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- Федор Достоевский
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- Стр. 2/453
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He
had
not
far
to
go
;
he
knew
indeed
how
many
steps
it
was
from
the
gate
of
his
lodging
house
:
exactly
seven
hundred
and
thirty
.
He
had
counted
them
once
when
he
had
been
lost
in
dreams
.
At
the
time
he
had
put
no
faith
in
those
dreams
and
was
only
tantalising
himself
by
their
hideous
but
daring
recklessness
.
Now
,
a
month
later
,
he
had
begun
to
look
upon
them
differently
,
and
,
in
spite
of
the
monologues
in
which
he
jeered
at
his
own
impotence
and
indecision
,
he
had
involuntarily
come
to
regard
this
“
hideous
”
dream
as
an
exploit
to
be
attempted
,
although
he
still
did
not
realise
this
himself
.
He
was
positively
going
now
for
a
“
rehearsal
”
of
his
project
,
and
at
every
step
his
excitement
grew
more
and
more
violent
.
With
a
sinking
heart
and
a
nervous
tremor
,
he
went
up
to
a
huge
house
which
on
one
side
looked
on
to
the
canal
,
and
on
the
other
into
the
street
.
This
house
was
let
out
in
tiny
tenements
and
was
inhabited
by
working
people
of
all
kinds
—
tailors
,
locksmiths
,
cooks
,
Germans
of
sorts
,
girls
picking
up
a
living
as
best
they
could
,
petty
clerks
,
etc
.
There
was
a
continual
coming
and
going
through
the
two
gates
and
in
the
two
courtyards
of
the
house
.
Three
or
four
door
-
keepers
were
employed
on
the
building
.
The
young
man
was
very
glad
to
meet
none
of
them
,
and
at
once
slipped
unnoticed
through
the
door
on
the
right
,
and
up
the
staircase
.
It
was
a
back
staircase
,
dark
and
narrow
,
but
he
was
familiar
with
it
already
,
and
knew
his
way
,
and
he
liked
all
these
surroundings
:
in
such
darkness
even
the
most
inquisitive
eyes
were
not
to
be
dreaded
.
“
If
I
am
so
scared
now
,
what
would
it
be
if
it
somehow
came
to
pass
that
I
were
really
going
to
do
it
?
”
he
could
not
help
asking
himself
as
he
reached
the
fourth
storey
.
There
his
progress
was
barred
by
some
porters
who
were
engaged
in
moving
furniture
out
of
a
flat
.
He
knew
that
the
flat
had
been
occupied
by
a
German
clerk
in
the
civil
service
,
and
his
family
.
This
German
was
moving
out
then
,
and
so
the
fourth
floor
on
this
staircase
would
be
untenanted
except
by
the
old
woman
.
“
That
’
s
a
good
thing
anyway
,
”
he
thought
to
himself
,
as
he
rang
the
bell
of
the
old
woman
’
s
flat
.
The
bell
gave
a
faint
tinkle
as
though
it
were
made
of
tin
and
not
of
copper
.
The
little
flats
in
such
houses
always
have
bells
that
ring
like
that
.
He
had
forgotten
the
note
of
that
bell
,
and
now
its
peculiar
tinkle
seemed
to
remind
him
of
something
and
to
bring
it
clearly
before
him
.
.
.
.
He
started
,
his
nerves
were
terribly
overstrained
by
now
.
In
a
little
while
,
the
door
was
opened
a
tiny
crack
:
the
old
woman
eyed
her
visitor
with
evident
distrust
through
the
crack
,
and
nothing
could
be
seen
but
her
little
eyes
,
glittering
in
the
darkness
.
But
,
seeing
a
number
of
people
on
the
landing
,
she
grew
bolder
,
and
opened
the
door
wide
.
The
young
man
stepped
into
the
dark
entry
,
which
was
partitioned
off
from
the
tiny
kitchen
.
The
old
woman
stood
facing
him
in
silence
and
looking
inquiringly
at
him
.
She
was
a
diminutive
,
withered
up
old
woman
of
sixty
,
with
sharp
malignant
eyes
and
a
sharp
little
nose
.
Her
colourless
,
somewhat
grizzled
hair
was
thickly
smeared
with
oil
,
and
she
wore
no
kerchief
over
it
.
Round
her
thin
long
neck
,
which
looked
like
a
hen
’
s
leg
,
was
knotted
some
sort
of
flannel
rag
,
and
,
in
spite
of
the
heat
,
there
hung
flapping
on
her
shoulders
,
a
mangy
fur
cape
,
yellow
with
age
.
The
old
woman
coughed
and
groaned
at
every
instant
.
The
young
man
must
have
looked
at
her
with
a
rather
peculiar
expression
,
for
a
gleam
of
mistrust
came
into
her
eyes
again
.
“
Raskolnikov
,
a
student
,
I
came
here
a
month
ago
,
”
the
young
man
made
haste
to
mutter
,
with
a
half
bow
,
remembering
that
he
ought
to
be
more
polite
.
“
I
remember
,
my
good
sir
,
I
remember
quite
well
your
coming
here
,
”
the
old
woman
said
distinctly
,
still
keeping
her
inquiring
eyes
on
his
face
.
“
And
here
.
.
.
I
am
again
on
the
same
errand
,
”
Raskolnikov
continued
,
a
little
disconcerted
and
surprised
at
the
old
woman
’
s
mistrust
.
“
Perhaps
she
is
always
like
that
though
,
only
I
did
not
notice
it
the
other
time
,
”
he
thought
with
an
uneasy
feeling
.
The
old
woman
paused
,
as
though
hesitating
;
then
stepped
on
one
side
,
and
pointing
to
the
door
of
the
room
,
she
said
,
letting
her
visitor
pass
in
front
of
her
:
