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- Федор Достоевский
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- Преступление и наказание
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- Стр. 43/453
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He
was
crushed
and
even
humiliated
.
He
could
have
laughed
at
himself
in
his
anger
.
.
.
.
A
dull
animal
rage
boiled
within
him
.
He
stood
hesitating
in
the
gateway
.
To
go
into
the
street
,
to
go
a
walk
for
appearance
’
sake
was
revolting
;
to
go
back
to
his
room
,
even
more
revolting
.
“
And
what
a
chance
I
have
lost
for
ever
!
”
he
muttered
,
standing
aimlessly
in
the
gateway
,
just
opposite
the
porter
’
s
little
dark
room
,
which
was
also
open
.
Suddenly
he
started
.
From
the
porter
’
s
room
,
two
paces
away
from
him
,
something
shining
under
the
bench
to
the
right
caught
his
eye
.
.
.
.
He
looked
about
him
—
nobody
.
He
approached
the
room
on
tiptoe
,
went
down
two
steps
into
it
and
in
a
faint
voice
called
the
porter
.
“
Yes
,
not
at
home
!
Somewhere
near
though
,
in
the
yard
,
for
the
door
is
wide
open
.
”
He
dashed
to
the
axe
(
it
was
an
axe
)
and
pulled
it
out
from
under
the
bench
,
where
it
lay
between
two
chunks
of
wood
;
at
once
,
before
going
out
,
he
made
it
fast
in
the
noose
,
he
thrust
both
hands
into
his
pockets
and
went
out
of
the
room
;
no
one
had
noticed
him
!
“
When
reason
fails
,
the
devil
helps
!
”
he
thought
with
a
strange
grin
.
This
chance
raised
his
spirits
extraordinarily
.
He
walked
along
quietly
and
sedately
,
without
hurry
,
to
avoid
awakening
suspicion
.
He
scarcely
looked
at
the
passers
-
by
,
tried
to
escape
looking
at
their
faces
at
all
,
and
to
be
as
little
noticeable
as
possible
.
Suddenly
he
thought
of
his
hat
.
“
Good
heavens
!
I
had
the
money
the
day
before
yesterday
and
did
not
get
a
cap
to
wear
instead
!
”
A
curse
rose
from
the
bottom
of
his
soul
.
Glancing
out
of
the
corner
of
his
eye
into
a
shop
,
he
saw
by
a
clock
on
the
wall
that
it
was
ten
minutes
past
seven
.
He
had
to
make
haste
and
at
the
same
time
to
go
someway
round
,
so
as
to
approach
the
house
from
the
other
side
.
.
.
.
When
he
had
happened
to
imagine
all
this
beforehand
,
he
had
sometimes
thought
that
he
would
be
very
much
afraid
.
But
he
was
not
very
much
afraid
now
,
was
not
afraid
at
all
,
indeed
.
His
mind
was
even
occupied
by
irrelevant
matters
,
but
by
nothing
for
long
.
As
he
passed
the
Yusupov
garden
,
he
was
deeply
absorbed
in
considering
the
building
of
great
fountains
,
and
of
their
refreshing
effect
on
the
atmosphere
in
all
the
squares
.
By
degrees
he
passed
to
the
conviction
that
if
the
summer
garden
were
extended
to
the
field
of
Mars
,
and
perhaps
joined
to
the
garden
of
the
Mihailovsky
Palace
,
it
would
be
a
splendid
thing
and
a
great
benefit
to
the
town
.
Then
he
was
interested
by
the
question
why
in
all
great
towns
men
are
not
simply
driven
by
necessity
,
but
in
some
peculiar
way
inclined
to
live
in
those
parts
of
the
town
where
there
are
no
gardens
nor
fountains
;
where
there
is
most
dirt
and
smell
and
all
sorts
of
nastiness
.
Then
his
own
walks
through
the
Hay
Market
came
back
to
his
mind
,
and
for
a
moment
he
waked
up
to
reality
.
“
What
nonsense
!
”
he
thought
,
“
better
think
of
nothing
at
all
!
”
“
So
probably
men
led
to
execution
clutch
mentally
at
every
object
that
meets
them
on
the
way
,
”
flashed
through
his
mind
,
but
simply
flashed
,
like
lightning
;
he
made
haste
to
dismiss
this
thought
.
.
.
.
And
by
now
he
was
near
;
here
was
the
house
,
here
was
the
gate
.
Suddenly
a
clock
somewhere
struck
once
.
“
What
!
can
it
be
half
-
past
seven
?
Impossible
,
it
must
be
fast
!
”
Luckily
for
him
,
everything
went
well
again
at
the
gates
.
At
that
very
moment
,
as
though
expressly
for
his
benefit
,
a
huge
waggon
of
hay
had
just
driven
in
at
the
gate
,
completely
screening
him
as
he
passed
under
the
gateway
,
and
the
waggon
had
scarcely
had
time
to
drive
through
into
the
yard
,
before
he
had
slipped
in
a
flash
to
the
right
.
On
the
other
side
of
the
waggon
he
could
hear
shouting
and
quarrelling
;
but
no
one
noticed
him
and
no
one
met
him
.
Many
windows
looking
into
that
huge
quadrangular
yard
were
open
at
that
moment
,
but
he
did
not
raise
his
head
—
he
had
not
the
strength
to
.
The
staircase
leading
to
the
old
woman
’
s
room
was
close
by
,
just
on
the
right
of
the
gateway
.
He
was
already
on
the
stairs
.
.
.
.
Drawing
a
breath
,
pressing
his
hand
against
his
throbbing
heart
,
and
once
more
feeling
for
the
axe
and
setting
it
straight
,
he
began
softly
and
cautiously
ascending
the
stairs
,
listening
every
minute
.
But
the
stairs
,
too
,
were
quite
deserted
;
all
the
doors
were
shut
;
he
met
no
one
.
One
flat
indeed
on
the
first
floor
was
wide
open
and
painters
were
at
work
in
it
,
but
they
did
not
glance
at
him
.
He
stood
still
,
thought
a
minute
and
went
on
.
“
Of
course
it
would
be
better
if
they
had
not
been
here
,
but
.
.
.
it
’
s
two
storeys
above
them
.
”
