATUS, father to POSTHUMUS, an old man, attired like a warrior; leading in his hand an ancient matron, his wife, and mother to POSTHUMUS, with music before them. Then, after other music, follow the two young LEONATI, brothers to POSTHUMUS, with wounds as they died in the wars. They circle POSTHUMUS round, as he lies sleeping.] SICILIUS. No more, thou thunder-master, show Thy spite on mortal flies: With Mars fall out, with Juno chide, That thy adulteries Rates and revenges. Hath my poor boy done aught but well, Whose face I never saw? I died whilst in the womb he stay'd Attending Nature's law; Whose father then, as men report Thou orphans' father art, Thou shouldst have been, and shielded him From this earth-vexing smart. MOTHER. Lucina lent not me her aid, But took me in my throes, That from me was Posthumus ript, Came crying 'mongst his foes, A thing of pity! SICILIUS. Great Nature, like his ancestry, Moulded the stuff so fair, That he deserv'd the praise o' the world, As great Sicilius' heir. FIRST BROTHER. When once he was mature for man, In Britain where was he That could stand up his parallel, Or fruitful object be In eye of Imogen, that best Could deem his dignity? MOTHER. With marriage wherefore was he mock'd, To be exil'd, and thrown From Leonati seat, and cast From her his dearest one, Sweet Imogen? SICILIUS. Why did you suffer Iachimo, Slight thing of Italy, To taint his nobler heart and brain With needless jealousy; And to become the geck and scorn O' the other's villainy? SECOND BROTHER. For this from stiller seats we came, Our parents and us twain, That striking in our country's cause Fell bravely and were slain, Our fealty and Tenantius' right With honour to maintain. FIRST BROTHER. Like hardiment Posthumus hath To Cymbeline perform'd. Then, Jupiter, thou king of gods, Why hast thou thus adjourn'd The graces for his merits due, Being all to dolours turn'd? SICILIUS. Thy crystal window ope; look out; No longer exercise Upon a valiant race thy harsh And potent injuries. MOTHER. Since, Jupiter, our son is good, Take off his miseries. SICILIUS. Peep through thy marble mansion; help; Or we poor ghosts will cry To the shining synod of the rest Against thy deity. BOTH BROTHERS. Help, Jupiter; or we appeal, And from thy justice fly. [JUPITER descends in thunder and lightning, sitting upon an eagle; he throws a thunderbolt. The GHOSTS fall on their knees.] JUPITER. No more, you petty spirits of region low, Offend our hearing; hush! How dare you ghosts Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt, you know, Sky-planted batters all rebelling coasts? Poor shadows of Elysium, hence, and rest Upon your never-withering banks of flowers. Be not with mortal accidents opprest: No care of yours it is; you know 'tis ours. Whom best I love I cross; to make my gift, The more delay'd, delighted. Be content; Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift. His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent. Our jovial star reign'd at his birth, and in Our temple was he married. Rise, and fade. He shall be lord of Lady Imogen, And happier much by his affliction made. This tablet lay upon his breast, wherein Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine. And so, away! No farther with your din Express impatience, lest you stir up mine. Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline. [Ascends.] SICILIUS. He came in thunder; his celestial breath Was sulphurous to smell. The holy eagle Stoop'd, as to foot us. His ascension is More sweet than our blest fields. His royal bird Prunes the immortal wing and cloys his beak, As when his god is pleas'd. ALL. Thanks, Jupiter! SICILIUS. The marble pavement closes, he is enter'd His radiant roof. Away! and, to be blest, Let us with care perform his great behest. [The GHOSTS] vanish.] POSTHUMUS. [Waking.] Sleep, thou hast been a grandsire, and begot A father to me, and thou hast created A mother and two brothers; but, O scorn! Gone! they went hence so soon as they were born. And so I am awake. Poor wretches that depend On greatness' favour dream as I have done, Wake and find nothing. But, alas, I swerve. Many dream not to find, neither deserve, And yet are steep'd in favours; so am I, That have this golden chance and know not why. What fairies haunt this ground? A book? O rare one! Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment Nobler than that it covers! Let thy effects So follow, to be most unlike our courtiers, As good as promise! [Reads.] "Whenas a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopp'd branches, which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty." 'Tis still a dream, or else such stuff as madmen Tongue and brain not; either both or nothing, Or senseless speaking or a speaking such As sense cannot untie. Be what it is, The action of my life is like it, which I'll keep, if but for sympathy. [Re-enter GAOLER.] GAOLER. Come, sir, are you ready for death? POSTHUMUS. Over-roasted rather; ready long ago. GAOLER. Hanging is the word, sir If you be ready for that, you are well cook'd. POSTHUMUS. So, if I prove a good repast to the spectators, the dish pays the shot. GAOLER. A heavy reckoning for you, sir. But the comfort is, you shall be called to no more payments, fear no more tavern-bills, which are often the sadness of parting, as the procuring of mirth. You come in faint for want of meat, depart reeling with too much drink; sorry that you have paid too much, and sorry that you are paid too much; purse and brain both empty; the brain the heavier for being too light, the purse too light, being drawn of heaviness. O, of this contradiction you shall now be quit. O, the charity of a penny cord! It sums up thousands in a trice. You have no true debitor and creditor but it; of what's past, is, and to come, the discharge. Your neck, sir, is pen, book, and counters; so the acquittance follows. POSTHUMUS. I am merrier to die than thou art to live. GAOLER. Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the toothache; but a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he would change places with his officer; for, look you, sir, you know not which way you shall go. POSTHUMUS. Yes, indeed do I, fellow. GAOLER. Your Death has eyes in's head, then; I have not seen him so pictur'd. You must either be directed by some that take upon them to know, or to take upon yourself that which I am sure you do not know, or jump the after inquiry on your own peril. And how you shall speed in your journey's end, I think you'll never return to tell one. POSTHUMUS. I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to direct them the way I am going, but such as wink and will not use them. GAOLER. What an infinite mock is this, that a man should have the best use of eyes to see the way of blindness! I am sure hanging's the way of winking. [Enter a MESSENGER.] MESSENGER. Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the King. POSTHUMUS. Thou bring'st good news; I am call'd to be made free. GAOLER. I'll be hang'd then. POSTHUMUS. Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no bolts for the dead. [Exeunt all but the GAOLER.] GAOLER. Unless a man would marry a gallows and beget young gibbets, I never saw one so prone. Yet, on my conscience, there are verier knaves desire to live, for all he be a Roman; and there be some of them too that die against their wills. So should I, if I were one. I would we were all of one mind, and one mind good. O, there were desolation of gaolers and gallowses! I speak against my present profit, but my wish hath a preferment in't. [Exit.] SCENE V. CYMBELINE'S tent. [Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, LORDS, [OFFICERS, and Attendants.] CYMBELINE. Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart That the poor soldier that so richly fought, Whose rags sham'd gilded arms, whose naked breast Stepp'd before targes of proof, cannot be found. He shall be happy that can find him, if Our grace can make him so. BELARIUS. I never saw Such noble fury in so poor a thing; Such precious deeds in one that promis'd nought But beggary and poor looks. CYMBELINE. No tidings of him? PISANIO. He hath been search'd among the dead and living, But no trace of him. CYMBELINE. To my grief, I am The heir of his reward; [To BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.] which I will add To you, the liver, heart, and brain of Britain, By whom I grant she lives. 'Tis now the time To ask of whence you are. Report it. BELARIUS. Sir, In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen. Further to boast were neither true nor modest, Unless I add, we are honest. CYMBELINE. Bow your knees. Arise my knights o' the battle. I create you Companions to our person and will fit you With dignities becoming your estates. [Enter CORNELIUS and LADIES.] There's business in these faces. Why so sadly Greet you our victory? You look like Romans, And not o' the court of Britain. CORNELIUS. Hail, great King! To sour your happiness, I must report The Queen is dead. CYMBELINE. Who worse than a physician Would this report become? But I consider By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death Will seize the doctor too. How ended she? CORNELIUS. With horror, madly dying, like her life, Which, being cruel to the world, concluded Most cruel to herself. What she confess'd I will report, so please you. These her women Can trip me, if I err; who with wet cheeks Were present when she finish'd. CYMBELINE. Prithee, say. CORNELIUS. First, she confess'd she never lov'd you; only Affected greatness got by you, not you; Married your royalty, was wife to your place, Abhorr'd your person. CYMBELINE. She alone knew this; And, but she spoke it dying, I would not Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed. CORNELIUS. Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to love With such integrity, she did confess Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life, But that her flight prevented it, she had Ta'en off by poison. CYMBELINE. O most delicate fiend! Who is't can read a woman? Is there more? CORNELIUS. More, sir, and worse. She did confess she had For you a mortal mineral, which, being took, Should by the minute feed on life, and ling'ring By inches waste you; in which time she purpos'd, By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to O'ercome you with her show, and, in time, When she had fitted you with her craft, to work Her son into the adoption of the crown; But, failing of her end by his strange absence, Grew shameless-desperate; open'd, in despite Of heaven and men, her purposes; repented The evils she hatch'd were not effected; so Despairing died. CYMBELINE. Heard you all this, her women? LADY. We did, so please your Highness. CYMBELINE. Mine eyes Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart, That thought her like her seeming. It had been vicious To have mistrusted her; yet, O my daughter! That it was folly in me, thou mayst say, And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all! [Enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, [the SOOTHSAYER] and other Roman prisoners [guarded]; POSTHUMUS behind, and IMOGEN.] Thou com'st not, Caius, now for tribute; that The Britons have raz'd out, though with the loss Of many a bold one, whose kinsmen have made suit That their good souls may be appeas'd with slaughter Of you their captives, which ourself have granted. So think of your estate. LUCIUS. Consider, sir, the chance of war. The day Was yours by accident. Had it gone with us, We should not, when the blood was cool, have threaten'd Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives May be call'd ransom, let it come. Sufficeth A Roman, with a Roman's heart can suffer. Augustus lives to think on't; and so much For my peculiar care. This one thing only I will entreat: my boy, a Briton born, Let him be ransom'd. Never master had A page so kind, so duteous, diligent, So tender over his occasions, true, So feat, so nurse-like. Let his virtue join With my request, which I'll make bold your Highness Cannot deny. He hath done no Briton harm, Though he have serv'd a Roman. Save him, sir, And spare no blood beside. CYMBELINE. I have surely seen him; His favour is familiar to me. Boy, Thou hast look'd thyself into my grace, And art mine own. I know not why, wherefore, To say "Live, boy." Ne'er thank thy master; live, And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt, Fitting my bounty and thy state, I'll give it, Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner, The noblest ta'en. IMOGEN. I humbly thank your Highness. LUCIUS. I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad, And yet I know thou wilt. IMOGEN. No, no, alack, There's other work in hand. I see a thing Bitter to me as death; your life, good master, Must shuffle for itself. LUCIUS. The boy disdains me, He leaves me, scorns me. Briefly die their joys That place them on the truth of girls and boys. Why stands he so perplex'd? CYMBELINE. What wouldst thou, boy? I love thee more and more; think more and more What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on? Speak, Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend? IMOGEN. He is a Roman, no more kin to me Than I to your Highness; who, being born your vassal, Am something nearer. CYMBELINE. Wherefore ey'st him so? IMOGEN. I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please To give me hearing. CYMBELINE. Ay, with all my heart, And lend my best attention. What's thy name? IMOGEN. Fidele, sir. CYMBELINE. Thou'rt my good youth, my page; I'll be thy master. Walk with me; speak freely. [CYMBELINE and IMOGEN talk apart.] BELARIUS. Is not this boy, reviv'd from death, - ARVIRAGUS. One sand another Not more resembles, - that sweet rosy lad Who died, and was Fidele. What think you? GUIDERIUS. The same dead thing alive. BELARIUS. Peace, peace! see further. He eyes us not; forbear; Creatures may be alike. Were't he, I am sure He would have spoke to us. GUIDERIUS. But we saw him dead. BELARIUS. Be silent; let's see further. PISANIO. [Aside.] It is my mistress. Since she is living, let the time run on To good or bad. [CYMBELINE and IMOGEN come forward.] CYMBELINE. Come, stand thou by our side; Make thy demand aloud. [To IACHIMO.] Sir, step you forth; Give answer to this boy, and do it freely; Or, by our greatness and the grace of it, Which is our honour, bitter torture shall Winnow the truth from falsehood. On, speak to him. IMOGEN. My boon is, that this gentleman may render Of whom he had this ring. POSTHUMUS. [Aside.] What's that to him? CYMBELINE. That diamond upon your finger, say How came it yours? IACHIMO. Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that Which, to be spoke, would torture thee. CYMBELINE. How! me? IACHIMO. I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that Which torments me to conceal. By villainy I got this ring. 'Twas Leonatus' jewel, Whom thou didst banish; and - which more may grieve thee, As it doth me - a nobler sir ne'er liv'd 'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord? CYMBELINE. All that belongs to this. IACHIMO. That paragon, thy daughter, - For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits Quail to remember, - Give me leave; I faint. CYMBELINE. My daughter! What of her? Renew thy strength. I had rather thou shouldst live while Nature will Than die ere I hear more. Strive, man, and speak. IACHIMO. Upon a time, - unhappy was the clock That struck the hour! - it was in Rome, - accurs'd The mansion where! - 'twas at a feast, - O, would Our viands had been poison'd, or at least Those which I heav'd to head! - the good Posthumus - What should I say? He was too good to be Where ill men were; and was the best of all Amongst the rar'st of good ones, - sitting sadly, Hearing us praise our loves of Italy For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast Of him that best could speak, for feature, laming The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva, Postures beyond brief nature, for condition, A shop of all the qualities that man Loves woman for, besides that hook of wiving, Fairness which strikes the eye - CYMBELINE. I stand on fire: Come to the matter. IACHIMO. All too soon I shall, Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Posthumus, Most like a noble lord in love and one That had a royal lover, took his hint; And not dispraising whom we prais'd, - therein He was as calm as virtue, - he began His mistress' picture; which by his tongue being made, And then a mind put in't, either our brags Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his description Prov'd us unspeaking sots. CYMBELINE. Nay, nay, to th' purpose. IACHIMO. Your daughter's chastity - there it begins. He spake of her, as Dian had hot dreams, And she alone were cold; whereat I, wretch, Made scruple of his praise; and wager'd with him Pieces of gold 'gainst this which then he wore Upon his honour'd finger, to attain In suit the place of's bed and win this ring By hers and mine adultery. He, true knight, No lesser of her honour confident Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring; And would so, had it been a carbuncle Of Phoebus' wheel, and might so safely, had it Been all the worth of's car. Away to Britain Post I in this design. Well may you, sir, Remember me at court, where I was taught Of your chaste daughter the wide difference 'Twixt amorous and villainous. Being thus quench'd Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain Gan in your duller Britain operate Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent; And, to be brief, my practice so prevail'd, That I return'd with similar proof enough To make the noble Leonatus mad, By wounding his belief in her renown With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet, - O cunning, how I got it! - nay, some marks Of secret on her person, that he could not But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd, I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon - Methinks, I see him now - POSTHUMUS. [Advancing.] Ay, so thou dost, Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool, Egregious murderer, thief, anything That's due to all the villains past, in being, To come! O, give me cord, or knife, or poison, Some upright justicer! Thou, King, send out For torturers ingenious; it is I That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend By being worse than they. I am Posthumus, That kill'd thy daughter: - villain-like, I lie - That caused a lesser villain than myself, A sacrilegious thief, to do't. The temple Of Virtue was she; yea, and she herself. Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set The dogs o' the street to bay me; every villain Be call'd Posthumus Leonatus; and Be villainy less than 'twas! O Imogen My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen, Imogen, Imogen! IMOGEN. Peace, my lord; hear, hear - POSTHUMUS. Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page, There lies thy part. [Striking her; she falls.] PISANIO. O gentlemen, help Mine and your mistress! O, my lord Posthumus! You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now. Help, help! Mine honour'd lady! CYMBELINE. Does the world go round? POSTHUMUS. How comes these staggers on me? PISANIO. Wake, my mistress! CYMBELINE. If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me To death with mortal joy. PISANIO. How fares my mistress? IMOGEN. O, get thee from my sight; Thou gav'st me poison. Dangerous fellow, hence! Breathe not where princes are. CYMBELINE. The tune of Imogen! PISANIO. Lady, The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if That box I gave you was not thought by me A precious thing! I had it from the Queen. CYMBELINE. New matter still? IMOGEN. It poison'd me. CORNELIUS. O gods! I left out one thing which the Queen confess'd, Which must approve thee honest. "If Pisanio Have," said she "given his mistress that confection Which I gave him for cordial, she is serv'd As I would serve a rat." CYMBELINE. What's this, Cornelius? CORNELIUS. The Queen, sir, very oft importun'd me To temper poisons for her, still pretending The satisfaction of her knowledge only In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs, Of no esteem. I, dreading that her purpose Was of more danger, did compound for her A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would cease The present power of life, but in short time All offices of nature should again Do their due functions. Have you ta'en of it? IMOGEN. Most like I did, for I was dead. BELARIUS. My boys, There was our error. GUIDERIUS. This is, sure, Fidele. IMOGEN. Why did you throw your wedded lady from you? Think that you are upon a rock, and now Throw me again. [Embracing him.] POSTHUMUS. Hang there like fruit, my soul, Till the tree die! CYMBELINE. How now, my flesh, my child! What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act? Wilt thou not speak to me? IMOGEN. [Kneeling.] Your blessing, sir. BELARIUS. [To GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS.] Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not; You had a motive for't. CYMBELINE. My tears that fall Prove holy water on thee! Imogen, Thy mother's dead. IMOGEN. I am sorry for't, my lord. CYMBELINE. O, she was naught; and long of her it was That we meet here so strangely; but her son Is gone, we know not how nor where. PISANIO. My lord, Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Cloten, Upon my lady's missing, came to me With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, and swore, If I discover'd not which way she was gone, It was my instant death. By accident, I had a feigned letter of my master's Then in my pocket, which directed him To seek her on the mountains near to Milford; Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments, Which he enforc'd from me, away he posts With unchaste purpose, and with oath to violate My lady's honour. What became of him I further know not. GUIDERIUS. Let me end the story: I slew him there. CYMBELINE. Marry, the gods forfend! I would not thy good deeds should from my lips Pluck a hard sentence. Prithee, valiant youth, Deny't again. GUIDERIUS. I have spoke it, and I did it. CYMBELINE. He was a prince. GUIDERIUS. A most incivil one. The wrongs he did me Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me With language that would make me spurn the sea, If it could so roar to me. I cut off's head; And am right glad he is not standing here To tell this tale of mine. CYMBELINE. I am sorry for thee. By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must Endure our law. Thou'rt dead. IMOGEN. That headless man I thought had been my lord. CYMBELINE. Bind the offender, And take him from our presence. BELARIUS. Stay, sir King; This man is better than the man he slew, As well descended as thyself; and hath More of thee merited than a band of Clotens Had ever scar for. [To the Guard.] Let his arms alone; They were not born for bondage. CYMBELINE. Why, old soldier, Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for, By tasting of our wrath? How of descent As good as we? ARVIRAGUS. In that he spake too far. CYMBELINE. And thou shalt die for't. BELARIUS. We will die all three But I will prove that two on's are as good As I have given out him. My sons, I must For mine own part unfold a dangerous speech, Though, haply, well for you. ARVIRAGUS. Your danger's ours. GUIDERIUS. And our good his. BELARIUS. Have at it then, by leave. Thou hadst, great King, a subject who Was call'd Belarius. CYMBELINE. What of him? He is A banish'd traitor. BELARIUS. He it is that hath Assum'd this age, indeed a banish'd man; I know not how a traitor. CYMBELINE. Take him hence, The whole world shall not save him. BELARIUS. Not too hot. First pay me for the nursing of thy sons; And let it be confiscate all so soon As I have receiv'd it. CYMBELINE. Nursing of my sons! BELARIUS. I am too blunt and saucy; here's my knee. Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons; Then spare not the old father. Mighty sir, These two young gentlemen, that call me father, And think they are my sons, are none of mine; They are the issue of your loins, my liege, And blood of your begetting. CYMBELINE. How! my issue! BELARIUS. So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan, Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd. Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes - For such and so they are - these twenty years Have I train'd up. Those arts they have as Could put into them; my breeding was, sir, as Your Highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile, Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children. Upon my banishment I mov'd her to't, Having receiv'd the punishment before, For that which I did then. Beaten for loyalty Excited me to treason. Their dear loss, The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir, Here are your sons again; and I must lose Two of the sweet'st companions in the world. The benediction of these covering heavens Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy To inlay heaven with stars. CYMBELINE. Thou weep'st, and speak'st. The service that you three have done is more Unlike than this thou tell'st. I lost my children; If these be they, I know not how to wish A pair of worthier sons. BELARIUS. Be pleas'd awhile. This gentleman, whom I call Polydore, Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius; This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus, Your younger princely son. He, sir, was lapp'd In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand Of his queen mother, which for more probation I can with ease produce. CYMBELINE. Guiderius had Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star; It was a mark of wonder. BELARIUS. This is he, Who hath upon him still that natural stamp. It was wise Nature's end in the donation, To be his evidence now. CYMBELINE. O, what, am I A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother Rejoic'd deliverance more. Blest pray you be, That, after this strange starting from your orbs, You may reign in them now! O Imogen, Thou hast lost by this a kingdom. IMOGEN. No, my lord; I have got two worlds by 't. O my gentle brothers, Have we thus met? O, never say hereafter But I am truest speaker. You call'd me brother, When I was but your sister; I you brothers, When ye were so indeed. CYMBELINE. Did you e'er meet? ARVIRAGUS. Ay, my good lord. GUIDERIUS. And at first meeting lov'd; Continu'd so, until we thought he died. CORNELIUS. By the Queen's dram she swallow'd. CYMBELINE. O rare instinct! When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridgment Hath to it circumstantial branches, which Distinction should be rich in. Where, how liv'd you? And when came you to serve our Roman captive? How parted with your brothers? How first met them? Why fled you from the court? and whither? These, And your three motives to the battle, with I know not how much more, should be demanded; And all the other by-dependencies, From chance to chance; but nor the time nor place Will serve our long inter'gatories. See, Posthumus anchors upon Imogen, And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye On him, her brothers, me, her master, hitting Each object with a joy; the counterchange Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground, And smoke the temple with our sacrifices. [To BELARIUS.] Thou art my brother; so we'll hold thee ever. IMOGEN. You are my father too, and did relieve me, To see this gracious season. CYMBELINE. All o'erjoy'd, Save these in bonds. Let them be joyful too, For they shall taste our comfort. IMOGEN. My good master, I will yet do you service. LUCIUS. Happy be you! CYMBELINE. The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought, He would have well becom'd this place, and grac'd The thankings of a king. POSTHUMUS. I am, sir, The soldier that did company these three In poor beseeming; 'twas a fitment for The purpose I then follow'd. That I was he, Speak, Iachimo. I had you down and might Have made you finish. IACHIMO. [Kneeling.] I am down again; But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee, As then your force did. Take that life, beseech you, Which I so often owe; but your ring first, And here the bracelet of the truest princess That ever swore her faith. POSTHUMUS. Kneel not to me. The power that I have on you is to spare you, The malice towards you to forgive you. Live, And deal with others better. CYMBELINE. Nobly doom'd! We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law; Pardon's the word to all. ARVIRAGUS. You holp us, sir, As you did mean indeed to be our brother; Joy'd are we that you are. POSTHUMUS. Your servant, Princes. Good my lord of Rome, Call forth your soothsayer. As I slept, methought Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back'd, Appear'd to me, with other spritely shows Of mine own kindred. When I wak'd, I found This label on my bosom; whose containing Is so from sense in hardness, that I can Make no collection of it. Let him show His skill in the construction. LUCIUS. Philarmonus! SOOTHSAYER. Here, my good lord. LUCIUS. Read, and declare the meaning. SOOTHSAYER. [Reads.] "Whenas a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embrac'd by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopp'd branches, which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty." Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp; The fit and apt construction of thy name, Being leo-natus, doth import so much. [To CYMBELINE.] The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter, Which we call mollis aer; and mollis aer We term it mulier; which mulier I divine Is this most constant wife, who, even now Answering the letter of the oracle, Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about With this most tender air. CYMBELINE. This hath some seeming. SOOTHSAYER. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, Personates thee; and thy lopp'd branches point Thy two sons forth; who, by Belarius stolen, For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd, To the majestic cedar join'd, whose issue Promises Britain peace and plenty. CYMBELINE. Well; My peace we will begin. And, Caius Lucius, Although the victor, we submit to Caesar, And to the Roman empire, promising To pay our wonted tribute, from the which We were dissuaded by our wicked queen; Whom heavens, in justice, both on her and hers, Have laid most heavy hand. SOOTHSAYER. The fingers of the powers above do tune The harmony of this peace. The vision Which I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke Of yet this scarce-cold battle, at this instant Is full accomplish'd; for the Roman eagle, From south to west on wing soaring aloft, Lessen'd herself, and in the beams o' the sun So vanish'd; which foreshow'd our princely eagle, The imperial Caesar, should again unite His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, Which shines here in the west. CYMBELINE. Laud we the gods; And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils From our bless'd altars. Publish we this peace To all our subjects. Set we forward. Let A Roman and a British ensign wave Friendly together. So through Lud's town march; And in the temple of great Jupiter Our peace we'll ratify; seal it with feasts. Set on there! Never was a war did cease, Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a peace. [The End.] Publication Date: May 29th 2008 https://www.bookrix.com/-bx.shakespeare

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-sarah-rose-dear-journal-true-story/

sarah rose Dear journal -true story- 1. November Dear journal, 11,2,11. WEDNESDAY It is almost 2 O'clock and I have to go somewhere at two-forty. I have to pick up my U.B.F.F (Unlimited Bestest Friend Forever) Faith. She goes to public School, I on the other hand am lucky enough to be home-schooled. I also have two brothers. One is My big brother Sam. He is 14 while I am only 12. My other one is my little brother, Vincent, -But I call him BB for Baby brother.- he is 11. He is the one I know is a dork my brother Sam is a mystery to me. 11,4,11 FRIDAY Ever since I started writing in this journal I started ignoring everything but it. I don't know why...But it's super addicting.Guess where I found the picture I worked hard on to draw for BB was? IN THE RAIN!!! BB says he accidentally left it out there, I want to believe him so I will. During D.n.D my journal got taken away, - for people who don't know what D.n.D means it stands for Dungeons and Dragons it's kinda a geeky game - - still in progress - Publication Date: February 3rd 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-dramarose

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-brandonsgirl9951-an-unwanted-girl/

brandonsgirl9951 an unwanted girl why dont anyone want me she asked scardley? to any one who ever felt unwanted, or invisible to every one else this is for you. Text: One day a girl named Crystal went to school and her friend Jenna seen she had bruses all up her arms and legs. Ouch said crystal Jenna touched her arm. They tried telling the teachers but they just said go away. None of the kids cared either. Jenna said who did this? My mom and dad did she said scardley they hit me and no one stops them. I am here for you Jenna said taking a big breath, thanks said crystal. That following day when crystal got home her mom and dad were drunk again they started swinging at her so she ran out and went to her only friend Jennas house, She to got abused so they both ran and as they ran past some train tracks a train came i cant take it said crystal i just cant. What do you mean asked jenna. just then crystal jumped in front of the train and she was dead jenna cryed and screamed she to was going to kill her self so she ran after the train and jumped in front of it and she was to dead a year later no one ever noticed still and thats the end. All rights reserved. Publication Date: September 28th 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-brandonsgirl9951

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-kristina-rachel-philippe-eternal-flame/

Kristina Rachel Philippe Eternal Flame Prologue No one in this world could boast that he or she has never been in love or even have a special feeling towards someone.Though sometime it hurts, we can't deny that it is somehow a sweet feeling.I,myself did experience it and indeed it sometime arouse sorrow, pain and so on... Trust,belief,love...I had it all but due to some mere mistakes...my little world crumbled down and as time passed, I felt like I was being engulfed in an abyss...losing everything I had,left alone in this cruel world... What to mourn for when that something-no-someone that you needed ,had ceased to exist... Well I'm going to tell you how everything started...how for me it did... chapter one One year ago... "Words fail me!"I exclaimed as Anabella,my elder sister, stood with her hands on her hips in front of me."So how do I look?"She asked.And for the second time, I looked at what she was wearing and what she had not put on or forgotten.(Well I hope so!) Her extremely short shorts showed off her panties, her v-neck shirt held tight her boobs which look like it was about to explode.I eyed them suspiciously before gulping. "Does that give off the impression of...'not sexy at all but still average' or'TOO sexy!Jessica Simpson better look out!'...which one?" "Do I get any other...options?"I faltered. She glared."What is that suppose to mean?" "Bella...you should know that you're beautiful,one of the prettiest girl I know and I should be proud to have you assister!" "Awww!Thanks, really-WAIT!You didn't answer my question!How do I look Now!?" Dude,I'm dead,I thought."Sure...maybe I have ommited some facts like you lok like a stupid whore, easy going girl and so on but don't forget I'll always love you!So how do you feel!?"I said quickly,hoping she didn't take care of what I'd just say.But as you can guess it didn't work at all.I mentally smacked my head with a wall. I think her eyes just flared and that made me shivered. Publication Date: October 5th 2014 https://www.bookrix.com/-rachel23

https://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-james-bernard-myers-essence-of-temptation/

james bernard myers ESSENCE OF TEMPTATION ESSENCE OF TEMPTATION So here, we see that the earth was complete and there was nothing else to do. All that the man created and all that he spoke into existence it was good and it was right. Now the man had to be really tired from creating all that he did. Now be mindful that he did all this by himself, he didn’t need any help in what he was doing. Now if you would have gave this task to one of us, well you know what would have happened. First we would have complained that it was to much work, to much to little time to do it. Now why do we search for things to do like working and trying to make a living and then once we get in we just ain’t satisfied one damn bit. But I guess that is the difference from being a man than being the man, a provider, than being a creator. I thought that was the mans whole plan was to in a sense of miscegenation to make a new world or what ever man had in mind, but not God. Cause we just over looked what God wanted us to do. So now that this is all down pack and dat is what it is left to do. Well first we have to see that he had the thought to do all he did and created in that time he was just picking up the pieces. Anyway he got rest and we should do like wise as well. So now while the man was getting rest, he got to thinking, wait a sec, I ain’t got no plants and trees and all that other stuff, but if I create (or make) these things whom will take care of them. I’m not gonna wash your cloths and fold them to. (Just a joke on my part). So this is what I will do, I will see if I can come up with an idea or something that I can do to make this world pretty and without blemish. Now I’m here alone and I have no one to maintain this world. I just can’t do it, so, oh wait. Now if I create a man from me, my own self and put him here just to do this and nothing else. So now how will I make this man? Now I can’t make him like me because we all know what happened to that first fella I thought was gonna be my ace, my partner. Now I don’t know why Satan thought that he could do this. I gave him everything that he did not ask for, but he wanted more, and why. Let this be a lesson to all of you that will come after Satan that you cannot override the rider, the creator, even though he was the man (besides me) he was not gonna hold what I hold. I don’t want to sound criminal or to be bequeathed, but I am the first , the last and no man will come after me to do what I have done. So this is what the deal is, we are not gonna talk about that joker cause that is a whole nother book, but anyway back to what I’m trying to do to keep this earth in good shape. Now all this land and water and stone, all this I’m sure I can come up with something. Wait, I know, check this out. Now I spoke everything I made into existence, now what if I use my hands to create something living and I just breathe into it. I know, I will make a man like me out of my own image and nothing else, cause I don’t want to make the same mistake twice, (like I even made one before). But any who, I’ll make man out of my own image and I will allow him to look like me. Now once I finish this I will breathe the breath of life into his nose and then he will rise and I will tell him what he needs to do. And when I give him these instructions, and he fails then, I am not responsible, okay, here we go. While the man breathes into the nose of the being that is called man he is sat down by the man and gave strict rules and regulations of the laws of the land, if that is what you want to call them. So now that man is here he gave him a name. Now I want to know why Adam, why not Tyrone, James, John, but that is not important though. So, now Adam, Adam over here come this way. Now this is what I… Adam, where are you going man. Hey, can you hear me, look at me when I talk to you man. Oh my bag let me lay hands on you and bless you and keep you, let me let the sun shine upon your face and give you peace. Now, can you hear me now, good. Oh me, I’m your daddy and I created or made you form all this land that you are walking on. All you see here as far as you can see, this is all yours and I mean all yours. What, oh my name, well I have many names but you can call me God the Father. Now don’t call me out my name or you gonna be in trouble, hear me. Now while we are having these discussions, is there anything that you want to ask me or want. Well now that they were in deep debate, God told Adam that he is gonna put a garden in the middle of nowhere. Now a garden, why in the world a garden, well I guess since that God did all he did he did not want his son to work as hard as he did. So now he puts this garden up and all those other things, so he puts two trees I think in the garden. Let me see now I’m gonna do two trees but I will just let him know about the most important one. Now let’s see, the tree of Life, yeah and uh, the tree of Knowledge, cause we all now that I’m all that and then some. Okay Adam, Adam come here boy, let me tell you something. Now this is what you need. I’m gonna put some uh, the uh, uh, animals I think that might sound right. But anyway you gwan’ name all the beast, yeah I like that, animals sound so degrading, so we will call them beast and fowls of the air. So name them all and then just do what it do okay. Let me go back over here and let me let you do your thing okay. What, what that tree over there, oh yeah, I forgot to mention that to you. See you are a pretty smart guy like me. It’s good that you did not go behind my back and just take it upon yourself to find out what that tree is. Okay Adam let’s sit down and talk about this man to creator. Now look here, this tree is the tree of knowledge and you are not to touch it, go near it. Now when I say don’t do something I mean it. Don’t make me discipline you now when you only been here less than 2 hours or more. I need you to obey every single word I say, I mean it. Now if you don’t believe me, you might run into a snake and he will tell you what happened to him. But then again his pride might not let him. You know, I will give you just a little take on what happened to him. Well it all started I think after I created the universe. And the same things I done with you, I done for him as well. So I had this big earth and no one to run it, well the same thing happened to him as it will with you. I gave him some rules and guidelines and stuff, but some where he thought that by him being the only one and all that, he was gonna be the man over me, but like I told you, I told him the same thing, but you know he was just a little arrogant and forth coming. Check this out, I went out into the universe to see what kind of earth I would created and you know I have a throne that I sit on and all, so no one sits there but me. You know I have a saying that no man cometh before or after me. So anyway don’t sit in my chair, don’t touch that tree and do what I say and just love what you do and where you go and who you are wit’. Now as far as, Adam, where are you going now son. Wait, you look depressed and mad. Do you think that I’m hard or something. It’s either my way or now way at all. I am sorry. So Adam speaks now and vents to God but easy and firm. God why do you have all these rules and stuff. I just got here and you put all this stuff on me. I don’t think that I can bear all this, naming animals, keeping up the garden, staying away from that tree of life, knowledge or what ever, I’m just , I don’t know. So God says look, I’m not gonna put no more on you than you can bear. So Adam says, okay check this out, you were lonely and you made me to keep you company, but I know that you had to create something or somebody to keep up all this up, so now let me tell you like this. I need someone the opposite of me. What do you think. God says well what do you mean the opposite. Well me and you are, you know man. Can we have or can I have someone to keep me company. I notice that the animals are different. God says what do you mean. Well one has a thing coming out under his belly and the other has an opening of some sort and I also checked out one time they were in a certain position and the one with this thing pointing out was on top just moaning and grunting. God says, oh, I see. You want something of that same deal. Yeah??!!!!!! Ok, Ok. But before we go any further you have to remember what I told you about this tree of knowledge okay. Deal, says Adam. So now