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- Федор Достоевский
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- Преступление и наказание
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- Стр. 146/453
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“
Amalia
Ludwigovna
,
I
beg
you
to
recollect
what
you
are
saying
,
”
Katerina
Ivanovna
began
haughtily
(
she
always
took
a
haughty
tone
with
the
landlady
that
she
might
“
remember
her
place
”
and
even
now
could
not
deny
herself
this
satisfaction
)
.
“
Amalia
Ludwigovna
.
.
.
”
“
I
have
you
once
before
told
that
you
to
call
me
Amalia
Ludwigovna
may
not
dare
;
I
am
Amalia
Ivanovna
.
”
“
You
are
not
Amalia
Ivanovna
,
but
Amalia
Ludwigovna
,
and
as
I
am
not
one
of
your
despicable
flatterers
like
Mr
.
Lebeziatnikov
,
who
’
s
laughing
behind
the
door
at
this
moment
(
a
laugh
and
a
cry
of
‘
they
are
at
it
again
’
was
in
fact
audible
at
the
door
)
so
I
shall
always
call
you
Amalia
Ludwigovna
,
though
I
fail
to
understand
why
you
dislike
that
name
.
You
can
see
for
yourself
what
has
happened
to
Semyon
Zaharovitch
;
he
is
dying
.
I
beg
you
to
close
that
door
at
once
and
to
admit
no
one
.
Let
him
at
least
die
in
peace
!
Or
I
warn
you
the
Governor
-
General
,
himself
,
shall
be
informed
of
your
conduct
to
-
morrow
.
The
prince
knew
me
as
a
girl
;
he
remembers
Semyon
Zaharovitch
well
and
has
often
been
a
benefactor
to
him
.
Everyone
knows
that
Semyon
Zaharovitch
had
many
friends
and
protectors
,
whom
he
abandoned
himself
from
an
honourable
pride
,
knowing
his
unhappy
weakness
,
but
now
(
she
pointed
to
Raskolnikov
)
a
generous
young
man
has
come
to
our
assistance
,
who
has
wealth
and
connections
and
whom
Semyon
Zaharovitch
has
known
from
a
child
.
You
may
rest
assured
,
Amalia
Ludwigovna
.
.
.
”
All
this
was
uttered
with
extreme
rapidity
,
getting
quicker
and
quicker
,
but
a
cough
suddenly
cut
short
Katerina
Ivanovna
’
s
eloquence
.
At
that
instant
the
dying
man
recovered
consciousness
and
uttered
a
groan
;
she
ran
to
him
.
The
injured
man
opened
his
eyes
and
without
recognition
or
understanding
gazed
at
Raskolnikov
who
was
bending
over
him
.
He
drew
deep
,
slow
,
painful
breaths
;
blood
oozed
at
the
corners
of
his
mouth
and
drops
of
perspiration
came
out
on
his
forehead
.
Not
recognising
Raskolnikov
,
he
began
looking
round
uneasily
.
Katerina
Ivanovna
looked
at
him
with
a
sad
but
stern
face
,
and
tears
trickled
from
her
eyes
.
“
My
God
!
His
whole
chest
is
crushed
!
How
he
is
bleeding
,
”
she
said
in
despair
.
“
We
must
take
off
his
clothes
.
Turn
a
little
,
Semyon
Zaharovitch
,
if
you
can
,
”
she
cried
to
him
.
Marmeladov
recognised
her
.
“
A
priest
,
”
he
articulated
huskily
.
Katerina
Ivanovna
walked
to
the
window
,
laid
her
head
against
the
window
frame
and
exclaimed
in
despair
:
“
Oh
,
cursed
life
!
”
