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- Федор Достоевский
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- Преступление и наказание
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- Стр. 423/453
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One
of
the
walls
was
cut
short
by
the
sloping
ceiling
,
though
the
room
was
not
an
attic
but
just
under
the
stairs
.
Svidrigaïlov
set
down
the
candle
,
sat
down
on
the
bed
and
sank
into
thought
.
But
a
strange
persistent
murmur
which
sometimes
rose
to
a
shout
in
the
next
room
attracted
his
attention
.
The
murmur
had
not
ceased
from
the
moment
he
entered
the
room
.
He
listened
:
someone
was
upbraiding
and
almost
tearfully
scolding
,
but
he
heard
only
one
voice
.
Svidrigaïlov
got
up
,
shaded
the
light
with
his
hand
and
at
once
he
saw
light
through
a
crack
in
the
wall
;
he
went
up
and
peeped
through
.
The
room
,
which
was
somewhat
larger
than
his
,
had
two
occupants
.
One
of
them
,
a
very
curly
-
headed
man
with
a
red
inflamed
face
,
was
standing
in
the
pose
of
an
orator
,
without
his
coat
,
with
his
legs
wide
apart
to
preserve
his
balance
,
and
smiting
himself
on
the
breast
.
He
reproached
the
other
with
being
a
beggar
,
with
having
no
standing
whatever
.
He
declared
that
he
had
taken
the
other
out
of
the
gutter
and
he
could
turn
him
out
when
he
liked
,
and
that
only
the
finger
of
Providence
sees
it
all
.
The
object
of
his
reproaches
was
sitting
in
a
chair
,
and
had
the
air
of
a
man
who
wants
dreadfully
to
sneeze
,
but
can
’
t
.
He
sometimes
turned
sheepish
and
befogged
eyes
on
the
speaker
,
but
obviously
had
not
the
slightest
idea
what
he
was
talking
about
and
scarcely
heard
it
.
A
candle
was
burning
down
on
the
table
;
there
were
wine
-
glasses
,
a
nearly
empty
bottle
of
vodka
,
bread
and
cucumber
,
and
glasses
with
the
dregs
of
stale
tea
.
After
gazing
attentively
at
this
,
Svidrigaïlov
turned
away
indifferently
and
sat
down
on
the
bed
.
The
ragged
attendant
,
returning
with
the
tea
,
could
not
resist
asking
him
again
whether
he
didn
’
t
want
anything
more
,
and
again
receiving
a
negative
reply
,
finally
withdrew
.
Svidrigaïlov
made
haste
to
drink
a
glass
of
tea
to
warm
himself
,
but
could
not
eat
anything
.
He
began
to
feel
feverish
.
He
took
off
his
coat
and
,
wrapping
himself
in
the
blanket
,
lay
down
on
the
bed
.
He
was
annoyed
.
“
It
would
have
been
better
to
be
well
for
the
occasion
,
”
he
thought
with
a
smile
.
The
room
was
close
,
the
candle
burnt
dimly
,
the
wind
was
roaring
outside
,
he
heard
a
mouse
scratching
in
the
corner
and
the
room
smelt
of
mice
and
of
leather
.
He
lay
in
a
sort
of
reverie
:
one
thought
followed
another
.
He
felt
a
longing
to
fix
his
imagination
on
something
.
“
It
must
be
a
garden
under
the
window
,
”
he
thought
.
“
There
’
s
a
sound
of
trees
.
How
I
dislike
the
sound
of
trees
on
a
stormy
night
,
in
the
dark
!
They
give
one
a
horrid
feeling
.
”
He
remembered
how
he
had
disliked
it
when
he
passed
Petrovsky
Park
just
now
.
This
reminded
him
of
the
bridge
over
the
Little
Neva
and
he
felt
cold
again
as
he
had
when
standing
there
.
“
I
never
have
liked
water
,
”
he
thought
,
“
even
in
a
landscape
,
”
and
he
suddenly
smiled
again
at
a
strange
idea
:
“
Surely
now
all
these
questions
of
taste
and
comfort
ought
not
to
matter
,
but
I
’
ve
become
more
particular
,
like
an
animal
that
picks
out
a
special
place
.
.
.
for
such
an
occasion
.
I
ought
to
have
gone
into
the
Petrovsky
Park
!
I
suppose
it
seemed
dark
,
cold
,
ha
-
ha
!
As
though
I
were
seeking
pleasant
sensations
!
.
.
.
By
the
way
,
why
haven
’
t
I
put
out
the
candle
?
”
he
blew
it
out
.
“
They
’
ve
gone
to
bed
next
door
,
”
he
thought
,
not
seeing
the
light
at
the
crack
.
“
Well
,
now
,
Marfa
Petrovna
,
now
is
the
time
for
you
to
turn
up
;
it
’
s
dark
,
and
the
very
time
and
place
for
you
.
But
now
you
won
’
t
come
!
”
He
suddenly
recalled
how
,
an
hour
before
carrying
out
his
design
on
Dounia
,
he
had
recommended
Raskolnikov
to
trust
her
to
Razumihin
’
s
keeping
.
“
I
suppose
I
really
did
say
it
,
as
Raskolnikov
guessed
,
to
tease
myself
.
But
what
a
rogue
that
Raskolnikov
is
!
He
’
s
gone
through
a
good
deal
.
He
may
be
a
successful
rogue
in
time
when
he
’
s
got
over
his
nonsense
.
But
now
he
’
s
too
eager
for
life
.
These
young
men
are
contemptible
on
that
point
.
But
,
hang
the
fellow
!
Let
him
please
himself
,
it
’
s
nothing
to
do
with
me
.
”
He
could
not
get
to
sleep
.
By
degrees
Dounia
’
s
image
rose
before
him
,
and
a
shudder
ran
over
him
.
“
No
,
I
must
give
up
all
that
now
,
”
he
thought
,
rousing
himself
.
“
I
must
think
of
something
else
.
It
’
s
queer
and
funny
.
I
never
had
a
great
hatred
for
anyone
,
I
never
particularly
desired
to
avenge
myself
even
,
and
that
’
s
a
bad
sign
,
a
bad
sign
,
a
bad
sign
.
I
never
liked
quarrelling
either
,
and
never
lost
my
temper
—
that
’
s
a
bad
sign
too
.
And
the
promises
I
made
her
just
now
,
too
—
Damnation
!
But
—
who
knows
?
—
perhaps
she
would
have
made
a
new
man
of
me
somehow
.
.
.
.
”
He
ground
his
teeth
and
sank
into
silence
again
.
Again
Dounia
’
s
image
rose
before
him
,
just
as
she
was
when
,
after
shooting
the
first
time
,
she
had
lowered
the
revolver
in
terror
and
gazed
blankly
at
him
,
so
that
he
might
have
seized
her
twice
over
and
she
would
not
have
lifted
a
hand
to
defend
herself
if
he
had
not
reminded
her
.
He
recalled
how
at
that
instant
he
felt
almost
sorry
for
her
,
how
he
had
felt
a
pang
at
his
heart
.
.
.