God puts Adam to sleep, in a deep sleep. He sleeps for a while and all that God does is just do the same he did with Adam but he takes something away from Adam, and gives it to the other being. So now they both awake a few days later and Adam looks to his right and sees this being and he says to God, Woh-man what do we have here. God says that this is a uh, a I being made from you. I took one of your ribs too, so that ya’ll can be linked together until the end of time. Wait, says Adam. You mean that by you joining us bone of bone and flesh of flesh we are forever linked, yes says God. Well I tell you what, if you put us together then together we w ill be, no matter what. Now I have to give her a name. Dangit I just ran out of names, I named all these animals and I have no name for may wife. God says what? Adam says my wife. Yeah that sounds good, but she still needs a name. Well it is getting to be evening now. What says Adam to God, evening that is a day that I called when the sun goes down. Yeah, how about Eve. Call your wife Eve okay. Yeah, cool. So now that Adam had gotten all the rules and laws of the creator he now has to tell all that was told to him, he must now tell to Eve, his wife, his uh help mate. Now that all of Adams work is done he and Eve now are just having a time of his life, well their lives. So now that God has left, well not just quite yet. But before he leaves, he calls them both to the throne, cause he first has to do with Eve what he did with Adam. God had to bless her and keep her, he has to make his face shine upon her and give he peace. You when we are all born it is really by the hands of God that we are placed inside the womb of women to bear her fruit for he mate. You see God is always in the amalgamation process and has the power to do this to keep this world going. We know that today we are living a life not suit for mankind, but that is another story. So now that God performs this miscegenation of these two, he now leaves them alone to do what they do. But as time goes on and years pass by, Eve is now going on he own in a sense to have time alone to herself. We all need that me time alone so that we can have a chance to miss one another you know, cause being with someone 24-7 is a bit much and you grow sometimes tired, frustrated and just want to be alone. So Eve is alone just waling and admiring all that God has done and all that Adam had done as well. She walks along the grass with her bare feet with the feeling that she has not a care in the world. She whispers things in the air as if Adam was with her, she plucks flowers off of trees, she graces across the waters of the rivers, she lays naked in the sun that shines upon her skin. But as she walks and continues to grace upon the grasses and the streams, she comes across the path that leads to a field, and there she sees a tree in the middle of the field with a sword of something swinging in front t of it. Now mind you that God had told her not to touch this tree, stay away from this tree or she would surely die. Now she wonders a bit about this, and wants to know why is this such a big deal to stay away from this tree. Let me see, she thinks it was the tree of knowledge she ponders. Well as you see she has a bad memory and can’t remember what the tree was and she can’t really recall why he did this to them. Let me think a minute she says to herself, this a nice tree and it has a lot of fruit on it. Now Eve does not know about the serpent and God. Adam must have forgotten to tell her of this serpent. But be mindful she was aware of the tree to not to touch it or even go near it. So she shows disobedience already. Now on the other hand I have to look at Adam and the part he played in this. When you are joined together by God in marriage, you are to cleave to your spouse and not let harm or danger come to them. This is a place now that even though that God had created this wonder place there lurks evil as well as good. Now we all think about that since God made all and created all, it is all good, but don’t forget about the fallen angel that was banished from heaven. What does that mean by fallen angels and demons and all this evil talk. She did not quite comprehend all of this talk about evil and demons and stuff of that nature. Even though she was disobedient and not really understanding, she was ascertaining all that was around her. She has a heart to really listen but to go on about her own way to find things out on her own, but she had a big heart. So now that she stands there in the midst of this tree contemplating on whether to take this fruit from the tree, she now is approached by the serpent. Now that she comes across this slithering being on the tree, she is not afraid for it has a upper body as hers, so there is no fright at all. He says to her, hey wzup, and where is your help mate and why are you all alone out here in this place and your husband does not accompany you. Don’t you know that what God has joined together let no man put asunder. Now she looks around stupefied at what the serpent is saying. She does not really understand what he just said to her. She says, what do you mean by put asunder. I have no clue of what you say to me in that language. It is okay says the serpent, let me tell you this much about what God says not to do. Now here you are without your help mate alone, that there should be a red flag for me to know that I can persuade you to do what I want you to do without the help or hand of your husband. Then I see that God told you to stay away from this tree and all that other stuff, right. Yeah????!!!, says Eve. So now she is really curious. How does he know all about God, he was not there at the marriage ceremony, who is this being, how does he know so much about me and my husband and even God!!?? So now she goes back and tries to find her husband, but he is no where to be found. She thinks out lot to herself in frustration. She still wonders who this is that knows all about the plans and guidelines of the land. So she walks around for a minute and then she goes back to the same tree where the serpent is waiting for her. The serpent says to her, did you find your husband yet, have you seen him. He is probably busy tending to the animals and fishing or something like that. But I tell you what, says the serpent. Let me tell you a little sumtin’ sumtin’. Now if I recall God said that if you eat of this fruit you will die, right. Yeah, she says. And he told you to stay away from this tree and me right. Yes, and no she says. The tree yeah, but you he did not mention. That is why I’m so confused as to why you are here telling me all about what we have been told not to do. But can you now tell me who you are, because it is really messing wit me at this time and I don’t like to be left in the dark on things. So the serpent says look I tell you what, just take a bite of this apple, it is not gonna kill you, look at me, I’ve been eating on this fruit, so I’m not dead, I ’m just as lively as you are. But what about your, Uh, oh, your uh, lower part of your body, I mean who in the hell are you or what are you. Well says the serpent, to be honest with you, if you just take this apple and bite into its juices then I will tell you all that you need to know. Yeah, says Eve, but I can’t do this cause I have to obey my husband and God, I just can’t go against what they have told mi what to do. Can you understand that. Yeah I guess, but what is obeying, what does that mean. Any ways, says the serpent, just take a bite and then you will see the whole truth and nothing but the truth of who you are and what you are. What do you mean, asks Eve in disarray. Look at you says the serpent, you are naked……. Well I’m saying, just take a bite, okay. NO, I can’t, says Eve. Well I tell you what, if I take a bite then will you take a bite. Okay and then I will show you that you are not gonna die okay. I guess, I mean I know you married and all (wink, wink), but I won’t hurt you, I just want you to know the truth of who you are and then you will see who I am, okay. Okay says Eve. So she takes a real good bite and then soon as she does that, look who decides to show up and raise all kinds of cane. Eve!!!!!!! Eve!!!!!! Stop, don’t, don’t get away from that serpent, put that down, and you, you you you snake, get away form my wife, I’ll kill you, get away from her. So the serpent leaves the scene and is never to be found again. Now Adam has to deal with Eve about all kinds of things. Why didn’t you tell me about that, what you called, a snake, why didn’t ya’ll tell me about him. I didn’t know about him that much, but God told me but I didn’t think that he would be around here. You see when I named all the animals and fowls of the air, I didn’t see anything like him so I figure it was no deal. But woman we told you to stay away from this tree and not to go near it. Why did you go against God and his wishes for us. I’m sorry but he told me that we would not die, and he even took a bite too. So I said if he is still living then it can’t be bad. Oh yeah, why does he have that kind of body, he’s different from us. Well, you know before God made me from this sand and rock, he was in heaven with this angel, this snake that you have seen, he was one of Gods right hand men, and he tried to sit where he told us not to sit. He tried to take over Gods universe but God said oh no, there is only room for one of us. And they fought and fought, until God got the upper hand and threw him down to earth. I think that he said he was a fallen angel, and that he would crawl on his belly for the rest of his life. Ohhh boyyy????!!! Adam, Eve. This goes on for awhile. God now tries to call them and call them. So they are looking around at them selves and notice that they are naked. So they get some leaves to cover themselves up and they run and hide. God continues to call and they continue to run until they get tired. So God finds them and is really hurt and disappointed. So he says what have we here, are ya’ll trying to hide from me? Didn’t ya’ll hear me call you? Why are you running from me? I, oh, well, uh, oh boy. Okay, Okay, wait. What is that wrapped around you, I mean what is that in front of you. Well forget it. Now first things first. I have to say that I’m very disappointed in you two. Now look, sit down before I really lose my temper. What part of don’t touch that you don’t understand. I told you Adam first not to go…..Whew, I’m just gonna cool off, I ‘m gonna take a deep breath. Now okay now where was I… Yeah, anyway this is what…..Wait, wait. Where were you when she was by the tree in the garden fool. Answer that first. Where were you man. Adam speaks. Uh, uh, well I was tending to the cattle and all, but I didn’t know that she was gone away. She just tipped away. When I married you two this was meant for ya’ll to do things together, for you not to lose sight of her, cause you don’t know what trouble she might cause for you. Well ya’ll. Answer me man!!!!!! Okay okay. Here’s the deal. Now let’s review; oh did you see a serpent crawling on his belly? Yeah, they both said together in unison. But actually he was in the tree and he looked just like us, except for his lower body. Yeah, God said that was him. I didn’t expect him to be at the tree of knowledge. What did he tell you. He told me, said Eve, that you said that if we eat this fruit that we will die, but he said that we wouldn’t die. So he ate it too and he gave me some and then that what happened. Now God said Adam did you tell her not to eat he fruit. Yeah? I can’t hear you. YES. I told her not to go to the tree, stay away from it. Now first thing, why didn’t you tell her to stay with you at all times, why didn’t you say if you are gonna go just tap me on the shoulder and let me know when you leave. Uh I don’t know. Okay this is what is gonna happen. The reason that the serpent is crawling, whether in a tree or not, and the reason he looks like that is because he did that same thing but different. He was one of my favorites, he was a perfect being until he got the big head and thought that he could do me and be me. But little did he know, it’s not enough room for the both of us in heaven. So I cursed him to the way he is now. He will forever crawl and he will always fuss with his mate and they will just be miserable. Now for you two this is what is gonna happen to you all. Hey, hey ,stop crying. Ain’t no use ya’ll crying now, ya’ll done messed up now partner. So stop it, just stop it okay. I ain’t trying to hear all that. Look woman, you will have pains in your child bearing, you gonna bleed, and cry and it is gonna hurt. I’m telling you now, so stop crying woman. Now Adam, he is gonna be your ruler, you will have to do what he says, you hear me. Now Adam. Man like you was doing before, I was just preparing you for your future. All that work you was doing before you will do it until you die, you will eat of the same land plants and all. You will sweat, bleed, get hurt break limbs and all. And check this out, when you die I made dust from you and dust shall you go back to. Now leave me and go on and do what ya’ll need to do. I love you and see on that great day. LOVE, PEACE, AND POWER SMOOVE B……………. Publication Date: March 19th 2010 https://www.bookrix.com/-wssurams23.write

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Sir James Matthew Barrie Alice Sit-By-The-Fire I One would like to peep covertly into Amy's diary (octavo, with the word 'Amy' in gold letters wandering across the soft brown leather covers, as if it was a long word and, in Amy's opinion, rather a dear). To take such a liberty, and allow the reader to look over our shoulders, as they often invite you to do in novels (which, however, are much more coquettish things than plays) would be very helpful to us; we should learn at once what sort of girl Amy is, and why to-day finds her washing her hair. We should also get proof or otherwise, that we are interpreting her aright; for it is our desire not to record our feelings about Amy, but merely Amy's feelings about herself; not to tell what we think happened, but what Amy thought happened. The book, to be sure, is padlocked, but we happen to know where it is kept. (In the lower drawer of that hand-painted escritoire.) Sometimes in the night Amy, waking up, wonders whether she did lock her diary, and steals downstairs in white to make sure. On these occasions she undoubtedly lingers among the pages, re-reading the peculiarly delightful bit she wrote yesterday; so we could peep over her shoulder, while the reader peeps over ours. Then why don't we do it? Is it because this would be a form of eavesdropping, and that we cannot be sure our hands are clean enough to turn the pages of a young girl's thoughts? It cannot be that, because the novelists do it. It is because in a play we must tell nothing that is not revealed by the spoken words; you must find out all you want to know from them; there is no weather even in plays nowadays except in melodrama; the novelist can have sixteen chapters about the hero's grandparents, but we cannot even say he had any unless he says it himself. There can be no rummaging in the past for us to show what sort of people our characters are; we are allowed only to present them as they toe the mark; then the handkerchief falls, and off they go. So now we know why we must not spy into Amy's diary. Perhaps we have not always been such sticklers for the etiquette of the thing; but we are always sticklers on Thursdays, and this is a Thursday. As you are to be shown Amy's room, we are permitted to describe it, though not to tell (which would be much more interesting) why a girl of seventeen has, as her very own, the chief room of a house. The moment you open the door of this room (and please, you are not to look consciously at the escritoire as if you knew the diary was in it) you are aware, though Amy may not be visible, that there is an uncommonly clever girl in the house. The door does not always open easily, because attached thereto is a curtain which frequently catches in it, and this curtain is hand-sewn (extinct animals); indeed a gifted woman's touch is everywhere; if you are not hand-sewn you are almost certainly hand-painted, but incompletely, for Amy in her pursuit of the arts has often to drop one in order to keep pace with another. Some of the chairs have escaped as yet, but their time will come. The table-cover and the curtains are of a lovely pink, perforated ingeniously with many tiny holes, which when you consider them against a dark background, gradually assume the appearance of something pictorial, such as a basket of odd flowers. The fender stool is in brown velvet, and there are words on it that invite you to sit down. Some of the letters of this message have been burned away. There are artistic white bookshelves hanging lopsidedly here and there, and they also have pink curtains, no larger than a doll's garments. These little curtains are for covering the parts where there are no books as yet. The pictures on the walls are mostly studies done at school, and include the well-known windmill, and the equally popular old lady by the shore. Their frames are of fir-cones, glued together, or of straws which have gone limp, and droop like streaks of macaroni. There is a cosy corner; also a milking-stool, but no cow. The lampshades have had ribbons added to them, and from a distance look like ladies of the ballet. The flower-pot also is in a skirt. Near the door is a large screen, such as people hide behind in the more ordinary sort of play; it will be interesting to see whether we can resist the temptation to hide some one behind it. A few common weeds rear their profane heads in this innocent garden; for instance a cruet-stand, a basket of cutlery, and a triangular dish of the kind in which the correct confine cheese. They have not strayed here, they live here; indeed this is among other things the dining- room of a modest little house in Brompton made beautiful, or nearly so, by a girl, who has a soul above food and conceals its accessories as far as possible from view, in drawers, even in the waste-paper basket. Not a dish, not a spoon, not a fork, is hand-painted, a sufficient indication of her contempt for them. Amy is present, but is not seen to the best advantage, for she has been washing her hair, and is now drying it by the fire. Notable among her garments are a dressing-jacket and a towel, and her head is bent so far back over the fire that we see her face nearly upside-down. This is no position in which we can do justice to her undoubted facial charm. Seated near her is her brother Cosmo, a boy of thirteen, in naval uniform. Cosmo is a cadet at Osborne, and properly proud of his station, but just now he looks proud of nothing. He is plunged in gloom. The cause of his woe is a telegram, which he is regarding from all points of the compass, as if in hopes of making it send him better news. At last he gives expression to his feelings. 'All I can say,' he sums up in the first words of the play, 'is that if father tries to kiss me, I shall kick him.' If Amy makes any reply the words arrive upside-down and are unintelligible. The maid announces Miss Dunbar. Then Amy rises, brings her head to the position in which they are usually carried; and she and Ginevra look into each other's eyes. They always do this when they meet, though they meet several times a day, and it is worth doing, for what they see in those pellucid pools is love eternal. Thus they loved at school (in their last two terms), and thus they will love till the grave encloses them. These thoughts, and others even more beautiful, are in their minds as they gaze at each other now. No man will ever be able to say 'Amy,' or to say 'Ginevra,' with such a trill as they are saying it. 'Ginevra, my beloved.' 'My Amy, my better self.' 'My other me.' There is something almost painful in love like this. 'Are you well, Ginevra?' 'Quite well, Amy.' Heavens, the joy of Amy because Ginevra is quite well. 'How did my Amy sleep?' 'I had a good night.' How happy is Ginevra because Amy has had a good night. All this time they have been slowly approaching each other, drawn by a power stronger than themselves. Their intention is to kiss. They do so. Cosmo snorts, and betakes himself to some other room, his bedroom probably, where a man may be alone with mannish things, his razor, for instance. The maidens do not resent his rudeness. They know that poor Cosmo's time will come, and they are glad to be alone, for they have much to say that is for no other mortal ears. Some of it is sure to go into the diary; indeed if we were to put our ear to the drawer where the diary is we could probably hear its little heart ticking in unison with theirs. It is Ginevra who speaks first. She is indeed the bolder of the two. She grips Amy's hand and says quite firmly, 'Amy, shall we go to _another_ to-night?' This does not puzzle Amy, she is prepared for it, her honest grey eyes even tell that she has wanted it, but now that it is come she quails a little. 'Another theatre?' she murmurs. 'Ginevra, that would be five in one week.' Ginevra does not blanch. 'Yes,' she says recklessly, 'but it is also only eight in seventeen years.' 'Isn't it,' says Amy, comforted. 'And they have taught us so much, haven't they? Until Monday, dear, when we went to our first real play we didn't know what Life is.' 'We were two raw, unbleached school-girls, Amy--absolutely unbleached.' It is such a phrase as this that gives Ginevra the moral ascendancy in their discussions. 'Of course,' Amy ventures, looking perhaps a little unbleached even now, 'of course I had my diary, dear, and I do think that, even before Monday, there were things in it of a not wholly ordinary kind.' 'Nothing,' persists Ginevra cruelly, 'that necessitated your keeping it locked.' 'No, I suppose not,' sadly enough. 'You are quite right, Ginevra. But we have made up for lost time. Every night since Monday, including the matinee, has been a revelation.' She closes her eyes so that she may see the revelations more clearly. So does Ginevra. 'Amy, that heart-gripping scene when the love-maddened woman visited the _man_ in his _chambers_.' 'She wasn't absolutely love-maddened, Ginevra; she really loved her husband best all the time.' 'Not till the last act, darling.' 