"As far as I am concerned, batuchka, Rodion Romanovitch, I will tell you something which shall reveal to you my disposition," answered Porphyrius Petrovitch, continuing to fidget about the room, and, as before, avoiding his visitor's gaze. "I live alone, you must know, never go into society, and am, therefore, unknown; add to which, that I am a man on the shady side of forty, somewhat played out. You may have noticed, Rodion Romanovitch, that here—I mean in Russia, of course, and especially in St. Petersburg circles—that when two intelligent men happen to meet who, as yet, are not familiar, but who, however, have mutual esteem—as, for instance, you and I have at this moment—don't know what to talk about for half an hour at a time. They seem, both of them, as if petrified. Everyone else has a subject for conversation—ladies, for instance, people in society, the upper ten—all these sets have some topic or other. It is the thing, but somehow people of the middle-class, like you and I, seem constrained and taciturn. How does that come about, batuchka? Have we no social interests? Or is it, rather, owing to our being too straightforward to mislead one another? I don't know. What is your opinion, pray? But do, I beg, remove your cap; one would really fancy that you wanted to be off, and that pains me. I, you must know, am so contented."
Raskolnikoff laid his cap down. He did not, however, become more loquacious; and, with knit brows, listened to Porphyrius's idle chatter. "I suppose," thought he, "he only doles out his small talk to distract my attention."
"I don't offer you any coffee," went on the inexhaustible Porphyrius, "because this is not the place for it, but can you not spend a few minutes with a friend, by way of causing him some little distraction? You must know that all these professional obligations—don't be vexed, batuchka, if you see me walking about like this, I am sure you will excuse me, if I tell you how anxious I am not to do so, but movement is so indispensable to me! I am always seated—and, to me, it is quite a luxury to be able to move about for a minute or two. I purpose, in fact, to go through a course of calisthenics. The trapeze is said to stand in high favor amongst State counselors—counselors in office, even amongst privy counselors. Nowadays, in fact, gymnastics have become a positive science. As for these duties of our office, these examinations, all this formality—you yourself, you will remember, touched upon the topic just now, batuchka—these examinations, and so forth, sometimes perplex the magistrate much more than the man under suspicion. You said as much just now with as much sense as accuracy." (Raskolnikoff had made no statement of the kind.) "One gets confused, one loses the thread of the investigation. Yet, as far as our judicial customs go, I agree with you fully. Where, for instance, is there a man under suspicion of some kind or other, were it even the most thick-headed moujik, who does not know that the magistrate will commence by putting all sorts of out-of-the-way questions to take him off the scent (if I may be allowed to use your happy simile), and that then he suddenly gives him one between the eyes? A blow of the ax on his sinciput (if again I may be permitted to use your ingenious metaphor)? Hah, hah! And do you mean to say that when I spoke to you about quarters provided by the State, that—hah, hah! You are very caustic. But I won't revert to that again. By-and-by!—one remark produces another, one thought attracts another—but you were talking just now of the practice or form in vogue with the examining magistrate. But what is this form? You know as I do that in many cases the form means nothing at all. Occasionally a simple conversation, a friendly interview, brings about a more certain result. The practice or form will never die out—I can vouch for that; but what, after all, is the form, I ask once more? You can't compel an examining magistrate to be hampered or bound by it everlastingly. His duty or method is in its way, one of the liberal professions or something very much like it."
Porphyrius Petrovitch stopped a moment to take breath. He kept on talking, now uttering pure nonsense, now again introducing, in spite of this trash, an occasional enigmatical remark, after which he went on with his insipidities. His tramp about the room was more like a race—he moved his stout legs more and more quickly, without looking up; his right hand was thrust deep in the pocket of his coat, whilst with the left he unceasingly gesticulated in a way unconnected with his observations. Raskolnikoff noticed, or fancied he noticed, that, whilst running round and round the room, he had twice stopped near the door, seeming to listen. "Does he expect something?" he asked himself.
"You're perfectly right," resumed Porphyrius cheerily, whilst looking at the young man with a kindliness which immediately awoke the latter's distrust. "Our judicial customs deserve your satire. Our proceedings, which are supposed to be inspired by a profound knowledge of psychology, are very ridiculous ones, and very often useless. Now, to return to our method or form: Suppose for a moment that I am deputed to investigate something or other, and that I know the guilty person to be a certain gentleman. Are you not yourself reading for the law, Rodion Romanovitch?"
"I was some time ago."
