you’re absolutely right, sir,’ Porfiry set off again, looking cheerfully and with extraordinary frankness at Raskolnikov (causing the latter to shudder and instantly brace himself), ‘absolutely right to mock these legal formalities of ours with such wit, heh-heh! These (or at least some of these) profound psychological techniques are of course quite absurd, sir, and I dare say useless, too, especially when they are very inhibited by form. Yes, sir . . . I’m back to form again: imagine that I had deemed or, better, suspected someone – anyone, anyone at all – to be a criminal, in some case that had been entrusted to me . . . You’re studying to be a lawyer, Rodion Romanovich, are you not?’
‘Yes, I was . . .’
‘Well, here’s a little example, as it were, for the future – although far be it from me, of course, to teach you anything: just look at those articles you’ve been publishing on the subject of crime! No, sir, allow me to put this example to you for its purely factual interest. Say, for example, that I considered someone, anyone, a criminal, why ever, I ask you, would I trouble him ahead of time, even if I had evidence against him? There are those, of course, whom I’m obliged to arrest promptly, but this man may have a quite different character; so why not let him wander around town a bit? Heh-heh-heh! No, I can see you’re not quite following, so let me illustrate the point more clearly: if, for example, I lock him up too soon, I may end up providing him with, as it were, moral support, heh-heh! I see you’re laughing.’ (Laughter was the last thing on Raskolnikov’s mind: he sat tight-lipped, keeping his inflamed gaze fixed on Porfiry Petrovich’s eyes.) ‘But that’s how it is, sir, especially with certain individuals, because you get all kinds of people and only one procedure. You saw fit to mention evidence just now, but with respect, father, even supposing there is evidence, still, evidence is a double-edged thing, for the most part anyway, and as you know I’m an investigator and hence, I admit, a weakling: I’d like to set out the case with, as it were, mathematical clarity. I’d like a bit of evidence that looks like two times two! Like direct and incontrovertible proof! But if I lock him up before time – even if I’m quite sure it’s him – I may very well end up depriving myself of the chance to get any more out of him. Why? Because I’ll be defining his situation for him, as it were. I’ll be defining him psychologically, so to speak, and reassuring him, and then he’ll withdraw from me into his shell: it’ll have finally got through to him that he’s a prisoner. I’m told that down there in Sebastopol, straight after the Battle of Alma,21 all the clever folk were terrified at the prospect of the enemy launching an open attack any moment and taking Sebastopol there and then; but when they saw that the enemy had chosen a regular siege instead and was digging the first line of trenches, why, the clever folk, I’m told, were simply delighted, sir, and felt quite reassured: it meant that the whole thing would drag on for at least another two months, because a regular siege might take forever! Again you’re laughing, again you don’t believe me. Well, I suppose you have a point, too. Yes, you’re right, sir, you’re right! These are all one-offs, I agree. The case I’ve just described really is a one-off, sir! But here’s what we need to bear in mind, dear sweet Rodion Romanovich: typical cases, the very same ones according to which all the legal forms and principles are tailored and calculated and written up in books, simply do not exist, sir, by virtue of the fact that each and every deed, each and every – for want of a better example – crime, just as soon as it occurs in reality, immediately becomes a one-off, sir; in fact, sometimes it’s like nothing that’s ever gone before. Certain such cases are utterly comic, sir. But if I leave a gentleman well alone, don’t bring him in, don’t disturb him, just let him know, or at least suspect, every hour and every minute, that I know everything, all the ins and outs, that I’m following him day and night, keeping him forever in my sight,