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- Федор Достоевский
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- Преступление и наказание
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- Стр. 79/453
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“
A
pickpocket
I
dare
say
.
”
“
Pretending
to
be
drunk
,
for
sure
,
and
getting
under
the
wheels
on
purpose
;
and
you
have
to
answer
for
him
.
”
“
It
’
s
a
regular
profession
,
that
’
s
what
it
is
.
”
But
while
he
stood
at
the
railing
,
still
looking
angry
and
bewildered
after
the
retreating
carriage
,
and
rubbing
his
back
,
he
suddenly
felt
someone
thrust
money
into
his
hand
.
He
looked
.
It
was
an
elderly
woman
in
a
kerchief
and
goatskin
shoes
,
with
a
girl
,
probably
her
daughter
,
wearing
a
hat
,
and
carrying
a
green
parasol
.
“
Take
it
,
my
good
man
,
in
Christ
’
s
name
.
”
He
took
it
and
they
passed
on
.
It
was
a
piece
of
twenty
copecks
.
From
his
dress
and
appearance
they
might
well
have
taken
him
for
a
beggar
asking
alms
in
the
streets
,
and
the
gift
of
the
twenty
copecks
he
doubtless
owed
to
the
blow
,
which
made
them
feel
sorry
for
him
.
He
closed
his
hand
on
the
twenty
copecks
,
walked
on
for
ten
paces
,
and
turned
facing
the
Neva
,
looking
towards
the
palace
.
The
sky
was
without
a
cloud
and
the
water
was
almost
bright
blue
,
which
is
so
rare
in
the
Neva
.
The
cupola
of
the
cathedral
,
which
is
seen
at
its
best
from
the
bridge
about
twenty
paces
from
the
chapel
,
glittered
in
the
sunlight
,
and
in
the
pure
air
every
ornament
on
it
could
be
clearly
distinguished
.
The
pain
from
the
lash
went
off
,
and
Raskolnikov
forgot
about
it
;
one
uneasy
and
not
quite
definite
idea
occupied
him
now
completely
.
He
stood
still
,
and
gazed
long
and
intently
into
the
distance
;
this
spot
was
especially
familiar
to
him
.
When
he
was
attending
the
university
,
he
had
hundreds
of
times
—
generally
on
his
way
home
—
stood
still
on
this
spot
,
gazed
at
this
truly
magnificent
spectacle
and
almost
always
marvelled
at
a
vague
and
mysterious
emotion
it
roused
in
him
.
It
left
him
strangely
cold
;
this
gorgeous
picture
was
for
him
blank
and
lifeless
.
He
wondered
every
time
at
his
sombre
and
enigmatic
impression
and
,
mistrusting
himself
,
put
off
finding
the
explanation
of
it
.
He
vividly
recalled
those
old
doubts
and
perplexities
,
and
it
seemed
to
him
that
it
was
no
mere
chance
that
he
recalled
them
now
.
It
struck
him
as
strange
and
grotesque
,
that
he
should
have
stopped
at
the
same
spot
as
before
,
as
though
he
actually
imagined
he
could
think
the
same
thoughts
,
be
interested
in
the
same
theories
and
pictures
that
had
interested
him
.
.
.
so
short
a
time
ago
.
He
felt
it
almost
amusing
,
and
yet
it
wrung
his
heart
.
Deep
down
,
hidden
far
away
out
of
sight
all
that
seemed
to
him
now
—
all
his
old
past
,
his
old
thoughts
,
his
old
problems
and
theories
,
his
old
impressions
and
that
picture
and
himself
and
all
,
all
.
.
.
.
He
felt
as
though
he
were
flying
upwards
,
and
everything
were
vanishing
from
his
sight
.
Making
an
unconscious
movement
with
his
hand
,
he
suddenly
became
aware
of
the
piece
of
money
in
his
fist
.
He
opened
his
hand
,
stared
at
the
coin
,
and
with
a
sweep
of
his
arm
flung
it
into
the
water
;
then
he
turned
and
went
home
.
It
seemed
to
him
,
he
had
cut
himself
off
from
everyone
and
from
everything
at
that
moment
.
Evening
was
coming
on
when
he
reached
home
,
so
that
he
must
have
been
walking
about
six
hours
.
How
and
where
he
came
back
he
did
not
remember
.
Undressing
,
and
quivering
like
an
overdriven
horse
,
he
lay
down
on
the
sofa
,
drew
his
greatcoat
over
him
,
and
at
once
sank
into
oblivion
.
.
.
.