'Please don't say it, Ginevra. She was most foolish, especially in the crepe de chine, but _we_ know that she only went to the man's chambers to get back her letters. How I trembled for her then.' 'I was strangely calm,' says Ginevra the stony hearted. 'Oh, Ginevra, I had such a presentiment that the husband would call at those chambers while she was there. And he did. Ginevra, you remember his knock upon the door. Surely you trembled then?' Ginevra knits her lips triumphantly. 'Not even then, Amy. Somehow I felt sure that in the nick of time her lady friend would step out from somewhere and say that the letters were _hers_.' 'Nobly compromising herself, Ginevra.' 'Amy, how I love that bit where she says so unexpectedly, with noble self-renunciation, "He is my affianced husband."' 'Isn't it glorious. Strange, Ginevra, that it happened in each play.' 'That was because we always went to the thinking theatres, Amy. Real plays are always about a lady and two men; and alas, only one of them is her husband. That is Life, you know. It is called the odd, odd triangle.' 'Yes, I know.' Appealingly, 'Ginevra, I hope it wasn't wrong of me to go. A month ago I was only a school-girl.' 'We both were.' 'Yes, but you are now an art student, in lodgings, with a latchkey of your own; you have no one dependent on you, while I have a brother and sister to--to form.' 'You must leave it to the Navy, dear, to form Cosmo, if it can; and as the sister is only a baby, time enough to form her when she can exit from her pram.' 'I am in a mother's place for the time being, Ginevra.' 'Even mothers go to thinking theatres.' 'Whether mine does, Ginevra, I don't even know. This is a very strange position I am in, awaiting the return from India of parents I have not seen since I was twelve years old. I don't even know if they will like the house. The rent is what they told me to give, but perhaps my scheme of decoration won't appeal to them; they may think my housekeeping has been defective, and may not make allowance for my being so new to it.' Ginevra takes Amy in her arms. 'My ownest Amy, if they are not both on their knees to you for the noble way in which you have striven to prepare this house for them--' 'Darling Ginevra, all I ask is to be allowed to do my duty.' 'Listen, then, Amy: your duty is to be able to help your parents in every way when they return. Your mother having been so long in India can know little about Life; how sweet, then, for you to be able to place your knowledge at her feet.' 'I had thought of that, dearest.' 'Then Amy, it would be simply wrong of us not to go to another theatre to-night. I have three and ninepence, so that if you can scrape together one and threepence--' 'Generous girl, it can't be.' 'Why not, Amy?' The return of Cosmo handling the telegram more pugnaciously than ever provides the answer. 'Cosmo, show Miss Dunbar the telegram.' Miss Dunbar reads: 'Boat arrived Southampton this morning.' 'A day earlier than they expected,' Amy explains. 'It's the other bit I am worrying about,' Cosmo says darkly. The other bit proves to be 'Hope to reach our pets this afternoon. Kisses from both to all. Deliriously excited. Mummy and Dad.' Now we see why Cosmo has been in distress. 'Pets, kisses,' he cries. 'What can the telegraph people think.' 'Surely,' Amy says, 'you want to kiss your mother.' 'I'm going to kiss her,' he replies stoutly. 'I mean to do it. It's father I am worrying about; with his "kisses to _both_ from _all_." All I can say is that, if father comes slobbering over me, I'll surprise him.' Here the outer door slams, and the three start to their feet as if Philippi had dawned. To Cosmo the slam sounds uncommonly like a father's kiss. He immediately begins to rehearse the greeting which is meant to ward off the fatal blow. 'How are you, father? I'm glad to see you, father; it's a long journey from India; won't you sit down?' Amy is the first to recover. 'How silly of us,' she says; 'it is only nurse with baby.' Presumably what we hear is a perambulator backing into its stall in the passage. Then nurse is distinctly heard in the adjoining room, and we may gather that this is for the nonce the nursery of the house, though to most occupants it would be the back dining-room. There is a door between the two rooms, and Cosmo, peeping through a chink in it, sounds to his fellow-conspirators the All's Well. 'Poor nurse,' Amy says with a kind sigh, 'I suppose I had better show her the telegram. She is sure to cry. She looks upon mother as a thief who has come to steal baby from her.' Ginevra wags her head to indicate that this is another slice of Life; and nurse being called in is confronted with the telegram. She runs a gamut of emotion without words, implies that she is nobody and must submit, nods humbly, sets her teeth, is both indignant and servile, and finally bursts into tears. Amy tries to comfort her, but gets this terrible answer: 'They'll be bringing a black woman to nurse her--a yah-yah they call them.' Amy signs to Ginevra, and Ginevra signs to Amy. These two souls perfectly understand each other, and the telegraphy means that it will be better for dear Ginevra to retire for a time to dear Amy's sweet little bedroom. Amy slips the diary into the hand of Ginevra, who pops upstairs with it to read the latest instalment. Nurse rambles on. 'I have had her for seventeen months. She was just two months old, the angel, when they sent her to England, and she has been mine ever since. The most of them has one look for their mammas and one look for their nurse, but she knew no better than to have both looks for me.' She returns to the nursery, wailing 'My reign is over.' 'Do you think Molly _will_ chuck nurse for mother?' asks Cosmo, to whom this is a new thought. 'It is the way of children,' the more experienced Amy tells him. 'Shabby little beasts,' the man says. 'You mustn't say that, Cosmo; but still it is hard on nurse. Of course,' with swimming eyes, 'in a sense it's hard on all of us--I mean to be expecting parents in these circumstances. There must be almost the same feeling of strangeness in the house as when it is a baby that is expected.' 'I suppose it is a bit like that,' Cosmo says gloomily. He goes to her as the awfulness of this sinks into him: 'Great Scott, Amy, it can't be quite so bad as that.' Amy, who is of a very affectionate nature, is glad to have the comfort of his hand. 'What do we really know about mother, Cosmo?' she says darkly. They are perhaps a touching pair. 'There are her letters, Amy.' 'Can one know a person by letters? Does she know you, Cosmo, by your letters to her, saying that your motto is "Something attempted, something done to earn a night's repose," and so on.' 'Well, I thought that would please her.' 'Perhaps in her letters she says things just to please us.' Cosmo wriggles. 'This is pretty low of you, damping a fellow when he was trying to make the best of it.' 'All I want you to feel,' Amy says, getting closer to him, 'is that as brother and sister, we are allies, you know--against the unknown.' 'Yes, Amy,' Cosmo says, and gets closer to her. This so encourages her that she hastens to call him 'dear.' 'I want to say, dear, that I'm very sorry I used to shirk bowling to you.' 'That's nothing. I know what girls are. Amy, it's all right, I really am fond of you.' 'I have tried to be a sort of mother to you, Cosmo.' 'My socks and things--I know.' Returning anxiously to the greater question, 'Amy, do we know anything of them at all?' 'We know some cold facts, of course. We know that father is much older than mother.' 'I can't understand why such an old chap should be so keen to kiss me.' 'Mother is forty,' Amy says in a low voice. 'I thought she was almost more than forty,' Cosmo says in a still lower voice. Amy shudders. 'Don't be so ungenerous, Cosmo.' But she has to add. 'Of course we must be prepared to see her look older.' 'Why?' 'She will be rather yellow, coming from India, you know. They will both be a little yellow.' They exchange forlorn glances, but Cosmo says manfully, 'We shan't be any the less fond of them for that, Amy.' 'No, indeed.' They clasp hands on it, and Cosmo has an inspiration. 'Do you think we should have these yellow flowers in the room? They might feel--eh?' 'How thoughtful of you, dear. I shall remove them at once. After all, Cosmo, we seem to know a good deal about them; and then we know some other things by heredity.' 'Heredity? That's drink, isn't it?' She who has been to so many theatres smiles at him. 'No, you boy! It's something in a play. It means that if we know ourselves well, we know our parents also. From thinking of myself, Cosmo, I know mother. In her youth she was one who did not love easily; but when she loved once it was for aye. A nature very difficult to understand, but profoundly interesting. I can feel her _within me_, as she was when she walked down the aisle on that strong arm, to honour and obey him henceforth for aye. What cared they that they had to leave their native land, they were together for aye. And so--' Her face is flushed. Cosmo interrupts selfishly. 'What about father?' 'Very nice, unless you mention rupees to him. You see the pensions of all Indian officers are paid in rupees, which means that for every 2s. due to them they get only 1s. 4d. If you mention rupees to any one of them he flares up like a burning paper.' 'I know. I shall take care. But what would you say he was like by heredity?' 'Quiet, unassuming, yet of an intensely proud nature. One who if he was deceived would never face his fellow-creatures, but would bow his head before the wind and die. A strong man.' 'Do you mean, Amy, that he takes all that from me?' 'I mean that is the sort of man _my_ mother would love.' Cosmo nods. 'Yes, but he is just as likely to kiss me as ever.' The return of Ginevra makes him feel that this room is no place for him. 'I think,' he says, 'I'll go and walk up and down outside, and have a look at them as they're getting out of the cab. My plan, you see, is first to kiss mother. Then I've made up four things to say to father, and it's after I've said them that the awkward time will come. So then I say, "I wonder what is in the evening papers"; and out I slip, and when I come back you will all have settled down to ordinary life, same as other people. That's my plan.' He goes off, not without hope, and Ginevra shrugs her shoulders forgivingly. 'How strange boys are,' she reflects. 'Have you any "plan," Amy?' 'Only this, dear Ginevra, to leap into my mother's arms.' Ginevra lifts what can only be called a trouser leg, because that is what it is, though they are very seldom seen alone. 'What is this my busy bee is making?' 'It's a gentleman's leg,' Amy explains, not without a sweet blush. 'You hand-sew them and stretch them over a tin cylinder, and they are then used as umbrella stands. _Art in the Home_ says they are all the rage.' 'Oh, Amy, _Boudoir Gossip_ says they have quite gone out.' 'Again! Every art decoration I try goes out before I have time to finish it.' She remembers the diary. 'Did my Ginevra like my new page?' 'Dearest, that is what I came down to speak about. You forgot to give me the key.' 'Ginevra, can you ever forgive me? Let us go up and read it together.' With arms locked they seek the seclusion of Amy's bedroom. Cosmo rushes in to tell them that there is a suspicious-looking cab coming down the street, but finding the room empty he departs again to reconnoitre. A cab draws up, a bell rings, and soon we hear the voice of Colonel Grey. He can talk coherently to Fanny, he can lend a hand in dumping down his luggage in the passage, he can select from a handful of silver wherewith to pay his cabman: all impossible deeds to his Alice, who would drop the luggage on your toes and cast all the silver at your face rather than be kept another minute from her darlings. 'Where are they?' she has evidently cried just before we see her, and Fanny has made a heartless response, for it is a dejected Alice that appears in the doorway of the room. '_All_ out!' she echoes wofully, 'even--even baby?' 'Yes, ma'am.' The poor mother, who had entered the house like a whirlwind, subsides into a chair. Her arms fall empty by her side: a moment ago she had six of them, a pair for each child. She cries a little, and when Alice cries, which is not often for she is more given to laughter, her face screws up like Molly's rather than like Amy's. She is very unlike the sketch of her lately made by the united fancies of her son and daughter; and she will dance them round the room many times before they know her better. Amy will never be so pretty as her mother, Cosmo will never be so gay, and it will be years before either of them is as young. But it is quite a minute before we suspect this; we must look the other way while the Colonel dries her tears. He is quite a grizzled veteran, and is trying hard to pretend that having done without his children for so many years, a few minutes more is no great matter. His adorable Alice is this man's one joke. Some of those furrows in his brow have come from trying to understand her, he owes the agility of his mind to trying to keep up with her; the humorous twist in his mouth is the result of chuckling over her. She flutters across the room. 'Robert,' she says, thrilling. 'I daresay my Amy painted that table.' 'Yes, ma'am, she did,' says Fanny. 'Robert, Amy's table.' 'Yes, but keep cool, memsahib.' 'I suppose, ma'am, I'm to take my orders from you now,' the hard-hearted Fanny inquires. 'I suppose so,' Alice says, so timidly that Fanny is encouraged to be bold. 'The poor miss, it will be a bit trying for her just at first.' Alice is taken aback. 'I hadn't thought of that, Robert.' Robert thinks it time to take command. 'Fiddle-de-dee. Bring your mistress a cup of tea, my girl.' 'Yes, sir. Here is the tea-caddy, ma'am. I can't take the responsibility; but this is the key.' 'Robert,' Alice says falteringly. 'I daren't break into Amy's caddy. She mightn't like it. I can wait.' 'Rubbish. Give me the key.' Even Fanny cannot but admire the Colonel as he breaks into the caddy. 'That makes me feel I'm master of my own house already. Don't stare at me, girl, as if I was a housebreaker.' 'I feel that is just what we both are,' his wife says; but as soon as they are alone she cries, 'It's home, home! India done, home begun.' He is as glad as she. 'Home, memsahib. And we've never had a real one before. Thank God, I'm able to give it you at last.' She darts impulsively from one object in the room to another. 'Look, these pictures. I'm sure they are all Amy's work. They are splendid.' With perhaps a moment's misgiving, 'Aren't they?' '_I_ couldn't have done them,' the Colonel says guardedly. He considers the hand-painted curtains. 'She seems to have stopped everything in the middle. Still I couldn't have done them. I expect this is what is called a cosy corner.' But Alice has found something more precious. She utters little cries of rapture. 'What is it?' 'Oh, Robert, a baby's shoe. My baby.' She presses it to her as if it were a dove. Then she is appalled. 'Robert, if I had met my baby coming along the street I shouldn't have known her from other people's babies.' 'Yes, you would,' the Colonel says hurriedly. 'Don't break down _now_. Just think, Alice; after to-day, you will know your baby anywhere.' 'Oh joy, joy, joy.' Then the expression of her face changes to 'Oh woe, woe, woe.' 'What is it now, Alice?' 'Perhaps she won't like me.' 'Impossible.' 'Perhaps none of them will like me.' 'My dear Alice, children always love their mother, whether they see much of her or not. It's an instinct.' 'Who told you that?' 'You goose. It was yourself.' 'I've lost faith in it.' He thinks it wise to sound a warning note. 'Of course you must give them a little time.' 'Robert, Robert. Not another minute. That's not the way people ever love me. They mustn't think me over first or anything of that sort. If they do I'm lost; they must love me at once.' 'A good many have done that,' Robert says, surveying her quizzically as if she were one of Amy's incompleted works. 'You are not implying, Robert, that I ever--. If I ever did I always told you about it afterwards, didn't I? And I _certainly_ never did it until I was sure you were comfortable.' 'You always wrapped me up first,' he admits. 'They were only boys, Robert--poor lonely boys. What are you looking so solemn about, Robert?' 'I was trying to picture you as you will be when you settle down.' She is properly abashed. 'Not settled down yet--with a girl nearly grown up. And yet it's true; it's the tragedy of Alice Grey.' She pulls his hair. 'Oh, husband, when shall I settle down?' 'I can tell you exactly--in a year from to-day. Alice, when I took you away to that humdrummy Indian station I was already quite a middle-aged bloke. I chuckled over your gaiety, but it gave me lumbago to try to be gay with you. Poor old girl, you were like an only child who has to play alone. When for one month in the twelve we went to--to--where the boys were, it was like turning you loose in a sweet-stuff shop.' 'Robert, darling, what nonsense you do talk.' He makes rather a wry face. 'I didn't always like it, memsahib. But I knew my dear, and could trust her; and I often swore to myself when I was shaving, "I won't ask her to settle down until I have given her a year in England." A year from to-day, you harum-scarum. By that time your daughter will be almost grown-up herself; and it wouldn't do to let her pass you.' 'Robert, here is an idea; she and I shall come of age together. I promise; or I shall try to keep one day in front of her, like the school-mistresses when they are teaching boys Latin. Dearest, you haven't been disappointed in me as a whole, have you? I haven't paid you for all your dear kindnesses to me--in rupees, have I?' His answer is of no consequence, for at this moment there arrives a direct message from heaven. It comes by way of the nursery, and is a child's cry. The heart of Alice Grey stops beating for several seconds. Then it says, 'My Molly!' The nurse appears, starts, and is at once on the defensive. NURSE. 'Is it--Mrs. Grey?' ALICE hastily, 'Yes. Is my--child in there?' NURSE. 'Yes, ma'am.' COLONEL, ready to catch her if she falls, 'Alice, be calm.' ALICE, falteringly, 'May I go in, nurse?' NURSE, cold-heartedly, 'She's sleeping, ma'am, and I have made it a rule to let her wake up naturally. But I daresay it's a bad rule.' ALICE, her hands on her heart, 'I'm sure it's a good rule. I shan't wake her, nurse.' COLONEL, showing the stuff he is made of, 'Gad, _I_ will. It's the least she can do to let herself be wakened.' ALICE, admiring the effrontery of the man, 'Don't interfere, Robert.' COLONEL. 'Sleeping? Why, she cried just now.' NURSE. 'That is why I came out--to see who was making so much noise.' An implacable woman this, and yet when she is alone with Molly a very bundle of delight. 'I'm vexed when she cries--I daresay it's old-fashioned of me. Not being a yah-yah I'm at a disadvantage.' ALICE, swelling, 'After all, she is _my_ child.' COLONEL, firmly, 'Come along. Alice,' ALICE. 'I would prefer to go alone, dear.' COLONEL. 'All right. But break it to her that I'm kicking my heels outside.' Alice gets as far as the door. The nurse discharges a last duty. NURSE. 'You won't touch her, ma'am; she doesn't like to be touched by strangers.' ALICE. 'Strangers!' COLONEL. 'Really, nurse.' ALICE. 'It's quite true.' NURSE. 'She's an angel if you have the right way with her.' ALICE. 'Robert, if I shouldn't have the right way with her.' COLONEL. 'You.' But the woman has scored again. ALICE, willing to go on her knees, 'Nurse, what sort of a way does she like from strangers?' NURSE. 'She's not fond of a canoodlin' way.' ALICE, faintly, 'Is she not?' She departs to face her child, and the natural enemy follows her, after giving Colonel Grey a moment in which to discharge her if he dares, that is if he wishes to see his baby wither and die. One may as well say here that nurse weathered this and many another gale, and remained in the house for many years to be its comfort and its curse. Fanny, with the tea-tray, comes and goes without the Colonel's being aware of her presence. He merely knows that he has waved someone away. The fact is that the Colonel is engrossed in a rather undignified pursuit. He is listening avidly at the nursery door, and is thus discovered by another member of his family who has entered cautiously. This is Master Cosmo, who, observing the tea-tray, has the happy notion of interposing it between himself and his father's possible osculatory intentions. He lifts the tray, and thus armed introduces himself. COSMO. 'Hullo, father.' His father leaves the door and strides to him. COLONEL. 'Is it--it's Cosmo.' COSMO, with the tray well to the fore, 'I'm awfully glad to see you--it's a long way from India.' COLONEL. 'Put that down, my boy, and let me get hold of you.' COSMO, ingratiatingly, 'Have some tea, father.' COLONEL. 'Put it down.' Cosmo does so, and prepares for the worst. The Colonel takes both his hands. 'Let's have a look at you. So this is you.' He waggles his head, well-pleased, while Cosmo backs in a gentlemanly manner. COSMO, implying that this first meeting is now an affair of the past, 'Has Mother gone to lie down?' COLONEL. 'Lie down? She's in there.' Cosmo steals to the nursery door and softly closes it. 'Why do you do that?' COSMO. 'I don't know. I thought it would be--best.' In a burst of candour, 'This is not the way I planned it, you see.' COLONEL. 'Our meeting? So you've been planning it. My dear fellow, I was planning it too, and my plan--' He is certainly coming closer. COSMO, hurriedly, 'Yes, I know. Now that's over--our first meeting, I mean; now we settle down.' COLONEL. 'Not yet. Come here, my boy.' He draws him to a chair; he evidently thinks that a father and his boy of thirteen can sit in the same chair. Cosmo is burning to be nice to him, but of course there are limits. COSMO. 'Look here, father. Of course, you see--ways change. I daresay they did it, when you were a boy, but it isn't done now.' COLONEL. 'What isn't done, you dear fellow?' COSMO. 'Oh--well!--and then taking both hands and saying 'Dear fellow'--'It's gone out, you know.' The Colonel chuckles and forbears. 