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- Федор Достоевский
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- Преступление и наказание
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- Стр. 268/453
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“
But
where
are
you
going
?
What
are
you
doing
?
What
’
s
the
matter
with
you
?
How
can
you
go
on
like
this
?
”
Razumihin
muttered
,
at
his
wits
’
end
.
Raskolnikov
stopped
once
more
.
“
Once
for
all
,
never
ask
me
about
anything
.
I
have
nothing
to
tell
you
.
Don
’
t
come
to
see
me
.
Maybe
I
’
ll
come
here
.
.
.
.
Leave
me
,
but
don
’
t
leave
them
.
Do
you
understand
me
?
”
It
was
dark
in
the
corridor
,
they
were
standing
near
the
lamp
.
For
a
minute
they
were
looking
at
one
another
in
silence
.
Razumihin
remembered
that
minute
all
his
life
.
Raskolnikov
’
s
burning
and
intent
eyes
grew
more
penetrating
every
moment
,
piercing
into
his
soul
,
into
his
consciousness
.
Suddenly
Razumihin
started
.
Something
strange
,
as
it
were
,
passed
between
them
.
.
.
.
Some
idea
,
some
hint
,
as
it
were
,
slipped
,
something
awful
,
hideous
,
and
suddenly
understood
on
both
sides
.
.
.
.
Razumihin
turned
pale
.
“
Do
you
understand
now
?
”
said
Raskolnikov
,
his
face
twitching
nervously
.
“
Go
back
,
go
to
them
,
”
he
said
suddenly
,
and
turning
quickly
,
he
went
out
of
the
house
I
will
not
attempt
to
describe
how
Razumihin
went
back
to
the
ladies
,
how
he
soothed
them
,
how
he
protested
that
Rodya
needed
rest
in
his
illness
,
protested
that
Rodya
was
sure
to
come
,
that
he
would
come
every
day
,
that
he
was
very
,
very
much
upset
,
that
he
must
not
be
irritated
,
that
he
,
Razumihin
,
would
watch
over
him
,
would
get
him
a
doctor
,
the
best
doctor
,
a
consultation
.
.
.
.
In
fact
from
that
evening
Razumihin
took
his
place
with
them
as
a
son
and
a
brother
.
Raskolnikov
went
straight
to
the
house
on
the
canal
bank
where
Sonia
lived
.
It
was
an
old
green
house
of
three
storeys
.
He
found
the
porter
and
obtained
from
him
vague
directions
as
to
the
whereabouts
of
Kapernaumov
,
the
tailor
.
Having
found
in
the
corner
of
the
courtyard
the
entrance
to
the
dark
and
narrow
staircase
,
he
mounted
to
the
second
floor
and
came
out
into
a
gallery
that
ran
round
the
whole
second
storey
over
the
yard
.
While
he
was
wandering
in
the
darkness
,
uncertain
where
to
turn
for
Kapernaumov
’
s
door
,
a
door
opened
three
paces
from
him
;
he
mechanically
took
hold
of
it
.
“
Who
is
there
?
”
a
woman
’
s
voice
asked
uneasily
.
“
It
’
s
I
.
.
.
come
to
see
you
,
”
answered
Raskolnikov
and
he
walked
into
the
tiny
entry
.
On
a
broken
chair
stood
a
candle
in
a
battered
copper
candlestick
.
