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- CRIME AND PUNISHMENT 499
most part a stream of empty sounds for him. But some of thenfj
he understood. He looked at him inquiringly, not knowing
how it would end.
"I mean those crop-headed wenches," the talkative Ilya Pe-
trovitch 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 educa-
tion, 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 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?"
"Svidrigailov," some one answered from the other room with
drowsy listlessness.
Raskolnikov started.
"Svidrigailov! Svidrigailov has shot himself!" he cried.
"What, do you know Svidrigailov?"
"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.
"You've turned pale again. It's so stuffy here. . . ."
"Yes, I must go," muttered Raskolnikov. "Excuse my trou-
bling you. ..."
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