his voice would not obey him, it broke and shook. "I have come... I have
brought something... but we'd better come in... to the light...."
And leaving her, he passed straight into the room uninvited. The old
woman ran after him; her tongue was unloosed.
"Good heavens! What it is? Who is it? What do you want?"
"Why, Alyona Ivanovna, you know me... Raskolnikov... here, I brought you
the pledge I promised the other day..." And he held out the pledge.
The old woman glanced for a moment at the pledge, but at once stared in
the eyes of her uninvited visitor. She looked intently, maliciously and
mistrustfully. A minute passed; he even fancied something like a sneer
in her eyes, as though she had already guessed everything. He felt that
he was losing his head, that he was almost frightened, so frightened
that if she were to look like that and not say a word for another half
minute, he thought he would have run away from her.
"Why do you look at me as though you did not know me?" he said suddenly,
also with malice. "Take it if you like, if not I'll go elsewhere, I am
in a hurry."
He had not even thought of saying this, but it was suddenly said of
itself. The old woman recovered herself, and her visitor's resolute tone
evidently restored her confidence.
"But why, my good sir, all of a minute.... What is it?" she asked,
looking at the pledge.
"The silver cigarette case; I spoke of it last time, you know."
She held out her hand.
"But how pale you are, to be sure... and your hands are trembling too?
Have you been bathing, or what?"
"Fever," he answered abruptly. "You can't help getting pale... if you've
nothing to eat," he added, with difficulty articulating the words.
His strength was failing him again. But his answer sounded like the
truth; the old woman took the pledge.
"What is it?" she asked once more, scanning Raskolnikov intently, and
weighing the pledge in her hand.
<<BackPagesChoose a page of the bookForward>>