They say he beat her dreadfully."
"Why, were they on such bad terms?" he asked, addressing his sister.
"Not at all.
Quite the contrary indeed. With her, he was always very patient, considerate even.
In fact, all those seven years of their married life he gave way to her, too much so indeed, in many cases.
All of a sudden he seems to have lost patience."
"Then he could not have been so awful if he controlled himself for seven years?
You seem to be defending him, Dounia?"
"No, no, he's an awful man!
I can imagine nothing more awful!" Dounia answered, almost with a shudder, knitting her brows, and sinking into thought.
"That had happened in the morning," Pulcheria Alexandrovna went on hurriedly.
"And directly afterwards she ordered the horses to be harnessed to drive to the town immediately after dinner. She always used to drive to the town in such cases. She ate a very good dinner, I am told...."
"After the beating?"
"That was always her... habit; and immediately after dinner, so as not to be late in starting, she went to the bath-house....
You see, she was undergoing some treatment with baths. They have a cold spring there, and she used to bathe in it regularly every day, and no sooner had she got into the water when she suddenly had a stroke!"
"I should think so," said Zossimov.
"And did he beat her badly?"
"What does that matter!" put in Dounia.
"H'm!
But I don't know why you want to tell us such gossip, mother," said Raskolnikov irritably, as it were in spite of himself.
"Ah, my dear, I don't know what to talk about," broke from Pulcheria Alexandrovna.
"Why, are you all afraid of me?" he asked, with a constrained smile.
"That's certainly true," said Dounia, looking directly and sternly at her brother.
"Mother was crossing herself with terror as she came up the stairs."
His face worked, as though in convulsion.
"Ach, what are you saying, Dounia!
Don't be angry, please, Rodya....
Why did you say that, Dounia?" Pulcheria Alexandrovna began, overwhelmed--"You see, coming here, I was dreaming all the way, in the train, how we should meet, how we should talk over everything together.... And I was so happy, I did not notice the journey!
But what am I saying?
I am happy now....
You should not, Dounia....
I am happy now--simply in seeing you, Rodya...."
"Hush, mother," he muttered in confusion, not looking at her, but pressing her hand.
"We shall have time to speak freely of everything!" As he said this, he was suddenly overwhelmed with confusion and turned pale. Again that awful sensation he had known of late passed with deadly chill over his soul. Again it became suddenly plain and perceptible to him that he had just told a fearful lie--that he would never now be able to speak freely of everything--that he would never again be able to _speak_ of anything to anyone.
The anguish of this thought was such that for a moment he almost forgot himself. He got up from his seat, and not looking at anyone walked towards the door.
"What are you about?" cried Razumihin, clutching him by the arm.
He sat down again, and began looking about him, in silence. They were all looking at him in perplexity.
"But what are you all so dull for?" he shouted, suddenly and quite unexpectedly. "Do say something!
What's the use of sitting like this?
Come, do speak.
Let us talk....
We meet together and sit in silence....
Come, anything!"
"Thank God; I was afraid the same thing as yesterday was beginning again," said Pulcheria Alexandrovna, crossing herself.
"What is the matter, Rodya?" asked Avdotya Romanovna, distrustfully.
"Oh, nothing! I remembered something," he answered, and suddenly laughed.
"Well, if you remembered something; that's all right!...
I was beginning to think..." muttered Zossimov, getting up from the sofa.
"It is time for me to be off. I will look in again perhaps... if I can..."
He made his bows, and went out.