〃She　has　been　three　times。　I　saw　her　first　on　the　very　day　of　the
  funeral；　an　hour　after　she　was　buried。　It　was　the　day　before　I　left　to
  come　here。　The　second　time　was　the　day　before　yesterday；　at
  daybreak；　on　the　journey　at　the　station　of　Malaya　Vishera；　and　the
  third　time　was　two　hours　ago　in　the　room　where　I　am　staying。　I　was
  alone。〃
  〃Were　you　awake？〃
  〃Quite　awake。　I　was　wide　awake　every　time。　She　comes；　speaks　to　me
  for　a　minute　and　goes　out　at　the　door…　always　at　the　door。　I　can
  almost　hear　her。〃
  〃What　made　me　think　that　something　of　the　sort　must　be　happening
  to　you？〃　Raskolnikov　said　suddenly。
  At　the　same　moment　he　was　surprised　at　having　said　it。　He　was　much
  excited。
  〃What！　Did　you　think　so？〃　Svidrigailov　asked　in　astonishment。　〃Did
  you　really？　Didn't　I　say　that　there　was　something　in　common　between
  us；　eh？〃
  〃You　never　said　so！〃　Raskolnikov　cried　sharply　and　with　heat。
  〃Didn't　I？〃
  〃No！〃
  〃I　thought　I　did。　When　I　came　in　and　saw　you　lying　with　your　eyes
  shut；　pretending；　I　said　to　myself　at　once　'here's　the　man。'〃
  〃What　do　you　mean　by　'the　man？'　What　are　you　talking　about？〃　cried
  Raskolnikov。
  〃What　do　I　mean？　I　really　don't　know。。。。〃　Svidrigailov　muttered
  ingenuously；　as　though　he；　too；　were　puzzled。
  For　a　minute　they　were　silent。　They　stared　in　each　other's　faces。
  〃That's　all　nonsense！〃　Raskolnikov　shouted　with　vexation。　〃What　does
  she　say　when　she　comes　to　you？〃
  〃She！　Would　you　believe　it；　she　talks　of　the　silliest　trifles　and…
  man　is　a　strange　creature…　it　makes　me　angry。　The　first　time　she
  came　in　（I　was　tired　you　know：　the　funeral　service；　the　funeral
  ceremony；　the　lunch　afterwards。　At　last　I　was　left　alone　in　my
  study。　I　lighted　a　cigar　and　began　to　think）；　she　came　in　at　the　door。
  'You've　been　so　busy　to…day；　Arkady　Ivanovitch；　you　have　forgotten
  to　wind　the　dining　room　clock；'　she　said。　All　those　seven　years　I've
  wound　that　clock　every　week；　and　if　I　forgot　it　she　would　always
  remind　me。　The　next　day　I　set　off　on　my　way　here。　I　got　out　at　the
  station　at　daybreak；　I'd　been　asleep；　tired　out；　with　my　eyes　half
  open；　I　was　drinking　some　coffee。　I　looked　up　and　there　was　suddenly
  Marfa　Petrovna　sitting　beside　me　with　a　pack　of　cards　in　her　hands。
  'Shall　I　tell　your　fortune　for　the　journey；　Arkady　Ivanovitch？'　She
  was　a　great　hand　at　telling　fortunes。　I　shall　never　forgive　myself　for
  not　asking　her　to。　I　ran　away　in　a　fright；　and；　besides；　the　bell
  rang。　I　was　sitting　to…day；　feeling　very　heavy　after　a　miserable
  dinner　from　a　cookshop；　I　was　sitting　smoking；　all　of　a　sudden　Marfa
  Petrovna　again。　She　came　in　very　smart　in　a　new　green　silk　dress
  with　a　long　train。　'Good　day；　Arkady　Ivanovitch！　How　do　you　like　my
  dress？　Aniska　can't　make　like　this。'　（Aniska　was　a　dressmaker　in　the
  country；　one　of　our　former　serf　girls　who　had　been　trained　in
  Moscow；　a　pretty　wench。）　She　stood　turning　round　before　me。　I　looked
  at　the　dress；　and　then　I　looked　carefully；　very　carefully；　at　her
  face。　'I　wonder　you　trouble　to　come　to　me　about　such　trifles；　Marfa
  Petrovna。'　'Good　gracious；　you　won't　let　one　disturb　you　about
  anything！'　To　tease　her　I　said；　'I　want　to　get　married；　Marfa
  Petrovna。'　'That's　just　like　you；　Arkady　Ivanovitch；　it　does　you
  very　little　credit　to　come　looking　for　a　bride　when　you've　hardly
  buried　your　wife。　And　if　you　could　make　a　good　choice；　at　least；　but　I
  know　it　won't　be　for　your　happiness　or　hers；　you　will　only　be　a
  laughing…stock　to　all　good　people。'　Then　she　went　out　and　her　train