'I'm uncommon glad you told me, Cosmo. Not having been a father for so long, you see, I'm rather raw at it.' COSMO, relieved, 'That's all right. You'll soon get the hang of it.' COLONEL. 'If you could give me any other tips?' COSMO, becoming confidential, 'Well, there's my beastly name. Of course you didn't mean any harm when you christened me Cosmo, but--I always sign myself "C. Grey"--to make the fellows think I'm Charles.' COLONEL. 'Do they call you that?' COSMO. 'Lord, no, they call me Grey.' COLONEL. 'And do you want me to call you Grey?' COSMO, magnanimously, 'No, I don't expect that. But I thought that before people, you know, you needn't call me anything. If you want to attract my attention you could just say "Hst!"--like that.' COLONEL. 'Right you are. But you won't make your mother call you Hst.' COSMO, sagaciously, 'Oh no--of course women are different.' COLONEL. 'You'll be very nice to her, Cosmo? She had to pinch and save more than I should have allowed--to be able to send you into the navy. We are poor people, you know.' COSMO. 'I've been planning how to be nice to her.' COLONEL. 'Good lad. Good lad.' Cosmo remembers his conversation with Amy, and thoughtfully hides the 'yellow flowers' behind a photograph. This may be called one of his plans for being nice to mother. COSMO. 'You don't have your medals here, father?' COLONEL. 'No, I don't carry them about. But your mother does, the goose. They are not very grand ones, Cosmo.' COSMO, true blue, 'Yes, they are.' An awkward silence falls. The Colonel has so much to say that he can only look it. He looks it so eloquently that Cosmo's fears return. He summons the plan to his help. 'I wonder what is in the evening papers. If you don't mind, I'll cut out and get one.' Before he can cut out, however, Alice is in the room, the picture of distress. No wonder, for even we can hear the baby howling. ALICE, tragically, 'My baby. Robert, listen; that is how I affect her.' Cosmo cowers unseen. COLONEL. 'No, no, darling, it isn't you who have made her cry. She--she is teething. It's her teeth, isn't it?' he barks at the nurse, who emerges looking not altogether woeful. 'Say it's her teeth, woman.' NURSE, taking this as a reflection on her charge. 'She had her teeth long ago.' ALICE, the forlorn, 'The better to bite me with.' NURSE, complacently, 'I don't understand it. She is usually the best-tempered lamb--as you may see for yourself, sir.' It is an imitation that the Colonel is eager to accept, but after one step toward the nursery he is true to Alice. COLONEL. 'I _decline_ to see her. I refuse to have anything to do with her till she comes to a more reasonable frame of mind.' The nurse retires, to convey possibly this ultimatum to her charge. ALICE, in the noblest spirit of self-abnegation, 'Go, Robert. Perhaps she--will like you better.' COLONEL. 'She's a contemptible child.' But that nursery door does draw him strongly. He finds himself getting nearer and nearer to it. 'I'll show her,' with a happy pretence that his object is merely to enforce discipline. The forgotten Cosmo pops up again; the Colonel introduces him with a gesture and darts off to his baby. ALICE, entranced, 'My son!' COSMO, forgetting all plans, 'Mother!' She envelops him in her arms, worshipping him, and he likes it. ALICE. 'Oh, Cosmo--how splendid you are.' COSMO, soothingly, 'That's all right, mother.' ALICE. 'Say it again.' COSMO. 'That's all right.' ALICE. 'No, the other word.' COSMO. 'Mother.' ALICE. 'Again.' COSMO. 'Mother--mother--' When she has come to: 'Are you better now?' ALICE. 'He is my son, and he is in uniform.' COSMO, aware that allowances must be made, 'Yes, I know.' ALICE. 'Are you glad to see your mother, Cosmo?' COSMO. 'Rather! Will you have some tea?' ALICE. 'No, no, I feel I can do nothing for the rest of my life but hug my glorious boy.' COSMO. 'Of course, I have my work.' ALICE. 'His work! Do the officers love you, Cosmo?' COSMO, degraded, 'Love me! I should think not.' ALICE. 'I should like to ask them all to come and stay with us.' COSMO, appalled, 'Great Scott, mother, you can't do things like that.' ALICE. 'Can't I? Are you very studious, Cosmo?' COSMO, neatly, 'My favourite authors are William Shakespeare and William Milton. They are grand, don't you think?' ALICE. 'I'm only a woman, you see; and I'm afraid they sometimes bore me, especially William Milton.' COSMO, with relief, 'Do they? Me, too.' ALICE, on the verge of tears again, 'But not half so much as I bore my baby.' COSMO, anxious to help her, 'What did you do to her?' ALICE, appealingly, 'I couldn't help wanting to hold her in my arms, could I, Cosmo?' COSMO, full of consideration, 'No, of course you couldn't.' He reflects. 'How did you take hold of her?' ALICE. 'I suppose in some clumsy way.' COSMO. 'Not like this, was it?' ALICE, gloomily, 'I dare say.' COSMO. 'You should have done it this way.' He very kindly shows her how to carry a baby. ALICE, with becoming humility, 'Thank you, Cosmo.' He does not observe the gleam in her eye, and is in the high good humour that comes to any man when any woman asks him to show her how to do anything. COSMO. 'If you like I'll show you with a cushion. You see this'--scoops it up--'is wrong; but this'--he does a little sleight of hand--'is right. Another way is this, with their head hanging over your shoulder, and you holding on firmly to their legs. You wouldn't think it was comfortable, but they like it.' ALICE, adoring him. 'I see, Cosmo.' She practises diligently with the cushion. 'First this way--then this.' COSMO. 'That's first-class. It's just a knack. You'll soon pick it up.' ALICE, practising on him instead of the cushion, 'You darling boy!' COSMO. 'I think I hear a boy calling the evening papers.' ALICE, clinging to him, 'Don't go. There can be nothing in the evening papers about what my boy thinks of his mother.' COSMO. 'Good lord, no.' He thinks quickly. 'You haven't seen Amy yet. It isn't fair of Amy. She should have been here to take some of it off me.' ALICE. 'Cosmo, you don't mean that I bore you too!' He is pained. It is now he who boldly encircles her. But his words, though well meant, are not so happy as his action. 'I love you, mother; and _I_ don't think you're so yellow.' ALICE, the belle of many stations, 'Yellow?' Her brain reels. 'Cosmo, do you think me plain?' COSMO, gallantly, 'No, I don't. I'm not one of the kind who judge people by their looks. The soul, you know, is what I judge them by.' ALICE. 'Plain? Me.' COSMO, the comforter, 'Of course it's all right for girls to bother about being pretty.' He lures her away from the subject. 'I can tell you a funny thing about that. We had theatricals at Osborne one night, and we played a thing called "The Royal Boots."' ALICE, clapping her hands, '_I_ played in that, too, last year.' COSMO. 'You?' ALICE. 'Yes. Why shouldn't I?' COSMO. 'But we did it for fun.' ALICE. 'So did we.' COSMO, his views on the universe crumbling, 'You still like fun?' ALICE. 'Take care, Cosmo.' COSMO. 'But you're our mother.' ALICE. 'Mustn't mothers have fun? COSMO, heavily, 'Must they? I see. You had played the dowager.' ALICE. 'No, I didn't. I played the girl in the Wellington boots.' COSMO, blinking, 'Mother, _I_ played the girl in the Wellington boots.' ALICE, happily, 'My son--this ought to bring us closer together.' COSMO, who has not yet learned to leave well alone, 'But the reason I did it was that we were all boys. Were there no young ladies where you did it, mother?' ALICE. 'Cosmo.' She is not a tamed mother yet, and in sudden wrath she flips his face with her hand. He accepts it as a smack. The Colonel foolishly chooses this moment to make his return. He is in high good-humour, and does not observe that two of his nearest relatives are glaring at each other. COLONEL, purring offensively, 'It's all right now, Alice; she took to me at once.' ALICE, tartly, 'Oh, did she!' COLONEL. 'Gurgled at me--pulled my moustache.' ALICE. 'I hope you got on with our dear son as well.' COLONEL. 'Isn't he a fine fellow.' ALICE. '_I_ have just been smacking his face.' She sits down and weeps, while her son stands haughtily at attention. COLONEL, with a groan, 'Hst, I think you had better go and get that evening paper.' Cosmo departs with his flag flying, and the bewildered husband seeks enlightenment. 'Smacked his face. But why, Alice?' ALICE. 'He infuriated me.' COLONEL. 'He seems such a good boy.' ALICE, the lowly, 'No doubt he is. It must be very trying to have me for a mother.' COLONEL. 'Perhaps you were too demonstrative?' ALICE. 'I daresay. A woman he doesn't know! No wonder I disgusted him.' COLONEL. 'I can't make it out.' ALICE, abjectly, 'It's quite simple. He saw through me at once; so did baby.' The Colonel flings up his hands. He hears whisperings outside the door. He peeps and returns excitedly. COLONEL. 'Alice, there's a girl there with Cosmo.' ALICE, on her feet, with a cry, 'Amy.' COLONEL, trembling, 'I suppose so.' ALICE, gripping him, 'Robert, if _she_ doesn't love me I shall die.' COLONEL. 'She will, she will.' But he has grown nervous. 'Don't be too demonstrative, dearest.' ALICE. 'I shall try to be cold. Oh, Amy, love me.' Amy comes, her hair up, and is at once in her father's arms. Then she wants to leap into the arms of the mother who craves for her. But Alice is afraid of being too demonstrative, and restrains herself. She presses Amy's hands only. ALICE. 'It is you, Amy. How are you, dear?' She ventures at last to kiss her. 'It is a great pleasure to your father and me to see you again.' AMY, damped, 'Thank you, mother----Of course I have been looking forward to this meeting very much also.' ALICE, shuddering, 'It is very sweet of you to say so.' 'Oh how cold,' they are both thinking, while the Colonel regards them uncomfortably. Amy turns to him. She knows already that there is safe harbourage there. AMY. 'Would you have known me, father?' COLONEL. 'I wonder. She's not like you, Alice?' ALICE. 'No. _I_ used to be demonstrative, Amy----' AMY, eagerly, 'Were you?' ALICE, hurriedly, 'Oh, I grew out of it long ago.' AMY, disappointed but sympathetic, 'The wear and tear of life.' ALICE, wincing, 'No doubt.' AMY, making conversation, 'You have seen Cosmo?' ALICE. 'Yes.' AMY, with pardonable curiosity, 'What did you think of him?' ALICE. 'He--seemed a nice boy----' AMY, hurt, 'And baby?' ALICE. 'Yes--oh yes.' AMY. 'Isn't she fat?' ALICE. 'Is she?' The nurse's head intrudes. NURSE. 'If you please, sir--I think baby wants _you_ again.' The Colonel's face exudes complacency, but he has the grace to falter. COLONEL. 'What do you think, Alice?' ALICE, broken under the blow, 'By all means go.' COLONEL. 'Won't you come also? Perhaps if I am with you--' ALICE, after giving him an annihilating look, 'No, I--I had quite a long time with her.' The Colonel tiptoes off to his babe with a countenance of foolish rapture; and mother and daughter are alone. AMY, wishing her father would come back, 'You can't have been very long with baby, mother.' ALICE. 'Quite long enough.' AMY. 'Oh.' Some seconds elapse before she can speak again. 'You will have some tea, won't you?' ALICE. 'Thank you, dear.' They sit down to a chilly meal. AMY, merely a hostess, 'Both milk and sugar.' ALICE, merely a guest, 'No sugar.' AMY. 'I hope you will like the house, mother.' ALICE. 'I am sure you have chosen wisely. I see you are artistic.' AMY. 'The decoration isn't finished. I haven't quite decided what this room is to be like yet.' ALICE. 'One never can tell.' AMY, making conversation, 'Did you notice that there is a circular drive to the house?' ALICE. 'No, I didn't notice.' AMY. 'That would be because the cab filled it; but you can see it if you are walking.' ALICE. 'I shall look out for it.' Grown desperate, 'Amy, have you nothing more important to say to me?' AMY, faltering, 'You mean--the keys? Here they are; all with labels on them. And here are the tradesmen's books. They are all paid up to Wednesday.' She sadly lets them go. They lie disregarded in her mother's lap. ALICE. 'Is there nothing else?' AMY, with a flash of pride. 'Perhaps you have noticed that my hair is up?' ALICE. 'It so took me aback, Amy, when you came into the room. How long have you had it up?' AMY, with large eyes, 'Not very long. I--I began only to-day.' ALICE, imploringly, 'Dear, put it down again. You are not grown up.' AMY, almost sternly, 'I feel I am a woman now.' ALICE, abject, 'A woman--you? Am I never to know my daughter as a girl!' AMY. 'You were married before you were eighteen.' ALICE. 'Ah, but I had no mother. And even at that age I knew the world.' AMY, smiling sadly, 'Oh, mother, not so well as I know it.' ALICE, sharply, 'What can you know of the world?' AMY, shuddering, 'More I hope, mother, than you will ever know.' ALICE, alarmed, 'My child!' Seizing her: 'Amy, tell me what you know.' AMY. 'Don't ask me, please. I have sworn not to talk of it.' ALICE. 'Sworn? To whom?' AMY. 'To another.' Alice, with a sinking, pounces on her daughter's engagement finger; but it is unadorned. ALICE. 'Tell me, Amy, who is that other?' AMY, bravely, 'It is our secret.' ALICE. 'Amy, I beg you--' AMY, a heroic figure, 'Dear mother, I am so sorry I must decline.' ALICE. 'You defy me.' She takes hold of her daughter's shoulders. 'Amy, you drive me frantic. If you don't tell me at once I shall insist on your father--. Oh, you--' It is not to be denied that she is shaking Amy when the Colonel once more intrudes. COLONEL, aghast, 'Good heavens, Alice, again! Amy, what does this mean?' AMY, as she runs, insulted and in tears, from the room, 'It means, father, that I love _you_ very much.' COLONEL, badgered, 'Won't you explain, Alice?' ALICE. 'Robert, I am in terror about Amy.' COLONEL. 'Why?' ALICE. 'Don't ask me, dear--not now--not till I have spoken to her again.' She clings to her husband. 'Robert, there can't be anything in it?' COLONEL. 'If you mean anything wrong with our girl, there isn't, memsahib. What great innocent eyes she has.' ALICE, eagerly, 'Yes, yes, hasn't she, Robert.' COLONEL. 'All's well with Amy, dear.' ALICE. 'Of course it is. It was silly of me--My Amy.' COLONEL. 'And mine.' ALICE. 'But she seems to me hard to understand.' With her head on his breast, 'I begin to feel Robert that I should have come back to my children long ago--or I shouldn't have come back at all.' The Colonel is endeavouring to soothe her when Stephen Rollo is shown in. He is very young--too young to be a villain, too round-faced; but he is all the villain we can provide for Amy. His entrance is less ostentatious than it might be if he knew of the role that has been assigned to him. He thinks indeed (sometimes with a sigh) that he is a very good young man; and the Colonel and Alice (without the sigh) think so too. After warm greetings: STEVE. 'Alice, I daresay you wish me at Jericho; but it's six months since I saw you, and I couldn't wait till to-morrow.' ALICE, giving him her cheek, 'I believe there's someone in this house glad to see me at last; and you may kiss me for that, Steve.' STEVE, who has found the cheek wet, 'You are not telling me they don't adore her?' COLONEL. 'I can't understand it.' STEVE. 'But by all the little gods of India, you know, everyone has always adored Alice.' ALICE, plaintively, 'That's why I take it so ill, Steve.' STEVE. 'Can I do anything? See here, if the house is upside down and you would like to get rid of the Colonel for an hour or two, suppose he dines with me to-night? I'm dying to hear all the news of the Punjab since I left.' COLONEL, with an eye on the nursery door, 'No, Steve, I--the fact is--I have an engagement.' ALICE, vindictively, 'He means he can't leave the baby.' STEVE. 'It has taken to _him_?' COLONEL, swaggering, 'Enormously.' ALICE, whimpering, 'They all have. He has stolen them from me. He has taken up his permanent residence in the nursery.' COLONEL. 'Pooh, fiddlededee. I shall probably come round to-night to see you after dinner, Steve, and bring memsahib with me. In the meantime--' ALICE, whose mind is still misgiving her about Amy, 'In the meantime I want to have a word with Steve alone, Robert.' COLONEL. 'Very good.' Stealing towards the nursery, 'Then I shall pop in here again. How is the tea business prospering in London, Steve? Glad you left India?' STEVE. 'I don't have half the salary I had in India, but my health is better. How are rupees?' COLONEL. 'Stop it.' He is making a doll of his handkerchief for the further subjugation of Molly. He sees his happy face in a looking-glass and is ashamed of it. 'Alice, I wish it was you they loved.' ALICE, with withering scorn, 'Oh, go back to your baby.' As soon as the Colonel has gone she turns anxiously to Steve. 'Steve, tell me candidly what you think of my girl.' STEVE. 'But I have never set eyes on her.' ALICE. 'Oh, I was hoping you knew her well. She goes sometimes to the Deans and the Rawlings--all our old Indian friends--' STEVE. 'So do I, but we never happened to be there at the same time. They often speak of her though.' ALICE. 'What do they say?' STEVE. 'They are enthusiastic--an ideal, sweet girl.' ALICE, relieved, 'I'm so glad. Now you can go, Steve.' STEVE. 'It's odd to think of the belle of the Punjab as a mother of a big girl.' ALICE. 'Don't; or I shall begin to think it's absurd myself.' STEVE. 'Surely the boy felt the spell.' She shakes her head. 'But the boys always did.' ALICE, wryly, 'They were older boys.' STEVE. 'I believe I was the only one you never flirted with.' ALICE, smiling, 'No one could flirt with you, Steve.' STEVE, pondering, 'I wonder why.' The problem has troubled him occasionally for years. ALICE. 'I wonder.' STEVE. 'I suppose there's some sort of want in me.' ALICE. 'Perhaps that's it. No, it's because you were always such a good boy.' STEVE, wincing, 'I don't know. Sometimes when I saw you all flirting I wanted to do it too, but I could never think of how to begin.' With a sigh, 'I feel sure there's something pleasant about it.' ALICE, 'You're a dear, old donkey, Steve, but I'm glad you came, it has made the place seem more like home. All these years I was looking forward to home; and now I feel that perhaps it is the place I have left behind me.' The joyous gurgling of Molly draws them to the nursery door; and there they are observed by Amy and Ginevra who enter from the hall. The screen is close to the two girls, and they have so often in the last week seen stage figures pop behind screens that, mechanically as it were, they pop behind this one. STEVE, who little knows that he is now entering on the gay career, 'Listen to the infant.' ALICE. 'Isn't it horrid of Robert to get on with her so well. Steve, say Robert's a brute.' STEVE, as he bids her good afternoon, 'Of course he is; a selfish beast.' ALICE. 'There's another kiss to you for saying so.' The doomed woman presents her cheek again. STEVE. 'And you'll come to me after dinner to-night, Alice? Here, I'll leave my card, I'm not half a mile from this street.' ALICE. 'I mayn't be able to get away. It will depend on whether my silly husband wants to stay with his wretch of a baby. I'll see you to the door. Steve, you're _much_ nicer than Robert.' With these dreadful words she and the libertine go. Amy and Ginevra emerge white to the lips; or, at least, they feel as white as that. AMY, clinging to the screen for support, 'He kissed her.' GINEVRA, sternly, 'He called her Alice.' AMY. 'She is going to his house to-night. An assignation.' GINEVRA. 'They will be chambers, Amy--they are always chambers. And after dinner, he said--so he's stingy, too. Here is his card: "Mr. Stephen Rollo.'" AMY. 'I have heard of him. They said he was a nice man.' GINEVRA. 'The address is Kensington West. That's the new name for West Kensington.' AMY. 'My poor father. It would kill him.' GINEVRA, the master mind, 'He must never know.' AMY. 'Ginevra, what's to be done?' GINEVRA. 'Thank heaven, we know exactly what to do. It rests with you to save her.' AMY, trembling, 'You mean I must go--to his chambers?' GINEVRA, firmly, 'At any cost.' AMY. 'Evening dress?' GINEVRA. 'It is always evening dress. And don't be afraid of his Man, dear; they always have a Man.' AMY. 'Oh, Ginevra.' GINEVRA. 'First try fascination. You remember how they fling back their cloak--like this, dear. If that fails, threaten him. You must get back the letters. There are always letters.' AMY. 'If father should suspect and follow? They usually do.' GINEVRA. 'Then you must sacrifice yourself for her. Does my dearest falter?' AMY, pressing Ginevra's hand, 'I will do my duty. Oh, Ginevra, what things there will be to put in my diary to-night.' II Night has fallen, and Amy is probably now in her bedroom, fully arrayed for her dreadful mission. She says good-bye to her diary--perhaps for aye. She steals from the house--to a very different scene, which (if one were sufficiently daring) would represent a Man's Chambers at Midnight. There is no really valid excuse for shirking this scene, which is so popular that every theatre has it stowed away in readiness; it is capable of 'setting' itself should the stage-hands forget to do so. It should be a handsome, sombre room in oak and dark red, with sinister easy chairs and couches, great curtains discreetly drawn, a door to enter by, a door to hide by, a carelessly strewn table on which to write a letter reluctantly to dictation, another table exquisitely decorated for supper for two, champagne in an ice-bucket, many rows of books which on close examination will prove to be painted wood (the stage Lotharios not being really reading men). The lamps shed a diffused light, and one of them is slightly odd in construction, because it is for knocking over presently in order to let the lady escape unobserved. Through this room moves occasionally the man's Man, sleek, imperturbable, announcing the lady, the lady's husband, the woman friend who is to save them; he says little, but is responsible for all the arrangements going right; before the curtain rises he may be conceived trying the lamp and making sure that the lady will not stick in the door. That is how it ought to be, that is how Amy has seen it several times in the past week; and now that we come to the grapple we wish we could give you what you want, for you do want it, you have been used to it, and you will feel that you are looking at a strange middle act without it. But Steve cannot have such a room as this, he has only two hundred and fifty pounds a year, including the legacy from his aunt. Besides, though he is to be a Lothario (in so far as we can manage it) he is not at present aware of this, and has made none of the necessary arrangements; if one of his lamps is knocked over it will certainly explode; and there cannot be a secret door without its leading into the adjoining house. (Theatres keep special kinds of architects to design their rooms.) There is indeed a little cupboard where his crockery is kept, and if Amy is careful she might be able to squeeze in there. We cannot even make the hour midnight; it is eight-thirty, quite late enough for her to be out alone. Steve has just finished dinner, in his comfortable lodgings. He is not even in evening dress, but he does wear a lounge jacket, which we devoutly hope will give him a rakish air to Amy's eyes. He would undoubtedly have put on evening dress if he had known she was coming. His man, Richardson, is waiting on him. When we wrote that we deliberated a long time. It has an air, and with a little low cunning we could make you think to the very end that Richardson was a male. But if the play is acted and you go to see it, you would be disappointed. Steve, the wretched fellow, never had a Man, and Richardson is only his landlady's slavey, aged about fifteen, and wistful at sight of food. We introduce her gazing at Steve's platter as if it were a fairy tale. Steve has often caught her with this rapt expression on her face, and sometimes, as now, an engaging game ensues. RICHARDSON, blinking, 'Are you finished, sir?' To those who know the game this means, 'Are you to leave the other chop--the one sitting lonely and lovely beneath the dish-cover?' STEVE. 