Crime and Punishment (Translation, Classics Library) 058

Author: Fyodor Dostoevsky (Russia), translated by Yue Lin
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-08-01
Features: On an exceptionally hot evening in early July, a young man stepped out of his tiny room, which he had rented from a subletter in S Alley. He walked slowly, as if hesitating, toward K Bridge. He easily dodged the landlady on the stairs. His room was on the top floor of a tall five-story building, more like a closet than a place to live. The landlady lived in a separate room on the floor below, and his rent included lunch and a maid. Every time he went out, he had to pass her kitchen, where the door leading to the stairs was almost always wide open. Every time he passed, he felt both distressed and timid, blushing and frowning deeply. He hadn’t paid his landlady’s share of the rent, so he dreaded meeting her. He wasn’t timid by nature—he was far from it. But from some point on, he grew irritable and tense, as if suffering from depression. He often lost himself in deep thought, loved solitude, and even feared meeting anyone—not just the landlady. Poverty weighed on him heavily; yet lately, even that poverty no longer troubled him. He no longer did the necessary tasks of his daily life—he didn’t have the inclination. In truth, he wasn’t afraid of the landlady at all; no matter what she might think of him, he wouldn’t be afraid. But standing on the stairs listening to her ramble about trivial daily matters, demand rent, threaten, or complain would force him to make excuses, apologize, and tell lies—no, that was unthinkable. Instead, he would act like a cat, seize the opportunity to slip downstairs, and escape unnoticed. But on this particular day, as he went out, he was surprised at his own fear of encountering the creditor. "What kind of thing am I going to do? Yet I’m afraid of such trivial matters!" he thought, a strange smile spreading across his face. "Yes, it’s all about willpower. It’s because he’s timid that he missed his chance—that’s an undeniable truth. I really want to know what people fear. They fear new measures, new words. But I talk too much. Because I talk too much, I do nothing; yet again, perhaps it’s because I do nothing that I talk too much. I’ve learned to talk nonsense in this past month, lying in my tiny room and daydreaming about even ancient times. Now, what am I going to do? Can I really do this? Isn’t this just playing around? It’s entirely a joke. So, am I doing this just to amuse myself...