  seemed　to　rustle。　Isn't　it　nonsense；　eh？〃
  〃But　perhaps　you　are　telling　lies？〃　Raskolnikov　put　in。
  〃I　rarely　lie；〃　answered　Svidrigailov　thoughtfully；　apparently　not
  noticing　the　rudeness　of　the　question。
  〃And　in　the　past；　have　you　ever　seen　ghosts　before？〃
  〃Y…yes；　I　have　seen　them；　but　only　once　in　my　life；　six　years　ago。　I
  had　a　serf；　Filka；　just　after　his　burial　I　called　out　forgetting
  'Filka；　my　pipe！'　He　came　in　and　went　to　the　cupboard　where　my　pipes
  were。　I　sat　still　and　thought　'he　is　doing　it　out　of　revenge；'　because
  we　had　a　violent　quarrel　just　before　his　death。　'How　dare　you　come
  in　with　a　hole　in　your　elbow；'　I　said。　'Go　away；　you　scamp！'　He　turned
  and　went　out；　and　never　came　again。　I　didn't　tell　Marfa　Petrovna　at
  the　time。　I　wanted　to　have　a　service　sung　for　him；　but　I　was　ashamed。〃
  〃You　should　go　to　a　doctor。〃
  〃I　know　I　am　not　well；　without　your　telling　me；　though　I　don't
  know　what's　wrong；　I　believe　I　am　five　times　as　strong　as　you　are。　I
  didn't　ask　you　whether　you　believe　that　ghosts　are　seen；　but　whether
  you　believe　that　they　exist。〃
  〃No；　I　won't　believe　it！〃　Raskolnikov　cried；　with　positive　anger。
  〃What　do　people　generally　say？〃　muttered　Svidrigailov；　as　though
  speaking　to　himself；　looking　aside　and　bowing　his　head：　〃They　say；
  'You　are　ill；　so　what　appears　to　you　is　only　unreal　fantasy。'　But
  that's　not　strictly　logical。　I　agree　that　ghosts　only　appear　to　the
  sick；　but　that　only　proves　that　they　are　unable　to　appear　except　to
  the　sick；　not　that　they　don't　exist。〃
  〃Nothing　of　the　sort；〃　Raskolnikov　insisted　irritably。
  〃No？　You　don't　think　so？〃　Svidrigailov　went　on；　looking　at　him
  deliberately。　〃But　what　do　you　say　to　this　argument　（help　me　with　it）：
  ghosts　are　as　it　were　shreds　and　fragments　of　other　worlds；　the
  beginning　of　them。　A　man　in　health　has；　of　course；　no　reason　to　see
  them；　because　he　is　above　all　a　man　of　this　earth　and　is　bound　for　the
  sake　of　completeness　and　order　to　live　only　in　this　life。　But　as
  soon　as　one　is　ill；　as　soon　as　the　normal　earthly　order　of　the
  organism　is　broken；　one　begins　to　realise　the　possibility　of　another
  world；　and　the　more　seriously　ill　one　is；　the　closer　becomes　one's
  contact　with　that　other　world；　so　that　as　soon　as　the　man　dies　he
  steps　straight　into　that　world。　I　thought　of　that　long　ago。　If　you
  believe　in　a　future　life；　you　could　believe　in　that；　too。〃
  〃I　don't　believe　in　a　future　life；〃　said　Raskolnikov。
  Svidrigailov　sat　lost　in　thought。
  〃And　what　if　there　are　only　spiders　there；　or　something　of　that
  sort；〃　he　said　suddenly。
  〃He　is　a　madman；〃　thought　Raskolnikov。
  〃We　always　imagine　eternity　as　something　beyond　our　conception；
  something　vast；　vast！　But　why　must　it　be　vast？　Instead　of　all　that；
  what　if　it's　one　little　room；　like　a　bathhouse　in　the　country；　black
  and　grimy　and　spiders　in　every　corner；　and　that's　all　eternity　is？　I
  sometimes　fancy　it　like　that。〃
  〃Can　it　be　you　can　imagine　nothing　juster　and　more　comforting　than
  that？〃　Raskolnikov　cried；　with　a　feeling　of　anguish。
  〃Juster？　And　how　can　we　tell；　perhaps　that　is　just；　and　do　you
  know　it's　what　I　would　certainly　have　made　it；〃　answered　Svidrigailov；
  with　a　vague　smile。
  This　horrible　answer　sent　a　cold　chill　through　Raskolnikov。
  Svidrigailov　raised　his　head；　looked　at　him；　and　suddenly　began
  laughing。
  〃Only　think；〃　he　cried；　〃half　an　hour　ago　we　had　never　seen　each
  other；　we　regarded　each　other　as　enemies；　there　is　a　matter
  unsettled　between　us；　we've　thrown　it　aside；　and　away　we've　gone
  into　the　abstract！　Wasn't　I　right