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wears such a hat； it would be noticed a mile off； it would be
remembered。。。。 What matters is that people would remember it； and that
would give them a clue。 For this business one should be as little
conspicuous as possible。。。。 Trifles； trifles are what matter！ Why；
it's just such trifles that always ruin everything。。。。〃
He had not far to go； he knew indeed how many steps it was from
the gate of his lodging house： exactly seven hundred and thirty。 He
had counted them once when he had been lost in dreams。 At the time
he had put no faith in those dreams and was only tantalising himself
by their hideous but daring recklessness。 Now； a month later； he had
begun to look upon them differently； and； in spite of the monologues
in which he jeered at his own impotence and indecision； he had
involuntarily come to regard this 〃hideous〃 dream as an exploit to
be attempted； although he still did not realise this himself。 He was
positively going now for a 〃rehearsal〃 of his project； and at every
step his excitement grew more and more violent。
With a sinking heart and a nervous tremor； he went up to a huge
house which on one side looked on to the canal； and on the other
into the street。 This house was let out in tiny tenements and was
inhabited by working people of all kinds… tailors； locksmiths；
cooks； Germans of sorts； girls picking up a living as best they could；
petty clerks； &c。 There was a continual coming and going through the
two gates and in the two courtyards of the house。 Three or four
door…keepers were employed on the building。 The young man was very
glad to meet none of them； and at once slipped unnoticed through the
door on the right； and up the staircase。 It was a back staircase； dark
and narrow； but he was familiar with it already； and knew his way； and
he liked all these surroundings： in such darkness even the most
inquisitive eyes were not to be dreaded。
〃If I am so scared now； what would it be if it somehow came to
pass that I were really going to do it？〃 he could not help asking
himself as he reached the fourth storey。 There his progress was barred
by some porters who were engaged in moving furniture out of a flat。 He
knew that the flat had been occupied by a German clerk in the civil
service； and his family。 This German was moving out then； and so the
fourth floor on this staircase would be untenanted except by the old
woman。 〃That's a good thing anyway；〃 he thought to himself； as he rang
the bell of the old woman's flat。 The bell gave a faint tinkle as
though it were made of tin and not of copper。 The little flats in such
houses always have bells that ring like that。 He had forgotten the
note of that bell； and now its peculiar tinkle seemed to remind him of
something and to bring it clearly before him。。。。 He started； his
nerves were terribly overstrained by now。 In a little while； the
door was opened a tiny crack： the old woman eyed her visitor with
evident distrust through the crack； and nothing could be seen but
her little eyes； glittering in the darkness。 But； seeing a number of
people on the landing； she grew bolder； and opened the door wide。
The young man stepped into the dark entry； which was partitioned off
from the tiny kitchen。 The old woman stood facing him in silence and
looking inquiringly at him。 She was a diminutive； withered up old
woman of sixty； with sharp malignant eyes and a sharp little nose。 Her
colourless； somewhat grizzled hair was thickly smeared with oil； and
she wore no kerchief over it。 Round her thin long neck； which looked
like a hen's leg； was knotted some sort of flannel rag； and； in
spite of the heat； there hung flapping on her shoulders； a mangy fur
cape； yellow with age。 The old woman coughed and groaned at every
instant。 The young man must have looked at her with a rather
peculiar expression； for a gleam of mistrust came into her eyes again。
〃Raskolnikov； a student； I came here a month ago；〃 the young man
made haste to mutter； with a half bow； remembering that he ought to be
more polite。
〃I remember； my good sir； I remember quite well your coming here；〃
the old woman said distinctly； still keeping her inquiring eyes on his
face。
〃And here。。。 I am again on the same errand；〃 Raskolnikov
continued； a little disconcerted and surprised at the old woman's
mistrust。 〃Perhaps she is always like that though； only I did not
notice it the other time；〃 he thought with an uneasy feeling。
The old woman paused； as though hesitating； then stepped on one
side； and pointing to the door of the room； she said； letting her
visitor pass in front of her：
〃Step in； my good sir。〃
The little room into which the young man walked； with yellow paper
on the walls； geraniums and muslin curtains in the windows； was
brightly lighted up at that moment by the setting sun。
〃So the sun will shine like this then too！〃 flashed as it were by
chance through Raskolnikov's mind； and with a rapid glance he
scanned everything in the room； trying as far as possible to notice
and remember its arrangement。 But there was nothing special in the
room。 The furniture； all very old and of yellow wood； consisted of a
sofa with a huge bent wooden back； an oval table in front of the sofa；
a dressing…table with a looking…glass fixed on it between the windows；
chairs along the walls and two or three half…penny prints in yellow
frames； representing German damsels with birds in their hands… that
was all。 In the corner a light was burning before a small ikon。
Everything was very clean； the floor and the furniture were brightly
polished； everything shone。
〃Lizaveta's work；〃 thought the young man。 There was not a speck of
dust to be seen in the whole flat。
〃It's in the houses of spiteful old widows that one finds such
cleanliness；〃 Raskolnikov thought again； and he stole a curious glance
at the cotton curtain over the door leading into another tiny room； in
which stood the old woman's bed and chest of drawers and into which he
had never look