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- Федор Достоевский
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- Стр. 135/453
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“
Mercy
on
it
!
it
’
s
our
Afrosinya
!
”
a
woman
cried
tearfully
close
by
.
“
Mercy
!
save
her
!
kind
people
,
pull
her
out
!
”
“
A
boat
,
a
boat
”
was
shouted
in
the
crowd
.
But
there
was
no
need
of
a
boat
;
a
policeman
ran
down
the
steps
to
the
canal
,
threw
off
his
great
coat
and
his
boots
and
rushed
into
the
water
.
It
was
easy
to
reach
her
:
she
floated
within
a
couple
of
yards
from
the
steps
,
he
caught
hold
of
her
clothes
with
his
right
hand
and
with
his
left
seized
a
pole
which
a
comrade
held
out
to
him
;
the
drowning
woman
was
pulled
out
at
once
.
They
laid
her
on
the
granite
pavement
of
the
embankment
.
She
soon
recovered
consciousness
,
raised
her
head
,
sat
up
and
began
sneezing
and
coughing
,
stupidly
wiping
her
wet
dress
with
her
hands
.
She
said
nothing
.
“
She
’
s
drunk
herself
out
of
her
senses
,
”
the
same
woman
’
s
voice
wailed
at
her
side
.
“
Out
of
her
senses
.
The
other
day
she
tried
to
hang
herself
,
we
cut
her
down
.
I
ran
out
to
the
shop
just
now
,
left
my
little
girl
to
look
after
her
—
and
here
she
’
s
in
trouble
again
!
A
neighbour
,
gentleman
,
a
neighbour
,
we
live
close
by
,
the
second
house
from
the
end
,
see
yonder
.
.
.
.
”
The
crowd
broke
up
.
The
police
still
remained
round
the
woman
,
someone
mentioned
the
police
station
.
.
.
.
Raskolnikov
looked
on
with
a
strange
sensation
of
indifference
and
apathy
.
He
felt
disgusted
.
“
No
,
that
’
s
loathsome
.
.
.
water
.
.
.
it
’
s
not
good
enough
,
”
he
muttered
to
himself
.
“
Nothing
will
come
of
it
,
”
he
added
,
“
no
use
to
wait
.
What
about
the
police
office
.
.
.
?
And
why
isn
’
t
Zametov
at
the
police
office
?
The
police
office
is
open
till
ten
o
’
clock
.
.
.
.
”
He
turned
his
back
to
the
railing
and
looked
about
him
.
“
Very
well
then
!
”
he
said
resolutely
;
he
moved
from
the
bridge
and
walked
in
the
direction
of
the
police
office
.
His
heart
felt
hollow
and
empty
.
He
did
not
want
to
think
.
Even
his
depression
had
passed
,
there
was
not
a
trace
now
of
the
energy
with
which
he
had
set
out
“
to
make
an
end
of
it
all
.
”
Complete
apathy
had
succeeded
to
it
.
“
Well
,
it
’
s
a
way
out
of
it
,
”
he
thought
,
walking
slowly
and
listlessly
along
the
canal
bank
.
“
Anyway
I
’
ll
make
an
end
,
for
I
want
to
.
.
.
.
But
is
it
a
way
out
?
What
does
it
matter
!
There
’
ll
be
the
square
yard
of
space
—
ha
!
But
what
an
end
!
Is
it
really
the
end
?
Shall
I
tell
them
or
not
?
Ah
.
.
.
damn
!
How
tired
I
am
!
If
I
could
find
somewhere
to
sit
or
lie
down
soon
!
What
I
am
most
ashamed
of
is
its
being
so
stupid
.
But
I
don
’
t
care
about
that
either
!
What
idiotic
ideas
come
into
one
’
s
head
.
”
To
reach
the
police
office
he
had
to
go
straight
forward
and
take
the
second
turning
to
the
left
.
It
was
only
a
few
paces
away
.
But
at
the
first
turning
he
stopped
and
,
after
a
minute
’
s
thought
,
turned
into
a
side
street
and
went
two
streets
out
of
his
way
,
possibly
without
any
object
,
or
possibly
to
delay
a
minute
and
gain
time
.
He
walked
,
looking
at
the
ground
;
suddenly
someone
seemed
to
whisper
in
his
ear
;
he
lifted
his
head
and
saw
that
he
was
standing
at
the
very
gate
of
the
house
.
He
had
not
passed
it
,
he
had
not
been
near
it
since
that
evening
.
An
overwhelming
,
unaccountable
prompting
drew
him
on
.
He
went
into
the
house
,
passed
through
the
gateway
,
then
into
the
first
entrance
on
the
right
,
and
began
mounting
the
familiar
staircase
to
the
fourth
storey
.
The
narrow
,
steep
staircase
was
very
dark
.
He
stopped
at
each
landing
and
looked
round
him
with
curiosity
;
on
the
first
landing
the
framework
of
the
window
had
been
taken
out
.
“
That
wasn
’
t
so
then
,
”
he
thought
.
Here
was
the
flat
on
the
second
storey
where
Nikolay
and
Dmitri
had
been
working
.
“
It
’
s
shut
up
and
the
door
newly
painted
.
So
it
’
s
to
let
.
”
Then
the
third
storey
and
the
fourth
.
“
Here
!
”
He
was
perplexed
to
find
the
door
of
the
flat
wide
open
.
There
were
men
there
,
he
could
hear
voices
;
he
had
not
expected
that
.
After
brief
hesitation
he
mounted
the
last
stairs
and
went
into
the
flat
.
It
,
too
,
was
being
done
up
;
there
were
workmen
in
it
.
This
seemed
to
amaze
him
;
he
somehow
fancied
that
he
would
find
everything
as
he
left
it
,
even
perhaps
the
corpses
in
the
same
places
on
the
floor
.
And
now
,
bare
walls
,
no
furniture
;
it
seemed
strange
.
He
walked
to
the
window
and
sat
down
on
the
window
-
sill
.
There
were
two
workmen
,
both
young
fellows
,
but
one
much
younger
than
the
other
.
They
were
papering
the
walls
with
a
new
white
paper
covered
with
lilac
flowers
,
instead
of
the
old
,
dirty
,
yellow
one
.
Raskolnikov
for
some
reason
felt
horribly
annoyed
by
this
.
He
looked
at
the
new
paper
with
dislike
,
as
though
he
felt
sorry
to
have
it
all
so
changed
.
The
workmen
had
obviously
stayed
beyond
their
time
and
now
they
were
hurriedly
rolling
up
their
paper
and
getting
ready
to
go
home
.
They
took
no
notice
of
Raskolnikov
’
s
coming
in
;
they
were
talking
.
Raskolnikov
folded
his
arms
and
listened
.
