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- Федор Достоевский
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- Преступление и наказание
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- Стр. 120/453
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“
Is
that
a
tavern
at
the
top
there
?
”
“
Yes
,
it
’
s
an
eating
-
house
and
there
’
s
a
billiard
-
room
and
you
’
ll
find
princesses
there
too
.
.
.
.
La
-
la
!
”
Raskolnikov
crossed
the
square
.
In
that
corner
there
was
a
dense
crowd
of
peasants
.
He
pushed
his
way
into
the
thickest
part
of
it
,
looking
at
the
faces
.
He
felt
an
unaccountable
inclination
to
enter
into
conversation
with
people
.
But
the
peasants
took
no
notice
of
him
;
they
were
all
shouting
in
groups
together
.
He
stood
and
thought
a
little
and
took
a
turning
to
the
right
in
the
direction
of
V
.
He
had
often
crossed
that
little
street
which
turns
at
an
angle
,
leading
from
the
market
-
place
to
Sadovy
Street
.
Of
late
he
had
often
felt
drawn
to
wander
about
this
district
,
when
he
felt
depressed
,
that
he
might
feel
more
so
.
Now
he
walked
along
,
thinking
of
nothing
.
At
that
point
there
is
a
great
block
of
buildings
,
entirely
let
out
in
dram
shops
and
eating
-
houses
;
women
were
continually
running
in
and
out
,
bare
-
headed
and
in
their
indoor
clothes
.
Here
and
there
they
gathered
in
groups
,
on
the
pavement
,
especially
about
the
entrances
to
various
festive
establishments
in
the
lower
storeys
.
From
one
of
these
a
loud
din
,
sounds
of
singing
,
the
tinkling
of
a
guitar
and
shouts
of
merriment
,
floated
into
the
street
.
A
crowd
of
women
were
thronging
round
the
door
;
some
were
sitting
on
the
steps
,
others
on
the
pavement
,
others
were
standing
talking
.
A
drunken
soldier
,
smoking
a
cigarette
,
was
walking
near
them
in
the
road
,
swearing
;
he
seemed
to
be
trying
to
find
his
way
somewhere
,
but
had
forgotten
where
.
One
beggar
was
quarrelling
with
another
,
and
a
man
dead
drunk
was
lying
right
across
the
road
.
Raskolnikov
joined
the
throng
of
women
,
who
were
talking
in
husky
voices
.
They
were
bare
-
headed
and
wore
cotton
dresses
and
goatskin
shoes
.
There
were
women
of
forty
and
some
not
more
than
seventeen
;
almost
all
had
blackened
eyes
.
He
felt
strangely
attracted
by
the
singing
and
all
the
noise
and
uproar
in
the
saloon
below
.
.
.
.
someone
could
be
heard
within
dancing
frantically
,
marking
time
with
his
heels
to
the
sounds
of
the
guitar
and
of
a
thin
falsetto
voice
singing
a
jaunty
air
.
He
listened
intently
,
gloomily
and
dreamily
,
bending
down
at
the
entrance
and
peeping
inquisitively
in
from
the
pavement
.
“
Oh
,
my
handsome
soldier
Don
’
t
beat
me
for
nothing
,
”
