part　of　a　room；　but　their　room　was　practically　a　passage。　The　door
  leading　to　the　other　rooms；　or　rather　cupboards；　into　which　Amalia
  Lippevechsel's　flat　was　divided　stood　half　open；　and　there　was
  shouting；　uproar　and　laughter　within。　People　seemed　to　be　playing
  cards　and　drinking　tea　there。　Words　of　the　most　unceremonious　kind
  flew　out　from　time　to　time。
  Raskolnikov　recognised　Katerina　Ivanovna　at　once。　She　was　a　rather
  tall；　slim　and　graceful　woman；　terribly　emaciated；　with　magnificent
  dark　brown　hair　and　with　a　hectic　flush　in　her　cheeks。　She　was
  pacing　up　and　down　in　her　little　room；　pressing　her　hands　against
  her　chest；　her　lips　were　parched　and　her　breathing　came　in　nervous
  broken　gasps。　Her　eyes　glittered　as　in　fever　and　looked　about　with　a
  harsh　immovable　stare。　And　that　consumptive　and　excited　face　with
  the　last　flickering　light　of　the　candle…end　playing　upon　it　made　a
  sickening　impression。　She　seemed　to　Raskolnikov　about　thirty　years　old
  and　was　certainly　a　strange　wife　for　Marmeladov。。。。　She　had　not
  heard　them　and　did　not　notice　them　coming　in。　She　seemed　to　be　lost　in
  thought；　hearing　and　seeing　nothing。　The　room　was　close；　but　she　had
  not　opened　the　window；　a　stench　rose　from　the　staircase；　but　the
  door　on　to　the　stairs　was　not　closed。　From　the　inner　rooms　clouds　of
  tobacco　smoke　floated　in；　she　kept　coughing；　but　did　not　close　the
  door。　The　youngest　child；　a　girl　of　six；　was　asleep；　sitting　curled　up
  on　the　floor　with　her　head　on　the　sofa。　A　boy　a　year　older　stood
  crying　and　shaking　in　the　corner；　probably　he　had　just　had　a
  beating。　Beside　him　stood　a　girl　of　nine　years　old；　tall　and　thin；
  wearing　a　thin　and　ragged　chemise　with　an　ancient　cashmere　pelisse
  flung　over　her　bare　shoulders；　long　outgrown　and　barely　reaching　her
  knees。　Her　arm；　as　thin　as　a　stick；　was　round　her　brother's　neck。
  She　was　trying　to　comfort　him；　whispering　something　to　him；　and
  doing　all　she　could　to　keep　him　from　whimpering　again。　At　the　same
  time　her　large　dark　eyes；　which　looked　larger　still　from　the
  thinness　of　her　frightened　face；　were　watching　her　mother　with
  alarm。　Marmeladov　did　not　enter　the　door；　but　dropped　on　his　knees
  in　the　very　doorway；　pushing　Raskolnikov　in　front　of　him。　The　woman
  seeing　a　stranger　stopped　indifferently　facing　him；　coming　to
  herself　for　a　moment　and　apparently　wondering　what　he　had　come　for。
  But　evidently　she　decided　that　he　was　going　into　the　next　room；　as
  he　had　to　pass　through　hers　to　get　there。　Taking　no　further　notice
  of　him；　she　walked　towards　the　outer　door　to　close　it　and　uttered　a
  sudden　scream　on　seeing　her　husband　on　his　knees　in　the　doorway。
  〃Ah！〃　she　cried　out　in　a　frenzy；　〃he　has　come　back！　The　criminal！
  the　monster！。。。　And　where　is　the　money？　What's　in　your　pocket；　show
  me！　And　your　clothes　are　all　different！　Where　are　your　clothes？
  Where　is　the　money！　speak！〃
  And　she　fell　to　searching　him。　Marmeladov　submissively　and
  obediently　held　up　both　arms　to　facilitate　the　search。　Not　a
  farthing　was　there。
  〃Where's　the　money？〃　she　cried…　〃Mercy　on　us；　can　he　have　drunk　it
  all？　There　were　twelve　silver　roubles　left　in　the　chest！〃　and　in　a
  fury　she　seized　him　by　the　hair　and　dragged　him　into　the　room。
  Marmeladov　seconded　her　efforts　by　meekly　crawling　along　on　his　knees。
  〃And　this　is　a　consolation　to　me！　This　does　not　hurt　me；　but　is　a
  positive　con…so…la…tion；　ho…nou…red　sir；〃　he　called　out；　shaken　to　and
  fro　by　his　hair　and　even　once　striking　the　ground　with　his　forehead。
  The　child　asleep　on　the　floor　woke　up；　and　began　to　cry。　The　boy　in
  the　corner　losing　all　control　began　trembling　and　screaming　and　rushed
  to　his　sister　in　violent　terror；　almost　in　a　fit。　The　eldest　girl
  was　shaking　like　a　leaf。
  〃He's　drunk　it！　he's　drunk　it　all；〃　the　poor　woman　screamed　in