'Yes.' In the game this is merely a tantaliser. RICHARDSON, almost sure that he is in the right mood and sending out a feeler, 'Then am I to clear?' STEVE. 'No.' This is intended to puzzle her, but it is a move he has made so often that she understands its meaning at once. RICHARDSON, in entranced giggles, 'He, he, he!' STEVE, vacating his seat, 'Sit down.' RICHARDSON. 'Again?' STEVE. 'Sit down, and clear the enemy out of that dish.' By the enemy he means the other chop: what a name for a chop. Steve plays the part of butler. He brings her a plate from the little cupboard. 'Dinner is served, madam.' RICHARDSON, who will probably be a great duchess some day, 'I don't mind if I does have a snack.' She places herself at the table after what she conceives to be the manner of the genteelly gluttonous; then she quakes a little. 'If Missis was to catch me.' She knows that Missis is probably sitting downstairs with her arms folded, hopeful of the chop for herself. STEVE. 'You tuck in and I'll keep watch.' He goes to the door to peer over the banisters; it is all part of the game. Richardson promptly tucks in with horrid relish. RICHARDSON. 'What makes you so good to me, sir?' STEVE. 'A gentleman is always good to a lady.' RICHARDSON, preening, 'A lady? Go on.' STEVE. 'And when I found that at my dinner hour you were subject to growing pains I remembered my own youth. Potatoes, madam?' RICHARDSON, neatly, 'If quite convenient.' The kindly young man surveys her for some time in silence while she has various happy adventures. STEVE. 'Can I smoke, Richardson?' RICHARDSON. 'Of course you can smoke. I have often seen you smoking.' STEVE, little aware of what an evening the sex is to give him, 'But have I your permission?' RICHARDSON. 'You're at your tricks again.' STEVE, severely, 'Have you forgotten already how I told you a true lady would answer?' RICHARDSON. 'I minds, but it makes me that shy.' She has, however, a try at it. 'Do smoke, Mr. Rollo, I loves the smell of it.' Steve lights his pipe; no real villain smokes a pipe. STEVE. 'Smoking is a blessed companion to a lonely devil like myself.' RICHARDSON. 'Yes, sir.' Sharply, 'Would you say devil to a real lady, sir?' Steve, it may be hoped, is properly confused, but here the little idyll of the chop is brought to a close by the tinkle of a bell. Richardson springs to attention. 'That will be the friends you are expecting?' STEVE. 'I was only half expecting them, but I daresay you are right. Have you finished, Richardson?' RICHARDSON. 'Thereabouts. Would a real lady lick the bone--in company I mean?' STEVE. 'You know, I hardly think so.' RICHARDSON. 'Then I'm finished.' STEVE, disappearing, 'Say I'll be back in a jiffy. I need brushing, Richardson.' Richardson, no longer in company, is about to hold a last friendly communion with the bone when there is a knock at the door, followed by the entrance of a mysterious lady. You could never guess who the lady is, so we may admit at once that it is Miss Amy Grey. Amy is in evening dress--her only evening dress--and over it is the cloak, which she is presently to fling back with staggering effect. Just now her pale face is hiding behind the collar of it, for she is quaking inwardly though strung up to a terrible ordeal. The room is not as she expected, but she knows that men are cunning. AMY, frowning, 'Are these Mr. Rollo's chambers? The woman told me to knock at this door.' She remembers with a certain satisfaction that the woman had looked at her suspiciously. RICHARDSON, the tray in her hand to give her confidence, 'Yes, ma'am. He will be down in a minute, ma'am. He is expecting you, ma'am.' Expecting her, is he! Amy smiles the bitter smile of knowledge. AMY. 'We shall see.' She looks about her. Sharply, 'Where is his man?' RICHARDSON, with the guilt of the chop on her conscience, 'What man?' AMY, brushing this subterfuge aside, 'His man. They always have a man.' RICHARDSON, with spirit, 'He is a man himself.' AMY. 'Come, girl; who waits on him?' RICHARDSON. 'Me.' AMY, rather daunted, 'No man? Very strange.' Fortunately she sees the two plates. 'Stop.' Her eyes glisten. 'Two persons have been dining here!' Richardson begins to tremble. 'Why do you look so scared? Was the other a gentleman?' RICHARDSON. 'Oh, ma'am.' AMY, triumphantly, 'It was not!' But her triumph gives way to bewilderment, for she knows that when she left the house her mother was still in it. Then who can the visitor have been? 'Why are you trying to hide that plate? Was it a lady? Girl, tell me was it a lady?' RICHARDSON, at bay, 'He--he calls her a lady.' AMY, the omniscient, 'But you know better!' RICHARDSON. 'Of course I know she ain't a real lady.' AMY. 'Another woman. And not even a lady.' She has no mercy on the witness. 'Tell me, is this the first time she has dined here?' RICHARDSON, fixed by Amy's eye, 'No, ma'am--I meant no harm, ma'am.' AMY. 'I am not blaming _you_. Can you remember how often she has dined here?' RICHARDSON. 'Well can I remember. Three times last week.' AMY. 'Three times in one week, monstrous.' RICHARDSON, with her gown to her eyes, 'Yes, ma'am; I see it now.' AMY, considering and pouncing, 'Do you think she is an adventuress?' RICHARDSON. 'What's that?' AMY. 'Does she smoke cigarettes?' RICHARDSON, rather spiritedly, 'No, she don't.' AMY, taken aback, 'Not an adventuress.' She wishes Ginevra were here to help her. She draws upon her stock of knowledge. 'Can she be secretly married to him? A wife of the past turned up to blackmail him? That's very common.' RICHARDSON. 'Oh, ma'am, you are terrifying me.' AMY. 'I wasn't talking to you. You may go. Stop. How long had she been here before I came?' RICHARDSON. 'She--Her what you are speaking about--' AMY. 'Come, I must know.' The terrible admission refuses to pass Richardson's lips, and of a sudden Amy has a dark suspicion. 'Has she gone! Is she here now?' RICHARDSON. 'It was just a chop. What makes you so grudging of a chop?' AMY. 'I don't care what they ate. Has she gone?' RICHARDSON. 'Oh, ma'am.' The little maid, bearing the dishes, backs to the door, opens it with her foot, and escapes from this terrible visitor. The drawn curtains attract Amy's eagle eye, and she looks behind them. There is no one there. She pulls open the door of the cupboard and says firmly, 'Come out.' No one comes. She peeps into the cupboard and finds it empty. A cupboard and no one in it. How strange. She sits down almost in tears, wishing very much for the counsel of Ginevra. Thus Steve finds her when he returns. STEVE. 'I'm awfully glad, Alice, that you--' He stops abruptly at sight of a strange lady. As for Amy, the word 'Alice' brings her to her feet. AMY. 'Sir.' A short remark but withering. STEVE. 'I beg your pardon. I thought--the fact is that I expected--You see you are a stranger to me--my name is Rollo--you are not calling on me, are you?' Amy inclines her head in a way that Ginevra and she have practised. Then she flings back her cloak as suddenly as an expert may open an umbrella. Having done this she awaits results. Steve, however, has no knowledge of how to play his part; he probably favours musical comedy. He says lamely: 'I still think there must be some mistake.' AMY, in italics, 'There is no mistake.' STEVE. 'Then is there anything I can do for you?' AMY, ardently, 'You can do so much.' STEVE. 'Perhaps if you will sit down--' Amy decides to humour him so far. She would like to sit in the lovely stage way, when they know so precisely where the chair is that they can sit without a glance at it. But she dare not, though Ginevra would have risked it. Steve is emboldened to say: 'By the way, you have not told me _your_ name.' AMY, nervously, 'If you please, do you mind my not telling it?' STEVE. 'Oh, very well.' First he thinks there is something innocent about her request, and then he wonders if 'innocent' is the right word. 'Well, your business, please?' he demands, like the man of the world he hopes some day to be. AMY. 'Why are you not in evening dress?' STEVE, taken aback, 'Does that matter?' AMY, though it still worries her, 'I suppose not.' STEVE, with growing stiffness, 'Your business, if you will be so good.' Amy advances upon him. She has been seated in any case as long as they ever do sit on the stage on the same chair. AMY. 'Stephen Rollo, the game is up.' She likes this; she will be able to go on now. STEVE, recoiling guiltily or so she will describe it to Ginevra, 'What on earth--' AMY, suffering from a determination from the mouth of phrases she has collected in five theatres, 'A chance discovery, Mr. Stephen Rollo, has betrayed your secret to me.' STEVE, awed, 'My secret? What is it?' He rushes rapidly through a well-spent youth. AMY, risking a good deal, 'It is this: that woman is your wife.' STEVE. 'What woman?' AMY. 'The woman who dined with you here this evening.' STEVE. 'With me?' AMY, icily, 'This is useless; as I have already said, the game is up.' STEVE, glancing in a mirror to make sure he is still the same person, 'You _look_ a nice girl but dash it all. Whom can you be taking me for? Tell me some more about myself.' AMY. Please desist. I know everything, and in a way I am sorry for you. All these years you have kept the marriage a secret, for she is a horrid sort of woman, and now she has come back to blackmail you. That, however, is not my affair.' STEVE, with unexpected power of irony, 'Oh, I wouldn't say that.' AMY. 'I do say it, Mr. Stephen Rollo. I shall keep your secret--' STEVE. 'Ought you?' AMY. '--on one condition, and on one condition only, that you return me the letters.' STEVE. 'The letters?' AMY. 'The letters.' Steve walks the length of his room, regarding her sideways. STEVE. 'Look here, honestly I don't know what you are talking about. You know, I could be angry with you, but I feel sure you are sincere.' AMY. 'Indeed I am.' STEVE. 'Well, then, I assure you on my word of honour that no lady was dining with me this evening, and that I have no wife.' AMY, blankly, 'No wife! You are sure? Oh, think.' STEVE. 'I swear it.' AMY. 'I am very sorry.' She sinks dispiritedly into a chair. STEVE. 'Sorry I have no wife?' She nods through her tears. 'Don't cry. How could my having a wife be a boon to you?' AMY, plaintively, 'It would have put you in the hollow of my hands.' STEVE, idiotically, 'And they are nice hands, too.' AMY, with a consciousness that he might once upon a time have been saved by a good woman, 'I suppose that is how you got round her.' STEVE, stamping his foot, 'Haven't I told you that she doesn't exist?' AMY. 'I don't mean her--I mean her--' He decides that she is a little crazy. STEVE, soothingly, 'Come now, we won't go into that again. It was just a mistake; and now that it is all settled and done with, I'll tell you what we shall do. You will let me get you a cab--' She shakes her head. 'I promise not to listen to the address; and after you have had a good night you--you will see things differently.' AMY, ashamed of her momentary weakness, and deciding not to enter it in the diary, 'You are very clever, Mr. Stephen Rollo, but I don't leave this house without the letters.' STEVE, groaning, 'Are they your letters?' AMY. 'How dare you! They are the letters written to you, as you well know, by--' STEVE, eagerly, 'Yes?' AMY. '--by a certain lady. Spare me the pain, if you are a gentleman, of having to mention her name.' STEVE, sulkily, 'Oh, all right.' AMY. 'She is to pass out of your life to-night. To-morrow you go abroad for a long time.' STEVE, with excusable warmth, 'Oh, do I! Where am I going?' AMY. 'We thought--' STEVE. 'We?' AMY. 'A friend and I who have been talking it over. We thought of Africa--to shoot big game.' STEVE, humouring her, 'You must be very fond of this lady.' AMY. 'I would die for her.' STEVE, feeling that he ought really to stick up a little for himself, 'After all, am I so dreadful? Why shouldn't she love me?' AMY. 'A married woman!' STEVE, gratified, 'Married?' AMY. 'How can you play with me so, sir? She is my mother.' STEVE. 'Your mother? Fond of me!' AMY. 'How dare you look pleased.' STEVE. 'I'm not--I didn't mean to. I say, I wish you would tell me who you are.' AMY. 'As if you didn't know.' STEVE, in a dream, 'Fond of me! I can't believe it.' Rather wistfully: 'How could she be?' AMY. 'It was all your fault. Such men as you--pitiless men--you made her love you.' STEVE, still elated, 'Do you think I am that kind of man?' AMY. 'Oh, sir, let her go. You are strong and she is weak. Think of her poor husband, and give me back the letters.' STEVE. 'On my word of honour--' Here arrives Richardson, so anxious to come that she is propelled into the room like a ball. 'What is it?' RICHARDSON. 'A gentleman downstairs, sir, wanting to see you.' AMY, saying the right thing at once, 'He must not find me here. My reputation--' STEVE. 'I can guess who it is. Let me think.' He is really glad of the interruption. 'See here, I'll keep him downstairs for a moment. Richardson, take this lady to the upper landing until I have brought him in. Then show her out.' RICHARDSON. 'Oh, lor'.' AMY, rooting herself to the floor, 'The letters!' STEVE, as he goes, 'Write to me, write to me. I must know more of this.' RICHARDSON. 'Come quick, Miss.' AMY, fixing her, 'You are not deceiving me? You are sure it isn't a lady?' RICHARDSON. 'Yes, Miss--he said his name was Colonel Grey.' Ginevra would have known that it must be the husband, but for the moment Amy is appalled. AMY, quivering, 'Can he suspect!' RICHARDSON, who has her own troubles, 'About the chop?' AMY. 'If she should come while he is here!' RICHARDSON. 'Come along, Miss. What's the matter?' AMY. 'I can't go away. I am not going.' She darts into the cupboard. It is as if she had heard Ginevra cry, 'Amy, the cupboard.' RICHARDSON, tugging at the closed door, 'Come out of that. I promised to put you on the upper landing. You can't go hiding in there, lady.' AMY, peeping out, 'I can and I will. Let go the door. I came here expecting to have to hide.' She closes the door as her father enters with Steve. The Colonel is chatting, but his host sees that Richardson is in distress. STEVE, who thinks that the lady has been got rid of, 'What is it?' RICHARDSON. 'Would you speak with me a minute, sir?' STEVE, pointedly, 'Go away. You have some work to do on the stair. Go and do it. I'm sorry, Colonel, that you didn't bring Alice with you.' COLONEL. 'She is coming on later.' STEVE. 'Good.' COLONEL. 'I have come from Pall Mall. Wanted to look in at the club once more, so I had a chop there.' RICHARDSON, with the old sinking, 'A chop!' She departs with her worst suspicions confirmed. STEVE, as they pull their chairs nearer to the fire, 'Is Alice coming on from home?' COLONEL. 'Yes, that's it.' He stretches out his legs. 'Steve, home is the best club in the world. Such jolly fellows all the members!' STEVE. 'You haven't come here to talk about your confounded baby again, have you?' COLONEL, apologetically, 'If you don't mind.' STEVE. 'I do mind.' COLONEL. 'But if you feel you can stand it.' STEVE. 'You are my guest, so go ahead.' COLONEL. 'She fell asleep, Steve, holding my finger.' STEVE. 'Which finger?' COLONEL. 'This one. As Alice would say, Soldiering done, baby begun.' STEVE. 'Poor old chap.' COLONEL. 'I have been through a good deal in my time, Steve, but that is the biggest thing I have ever done.' STEVE. 'Have a cigar?' COLONEL. 'Brute! Thanks.' Here Amy, who cannot hear when the door is closed, opens it slightly. The Colonel is presently aware that Steve is silently smiling to himself. The Colonel makes a happy guess. 'Thinking of the ladies, Steve?' STEVE, blandly, 'To tell the truth, I _was_ thinking of one.' COLONEL. 'She seems to be a nice girl.' STEVE. 'She is not exactly a girl.' COLONEL, twinkling, 'Very fond of you, Steve?' STEVE. 'I have the best of reasons for knowing that she is.' We may conceive Amy's feelings though we cannot see her. 'On my soul, Colonel, I think it is the most romantic affair I ever heard of. I have waited long for a romance to come into my life, but by Javers, it has come at last.' COLONEL. 'Graters, Steve. Does her family like it?' STEVE, cheerily, 'No, they are furious.' COLONEL. 'But why?' STEVE, judiciously, 'A woman's secret, Colonel.' COLONEL. 'Ah, the plot thickens. Do I know her?' STEVE. 'Not you.' COLONEL. 'I mustn't ask her name?' STEVE, with presence of mind, 'I have a very good reason for not telling you her name.' COLONEL. 'So? And she is not exactly young? Twice your age, Steve?' STEVE, with excusable heat, 'Not at all. But she is of the age when a woman knows her own mind--which makes the whole affair extraordinarily flattering.' With undoubtedly a shudder of disgust Amy closes the cupboard door. Steve continues to behave in the most gallant manner. 'You must not quiz me, Colonel, for her circumstances are such that her partiality for me puts her in a dangerous position, and I would go to the stake rather than give her away.' COLONEL. 'Quite so.' He makes obeisance to the beauty of the sentiment, and then proceeds to an examination of the hearthrug. STEVE. 'What are you doing?' COLONEL. 'Trying to find out for myself whether she comes here.' STEVE. 'How can you find that out by crawling about my carpet?' COLONEL. 'I am looking for hair-pins--triumphantly holding up a lady's glove--'and I have found one!' They have been too engrossed to hear the bell ring, but now voices are audible. STEVE. 'There is some one coming up.' COLONEL. 'Perhaps it is _she_, Steve! No, that is Alice's voice. Catch, you scoundrel,' and he tosses him the glove. Alice is shown in, and is warmly acclaimed. She would not feel so much at ease if she knew who, hand on heart, has recognised her through the pantry key-hole. STEVE, as he makes Alice comfortable by the fire, 'How did you leave them at home?' ALICE, relapsing into gloom, 'All hating me.' STEVE. 'This man says that home is the most delightful club in the world.' ALICE. 'I am not a member; I have been blackballed by my own baby. Robert, I dined in state with Cosmo, and he was so sulky that he ate his fish without salt rather than ask me to pass it.' COLONEL. 'Where was Amy?' ALICE. 'Amy said she had a headache and went to bed. I spoke to her through the door before I came out, but she wouldn't answer.' COLONEL. 'Why didn't you go in, memsahib?' ALICE. 'I did venture to think of it, but she had locked the door. Robert, I really am worried about Amy. She seems to me to behave oddly. There can't be anything wrong?' COLONEL. 'Of course not, Alice--eh, Steve?' STEVE. 'Bless you, no.' ALICE, smiling, 'It's much Steve knows about women.' STEVE. 'I'm not so unattractive to women, Alice, as you think.' ALICE. 'Listen to him, Robert!' COLONEL. 'What he means, my dear, is that you should see him with elderly ladies.' ALICE. 'Steve, this to people who know you.' Here something happens to Amy's skirt. She has opened the door to hear, then in alarm shut it, leaving a fragment of skirt caught in the door. There, unseen, it bides its time. STEVE, darkly, 'Don't be so sure you know me, Alice.' COLONEL, enjoying himself, 'Let us tell her, Steve! I am dying to tell her.' STEVE, grandly, 'No, no.' COLONEL. 'We mustn't tell you, Alice, because it is a woman's secret--a poor little fond elderly woman. Our friend is very proud of his conquest. See how he is ruffling his feathers. I shouldn't wonder you know, though you and I are in the way to-night.' But Alice's attention is directed in another direction: to a little white object struggling in the clutches of a closed door at the back of the room. Steve turns to see what she is looking at, and at the same moment the door opens sufficiently to allow a pretty hand to obtrude, seize the kitten, or whatever it was, and softly reclose the door. For one second Alice did think it might be a kitten, but she knows now that it is part of a woman's dress. As for Steve thus suddenly acquainted with his recent visitor's whereabouts, his mouth opens wider than the door. He appeals mutely to Alice not to betray his strange secret to the Colonel. ALICE, with dancing eyes, 'May I look about me, Steve? I have been neglecting your room shamefully.' STEVE, alarmed, for he knows the woman, 'Don't get up, Alice; there is really nothing to see.' But she is already making the journey of the room, and drawing nearer to the door. ALICE, playing with him, 'I like your clock.' STEVE. 'It is my landlady's. Nearly all the things are hers. Do come back to the fire.' ALICE. 'Don't mind me. What does this door lead into?' STEVE. 'Only a cupboard.' ALICE. 'What do you keep in it?' STEVE. 'Merely crockery--that sort of thing.' ALICE. 