All of a sudden I saw a little girl of thirteen, nicely dressed, dancing with a specialist in that line, with another one _vis-a-vis_.
Her mother was sitting on a chair by the wall.
You can't fancy what a _cancan_ that was!
The girl was ashamed, blushed, at last felt insulted, and began to cry.
Her partner seized her and began whirling her round and performing before her; everyone laughed and--I like your public, even the _cancan_ public--they laughed and shouted,
'Serves her right--serves her right!
Shouldn't bring children!'
Well, it's not my business whether that consoling reflection was logical or not.
I at once fixed on my plan, sat down by the mother, and began by saying that I too was a stranger and that people here were ill-bred and that they couldn't distinguish decent folks and treat them with respect, gave her to understand that I had plenty of money, offered to take them home in my carriage. I took them home and got to know them. They were lodging in a miserable little hole and had only just arrived from the country.
She told me that she and her daughter could only regard my acquaintance as an honour. I found out that they had nothing of their own and had come to town upon some legal business. I proffered my services and money. I learnt that they had gone to the dancing saloon by mistake, believing that it was a genuine dancing class. I offered to assist in the young girl's education in French and dancing.
My offer was accepted with enthusiasm as an honour--and we are still friendly....
If you like, we'll go and see them, only not just now."
"Stop! Enough of your vile, nasty anecdotes, depraved vile, sensual man!"
"Schiller, you are a regular Schiller! _O la vertu va-t-elle se nicher?_ But you know I shall tell you these things on purpose, for the pleasure of hearing your outcries!"
"I dare say.
I can see I am ridiculous myself," muttered Raskolnikov angrily.
Svidrigailov laughed heartily; finally he called Philip, paid his bill, and began getting up.
"I say, but I am drunk, _assez cause_," he said.
"It's been a pleasure." "I should rather think it must be a pleasure!" cried Raskolnikov, getting up. "No doubt it is a pleasure for a worn-out profligate to describe such adventures with a monstrous project of the same sort in his mind--especially under such circumstances and to such a man as me....
It's stimulating!"
"Well, if you come to that," Svidrigailov answered, scrutinising Raskolnikov with some surprise, "if you come to that, you are a thorough cynic yourself.
You've plenty to make you so, anyway.
You can understand a great deal... and you can do a great deal too.
But enough.
I sincerely regret not having had more talk with you, but I shan't lose sight of you....
Only wait a bit."
Svidrigailov walked out of the restaurant.
Raskolnikov walked out after him.
Svidrigailov was not however very drunk, the wine had affected him for a moment, but it was passing off every minute.
He was preoccupied with something of importance and was frowning.
He was apparently excited and uneasy in anticipation of something.
His manner to Raskolnikov had changed during the last few minutes, and he was ruder and more sneering every moment.
Raskolnikov noticed all this, and he too was uneasy.
He became very suspicious of Svidrigailov and resolved to follow him.
They came out on to the pavement.
"You go to the right, and I to the left, or if you like, the other way. Only _adieu, mon plaisir_, may we meet again."
And he walked to the right towards the Hay Market.
CHAPTER V
Raskolnikov walked after him.
"What's this?" cried Svidrigailov turning round, "I thought I said..."
"It means that I am not going to lose sight of you now."
"What?"
Both stood still and gazed at one another, as though measuring their strength.
"From all your half tipsy stories," Raskolnikov observed harshly, "I am _positive_ that you have not given up your designs on my sister, but are pursuing them more actively than ever.
I have learnt that my sister received a letter this morning.
You have hardly been able to sit still all this time....
You may have unearthed a wife on the way, but that means nothing.
I should like to make certain myself."
Raskolnikov could hardly have said himself what he wanted and of what he wished to make certain.
"Upon my word!