  despair…　〃and　his　clothes　are　gone！　And　they　are　hungry；　hungry！〃…　and
  wringing　her　hands　she　pointed　to　the　children。　〃Oh；　accursed　life！
  And　you；　are　you　not　ashamed？〃…　she　pounced　all　at　once　upon
  Raskolnikov…　〃from　the　tavern！　Have　been　drinking　with　him？　You　have
  been　drinking　with　him；　too！　Go　away！〃
  The　young　man　was　hastening　away　without　uttering　a　word。　The
  inner　door　was　thrown　wide　open　and　inquisitive　faces　were　peering
  in　at　it。　Coarse　laughing　faces　with　pipes　and　cigarettes　and　heads
  wearing　caps　thrust　themselves　in　at　the　doorway。　Further　in　could
  be　seen　figures　in　dressing　gowns　flung　open；　in　costumes　of
  unseemly　scantiness；　some　of　them　with　cards　in　their　hands。　They　were
  particularly　diverted；　when　Marmeladov；　dragged　about　by　his　hair；
  shouted　that　it　was　a　consolation　to　him。　They　even　began　to　come　into
  the　room；　at　last　a　sinister　shrill　outcry　was　heard：　this　came　from
  Amalia　Lippevechsel　herself　pushing　her　way　amongst　them　and　trying　to
  restore　order　after　her　own　fashion　and　for　the　hundredth　time　to
  frighten　the　poor　woman　by　ordering　her　with　coarse　abuse　to　clear　out
  of　the　room　next　day。　As　he　went　out；　Raskolnikov　had　time　to　put
  his　hand　into　his　pocket；　to　snatch　up　the　coppers　he　had　received
  in　exchange　for　his　rouble　in　the　tavern　and　to　lay　them　unnoticed
  on　the　window。　Afterwards　on　the　stairs；　he　changed　his　mind　and　would
  have　gone　back。
  〃What　a　stupid　thing　I've　done；〃　he　thought　to　himself；　〃they　have
  Sonia　and　I　want　it　myself。〃　But　reflecting　that　it　would　be
  impossible　to　take　it　back　now　and　that　in　any　case　he　would　not
  have　taken　it；　he　dismissed　it　with　a　wave　of　his　hand　and　went　back
  to　his　lodging。　〃Sonia　wants　pomatum　too；〃　he　said　as　he　walked
  along　the　street；　and　he　laughed　malignantly…　〃such　smartness　costs
  money。。。。　Hm！　And　maybe　Sonia　herself　will　be　bankrupt　to…day；　for
  there　is　always　a　risk；　hunting　big　game。。。　digging　for　gold。。。　then
  they　would　all　be　without　a　crust　to…morrow　except　for　my　money。
  Hurrah　for　Sonia！　What　a　mine　they've　dug　there！　And　they're　making
  the　most　of　it！　Yes；　they　are　making　the　most　of　it！　They've　wept　over
  it　and　grown　used　to　it。　Man　grows　used　to　everything；　the　scoundrel！〃
  He　sank　into　thought。
  〃And　what　if　I　am　wrong；〃　he　cried　suddenly　after　a　moment's
  thought。　〃What　if　man　is　not　really　a　scoundrel；　man　in　general；　I
  mean；　the　whole　race　of　mankind…　then　all　the　rest　is　prejudice；
  simply　artificial　terrors　and　there　are　no　barriers　and　it's　all　as　it
  should　be。〃
  Chapter　Three
  HE　WAKED　up　late　next　day　after　a　broken　sleep。　But　his　sleep　had
  not　refreshed　him；　he　waked　up　bilious；　irritable；　ill…tempered；　and
  looked　with　hatred　at　his　room。　It　was　a　tiny　cupboard　of　a　room　about
  six　paces　in　length。　It　had　a　poverty…stricken　appearance　with　its
  dusty　yellow　paper　peeling　off　the　walls；　and　it　was　so　low…pitched
  that　a　man　of　more　than　average　height　was　ill　at　ease　in　it　and
  felt　every　moment　that　he　would　knock　his　head　against　the　ceiling。
  The　furniture　was　in　keeping　with　the　room：　there　were　three　old
  chairs；　rather　rickety；　a　painted　table　in　the　corner　on　which　lay　a
  few　manuscripts　and　books；　the　dust　that　lay　thick　upon　them　showed
  that　they　had　been　long　untouched。　A　big　clumsy　sofa　occupied　almost
  the　whole　of　one　wall　and　half　the　floor　space　of　the　room；　it　was
  once　covered　with　chintz；　but　was　now　in　rags　and　served　Raskolnikov
  as　a　bed。　Often　he　went　to　sleep　on　it；　as　he　was；　without　undressing；
  without　sheets；　wrapped　in　his　old　student's　overcoat；　with　his　head
  on　one　little　pillow；　under　which　he　heaped　up　all　the　linen　he　had；
  clean　and　dirty；　by　way　of　a　bolster。　A　little　table　stood　in　front　of
  the　sofa。