"Well, here is a kind of example which may be of use to you later on. Don't run away with the idea that I am setting up as your instructor—God forbid that I should presume to teach anything to a man who treats criminal questions in the public press! Oh, no!— all I am doing is to quote to you, by way of example, a trifling fact. Suppose that I fancy I am convinced of the guilt of a certain man, why, I ask you, should I frighten him prematurely, assuming me to have every evidence against him? Of course, in the case of another man of a different disposition, him I would have arrested forthwith; but, as to the former, why should I not permit him to hang about a little longer? I see you do not quite take me. I will, therefore, endeavor to explain myself more clearly! If, for instance, I should be too quick in issuing a writ, I provide him in doing so with a species of moral support or mainstay—I see you are laughing?" (Raskolnikoff, on the contrary, had no such desire; his lips were set, and his glaring look was not removed from Porphyrius's eyes.) "I assure you that in actual practice such is really the case; men vary much, although, unfortunately, our methods are the same for all. But you will ask me: Supposing you are certain of your proofs? Goodness me, batuchka! you know, perhaps as well as I do, what proofs are—half one's time, proofs may be taken either way; and I, a magistrate, am, after all, only a man liable to error.
"Now, what I want is to give to my investigation the precision of a mathematical demonstration—I want my conclusions to be as plain, as indisputable, as that twice two are four. Now, supposing I have this gentleman arrested prematurely, though I may be positively certain that he is THE MAN, yet I deprive myself of all future means of proving his guilt. How is that? Because, so to say, I give him, to a certain extent, a definite status; for, by putting him in prison, I pacify him. I give him the chance of investigating his actual state of mind—he will escape me, for he will reflect. In a word, he knows that he is a prisoner, and nothing more. If, on the contrary, I take no kind of notice of the man I fancy guilty, if I do not have him arrested, if I in no way set him on his guard—but if the unfortunate creature is hourly, momentarily, possessed by the suspicion that I know all, that I do not lose sight of him either by night or by day, that he is the object of my indefatigable vigilance—what do you ask will take place under these circumstances? He will lose his self-possession, he will come of his own accord to me, he will provide me with ample evidence against himself, and will enable me to give to the conclusion of my inquiry the accuracy of mathematical proofs, which is not without its charm.
"If such a course succeeds with an uncultured moujik, it is equally efficacious when it concerns an enlightened, intelligent, or even distinguished man. For the main thing, my dear friend, is to determine in what sense a man is developed. The man, I mean, is intelligent, but he has nerves which are OVER-strung. And as for bile—the bile you are forgetting, that plays no small part with similar folk! Believe me, here we have a very mine of information! And what is it to me whether such a man walk about the place in perfect liberty? Let him be at ease—I know him to be my prey, and that he won't escape me! Where, I ask you, could he go to? You may say abroad. A Pole may do so—but my man, never! especially as I watch him, and have taken steps in consquence. Is he likely to escape into the very heart of our country? Not he! for there dwell coarse moujiks, and primitive Russians, without any kind of civilization. My educated friend would prefer going to prison, rather than be in the midst of such surroundings. Besides, what I have been saying up to the present is not the main point—it is the exterior and accessory aspect of the question. He won't escape— not only because he won't know where to go to, but especially, and above all, because he is mine from the PSYCHOLOGICAL point of view. What do you think of this explanation? In virtue of a natural law, he will not escape, even if he could do so! Have you ever seen a butterfly close to the candle? My man will hover incessantly round me in the same way as the butterfly gyrates round the candle-light. Liberty will have no longer charms for him; he will grow more and more restless, more and more amazed—let me but give him plenty of time, and he will demean himself in a way to prove his guilt as plainly as that twice two our four! Yes, he will keep hovering about me, describing circles, smaller and smaller, till at last— bang! He has flown into my clutches, and I have got him. That is very nice. You don't think so, perhaps?"
Raskolnikoff kept silent. Pale and immovable, he continued to watch Porphyrius's face with a labored effort of attention. "The lesson is a good one!" he reflected. "But it is not, as yesterday, a case of the cat playing with the mouse. Of course, he does not talk to me in this way for the mere pleasure of showing me his hand; he is much too intelligent for that. He must have something else in view—what can it be? Come, friend, what you do say is only to frighten me. You have no kind of evidence, and the man of yesterday does not exist! All you wish is to perplex me—to enrage me, so as to enable you to make your last move, should you catch me in such a mood, but you will not; all your pains will be in vain! But why should he speak in such covert terms? I presume he must be speculating on the excitability of my nervous system. But, dear friend, that won't go down, in spite of your machinations. We will try and find out what you really have been driving at."