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- Федор Достоевский
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- Преступление и наказание
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- Стр. 27/453
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The
policeman
was
bewildered
,
and
stared
at
him
open
-
eyed
.
Raskolnikov
laughed
.
“
Well
!
”
ejaculated
the
policeman
,
with
a
gesture
of
contempt
,
and
he
walked
after
the
dandy
and
the
girl
,
probably
taking
Raskolnikov
for
a
madman
or
something
even
worse
.
“
He
has
carried
off
my
twenty
copecks
,
”
Raskolnikov
murmured
angrily
when
he
was
left
alone
.
“
Well
,
let
him
take
as
much
from
the
other
fellow
to
allow
him
to
have
the
girl
and
so
let
it
end
.
And
why
did
I
want
to
interfere
?
Is
it
for
me
to
help
?
Have
I
any
right
to
help
?
Let
them
devour
each
other
alive
—
what
is
it
to
me
?
How
did
I
dare
to
give
him
twenty
copecks
?
Were
they
mine
?
”
In
spite
of
those
strange
words
he
felt
very
wretched
.
He
sat
down
on
the
deserted
seat
.
His
thoughts
strayed
aimlessly
.
.
.
.
He
found
it
hard
to
fix
his
mind
on
anything
at
that
moment
.
He
longed
to
forget
himself
altogether
,
to
forget
everything
,
and
then
to
wake
up
and
begin
life
anew
.
.
.
.
“
Poor
girl
!
”
he
said
,
looking
at
the
empty
corner
where
she
had
sat
—
“
She
will
come
to
herself
and
weep
,
and
then
her
mother
will
find
out
.
.
.
.
She
will
give
her
a
beating
,
a
horrible
,
shameful
beating
and
then
maybe
,
turn
her
out
of
doors
.
.
.
.
And
even
if
she
does
not
,
the
Darya
Frantsovnas
will
get
wind
of
it
,
and
the
girl
will
soon
be
slipping
out
on
the
sly
here
and
there
.
Then
there
will
be
the
hospital
directly
(
that
’
s
always
the
luck
of
those
girls
with
respectable
mothers
,
who
go
wrong
on
the
sly
)
and
then
.
.
.
again
the
hospital
.
.
.
drink
.
.
.
the
taverns
.
.
.
and
more
hospital
,
in
two
or
three
years
—
a
wreck
,
and
her
life
over
at
eighteen
or
nineteen
.
.
.
.
Have
not
I
seen
cases
like
that
?
And
how
have
they
been
brought
to
it
?
Why
,
they
’
ve
all
come
to
it
like
that
.
Ugh
!
But
what
does
it
matter
?
That
’
s
as
it
should
be
,
they
tell
us
.
A
certain
percentage
,
they
tell
us
,
must
every
year
go
.
.
.
that
way
.
.
.
to
the
devil
,
I
suppose
,
so
that
the
rest
may
remain
chaste
,
and
not
be
interfered
with
.
A
percentage
!
What
splendid
words
they
have
;
they
are
so
scientific
,
so
consolatory
.
.
.
.
Once
you
’
ve
said
‘
percentage
’
there
’
s
nothing
more
to
worry
about
.
If
we
had
any
other
word
.
.
.
maybe
we
might
feel
more
uneasy
.
.
.
.
But
what
if
Dounia
were
one
of
the
percentage
!
Of
another
one
if
not
that
one
?
“
But
where
am
I
going
?
”
he
thought
suddenly
.
“
Strange
,
I
came
out
for
something
.
As
soon
as
I
had
read
the
letter
I
came
out
.
.
.
.
I
was
going
to
Vassilyevsky
Ostrov
,
to
Razumihin
.
That
’
s
what
it
was
.
.
.
now
I
remember
.
What
for
,
though
?
And
what
put
the
idea
of
going
to
Razumihin
into
my
head
just
now
?
That
’
s
curious
.
”
He
wondered
at
himself
.
Razumihin
was
one
of
his
old
comrades
at
the
university
.
It
was
remarkable
that
Raskolnikov
had
hardly
any
friends
at
the
university
;
he
kept
aloof
from
everyone
,
went
to
see
no
one
,
and
did
not
welcome
anyone
who
came
to
see
him
,
and
indeed
everyone
soon
gave
him
up
.
He
took
no
part
in
the
students
’
gatherings
,
amusements
or
conversations
.
He
worked
with
great
intensity
without
sparing
himself
,
and
he
was
respected
for
this
,
but
no
one
liked
him
.
He
was
very
poor
,
and
there
was
a
sort
of
haughty
pride
and
reserve
about
him
,
as
though
he
were
keeping
something
to
himself
.
He
seemed
to
some
of
his
comrades
to
look
down
upon
them
all
as
children
,
as
though
he
were
superior
in
development
,
knowledge
and
convictions
,
as
though
their
beliefs
and
interests
were
beneath
him
.
