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- CRIME AND PUNISHMENT 53
on the very edge of the horizon. A few paces beyond the last
market garden stood a tavern, a big tavern, which had always
aroused in him a feeling of aversion, even of fear, when he
walked by it with his father. There was always a crowd there,
always shouting, laughter and abuse, hideous hoarse singing and
often fighting. Drunken and horrible-looking figures were
hanging about the tavern. He used to cling close to his father,
trembling all over when he met them. Near the tavern the road
became a dusty track, the dust of which was always black. It
was a winding road, and about a hundred paces further on, it
turned to the right to the graveyard. In the middle of the grave-
yard stood a stone church with a green cupola where he used to
go to mass two or three times a year with his father and mother,
when a service was held in memory of his grandmother, who had
long been dead, and whom he had never seen. On these occasions
they used to take on a white dish tied up in a table napkin a
special sort of rice pudding with raisins stuck in it in the shape
of a cross. He loved that church, the old-fashioned, unadorned
ikons and the old priest with the shaking head. Near his grand-
mother's grave, which was marked by a stone, was the little
grave of his younger brother who had died at six months old. He
did not remember him at all, but he had been told about his
little brother, and whenever he visited the graveyard he used
religiously and reverently to cross himself and to bow down and
kiss the little grave. And now he dreamt that he was walking
with his father past the tavern on the way to the graveyard; he
was holding his father's hand and looking with dread at the
tavern. A peculiar circumstance attracted his attention: there
seemed to be some kind of festivity going on, there were crowds
of gaily dressed townspeople, peasant women, their husbands,
and riff-raff of all sorts, all singing and all more or less drunk.
Near the entrance of the tavern stood a cart, but a strange cart.
It was one of those big carts usually drawn by heavy cart-horses
and laden with casks of wine or other heavy goods. He always
liked looking at those great cart-horses, with their long manes,
thick legs, and slow even pace, drawing along a perfect moun-
tain with no ap[>earance of effort, as though it were easier going
with a load than without it. But now, strange to say, in the
shafts of such a cart he saw a thin little sorrel beast, one of those
peasants' nags which he had often seen straining their utmost
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