'I should like to see your crockery, Steve. Not one little bit of china? May I peep in?' COLONEL, who is placidly smoking, with his back to the scene of the drama, 'Don't mind her, Steve; she never could see a door without itching to open it.' Alice opens the door, and sees Amy standing there with her finger to her lips, just as they stood in all the five plays. Ginevra could not have posed her better. 'Well, have you found anything, memsahib?' It has been the great shock of Alice's life, and she sways. But she shuts the door before answering him. ALICE, with a terrible look at Steve, 'Just a dark little cupboard.' Steve, not aware that it is her daughter who is in there, wonders why the lighter aspect of the incident has ceased so suddenly to strike her. She returns to the fire, but not to her chair. She puts her arms round the neck of her husband; a great grief for him is welling up in her breast. COLONEL, so long used to her dear impulsive ways, 'Hullo! We mustn't let on that we are fond of each other before company.' STEVE, meaning well, though he had better have held his tongue, 'I don't count; I am such an old friend.' ALICE, slowly, 'Such an old friend!' Her husband sees that she is struggling with some emotion. COLONEL. 'Worrying about the children still, Alice?' ALICE, glad to break down openly, 'Yes, yes, I can't help it, Robert.' COLONEL, petting her, 'There, there, you foolish woman. Joy will come in the morning; I never was surer of anything. Would you like me to take you home now?' ALICE. 'Home. But, yes, I--let us go home.' COLONEL. 'Can we have a cab, Steve?' STEVE. 'I'll go down and whistle one. Alice, I'm awfully sorry that you--that I--' ALICE. 'Please, a cab.' But though she is alone with her husband now she does not know what she wants to say to him. She has a passionate desire that he should not learn who is behind that door. COLONEL, pulling her toward him, 'I think it is about Amy that you worry most.' ALICE. 'Why should I, Robert?' COLONEL. 'Not a jot of reason.' ALICE. 'Say again, Robert, that everything is sure to come right just as we planned it would.' COLONEL. 'Of course it will.' ALICE. 'Robert, there is something I want to tell you. You know how dear my children are to me, but Amy is the dearest of all. She is dearer to me, Robert, than you yourself.' COLONEL. 'Very well, memsahib.' ALICE. 'Robert dear, Amy has come to a time in her life when she is neither quite a girl nor quite a woman. There are dark places before us at that age through which we have to pick our way without much help. I can conceive dead mothers haunting those places to watch how their child is to fare in them. Very frightened ghosts, Robert. I have thought so long of how I was to be within hail of my girl at this time, holding her hand--my Amy, my child.' COLONEL. 'That is just how it is all to turn out, my Alice.' ALICE, shivering, 'Yes, isn't it, isn't it?' COLONEL. 'You dear excitable, of course it is.' ALICE, like one defying him, 'But even though it were not, though I had come back too late, though my daughter had become a woman without a mother's guidance, though she were a bad woman--' COLONEL. 'Alice.' ALICE. 'Though some cur of a man--Robert, it wouldn't affect my love for her, I should love her more than ever. If all others turned from her, if you turned from her, Robert--how I should love her then.' COLONEL. 'Alice, don't talk of such things.' But she continues to talk of them, for she sees that the door is ajar, and what she says now is really to comfort Amy. Every word of it is a kiss for Amy. ALICE, smiling through her fears, 'I was only telling you that nothing could make any difference in my love for Amy. That was all; and, of course, if she has ever been a little foolish, light-headed--at that age one often is--why, a mother would soon put all that right; she would just take her girl in her arms and they would talk it over, and the poor child's troubles would vanish.' Still for Amy's comfort, 'And do you think I should repeat any of Amy's confidences to you, Robert?' Gaily, 'Not a word, sir! She might be sure of that.' COLONEL. 'A pretty way to treat a father. But you will never persuade me that there is any serious flaw in Amy.' ALICE. 'I'll never try, dear.' COLONEL. 'As for this little tantrum of locking herself into her room, however, we must have it out with her.' ALICE. 'The first thing to-morrow.' COLONEL. 'Not a bit of it. The first thing the moment we get home.' ALICE, now up against a new danger, 'You forget, dear, that she has gone to bed.' COLONEL. 'We'll soon rout her out of bed.' ALICE. 'Robert! You forget that she has locked the door.' COLONEL. 'Sulky little darling. I daresay she is crying her eyes out for you already. But if she doesn't open that door pretty smartly I'll force it.' ALICE. 'You wouldn't do that?' COLONEL. 'Wouldn't I? Oh yes, I would.' Thus Alice has another problem to meet when Steve returns from his successful quest for a cab. 'Thank you, Steve, you will excuse us running off, I know. Alice is all nerves to-night. Come along, dear.' ALICE, signing to the puzzled Steve that he must somehow get the lady out of the house at once, 'There is no such dreadful hurry, is there?' She is suddenly interested in some photographs on the wall. 'Are you in this group, Steve?' STEVE. 'Yes, it is an old school eleven.' ALICE. 'Let us see if we can pick Steve out, Robert.' COLONEL. 'Here he is, the one with the ball.' ALICE. 'Oh no, that can't be Steve, surely. Isn't this one more like him? Come over here under the light.' Steve has his moment at the door, but it is evident from his face that the hidden one scorns his blandishments. So he signs to Alice. COLONEL. 'This is you, isn't it, Steve?' STEVE. 'Yes, the one with the ball.' COLONEL. 'I found you at once. Now, Alice, your cloak.' ALICE. 'I feel so comfy where I am. One does hate to leave a fire, doesn't one.' She hums gaily a snatch of a song. COLONEL. 'The woman doesn't know her own mind.' ALICE. 'You remember we danced to that once on my birthday at Simla.' She shows him how they danced at Simla. COLONEL, to Steve, who is indeed the more bewildered of the two, 'And a few minutes ago I assure you she was weeping on my shoulder!' ALICE. 'You were so nice to me that evening, Robert--I gave you a dance.' She whirls him gaily round. COLONEL. 'You flibberty jibbet, you make me dizzy.' ALICE. 'Shall we sit out the rest of the dance?' COLONEL. 'Not I. Come along, you unreasonable thing.' ALICE. 'Unreasonable. Robert, I have a reason. I want to see whether Amy will come.' COLONEL. 'Come?' STEVE. 'Come here?' ALICE. 'I didn't tell you before, Robert, because I had so little hope; but I called to her through the door that I was coming here to meet you, and I said, "I don't believe you have a headache, Amy; I believe you have locked yourself in there because you hate the poor mother who loves you," and I begged her to come with me. I said, "If you won't come now, come after me and make me happy."' COLONEL. 'But what an odd message, Alice; so unlike you.' ALICE. 'Was it? I don't know. I always find it so hard, Robert, to be like myself.' COLONEL. 'But, my dear, a young girl.' ALICE. 'She could have taken a cab; I gave her the address. Don't be so hard, Robert, I am teaching you to dance.' She is off with him again. COLONEL. 'Steve, the madcap.' He falls into a chair, but sees the room still going round. It is Alice's chance; she pounces upon Amy's hand, whirls her out of the hiding place, and seems to greet her at the other door. ALICE. 'Amy!' COLONEL, jumping up, 'Not really? Hallo! I never for a moment--It was true, then. Amy, you are a good little girl to come.' AMY, to whom this is a not unexpected step in the game, 'Dear father.' STEVE, to whom it is a very unexpected step indeed, 'Amy! Is this--your daughter, Alice?' ALICE, wondering at the perfidy of the creature, 'I forgot that you don't know her, Steve.' STEVE. 'But if--if this is your daughter--you are the mother.' ALICE. 'The mother?' COLONEL, jovially, 'Well thought out, Steve. He is a master mind, Alice.' STEVE. 'But--but----' Mercifully Amy has not lost her head. She is here to save them all. AMY. 'Introduce me, father.' COLONEL. 'He is astounded at our having such a big girl.' STEVE, thankfully, 'Yes, that's it.' COLONEL. 'Amy, my old friend, Steve Rollo--Steve, this is our rosebud.' STEVE, blinking, 'How do you do?' AMY, sternly, 'How do you do?' COLONEL. 'But, bless me, Amy, you are a swell.' AMY, flushing, 'It is only evening dress.' COLONEL. 'I bet she didn't dress for us, Alice; it was all done for Steve.' ALICE. 'Yes, for Steve.' COLONEL. 'But don't hang in me, chicken, hang in your mother. Steve, why are you staring at Alice?' We know why he is staring at Alice, but of course he is too gallant a gentleman to tell. Besides his astonishment has dazed him. STEVE. 'Was I?' ALICE, with her arms extended, 'Amy, don't be afraid of me.' AMY, going into them contemptuously, 'I'm not.' COLONEL, badgered, 'Then kiss and make it up.' Amy bestows a cold kiss upon her mother. Alice weeps. 'This is too much. Just wait till I get you home. Are you both ready?' It is then that Amy makes her first mistake. The glove that the Colonel has tossed to Steve is lying on a chair, and she innocently begins to put it on. Her father stares at her; his wife does not know why. ALICE. 'We are ready, Robert. Why don't you come? Robert, what is it?' COLONEL, darkening, 'Steve knows what it is; Amy doesn't as yet. The simple soul has given herself away so innocently that it is almost a shame to take notice of it. But I must, Steve. Come, man, it can't be difficult to explain.' In this Steve evidently differs from him. ALICE. 'Robert, you frighten me.' COLONEL. 'Still tongue-tied, Steve. Before you came here, Alice, I found a lady's glove on the floor.' ALICE, quickly, 'That isn't our affair, Robert.' COLONEL. 'Yes; I'll tell you why. Amy has just put on that glove.' ALICE. 'It isn't hers, dear.' COLONEL. 'Do you deny that it is yours, Amy?' Amy has no answer to this. 'Is it unreasonable, Steve, to ask you when my daughter, with whom you profess to be unacquainted, gave you that token of her esteem?' STEVE, helpless, 'Alice.' COLONEL. 'What has Alice to do with it?' AMY, to the rescue, 'Nothing, nothing, I swear.' COLONEL. 'Has there been something going on that I don't understand? Are you in it, Alice, as well as they? Why has Steve been staring at you so?' AMY, knowing so well that she alone can put this matter right, 'Mother, don't answer.' STEVE. 'If I could see Alice alone for a moment, Colonel--' ALICE. 'Yes.' COLONEL. 'No. Good heavens, what are you all concealing? Is Amy--my Amy--your elderly lady, Steve? Was that some tasteful little joke you were playing on your old friend, her father?' STEVE. 'Colonel, I--' AMY, preparing for the great sacrifice, 'I forbid him to speak.' COLONEL. '_You_ forbid him.' ALICE. 'Robert, Robert, let me explain. Steve--' AMY. 'Mother, you must not, you dare not.' Grandly, 'Let all fall on me. It is not true, father, that Mr. Rollo and I were strangers when you introduced us.' ALICE, wailing, 'Amy, Amy.' AMY, with a touch of the sublime, 'It _is_ my glove, but it had a right to be here. He is my affianced husband.' Perhaps, but it is an open question, Steve is the one who is most surprised to hear this. He seems to want to say something on the subject, but a look of entreaty from Alice silences him. COLONEL. 'Alice, did you hear her?' ALICE. 'Surely you don't mean, Robert, that you are not glad?' COLONEL, incredulous, 'Is that how _you_ take it?' ALICE, heart-broken, 'How I take it! I am overjoyed. Don't you see how splendid it is; our old friend Steve.' COLONEL, glaring at him, 'Our old friend, Steve.' As for Amy, that pale-faced lily, for the moment she stands disregarded. Never mind; Ginevra will yet do her justice. ALICE. 'Oh, happy day!' Brazenly she takes Steve's two hands, 'Robert, he is to be our son.' COLONEL. 'You are very clever, Alice, but do you really think I believe that this is no shock to you? Oh, woman, why has this deception not struck you to the ground?' ALICE. 'Deception? Amy, Steve, I do believe he thinks that this is as much a surprise to me as it is to him! Why, Robert, I have known about it ever since I saw Amy alone this afternoon. She told me at once. Then in came Steve, and he--' COLONEL. 'Is it as bad as that!' ALICE. 'As what, dear?' COLONEL. 'That my wife must lie to me.' ALICE. 'Oh, Robert.' COLONEL. 'I am groping only, but I can see now that you felt there was something wrong from the first. How did you find out?' ALICE, imploringly, 'Robert, they are engaged to be married; it was foolish of them not to tell you; but, oh, my dear, leave it at that.' COLONEL. 'Why did you ask Amy to follow us here?' ALICE. 'So that we could all be together when we broke it to you, dear.' COLONEL. 'Another lie! My shoulders are broad; why shouldn't I have it to bear as well as you?' ALICE. 'There is nothing to bear but just a little folly.' COLONEL. 'Folly! And neither of them able to say a word?' Indeed they are very cold lovers; Amy's lip is curled at Steve. To make matters worse, the cupboard door, which has so far had the decency to remain quiet, now presumes to have its say. It opens of itself a few inches, creaking guiltily. Three people are so startled that a new suspicion is roused in the fourth. ALICE, who can read his face so well, 'She wasn't there, Robert, she wasn't.' COLONEL. 'My God! I understand now; she didn't follow us; she hid there when I came.' ALICE. 'No, Robert, no.' He goes into the cupboard and returns with something in his hand, which he gives to Amy. COLONEL. 'Your other glove, Amy.' ALICE. 'I can't keep it from you any longer, Robert; I have done my best.' She goes to Amy to protect her. 'But Amy is still my child.' 'What a deceiver' Amy is thinking. COLONEL. 'Well, sir, still waiting for that interview with my wife before you can say anything?' STEVE, a desperate fellow, 'Yes.' ALICE. 'You will have every opportunity of explaining, Steve, many opportunities; but in the meantime--just now, please go, leave us alone.' Stamping her foot: 'Go, please.' Steve has had such an evening of it that he clings dizzily to the one amazing explanation, that Alice loves him not wisely but too well. Never will he betray her, never. STEVE, with a meaning that is lost on her but is very evident to the other lady present, 'Anything _you_ ask me to do, Alice, anything. I shall go upstairs only, so that if you want me--' ALICE. 'Oh, go.' He goes, wondering whether he is a villain or a hero, which is perhaps a pleasurable state of mind. COLONEL. 'You are wondrous lenient to him; I shall have more to say. As for this girl--look at her standing there, she seems rather proud of herself.' ALICE. 'It isn't really hardness, Robert. It is because she thinks that you are hard. Robert, dear, I want you to go away too, and leave Amy to me. Go home, Robert; we shall follow soon.' COLONEL, after a long pause, 'If you wish it.' ALICE. 'Leave her to her mother.' When he has gone Amy leans across the top of a chair, sobbing her little heart away. Alice tries to take her--the whole of her--in her arms, but is rebuffed with a shudder. AMY. 'I wonder you can touch me.' ALICE. 'The more you ask of your mother the more she has to give. It is my love you need, Amy; and you can draw upon it, and draw upon it.' AMY. 'Pray excuse me.' ALICE. 'How can you be so hard! My child, I am not saying one harsh word to you. I am asking you only to hide your head upon your mother's breast.' AMY. 'I decline.' ALICE. 'Take care, Amy, or I shall begin to believe that your father was right. What do you think would happen if I were to leave you to him!' AMY. 'Poor father.' ALICE. 'Poor indeed with such a daughter.' AMY. 'He has gone, mother; so do you really think you need keep up this pretence before me?' ALICE. 'Amy, what you need is a whipping.' AMY. 'You ought to know what I need.' The agonised mother again tries to envelop her unnatural child. ALICE. 'Amy, Amy, it was all Steve's fault.' AMY, struggling as with a boa constrictor, 'You needn't expect me to believe that.' ALICE. 'No doubt you thought at the beginning that he was a gallant gentleman.' AMY. 'Not at all; I knew he was depraved from the moment I set eyes on him.' ALICE. 'My Amy! Then how--how--' AMY. 'Ginevra knew too.' ALICE. 'She knew!' AMY. 'We planned it together--to treat him in the same way as Sir Harry Paskill and Ralph Devereux.' ALICE. 'Amy, you are not in your senses. You don't mean that there were others?' AMY. 'There was Major--Major--I forget his name, but he was another.' ALICE, shaking her, 'Wretched girl.' AMY. 'Leave go.' ALICE. 'How did you get to know them?' AMY. 'To know them? They are characters in plays.' ALICE, bereft, 'Characters in plays? Plays!' AMY. 'We went to five last week.' Wild hopes spring up in Alice's breast. ALICE. 'Amy, tell me quickly, when did you see Steve for the first time?' AMY. 'When you were saying good-bye to him this afternoon.' ALICE. 'Can it be true!' AMY. 'Perhaps we shouldn't have listened; but they always listen when there is a screen.' ALICE. 'Listened? What did you hear?' AMY. 'Everything, mother! We saw him kiss you and heard you make an assignation to meet him here.' ALICE. 'I shall whip you directly, but go on, darling.' AMY, childishly, 'You shan't whip me.' Then once more heroic, 'As in a flash Ginevra and I saw that there was only one way to save you. I must go to his chambers, and force him to return the letters.' ALICE, inspired, 'My letters?' AMY. 'Of course. He behaved at first as they all do--pretended that he did not know what I was talking about. At that moment, a visitor; I knew at once that it must be the husband; it always is, it was; I hid. Again a visitor. I knew it must be you, it was; oh, the agony to me in there. I was wondering when he would begin to suspect, for I knew the time would come, and I stood ready to emerge and sacrifice myself to save you.' ALICE. 'As you have done, Amy?' AMY. 'As I have done.' Once more the arms go round her. 'I want none of that.' ALICE. 'Forgive me.' A thought comes to Alice that enthralls her. 'Steve! Does he know what you think--about me?' AMY. 'I had to be open with him.' ALICE. 'And Steve believes it? He thinks that I--I--Alice Grey--oh, ecstasy!' AMY. 'You need not pretend.' ALICE. 'What is to be done?' AMY. 'Though I abhor him I must marry him for aye. Ginevra is to be my only bridesmaid. We are both to wear black.' ALICE, sharply, 'You are sure you don't rather like him, Amy?' AMY. 'Mother!' ALICE. 'Amy, weren't you terrified to come alone to the rooms of a man you didn't even know? Some men--' AMY. 'I was not afraid. I am a soldier's daughter; and Ginevra gave me this.' She produces a tiny dagger. This is altogether too much for Alice. ALICE. 'My darling!' She does have the babe in her arms at last, and now Amy clings to her. This is very sweet to Alice; but she knows that if she tells Amy the truth at once its first effect will be to make the dear one feel ridiculous. How can Alice hurt her Amy so, Amy who has such pride in having saved her? 'You do love me a little, Amy, don't you?' AMY. 'Yes, yes.' ALICE. 'You don't think I have been really bad, dear?' AMY. 'Oh, no, only foolish.' ALICE. 'Thank you, Amy.' AMY, nestling still closer, 'What are we to do now, dear dear mother?' Alice has a happy idea; but that, as the novelists say, deserves a chapter to itself. III We are back in the room of the diary. The diary itself is not visible; it is tucked away in the drawer, taking a nap while it may, for it has much to chronicle before cockcrow. Cosmo also is asleep, on an ingenious arrangement of chairs. Ginevra is sitting bolt upright, a book on her knee, but she is not reading it. She is seeing visions in which Amy plays a desperate part. The hour is late; every one ought to be in bed. Cosmo is perhaps dreaming that he is back at Osborne, for he calls out, as if in answer to a summons, that he is up and nearly dressed. He then raises his head and surveys Ginevra. COSMO. 'Hullo, you've been asleep.' GINEVRA. 'How like a man.' COSMO. 'I say, I thought you were the one who had stretched herself out, and that I was sitting here very quiet, so as not to waken you.' GINEVRA. 'Let us leave it at that.' COSMO. 'Huffy, aren't you! Have they not come back yet?' GINEVRA. 'Not they. And half-past eleven has struck. I oughtn't to stay any longer; as it is, I don't know what my landlady will say.' She means that she does know. COSMO. 'I'll see you to your place whenever you like. My uniform will make it all right for you.' GINEVRA. 'You child. But I simply can't go till I know what has happened. Where, oh where, can they be?' COSMO. 'That's all right. Father told you he had a message from mother saying that they had gone to the theatre.' GINEVRA. 'But why?' COSMO. 'Yes, it seemed to bother him, too.' GINEVRA. 'The theatre. That is what she _said_.' Here Cosmo takes up a commanding position on the hearthrug; it could not be bettered unless with a cigar in the mouth. COSMO. 'Look here, Miss Dunbar, it may be that I have a little crow to pick with mother when she comes back, but I cannot allow anyone else to say a word against her. _Comprenez?_' Ginevra's reply is lost to the world because at this moment Amy's sparkling eyes show round the door. How softly she must have crossed the little hall! GINEVRA. 'Amy, at last!' AMY. 'Sh!' She speaks to some one unseen, 'There are only Ginevra and Cosmo here.' Thus encouraged Alice enters. Despite her demeanour they would see, if they knew her better, that she has been having a good time, and is in hopes that it is not ended yet. She comes in, as it were, under Amy's guidance. Ginevra is introduced, and Alice then looks to Amy for instructions what to do next. AMY, encouragingly, 'Sit down, mother.' ALICE. 'Where shall I sit, dear?' Amy gives her the nicest chair in the room. 'Thank you, Amy.' She is emboldened to address her son. 'Where is your father, Cosmo?' Cosmo remembers his slap, and that he has sworn to converse with her no more. He indicates, however, that his father is in the room overhead. Alice meekly accepts the rebuff. 'Shall I go to him, Amy?' AMY, considerately, 'If you think you feel strong enough, mother.' ALICE. 'You have given me strength.' AMY. 'I am so glad.' She strokes her mother soothingly. '_What_ will you tell him?' ALICE. 