"Well, . . . mother I don't wonder at, it's like her, God bless her,
but how could Dounia? Dounia darling, as though I did not know you!
You were nearly twenty when I saw you last: I understood you then.
Mother writes that 'Dounia can put up with a great deal.' I know that
very well. I knew that two years and a half ago, and for the last two
and a half years I have been thinking about it, thinking of just that,
that 'Dounia can put up with a great deal.' If she could put up with
Mr. Svidrigailov and all the rest of it, she certainly can put up with
a great deal. And now mother and she have taken it into their heads
that she can put up with Mr. Luzhin, who propounds the theory of the
superiority of wives raised from destitution and owing everything to
their husband's bounty--who propounds it, too, almost at the first
interview. Granted that he 'let it slip,' though he is a sensible man,
(yet maybe it was not a slip at all, but he meant to make himself
clear as soon as possible) but Dounia, Dounia? She understands the
man, of course, but she will have to live with the man. Why! she'd
live on black bread and water, she would not sell her soul, she would
not barter her moral freedom for comfort; she would not barter it for
all Schleswig-Holstein, much less Mr. Luzhin's money. No, Dounia was
not that sort when I knew her and . . . she is still the same, of
course! Yes, there's no denying, the Svidrigailovs are a bitter pill!
It's a bitter thing to spend one's life a governess in the provinces
for two hundred roubles, but I know she would rather be a nigger on a
plantation or a Lett with a German master than degrade her soul, and
her moral dignity, by binding herself for ever to a man whom she does
not respect and with whom she has nothing in common--for her own
advantage. And if Mr. Luzhin had been of unalloyed gold, or one huge
diamond, she would never have consented to become his legal concubine.
Why is she consenting then? What's the point of it? What's the answer?
It's clear enough: for herself, for her comfort, to save her life she
would not sell herself, but for someone else she is doing it! For one
she loves, for one she adores, she will sell herself! That's what it
all amounts to; for her brother, for her mother, she will sell
herself! She will sell everything! In such cases, 'we overcome our
moral feeling if necessary,' freedom, peace, conscience even, all, all
are brought into the market. Let my life go, if only my dear ones may
be happy! More than that, we become casuists, we learn to be
Jesuitical and for a time maybe we can soothe ourselves, we can
persuade ourselves that it is one's duty for a good object. That's
just like us, it's as clear as daylight. It's clear that Rodion
Romanovitch Raskolnikov is the central figure in the business, and no
one else. Oh, yes, she can ensure his happiness, keep him in the
university, make him a partner in the office, make his whole future
secure; perhaps he may even be a rich man later on, prosperous,
respected, and may even end his life a famous man! But my mother? It's
all Rodya, precious Rodya, her first born! For such a son who would
not sacrifice such a daughter! Oh, loving, over-partial hearts! Why,
for his sake we would not shrink even from Sonia's fate. Sonia, Sonia
Marmeladov, the eternal victim so long as the world lasts. Have you
taken the measure of your sacrifice, both of you? Is it right? Can you
bear it? Is it any use? Is there sense in it? And let me tell you,
Dounia, Sonia's life is no worse than life with Mr. Luzhin. 'There can
be no question of love,' mother writes. And what if there can be no
respect either, if on the contrary there is aversion, contempt,
repulsion, what then? So you will have to 'keep up your appearance,'
too. Is not that so? Do you understand what that smartness means? Do
you understand that the Luzhin smartness is just the same thing as
Sonia's and may be worse, viler, baser, because in your case, Dounia,
it's a bargain for luxuries, after all, but with Sonia it's simply a
question of starvation. It has to be paid for, it has to be paid for,
Dounia, this smartness. And what if it's more than you can bear
afterwards, if you regret it? The bitterness, the misery, the curses,
the tears hidden from all the world, for you are not a Marfa Petrovna.
And how will your mother feel then? Even now she is uneasy, she is
worried, but then, when she sees it all clearly? And I? Yes, indeed,
what have you taken me for? I won't have your sacrifice, Dounia, I
won't have it, mother! It shall not be, so long as I am alive, it
shall not, it shall not! I won't accept it!"