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- Федор Достоевский
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- Преступление и наказание
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- Стр. 123/453
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Raskolnikov
looked
curiously
at
the
speaker
.
She
was
a
pock
-
marked
wench
of
thirty
,
covered
with
bruises
,
with
her
upper
lip
swollen
.
She
made
her
criticism
quietly
and
earnestly
.
“
Where
is
it
,
”
thought
Raskolnikov
.
“
Where
is
it
I
’
ve
read
that
someone
condemned
to
death
says
or
thinks
,
an
hour
before
his
death
,
that
if
he
had
to
live
on
some
high
rock
,
on
such
a
narrow
ledge
that
he
’
d
only
room
to
stand
,
and
the
ocean
,
everlasting
darkness
,
everlasting
solitude
,
everlasting
tempest
around
him
,
if
he
had
to
remain
standing
on
a
square
yard
of
space
all
his
life
,
a
thousand
years
,
eternity
,
it
were
better
to
live
so
than
to
die
at
once
!
Only
to
live
,
to
live
and
live
!
Life
,
whatever
it
may
be
!
.
.
.
How
true
it
is
!
Good
God
,
how
true
!
Man
is
a
vile
creature
!
.
.
.
And
vile
is
he
who
calls
him
vile
for
that
,
”
he
added
a
moment
later
.
He
went
into
another
street
.
“
Bah
,
the
Palais
de
Cristal
!
Razumihin
was
just
talking
of
the
Palais
de
Cristal
.
But
what
on
earth
was
it
I
wanted
?
Yes
,
the
newspapers
.
.
.
.
Zossimov
said
he
’
d
read
it
in
the
papers
.
Have
you
the
papers
?
”
he
asked
,
going
into
a
very
spacious
and
positively
clean
restaurant
,
consisting
of
several
rooms
,
which
were
,
however
,
rather
empty
.
Two
or
three
people
were
drinking
tea
,
and
in
a
room
further
away
were
sitting
four
men
drinking
champagne
.
Raskolnikov
fancied
that
Zametov
was
one
of
them
,
but
he
could
not
be
sure
at
that
distance
.
“
What
if
it
is
?
”
he
thought
.
“
Will
you
have
vodka
?
”
asked
the
waiter
.
“
Give
me
some
tea
and
bring
me
the
papers
,
the
old
ones
for
the
last
five
days
,
and
I
’
ll
give
you
something
.
”
“
Yes
,
sir
,
here
’
s
to
-
day
’
s
.
No
vodka
?
”
The
old
newspapers
and
the
tea
were
brought
.
Raskolnikov
sat
down
and
began
to
look
through
them
.
“
Oh
,
damn
.
.
.
these
are
the
items
of
intelligence
.
An
accident
on
a
staircase
,
spontaneous
combustion
of
a
shopkeeper
from
alcohol
,
a
fire
in
Peski
.
.
.
a
fire
in
the
Petersburg
quarter
.
.
.
another
fire
in
the
Petersburg
quarter
.
.
.
and
another
fire
in
the
Petersburg
quarter
.
.
.
.
Ah
,
here
it
is
!
”
He
found
at
last
what
he
was
seeking
and
began
to
read
it
.
The
lines
danced
before
his
eyes
,
but
he
read
it
all
and
began
eagerly
seeking
later
additions
in
the
following
numbers
.
His
hands
shook
with
nervous
impatience
as
he
turned
the
sheets
.
Suddenly
someone
sat
down
beside
him
at
his
table
.
He
looked
up
,
it
was
the
head
clerk
Zametov
,
looking
just
the
same
,
with
the
rings
on
his
fingers
and
the
watch
-
chain
,
with
the
curly
,
black
hair
,
parted
and
pomaded
,
with
the
smart
waistcoat
,
rather
shabby
coat
and
doubtful
linen
.
He
was
in
a
good
humour
,
at
least
he
was
smiling
very
gaily
and
good
-
humouredly
.
His
dark
face
was
rather
flushed
from
the
champagne
he
had
drunk
.
“
What
,
you
here
?
”
he
began
in
surprise
,
speaking
as
though
he
’
d
known
him
all
his
life
.
“
Why
,
Razumihin
told
me
only
yesterday
you
were
unconscious
.
How
strange
!
And
do
you
know
I
’
ve
been
to
see
you
?
”
