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- 188 CRIME AND PUNISHMENT
"No, Rodya, but he knows already of our arrival. "We have
heard, Rodya, that Pyotr Petrovitch was so kind as to visit you
to-day," 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 succeeded in under-
standing 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 . . . to-day he
certainly did drive him away. That was so. And 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 compas-
sionately— "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
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