right。 On the other side of the waggon he could hear shouting and
quarrelling； but no one noticed him and no one met him。 Many windows
looking into that huge quadrangular yard were open at that moment； but
he did not raise his head… he had not the strength to。 The staircase
leading to the old woman's room was close by； just on the right of the
gateway。 He was already on the stairs。。。。
Drawing a breath； pressing his hand against his throbbing heart； and
once more feeling for the axe and setting it straight； he began softly
and cautiously ascending the stairs； listening every minute。 But the
stairs； too； were quite deserted； all the doors were shut； he met no
one。 One flat indeed on the first floor was wide open and painters
were at work in it； but they did not glance at him。 He stood still；
thought a minute and went on。 〃Of course it would be better if they
had not been here； but。。。 it's two storeys above them。〃
And there was the fourth storey； here was the door； here was the
flat opposite； the empty one。 The flat underneath the old woman's
was apparently empty also； the visiting card nailed on the door had
been torn off… they had gone away！。。。 He was out of breath。 For one
instant the thought floated through his mind 〃Shall I go back？〃 But he
made no answer and began listening at the old woman's door； a dead
silence。 Then he listened again on the staircase； listened long and
intently。。。 then looked about him for the last time； pulled himself
together； drew himself up； and once more tried the axe in the noose。
〃Am I very pale？〃 he wondered。 〃Am I not evidently agitated？ She is
mistrustful。。。。 Had I better wait a little longer。。。 till my heart
leaves off thumping？〃
But his heart did not leave off。 On the contrary； as though to spite
him； it throbbed more and more violently。 He could stand it no longer；
he slowly put out his hand to the bell and rang。 Half a minute later
he rang again； more loudly。
No answer。 To go on ringing was useless and out of place。 The old
woman was； of course； at home； but she was suspicious and alone。 He
had some knowledge of her habits。。。 and once more he put his ear to
the door。 Either his senses were peculiarly keen （which it is
difficult to suppose）； or the sound was really very distinct。
Anyway； he suddenly heard something like the cautious touch of a
hand on the lock and the rustle of a skirt at the very door。 Some
one was standing stealthily close to the lock and just as he was doing
on the outside was secretly listening within； and seemed to have her
ear to the door。。。。 He moved a little on purpose and muttered
something aloud that he might not have the appearance of hiding；
then rang a third time； but quietly； soberly and without impatience；
Recalling it afterwards； that moment stood out in his mind vividly；
distinctly； forever； he could not make out how he had had such
cunning； for his mind was as it were clouded at moments and he was
almost unconscious of his body。。。。 An instant later he heard the latch
unfastened。
Chapter Seven
THE DOOR was as before opened a tiny crack； and again two sharp
and suspicious eyes stared at him out of the darkness。 Then
Raskolnikov lost his head and nearly made a great mistake。
Fearing the old woman would be frightened by their being alone；
and not hoping that the sight of him would disarm her suspicions； he
took hold of the door and drew it towards him to prevent the old woman
from attempting to shut it again。 Seeing this she did not pull the
door back； but she did not let go the handle so that he almost dragged
her out with it on to the stairs。 Seeing that she was standing in
the doorway not allowing him to pass； he advanced straight upon her。
She stepped back in alarm； tried to say something； but seemed unable
to speak and stared with open eyes at him。
〃Good evening； Alyona Ivanovna；〃 he began； trying to speak easily；
but his voice would not obey him； it broke and shook。 〃I have
come。。。 I have brought something。。。 but we'd better come in。。。 to
the light。。。。〃
And leaving her； he passed straight into the room uninvited。 The old
woman ran after him； her tongue was unloosed。
〃Good heavens！ What it is？ Who is it？ What do you want？〃
〃Why； Alyona Ivanovna； you know me。。。 Raskolnikov。。。 here； I brought
you the pledge I promised the other day。。。〃 and he held out the
pledge。
The old woman glanced for a moment at the pledge； but at once stared
in the eyes of her uninvited visitor。 She looked intently； maliciously
and mistrustfully。 A minute passed； he even fancied something like a
sneer in her eyes； as though she had already guessed everything。 He
felt that he was losing his head； that he was almost frightened； so
frightened that if she were to look like that and not say a word for
another half minute； he thought he would have run away from her。
〃Why do you look at me as though you did not know me？〃 he said
suddenly； also with malice。 〃Take it if you like； if not I'll go
elsewhere； I am in a hurry。〃
He had not even thought of saying this； but it was suddenly said
of itself。 The old woman recovered herself； and her visitor's resolute
tone evidently restored her confidence。
〃But why； my good sir； all of a minute。。。。 What is it？〃 she asked；
looking at the pledge。
〃The silver cigarette case； I spoke of it last time； you know。〃
She held out her hand。
〃But how pale you are； to be sure。。。 and your hands are trembling
too？ Have you been bathing； or what？〃
〃Fever；〃 he answered abruptly。 〃You can't help getting pale。。。 if
you've nothing to eat；〃 he added； with difficulty articulating the
words。
His strength was failing him again。 But his answer sounded like
the truth； the old woman took the pledge。
〃What is it？〃 she asked once more； scanning Raskolnikov intently；
and weighing the pledge in her hand。
〃A thing。。。 cigarette case。。。。 Silver。。。。 Look at it。〃
〃It does not seem somehow like silver。。。。 How he has wrapped it up！〃
Trying to untie the string and turning to the window； to the light
（all her windows were shut； in spite of the stifling heat）； she left
him altogether for some seconds and stood with her back to him。 He
unbuttoned his coat and freed the axe from the noose； but did not
yet take it out altogether； simply holding it in his right hand
under the coat。 His hands were fearfully weak； he felt them every
moment growing more numb and more wooden。 He was afraid he would let
the axe slip and fall。。。。 A sudden giddiness came over him。
〃But what has he tied it up like this for？〃 the old woman cried with
vexation and moved towards him。
He had not a minute more to lose。 He pulled the axe quite out； swung
it with both arms； scarcely conscious of himself； and almost without
effort； almost mechanically； brought the blunt side down on her
head。 He seemed not to use his own strength in this。 But as soon as he
had once brought the axe down； his strength returned to him。
The old woman was as always bareheaded。 Her thin； light hair；
streaked with grey； thickly smeared with grease； was plaited in a
rat's tail and fastened by a broken horn comb which stood out on the
nape of her neck。 As she was so short； the blow fell on the very top
of her skull。 She cried out； bu