PART II
1. CHAPTER I
(continued)
The police-station was about a quarter of a mile off. It had lately
been moved to new rooms on the fourth floor of a new house. He had
been once for a moment in the old office but long ago. Turning in at
the gateway, he saw on the right a flight of stairs which a peasant
was mounting with a book in his hand. "A house-porter, no doubt; so
then, the office is here," and he began ascending the stairs on the
chance. He did not want to ask questions of anyone.
"I'll go in, fall on my knees, and confess everything . . ." he
thought, as he reached the fourth floor.
The staircase was steep, narrow and all sloppy with dirty water. The
kitchens of the flats opened on to the stairs and stood open almost
the whole day. So there was a fearful smell and heat. The staircase
was crowded with porters going up and down with their books under
their arms, policemen, and persons of all sorts and both sexes. The
door of the office, too, stood wide open. Peasants stood waiting
within. There, too, the heat was stifling and there was a sickening
smell of fresh paint and stale oil from the newly decorated rooms.
After waiting a little, he decided to move forward into the next room.
All the rooms were small and low-pitched. A fearful impatience drew
him on and on. No one paid attention to him. In the second room some
clerks sat writing, dressed hardly better than he was, and rather a
queer-looking set. He went up to one of them.
"What is it?"
He showed the notice he had received.
"You are a student?" the man asked, glancing at the notice.
"Yes, formerly a student."
The clerk looked at him, but without the slightest interest. He was a
particularly unkempt person with the look of a fixed idea in his eye.
"There would be no getting anything out of him, because he has no
interest in anything," thought Raskolnikov.
|