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 go back to his room, even more revolting. 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. Somewhere near though, in the yard, for the door is wide open. 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. I had the money the day before yesterday and did not get a cap to wear instead! 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, and for a moment he waked up to reality. And by now he was near; here was the house, here was the gate. Suddenly a clock somewhere struck once. 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 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. 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? Then he listened again on the staircase, listened long and intently She is mistrustful Had I better wait a little longer 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 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 unconscious of his body An instant later he heard the latch unfastened.
Jekyll and Mr. SparkTeach Teacher's Handbook. Part I, Chapter VI. Obviously, Raskolnikov is attempting to set himself for failure in this crime so that he may be caught and brought back down and in to society again. The reader may also feel sympathy because Raskolnikov is looking for a way out of his destitute condition. And while his methods are not those of a normal person, the intention prevail He does not know what it is, but intuitively feels that by suffering punishment he may discover it.
All his inner conflict surrounding the crime and its consequences, as well as the way he treats himself in order to return to society, instill sympathy in the reader for him. The society that created Raskolnikov and his mental condition ironically is the same one that he longs to once again be a part of, and one able to forgive and sympathize with a creature born out of its own flaws.
Dostoyevsky instills sympathy for his character through blame on society. The irony comes when that same society accepts and understands his cause for wanting to again be normal and function as an effective person. Works Cited Dostoyevsky, Fydor. Crime and Punishment. Wordsworth Editions Limited. Ware, Hertfordshire. Get Access. Satisfactory Essays.
Read More. Powerful Essays. World Lit Essay Words 3 Pages. World Lit Essay. On the other hand, a person could kill her and use the money to save "scores of families.
The supposition ends when one of the officers asks the other: "Would you kill the old woman with your own hands? After recalling this conversation, Raskolnikov begins to make preparations by sewing a noose into his overcoat and wrapping the pledge securely. He goes to steal the axe, but Nastasya, the servant, is sitting in the door.
He takes an axe from the porter. These preparations delay him and it is p. As he arrives, he notes that there is an empty flat under the pawnbroker's and workers are in there painting it. He climbs to Alyona Ivanovna's flat and rings the doorbell several times before she opens the door. 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. He 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. 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.
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