better than empty debates. The antonym of crime is rice. No—it's beans!" He was so drunk he could barely articulate the words. "Do as you please. Only get the hell out of here."
He got up mumbling incoherently. "Crime and an empty stomach. Empty stomach and beans. No. Those are synonyms." Crime and punishment. Dostoievski. These words grazed over a corner of my mind, startling me. Just supposing Dostoievski ranged 'crime' and 'punishment' side by side not as synonyms but as antonyms. Crime and punishment—absolutely incompatible ideas, irreconcilable as oil and water. I felt I was beginning to understand what lay at the bottom of the scum-covered, turbid pond, that chaos of Dostoievski's mind—no, I still didn't quite see . . . Such thoughts were flashing through my head like a revolving lantern when I heard a voice. "Extraordinary beans you've got here. Come have a look." Horiki's voice and color had changed. Just a minute before he had staggered off downstairs, and here he was back again, before I knew it. "What is it?" A strange excitement ran through me. The two of us went down from the roof to the second floor and were half-way down the stairs to my room on the ground floor when Horiki stopped roc and whispered, "Look!" He pointed. A small window opened over my room, through which I could see the interior. The light was lit and two animals were visible. My eyes swam, but I murmured to myself through my violent breathing, "This is just another aspect of the behavior of human beings. There's nothing to be surprised at." I stood petrified on the staircase, not even thinking to help Yoshiko.