'All, Amy--all, all.' AMY. 'Brave mother.' ALICE. 'Who could not be brave with such a daughter.' On reflection, 'And with such a son.' Helped by encouraging words from Amy she departs on her perilous enterprise. The two conspirators would now give a handsome competence to Cosmo to get him out of the room. He knows it, and sits down. COSMO, 'I say, what is she going to tell father?' AMY, with a despairing glance at Ginevra, 'Oh, nothing.' GINEVRA, with a clever glance at Amy, 'Cosmo, you promised to see me home.' COSMO, the polite, 'Right O.' GINEVRA. 'But you haven't got your boots on.' COSMO. 'I won't be a minute.' He pauses at the door. 'I say I believe you're trying to get rid of me. Look here, I won't budge till you tell me what mother is speaking about to father.' AMY. 'It is about the drawing-room curtains.' COSMO. 'Good lord!' As soon as he has gone they rush at each other; they don't embrace; they stop when their noses are an inch apart, and then talk. This is the stage way for lovers. It is difficult to accomplish without rubbing noses, but they have both been practising. GINEVRA. 'Quick, Amy, did you get the letters?' AMY. 'There are no letters.' Ginevra is so taken aback that her nose bobs. Otherwise the two are absolutely motionless. She cleverly recovers herself. GINEVRA. 'No letters; how unlike life. You are quite sure?' AMY. 'I have my mother's word for it.' GINEVRA. 'Is that enough?' AMY. 'And you now have mine.' GINEVRA. 'Then it hadn't gone far?' AMY. 'No, merely a painful indiscretion. But if father had known it--you know what husbands are.' GINEVRA. 'Yes, indeed. Did he follow her?' Amy nods. 'Did you hide?' Amy nods again. AMY. 'Worse than that, Ginevra. To deceive him I had to pretend that I was the woman. And now--Ginevra, can you guess?--' Here they have to leave off doing noses. On the stage it can be done for ever so much longer, but only by those who are paid accordingly. GINEVRA. 'You don't mean--?' AMY. 'I think I do, but what do you mean?' GINEVRA. 'I mean--the great thing.' AMY. 'Then it is, yes. Ginevra, I am affianced to the man, Steve!' Ginevra could here quickly drink a glass of water if there was one in the room. GINEVRA, wandering round her old friend, 'You seem the same, Amy, yet somehow different.' AMY, rather complacently, 'That is just how I feel. But I must not think of myself. They are overhead, Ginevra. There is an awful scene taking place--up there. She is telling father all.' GINEVRA. 'Confessing?' AMY. 'Everything--in a noble attempt to save me from a widowed marriage.' GINEVRA. 'But I thought she was such a hard woman.' AMY. 'Not really. To the world perhaps; but I have softened her. All she needed, Ginevra, to bring out her finer qualities was a strong nature to lean upon; and she says that she has found it in me. At the theatre and all the way home--' GINEVRA. 'Then you did go to the theatre. Why?' AMY, feeling that Ginevra is very young, 'Need you ask? Oh, Ginevra, to see if we could find a happy ending. It was mother's idea.' GINEVRA. 'Which theatre?' AMY. 'I don't know, but the erring wife confessed all--in one of those mousselines de soie that are so fashionable this year; and mother and I sat--clasping each other's hands, praying it might end happily, though we didn't see how it could.' GINEVRA. 'How awful for you. What did the husband do?' AMY. 'He was very calm and white. He went out of the room for a moment, and came back so white. Then he sat down by the fire, and nodded his head three times.' GINEVRA. 'I think I know now which theatre it was.' AMY. 'He asked her coldly--but always the perfect gentleman----' GINEVRA. 'Oh, that theatre.' AMY. 'He asked her whether _he_ was to go or she.' GINEVRA. 'They must part?' AMY. 'Yes. She went on her knees to him, and said "Are we never to meet again?" and he replied huskily "Never." Then she turned and went slowly towards the door.' GINEVRA, clutching her, 'Amy, was that the end?' AMY. 'The audience sat still as death, listening for the awful _click_ that brings the curtain down.' GINEVRA, shivering, 'I seem to hear it.' AMY. 'At that moment--' GINEVRA. 'Yes, yes?' AMY. 'The door opened, and, Ginevra, their little child--came in--in her night-gown.' GINEVRA. 'Quick.' AMY. 'She came toddling down the stairs--she was barefooted--she took in the whole situation at a glance--and, running to her father, she said, "Daddy, if mother goes away what is to become of me?"' Amy gulps and continues: 'And then she took a hand of each and drew them together till they fell on each other's breasts, and then--Oh, Ginevra, then--Click!--and the curtain fell.' GINEVRA, when they are more composed, 'How old was the child?' AMY. 'Five. She looked more.' GINEVRA, her brows knitted, 'Molly is under two, isn't she?' AMY. 'She is not quite twenty months.' GINEVRA. 'She couldn't possibly do it.' AMY. 'No; I thought of that. But she couldn't, you know, even though she was held up. Mother couldn't help thinking the scene was a good omen, though.' They both look at the ceiling again. 'How still they are.' GINEVRA. 'Perhaps she hasn't had the courage to tell.' AMY. 'If so, I must go on with it.' GINEVRA, feeling rather small beside Amy, 'Marry him?' AMY. 'Yes. I must dree my weird. Is it dree your weird, or weird your dree?' GINEVRA. 'I think they both do.' She does not really care; nobler thoughts are surging within her. 'Amy, why can't I make some sacrifice as well as you?' Amy seems about to make a somewhat grudging reply, but the unexpected arrival of the man who has so strangely won her seals her lips. AMY. 'You!' with a depth of meaning, 'Oh, sir.' STEVE, the most nervous of the company, 'I felt I must come. Miss Grey, I am in the greatest distress, as the unhappy cause of all this trouble.' AMY, coldly, 'You should have thought of that before.' STEVE. 'It was dense of me not to understand sooner--very dense.' He looks at her with wistful eyes. 'Must I marry you, Miss Grey?' AMY, curling her lip, 'Ah, that is what you are sorry for!' STEVE. 'Yes--horribly sorry.' Hastily, 'Not for myself. To tell you the truth, I'd be--precious glad to risk it--I think.' AMY, with a glance at Ginevra, 'You would?' STEVE. 'But very sorry for you. It seems such a shame to you--so young and attractive--and the little you know of me so--unfortunate.' AMY. 'You mean you could never love me?' STEVE. 'I don't mean that at all.' AMY. 'Ginevra!' Indeed Ginevra feels that she has been obliterated quite long enough. GINEVRA, with a touch of testiness in her tone, 'Amy--introduce me.' AMY. 'Mr. Stephen Rollo--Miss Dunbar. Miss Dunbar knows all.' Ginevra makes a movement that the cynical might describe as brushing Amy aside. GINEVRA. 'May I ask, Mr. Rollo, what are your views about woman?' STEVE. 'Really I--' GINEVRA. 'Is she, in your opinion, her husband's equal, or is she his chattel?' STEVE. 'Honestly, I am so beside myself--' GINEVRA. 'You evade the question.' AMY. 'He means chattel, Ginevra.' GINEVRA. 'Mr. Rollo, I am the friend till death of Amy Grey. Let that poor child go, sir, and I am prepared to take her place beside you--Yes, at the altar's mouth.' AMY. 'Ginevra.' GINEVRA, making that movement again, 'Understand I can neither love nor honour you--at least at first--but I will obey you.' AMY. 'Ginevra, you take too much upon yourself.' GINEVRA. 'I _will_ make a sacrifice--I will.' AMY. 'You shall not.' GINEVRA. 'I feel that I understand this gentleman as no other woman can. It is my mission, Amy--' The return of Alice is what prevents Steve's seizing his hat and flying. It might not have had this effect had he seen the lady's face just before she opened the door. ALICE, putting her hand to her poor heart, 'You have come here, Steve? Oh no, it is not possible.' STEVE, looking things unutterable, 'How could I help coming?' AMY, to the rescue, 'Mother, have you--did you?' ALICE, meekly, 'I have told him all.' STEVE. 'The Colonel?' Alice bows her bruised head. AMY, conducting her to a seat, 'Brave, brave. What has he decided?' ALICE. 'He hasn't decided yet. He is thinking out what it will be best to do.' STEVE. 'He knows? Then I am no longer--' His unfinished sentence seems to refer to Amy. AMY, proudly, 'Yes, sir, as he knows, you are, as far as I am concerned, now free.' GINEVRA, in a murmur, 'It's almost a pity.' She turns to her Amy. 'At least, Amy, this makes you and me friends again.' We have never quite been able to understand what this meant, but Amy knows, for she puts Ginevra's hand to her sweet lips. ALICE, who somehow could do without Ginevra to-night, 'Cosmo is waiting for you, Miss Dunbar, to see you home.' GINEVRA, with a disquieting vision of her landlady, 'I must go.' She gives her hand in the coldest way to Mrs. Grey. Then, with a curtsey to Steve that he can surely never forget, 'Mr. Rollo, I am sure there is much good in you. Darling Amy, I shall be round first thing in the morning.' STEVE. 'Now that she has gone, can we--have a talk?' ALICE, looking down, 'Yes, Steve.' AMY, gently, 'Mother, what was that you called him?' ALICE. 'Dear Amy, I forgot. Yes, Mr. Rollo.' STEVE. 'Then, Alice--' AMY. 'This lady's name, if I am not greatly mistaken, is Mrs. Grey. Is it not so, mother?' ALICE. 'Yes, Amy.' STEVE. 'As you will; but it is most important that I say certain things to her at once.' ALICE. 'Oh, Mr. Rollo. What do you think, dear?' AMY, reflecting, 'If it be clearly understood that this is good-bye, I consent. Please be as brief as possible.' Somehow they think that she is moving to the door, but she crosses only to the other side of the room and sits down with a book. One of them likes this very much. STEVE, who is not the one, 'But I want to see her alone.' AMY, the dearest of little gaolers, 'That, I am afraid, I cannot permit. It is not that I have not perfect confidence in you, mother, but you must see I am acting wisely.' ALICE. 'Yes, Amy.' STEVE, to his Alice, 'What has come over you? You don't seem to be the same woman.' AMY. 'That is just it; she is not.' ALICE. 'I see now only through Amy's eyes.' AMY. 'They will not fail you, mother. Proceed, sir.' Steve has to make the best of it. STEVE. 'You told him, then, about your feelings for me?' ALICE, studying the carpet, 'He knows now exactly what are my feelings for you.' STEVE, huskily, 'How did he take it?' ALICE. 'Need you ask?' STEVE. 'Poor old boy. I suppose he wishes me to stay away from your house now.' ALICE. 'Is it unreasonable?' STEVE. 'No, of course not, but--' ALICE. 'Will it be terribly hard to you, St--Mr. Rollo?' STEVE. 'It isn't that. You see I'm fond of the Colonel, I really am, and it hurts me to think he thinks that I--It wasn't my fault, was it?' AMY. 'Ungenerous.' ALICE. 'He quite understands that it was I who lost my head.' Steve is much moved by the generosity of this. He lowers his voice. STEVE. 'Of course I blame myself now; but I assure you honestly I had no idea of it until to-night. I had thought you were only my friend. It dazed me; but as I ransacked my mind many little things came back to me. I remembered what I hadn't noticed at the time--' AMY. 'Louder, please.' STEVE. 'I remembered--' AMY. 'Is this necessary?' ALICE. 'Please, Amy, let me know what he remembered.' STEVE. 'I remembered that your voice was softer to me than when you were addressing other men.' ALICE. 'Let me look long at you, Mr. Rollo.' She looks long at him. AMY. 'Mother, enough.' ALICE. 'What more do you remember?' STEVE. 'It is strange to me now that I didn't understand your true meaning to-day when you said I was the only man you couldn't flirt with; you meant that I aroused deeper feelings.' ALICE. 'How you know me.' AMY. 'Not the best of you, mother.' ALICE. 'No, not the best, Amy.' STEVE. 'I can say that I never thought of myself as possessing dangerous qualities. I thought I was utterly unattractive to women.' ALICE. 'You _must_ have known about your eyes.' STEVE, eagerly, 'My eyes? On my soul I didn't.' Amy wonders if this can be true. Alice rises. She feels that she cannot control herself much longer. ALICE. 'Steve, if you don't go away at once I shall scream.' STEVE, really unhappy, 'Is it as bad as that?' AMY, rising, 'You heard what Mrs. Grey said. This is very painful to her. Will you please say good-bye.' In the novel circumstances he does not quite know how this should be carried out. ALICE, also shy, 'How shall we do it, Amy? On the brow?' AMY. 'No, mother--with the hand.' They do it with the hand, and it is thus that the Colonel finds them. He would be unable to keep his countenance were it not for a warning look from Alice. COLONEL, one of the men who have a genius for saying the right thing, 'Ha.' STEVE. 'I am going, Colonel. I am very sorry that you----At the same time I wish you to understand that the fault is entirely mine.' COLONEL, guardedly, 'Ha.' AMY, putting an arm round her mother, who hugs it, 'Father, he came only to say goodbye. He is not a bad man, and mother has behaved magnificently.' COLONEL, cleverly, 'Ha.' AMY. 'You must not, you shall not, be cruel to her.' ALICE. 'Darling Amy.' COLONEL, truculently, 'Oh, mustn't I. We shall see about that.' STEVE. 'Come, come, Colonel.' COLONEL, doing better than might have been expected, 'Hold your tongue, sir.' AMY. 'I know mother as no other person can know her. I begin to think that you have no proper appreciation of her, father.' ALICE, basely, 'Dear, dear Amy.' AMY. 'I daresay she has often suffered in the past--' ALICE. 'Oh, Amy, oh.' AMY. 'By your--your callousness--your want of sympathy--your neglect.' ALICE. 'My beloved child.' COLONEL, uneasily, 'Alice, tell her it isn't so.' ALICE. 'You hear what he says, my pet.' AMY. 'But you don't deny it.' COLONEL. 'Deny it, woman.' ALICE. 'Robert, Robert.' AMY. 'And please not to call my mother "woman" in my presence.' COLONEL. 'I--I--I----' He looks for help from Alice, but she gives him only a twinkle of triumph. He barks, 'Child, go to your room.' AMY, her worst fears returning, 'But what are you going to do?' COLONEL. 'That is not your affair.' STEVE. 'I must say I don't see that.' AMY, gratefully, 'Thank you, Mr. Rollo.' COLONEL. 'Go to your room.' She has to go, but not till she has given her mother a kiss that is a challenge to the world. Then to the bewilderment of Steve two human frames are rocked with laughter. ALICE. 'Oh, Robert, look at him. He thinks I worship him.' COLONEL. 'Steve, you colossal puppy.' STEVE. 'Eh--what--why?' ALICE. 'Steve, tell Robert about my voice being softer to you than to other men; tell him, Steve, about your eyes.' The unhappy youth gropes mentally and physically. STEVE. 'Good heavens, was there nothing in it?' COLONEL. 'My boy, I'll never let you hear the end of this.' STEVE. 'But if there's nothing in it, how could your daughter have thought--' COLONEL. 'She saw you kiss Alice here this afternoon, you scoundrel, and, as she thought, make an _assignation_ with you. There, it all came out of that. She is a sentimental lady, is our Amy, and she has been too often to the theatre.' STEVE. 'Let me think.' COLONEL. 'Here is a chair for the very purpose. Now, think hard.' STEVE. 'But--but--then why did you pretend before her, Alice?' ALICE. 'Because she thinks that she has saved me, and it makes her so happy. Amy has a passionate desire to be of some use in this world she knows so well, and she already sees her sphere, Steve, it is to look after me. I am not to be her chaperone, it is she who is to be mine. I have submitted, you see.' COLONEL, fidgeting, 'She seems to have quite given me up for you.' ALICE, blandly, 'Oh yes, Robert, quite.' STEVE, gloomily, 'You will excuse my thinking only of myself. What an ass I've been.' ALICE. 'Is it a blow, Steve?' STEVE. 'It's a come down. Ass, ass, ass! But I say, Alice, I'm awfully glad it's I who have been the ass and not you. I really am, Colonel. You see the tragedy of my life is I'm such an extraordinarily ordinary sort of fellow that, though every man I know says some lady has loved him, there never in all my unromantic life was a woman who cared a Christmas card for me. It often makes me lonely; and so when I thought such a glorious woman as you, Alice--I lost touch of earth altogether; but now I've fallen back on it with a whack. But I'm glad--yes, I'm glad. You two kindest people Steve Rollo has ever known.--Oh, I say good-night. I suppose you can't overlook it, Alice.' ALICE. 'Oh, yes, you goose, I can. We are both fond of you--Mr. Rollo.' COLONEL. 'Come in, my boy, and make love to _me_ as often as you feel lonely.' STEVE. 'I may still come to see you? I say, I'm awfully taken with your Amy.' COLONEL. 'None of that, Steve.' ALICE. '_We_ can drop in on you on the sly, Steve, to admire your orbs; but you mustn't come here--until Amy thinks it is safe for me.' When he has gone she adds, 'Until _I_ think it is safe for Amy.' COLONEL. 'When will that be?' ALICE. 'Not for some time.' COLONEL. 'He isn't a bad sort, Steve.' ALICE. 'Oh, no--she might even do worse some day. But she is to be my little girl for a long time first.' COLONEL. 'This will give him a sort of glamour to her, you know.' ALICE. 'You are not really thinking, Robert, that my Amy is to fall asleep to-night before she hears the whole true story. Could I sleep until she knows everything!' COLONEL. 'Stupid of me. I am a little like Steve in one way, though; I don't understand why you have kept it up so long.' ALICE. 'It isn't the first time you have thought me a harum-scarum.' COLONEL. 'It isn't.' ALICE. 'The sheer fun of it, Robert, went to my head, I suppose. And then, you see, the more Amy felt herself to be my protectress the more she seemed to love me. I am afraid I have a weakness for the short cuts to being loved.' COLONEL. 'I'm afraid you have. The one thing you didn't think of is that the more she loves you the less love she seems to have for me.' ALICE. 'How selfish of you, Robert.' COLONEL, suspiciously, 'Or was that all part of the plan?' ALICE. 'There was no plan; there wasn't time for one. But you were certainly rather horrid, Robert, in the way you gloated over me when you saw them take to you. I have been gloating a little perhaps in taking them from you.' COLONEL. 'Them? You are going a little too fast, my dear. I have still got Cosmo and Molly.' ALICE. 'For the moment.' COLONEL. 'Woman.' ALICE. 'Remember, Amy said you must not call me that.' He laughs as he takes her by the shoulders. 'Yes, shake me; I deserve it.' COLONEL. 'You do, indeed,' and he shakes her with a ferocity that would have startled any sudden visitor. No wonder, then, that it is a shock to Cosmo, who comes blundering in. Alice is the first to see him, and she turns the advantage to unprincipled account. ALICE. 'Robert, don't hurt me. Oh, if Cosmo were to see you!' COSMO. 'Cosmo does see him.' He says it in a terrible voice. Probably Cosmo has been to a theatre or two himself. ALICE. 'You here, Cosmo!' She starts back from her assailant. COLONEL, feeling a little foolish, 'I didn't hear you come in.' COSMO, grimly, 'No, I'm sure you didn't.' COLONEL, testily, 'No heroics, my boy.' COSMO. 'Take care, father.' He stands between them, which makes his father suddenly grin. 'Laugh on, sir. I don't know what this row's about, but'--here his arm encircles an undeserving lady--'this lady is my mother, and I won't have her bullied. What's a father compared to a mother.' ALICE. 'Cosmo, darling Cosmo.' COLONEL, becoming alarmed, 'My boy, it was only a jest. Alice, tell him it was only a jest.' ALICE. 'He says it was only a jest, Cosmo.' COSMO. 'You are a trump to shield him, mother.' He kisses her openly, conscious that he is a bit of a trump himself, in which view Alice most obviously concurs. COLONEL, to his better half, 'You serpent.' COSMO. 'Sir, this language won't do.' COLONEL, exasperated, 'You go to bed, too.' ALICE. 'He has sent Amy to bed already. Try to love your father, Cosmo,' placing many kisses on the spot where he had been slapped. _Try for my sake_, and try to get Amy and Molly to do it, too.' Sweetly to her husband, 'They will love you in time, Robert; at present they can think only of me. Darling, I'll come and see you in bed.' COSMO. 'I don't like to leave you with him--' ALICE. 'Go, my own; I promise to call out if I need you.' On these terms Cosmo departs. The long-suffering husband, arms folded, surveys his unworthy spouse. COLONEL. 'You _are_ a hussy.' ALICE, meekly, 'I suppose I am.' COLONEL. 'Mind you, I am not going to stand Cosmo's thinking this of me.' ALICE. 'As if I would allow it for another hour! You won't see much of me to-night, Robert. If I sleep at all it will be in Amy's room.' COLONEL, lugubriously, 'You will be taking Molly from me to-morrow.' ALICE. 'I feel hopeful that Molly, too, will soon be taking care of me.' She goes to him in her cajoling way: 'With so many chaperones, Robert, I ought to do well. Oh, my dear, don't think that I have learnt no lesson to-night.' COLONEL, smiling, 'Going to reform at last?' ALICE, the most serious of women, 'Yes, Robert. The Alice you have known is come to an end. To-morrow--' COLONEL. 'If she is different to-morrow I'll disown her.' ALICE. 'It's summer done, autumn begun. Farewell, summer, we don't know you any more. My girl and I are like the little figures in the weather-house; when Amy comes out, Alice goes in. Alice Sit-by-the-fire henceforth. The moon is full to-night, Robert, but it isn't looking for me any more. Taxis farewell--advance four-wheelers. I had a beautiful husband once, black as the raven was his hair--' COLONEL. 'Stop it.' ALICE. 'Pretty Robert, farewell. Farewell, Alice that was; it's all over, my dear. I always had a weakness for you; but now you must really go; make way there for the old lady.' COLONEL. 'Woman, you'll make me cry. Go to your Amy.' ALICE. 'Robert--' COLONEL. 'Go. Go. Go.' As he roars it Amy peeps in anxiously. She is in her nightgown, and her hair is down and her feet are bare, and she does not look so very much more than five. Alice is unable to resist the temptation. ALICE, wailing, 'Must I go, Robert?' AMY. 'Going away? Mother! Father, if mother goes away, what is to become of me?' She draws them together until their hands clasp. There is now a beatific smile on her face. The curtain sees that its time has come; it clicks, and falls. THE END Publication Date: August 5th 2010 https://www.bookrix.com/-bx.barrie