Chapter 36: Royalties and Commissions

"Mikhail, a gentleman is here to see you."

Just as Mikhail returned to the apartment, the old maid Nastasya had already come forward to tell him this:

"He has been waiting here for quite some time."

As she said this, Nastasya pointed out the direction to Mikhail.

Following where Nastasya pointed, Mikhail soon saw an elderly gentleman sitting at the dining table; this gentleman appeared somewhat stiff and formal, with an expression on his face as if he were filled with complaints.

Upon seeing Mikhail approaching, the other party seemed to realize something, immediately stood up, looked at Mikhail, and said:

"May I ask if you are Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov? The university student, sir? Or perhaps a former university student? By rights, you no longer need to attend classes, so why are you not at home at this hour? It seems you have gone out to get drunk, does it not?"

Mikhail: "?"

It was clear that the other party, having waited for Mikhail for some time, was full of resentment; thus, despite this being their first meeting, the words coming from his mouth were laced with barbs.

Hey buddy, are you okay?

Hearing this, Mikhail was nearly moved to start his greeting with a curse word.

"I am not," said Mikhail, who had already made a rough guess about the other's identity; he glanced at the man and then spoke with some exasperation: "Do you usually speak to people like this, sir? Your upbringing seems to be somewhat lacking."

"Hmm?" Hearing Mikhail say this, the well-dressed gentleman first stared blankly, then a trace of embarrassment appeared on his face: "My apologies, sir, I thought you were..."

Without letting the other finish his sentence, Mikhail merely shook his head, then ignored him completely and walked straight toward his own room.

However, although he went inside, he did not close the door; while Mikhail was somewhat unwilling to converse with such a person, certain matters ultimately needed to be clarified, so he sat down on his sofa.

Before long, likely having received confirmed information from Nastasya, this gentleman burst in with some agitation; the moment he entered, he looked at Mikhail's living quarters with an undisguised expression of surprise and then spoke:

"Where have I arrived? That such a place actually exists? And why did you just tell a lie? Do you think I should not have said those words? I specifically chose a day and took time out of my busy work schedule just to come find you and discuss matters concerning your mother and your sister."

Presumably feeling that he held a position of advantage in his relationship with Mikhail, this well-dressed gentleman spoke without much restraint; facing Mikhail's small cubicle of a room, this gentleman even feigned a bit of terror, as if he had suffered some insult.

"Then you are?"

"Pyotr Petrovich Luzhin."

When speaking this name, the man appeared to possess a certain arrogance, as if Mikhail ought to stand up and greet him at any moment.

So it really is you.

You are forty or fifty years old; why do you still want to become my brother-in-law...

And you are truly not being polite at all...

Do you think marrying my sister is a great blessing for our family?

After these thoughts flashed through his mind, Mikhail had no desire to entangle further with this gentleman, so he simply spoke directly:

"Then, Mr. Pyotr Petrovich, I apologize; I originally intended to find time to discuss this matter with you as well, but recently I have simply been too overwhelmed.

But since you are here, let me tell you clearly: I do not agree to this marriage. If you have expended anything prior to this, I am willing to repay it in full once I have clarified the details. Let us forget about the marriage; when my mother and Dunya arrive, I will say this to them as well."

However, judging by what was stated in the letter, this gentleman had not yet paid out a single kopeck, so handling this matter was quite simple; everything was merely a verbal agreement, and it could even be said that his sister Dunya had hardly exchanged a few words with this gentleman.

"How dare you speak like this?" After hearing Mikhail's words, this gentleman seemed to freeze instantly; staring at Mikhail while simultaneously scrutinizing Mikhail's living quarters, he said incredulously: "Just look at where you live—"

But before he could finish his sentence, Nastasya, who had appeared at Mikhail's door at some unknown moment, suddenly interrupted: "Mikhail, another gentleman has come to see you; he seems to wish to discuss some matter regarding an article."

An article?

Feeling somewhat puzzled himself, Mikhail replied: "Then let him come straight in."

"Very well."

After giving this response, the old maid Nastasya, who had just heard quite a bit, also glanced at Pyotr Petrovich standing there, her eyes containing no small amount of reproach.

How could he speak such rude words to Mikhail, who had written that kind of article?

As Nastasya went to receive the guest, before long she brought a gentleman over.

This gentleman likewise appeared well-dressed and seemed to be of advanced age as well.

Upon seeing Mikhail's small cubicle of a room, although he was slightly surprised, he quickly entered.

However, since the space inside the room was indeed somewhat cramped, Mikhail spoke: "Mr. Pyotr Petrovich, I have already said what I needed to say to you; there is no room for negotiation here. Could you please make way for this gentleman now?"

Although Pyotr Petrovich was slightly seething with rage and had a belly full of words to say, faced with this sudden turn of events and in order to maintain his dignity, he ultimately did not speak too much, but instead made way for the gentleman behind him.

At the same time, however, he did not leave, but remained standing there, seemingly intending to wait until this guest departed before continuing to express his opinions and feelings.

Moreover, he must write a letter; he must convey all the actions and deeds of this former university student to his mother and sister!

Idling about, drinking alcohol, lacking even basic manners!

As for this gentleman who had rushed over, no one knew what he was doing here; why would a gentleman who looked so respectable come to such a wretched place?

Just as Pyotr Petrovich was thinking this, the gentleman who had hurried in first looked somewhat hesitantly at the man standing to the side, but after Mikhail spoke a sentence—"It is fine, honored sir; whatever the matter is, just speak directly"—this gentleman hesitated no longer and immediately introduced himself:

"Honored Mr. Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov, I am Nikodim Fomich, an editor of 'Notes of the Fatherland'; I have come at this hour to pay you the royalties for your last two articles and also wish to commission another one from you; I wonder if you have any new works?"

To be honest, Mikhail had been waiting for this sum of royalties for quite some time, but at this moment, Mikhail showed not a trace of excitement; merely wrapping himself in his tattered overcoat, sitting on that dilapidated little sofa, he nodded slightly and then asked:

"Then this time, how much can your publication offer for the royalties?"

When Mikhail was penniless, twenty rubles was already a high price, and even that was secured for him through Belinsky's efforts.

But now, thinking of the magazine's recent explosive growth in circulation, this editor pondered briefly and then spoke:

"If it is still a short story, two pieces, with the same page count as last time, then you can receive sixty rubles."

Although their boss was quite stingy, this editor was certain that he would agree to this price.

And if earlier Pyotr, standing to the side, had been listening in a daze, the moment the figure of sixty rubles came out, his mind suddenly became much clearer.

Since when could articles command such a price?

Is what he writes made of gold?

After hearing this sentence, this elderly gentleman's eyes widened instantly; after stiffly staying to listen for a while longer, he realized that this truly was not a performance, but indeed reality.

Realizing this, Pyotr once again met Mikhail's eyes, which seemed to hold little emotion; after just one look, he involuntarily began moving toward the door.

If he stayed any longer, it seemed he would truly be inviting humiliation upon himself.

Pyotr Petrovich gradually disappeared, and Mikhail had initially used his pen to alter his sister's fate.

(Chapter End)