Marmeladov stopped, wanted to smile, but suddenly his chin began to tremble. He restrained himself, however. The pot-house, the depraved look of the man, the five nights on the hay barges, the half-litre bottle, and at the same time this morbid love for his wife and family, bewildered his listener. Raskolnikov listened tensely, but with a morbid sensation. He was annoyed that he had stopped at the place.
“My dear sir, my dear sir!” Marmeladov exclaimed, recovering himself. “Oh, sir, perhaps it's all just a laughing matter for you, as it is for everyone else, and I am merely bothering you with the foolishness of all these measly details of my domestic life, but for me it's no laughing matter! For I can feel it all... And in the course of that whole paradisal day of my life and of that whole evening I spent in fleeting dreams— that is, how I would arrange it all, and would dress the children, and would give her peace, and would bring back my only-begotten daughter from dishonor into the bosom of the family...And so much, so much...It's permissible, sir. And then, my dear sir” (Marmeladov suddenly gave a sort of start, raised his head, and looked straight at his listener), “and then, sir, the very next day after all those dreams (that is, exactly five days ago), towards evening, by means of cunning deceit, like a thief in the night, I stole the key to Katerina Ivanovna's trunk from her, took out all that remained of the salary I had brought home, I don't remember how much, and now, sir, look at me, all of you! Five days away from home, they're looking for me there, and it's the end of my service, and my uniform is lying in a tavern near the Egyptian Bridge, and these garments I received in exchange for it...and it is the end of everything!”
Marmeladov struck himself on the forehead with his fist, clenched his teeth, closed his eyes, and leaned heavily on the table with his elbow. But a moment later his face suddenly changed and, glancing at Raskolnikov with a certain affected coyness and forced insolence, he laughed and said:
“And today I went to see Sonya and asked her for the hair of the dog! ... Heh, heh, heh!”
“Did she give it to you?” one of the newcomers shouted from the side, shouted and guffawed at the top of his lungs.
“This very bottle here was bought on her money, sir,” Marmeladov said, addressing Raskolnikov exclusively. “She took out thirty kopecks for me, with her own hands, the last she had, I saw it myself...She didn't say anything, she just looked at me silently...That is not done on earth, but up there...people are grieved for, wept over, and not reproached, not reproached! And it hurts more, it hurts more, sir, when one is not reproached! . .. Thirty kopecks, yes, sir. And doesn't she also need them now, eh? What do you think, my dear gentlemen? For she has to observe her cleanliness now. This cleanliness—of a special sort, you understand—costs money. Understand? And to buy a bit of pomade as well, can't do without that, sir; starched petticoats, some shoes of a frippery sort to show off her foot when she steps over a puddle. Do you understand, do you understand, sir, what this cleanliness means? So, sir, and now I, her blood father, snatched, these thirty kopecks for the hair of the dog! And I'm drinking, sir! And I've already drunk them up, sir! ... So, who's going to pity the likes of me? Eh? Do you pity me now, sir, or do you not? Speak, sir, do you or do you not? Heh, heh, heh, heh!”
He wanted to pour some more, but there was nothing left. The bottle was empty.
“Why pity you?” shouted the proprietor, who turned up near them again.
There was laughter and even swearing. The laughter and swearing came both from those who were listening and from those who were not listening but merely looking at the figure of the retired official.
“Pity! Why pity me!” Marmeladov suddenly cried out, rising with his hand stretched forth, in decided inspiration, as if he had only been waiting for these words. “Why pity me, you say? Yes! There's nothing to pity me for! I ought to be crucified, crucified on a cross, and not pitied! But crucify, judge, crucify, and having crucified, pity the man! And then I myself will come to you to be crucified, for I thirst not for joy, but for sorrow and tears! ... Do you think, wine-merchant, that this bottle of yours brought me sweetness? Sorrow, sorrow I sought at its bottom, sorrow and tears, and I tasted it and found it; and He will pity us who pitied everyone, and who understood all men and all women, He alone, and He is the judge. On that day He will come and ask, 'Where is the daughter who gave herself for a wicked and consumptive stepmother, for a stranger's little children? Where is the daughter who pitied her earthly father, a foul drunkard, not shrinking from his beastliness?' And He will say, 'Come! I have already forgiven you once...I have forgiven you once...And now, too, your many sins are forgiven, for you have loved much[15]...' And He will forgive my Sonya, He will forgive her, I know He will... Today, when I was with her, I felt it in my heart! And He will judge and forgive all, the good and the wicked, the wise and the humble...And when He has finished with everyone, then He will say unto us, too, 'You, too, come forth!' He will say. 'Come forth, my drunk ones, my weak ones, my shameless ones!' And we will all come forth, without being ashamed, and stand there. And He will say, 'Swine you are! Of the image of the beast and of his seal;[16] but come, you, too!' And the wise and the reasonable will say unto Him, 'Lord, why do you receive such as these?' And He will say, 'I receive them, my wise and reasonable ones, forasmuch as not one of them considered himself worthy of this thing . . .' And He will stretch out His arms to us, and we will fall at His feet. . . and weep...and understand everything! Then we will understand everything! ... and everyone will understand...and Katerina Ivanovna...she, too, will understand...Lord, Thy kingdom come!”[17]