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- Федор Достоевский
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- Преступление и наказание
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- Стр. 452/453
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Hearing
that
he
was
anxious
about
her
,
Sonia
sent
him
a
pencilled
note
,
telling
him
that
she
was
much
better
,
that
she
had
a
slight
cold
and
that
she
would
soon
,
very
soon
come
and
see
him
at
his
work
.
His
heart
throbbed
painfully
as
he
read
it
.
Again
it
was
a
warm
bright
day
.
Early
in
the
morning
,
at
six
o
’
clock
,
he
went
off
to
work
on
the
river
bank
,
where
they
used
to
pound
alabaster
and
where
there
was
a
kiln
for
baking
it
in
a
shed
.
There
were
only
three
of
them
sent
.
One
of
the
convicts
went
with
the
guard
to
the
fortress
to
fetch
a
tool
;
the
other
began
getting
the
wood
ready
and
laying
it
in
the
kiln
.
Raskolnikov
came
out
of
the
shed
on
to
the
river
bank
,
sat
down
on
a
heap
of
logs
by
the
shed
and
began
gazing
at
the
wide
deserted
river
.
From
the
high
bank
a
broad
landscape
opened
before
him
,
the
sound
of
singing
floated
faintly
audible
from
the
other
bank
.
In
the
vast
steppe
,
bathed
in
sunshine
,
he
could
just
see
,
like
black
specks
,
the
nomads
’
tents
.
There
there
was
freedom
,
there
other
men
were
living
,
utterly
unlike
those
here
;
there
time
itself
seemed
to
stand
still
,
as
though
the
age
of
Abraham
and
his
flocks
had
not
passed
.
Raskolnikov
sat
gazing
,
his
thoughts
passed
into
day
-
dreams
,
into
contemplation
;
he
thought
of
nothing
,
but
a
vague
restlessness
excited
and
troubled
him
.
Suddenly
he
found
Sonia
beside
him
;
she
had
come
up
noiselessly
and
sat
down
at
his
side
.
It
was
still
quite
early
;
the
morning
chill
was
still
keen
.
She
wore
her
poor
old
burnous
and
the
green
shawl
;
her
face
still
showed
signs
of
illness
,
it
was
thinner
and
paler
.
She
gave
him
a
joyful
smile
of
welcome
,
but
held
out
her
hand
with
her
usual
timidity
.
She
was
always
timid
of
holding
out
her
hand
to
him
and
sometimes
did
not
offer
it
at
all
,
as
though
afraid
he
would
repel
it
.
He
always
took
her
hand
as
though
with
repugnance
,
always
seemed
vexed
to
meet
her
and
was
sometimes
obstinately
silent
throughout
her
visit
.
Sometimes
she
trembled
before
him
and
went
away
deeply
grieved
.
But
now
their
hands
did
not
part
.
He
stole
a
rapid
glance
at
her
and
dropped
his
eyes
on
the
ground
without
speaking
.
They
were
alone
,
no
one
had
seen
them
.
The
guard
had
turned
away
for
the
time
.
How
it
happened
he
did
not
know
.
But
all
at
once
something
seemed
to
seize
him
and
fling
him
at
her
feet
.
He
wept
and
threw
his
arms
round
her
knees
.
For
the
first
instant
she
was
terribly
frightened
and
she
turned
pale
.
She
jumped
up
and
looked
at
him
trembling
.
But
at
the
same
moment
she
understood
,
and
a
light
of
infinite
happiness
came
into
her
eyes
.
She
knew
and
had
no
doubt
that
he
loved
her
beyond
everything
and
that
at
last
the
moment
had
come
.
.
.
.
They
wanted
to
speak
,
but
could
not
;
tears
stood
in
their
eyes
.
They
were
both
pale
and
thin
;
but
those
sick
pale
faces
were
bright
with
the
dawn
of
a
new
future
,
of
a
full
resurrection
into
a
new
life
.
They
were
renewed
by
love
;
the
heart
of
each
held
infinite
sources
of
life
for
the
heart
of
the
other
.
They
resolved
to
wait
and
be
patient
.
They
had
another
seven
years
to
wait
,
and
what
terrible
suffering
and
what
infinite
happiness
before
them
!
But
he
had
risen
again
and
he
knew
it
and
felt
it
in
all
his
being
,
while
she
—
she
only
lived
in
his
life
.
On
the
evening
of
the
same
day
,
when
the
barracks
were
locked
,
Raskolnikov
lay
on
his
plank
bed
and
thought
of
her
.
He
had
even
fancied
that
day
that
all
the
convicts
who
had
been
his
enemies
looked
at
him
differently
;
he
had
even
entered
into
talk
with
them
and
they
answered
him
in
a
friendly
way
.
He
remembered
that
now
,
and
thought
it
was
bound
to
be
so
.
Wasn
’
t
everything
now
bound
to
be
changed
?
He
thought
of
her
.
He
remembered
how
continually
he
had
tormented
her
and
wounded
her
heart
.
He
remembered
her
pale
and
thin
little
face
.
But
these
recollections
scarcely
troubled
him
now
;
he
knew
with
what
infinite
love
he
would
now
repay
all
her
sufferings
.
And
what
were
all
,
all
the
agonies
of
the
past
!
Everything
,
even
his
crime
,
his
sentence
and
imprisonment
,
seemed
to
him
now
in
the
first
rush
of
feeling
an
external
,
strange
fact
with
which
he
had
no
concern
.
But
he
could
not
think
for
long
together
of
anything
that
evening
,
and
he
could
not
have
analysed
anything
consciously
;
he
was
simply
feeling
.
Life
had
stepped
into
the
place
of
theory
and
something
quite
different
would
work
itself
out
in
his
mind
.
Under
his
pillow
lay
the
New
Testament
.
He
took
it
up
mechanically
.
The
book
belonged
to
Sonia
;
it
was
the
one
from
which
she
had
read
the
raising
of
Lazarus
to
him
