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- Федор Достоевский
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- Преступление и наказание
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- Стр. 59/453
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“
To
the
police
?
.
.
.
What
for
?
.
.
.
”
“
How
can
I
tell
?
You
’
re
sent
for
,
so
you
go
.
”
The
man
looked
at
him
attentively
,
looked
round
the
room
and
turned
to
go
away
.
“
He
’
s
downright
ill
!
”
observed
Nastasya
,
not
taking
her
eyes
off
him
.
The
porter
turned
his
head
for
a
moment
.
“
He
’
s
been
in
a
fever
since
yesterday
,
”
she
added
.
Raskolnikov
made
no
response
and
held
the
paper
in
his
hands
,
without
opening
it
.
“
Don
’
t
you
get
up
then
,
”
Nastasya
went
on
compassionately
,
seeing
that
he
was
letting
his
feet
down
from
the
sofa
.
“
You
’
re
ill
,
and
so
don
’
t
go
;
there
’
s
no
such
hurry
.
What
have
you
got
there
?
”
He
looked
;
in
his
right
hand
he
held
the
shreds
he
had
cut
from
his
trousers
,
the
sock
,
and
the
rags
of
the
pocket
.
So
he
had
been
asleep
with
them
in
his
hand
.
Afterwards
reflecting
upon
it
,
he
remembered
that
half
waking
up
in
his
fever
,
he
had
grasped
all
this
tightly
in
his
hand
and
so
fallen
asleep
again
.
“
Look
at
the
rags
he
’
s
collected
and
sleeps
with
them
,
as
though
he
has
got
hold
of
a
treasure
.
.
.
”
And
Nastasya
went
off
into
her
hysterical
giggle
.
Instantly
he
thrust
them
all
under
his
great
coat
and
fixed
his
eyes
intently
upon
her
.
Far
as
he
was
from
being
capable
of
rational
reflection
at
that
moment
,
he
felt
that
no
one
would
behave
like
that
with
a
person
who
was
going
to
be
arrested
.
“
But
.
.
.
the
police
?
”
