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- Федор Достоевский
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- Преступление и наказание
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- Стр. 443/453
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“
Believe
me
,
you
can
speak
openly
to
me
as
you
would
to
yourself
!
Official
duty
is
one
thing
but
.
.
.
you
are
thinking
I
meant
to
say
friendship
is
quite
another
?
No
,
you
’
re
wrong
!
It
’
s
not
friendship
,
but
the
feeling
of
a
man
and
a
citizen
,
the
feeling
of
humanity
and
of
love
for
the
Almighty
.
I
may
be
an
official
,
but
I
am
always
bound
to
feel
myself
a
man
and
a
citizen
.
.
.
.
You
were
asking
about
Zametov
.
Zametov
will
make
a
scandal
in
the
French
style
in
a
house
of
bad
reputation
,
over
a
glass
of
champagne
.
.
.
that
’
s
all
your
Zametov
is
good
for
!
While
I
’
m
perhaps
,
so
to
speak
,
burning
with
devotion
and
lofty
feelings
,
and
besides
I
have
rank
,
consequence
,
a
post
!
I
am
married
and
have
children
,
I
fulfil
the
duties
of
a
man
and
a
citizen
,
but
who
is
he
,
may
I
ask
?
I
appeal
to
you
as
a
man
ennobled
by
education
.
.
.
Then
these
midwives
,
too
,
have
become
extraordinarily
numerous
.
”
Raskolnikov
raised
his
eyebrows
inquiringly
.
The
words
of
Ilya
Petrovitch
,
who
had
obviously
been
dining
,
were
for
the
most
part
a
stream
of
empty
sounds
for
him
.
But
some
of
them
he
understood
.
He
looked
at
him
inquiringly
,
not
knowing
how
it
would
end
.
“
I
mean
those
crop
-
headed
wenches
,
”
the
talkative
Ilya
Petrovitch
continued
.
“
Midwives
is
my
name
for
them
.
I
think
it
a
very
satisfactory
one
,
ha
-
ha
!
They
go
to
the
Academy
,
study
anatomy
.
If
I
fall
ill
,
am
I
to
send
for
a
young
lady
to
treat
me
?
What
do
you
say
?
Ha
-
ha
!
”
Ilya
Petrovitch
laughed
,
quite
pleased
with
his
own
wit
.
“
It
’
s
an
immoderate
zeal
for
education
,
but
once
you
’
re
educated
,
that
’
s
enough
.
Why
abuse
it
?
Why
insult
honourable
people
,
as
that
scoundrel
Zametov
does
?
Why
did
he
insult
me
,
I
ask
you
?
Look
at
these
suicides
,
too
,
how
common
they
are
,
you
can
’
t
fancy
!
People
spend
their
last
halfpenny
and
kill
themselves
,
boys
and
girls
and
old
people
.
Only
this
morning
we
heard
about
a
gentleman
who
had
just
come
to
town
.
Nil
Pavlitch
,
I
say
,
what
was
the
name
of
that
gentleman
who
shot
himself
?
”
“
Svidrigaïlov
,
”
someone
answered
from
the
other
room
with
drowsy
listlessness
.
Raskolnikov
started
.
“
Svidrigaïlov
!
Svidrigaïlov
has
shot
himself
!
”
he
cried
.
“
What
,
do
you
know
Svidrigaïlov
?
”
“
Yes
.
.
.
I
knew
him
.
.
.
.
He
hadn
’
t
been
here
long
.
”
“
Yes
,
that
’
s
so
.
He
had
lost
his
wife
,
was
a
man
of
reckless
habits
and
all
of
a
sudden
shot
himself
,
and
in
such
a
shocking
way
.
.
.
.
He
left
in
his
notebook
a
few
words
:
that
he
dies
in
full
possession
of
his
faculties
and
that
no
one
is
to
blame
for
his
death
.
He
had
money
,
they
say
.
How
did
you
come
to
know
him
?
”
