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- CRIME AND PUNISHMENT 71
to make haste and at the same time to go someway round, so as
to approach the house from the other side. . . .
When he had happened to imagine all this beforehand, he had
sometimes thought that he would be very much afraid. But he
was not very much afraid now, was not afraid at all, indeed.
His mind was even occupied by irrelevant matters, but by noth-
ing for long. As he passed the Yusupov garden, he was deeply
absorbed in considering the building of great fountains, and of
their refreshing effect on the atmosphere in all the squares. By
degrees he passed to the conviction that if the summer garden
were extended to the field of Mars, and perhaps joined to the
garden of the Mihailovsky Palace, it would be a splendid thing
and a great benefit to the town. Then he was interested by the
question why in all great towns men are not simply driven by
necessity, but in some peculiar way inclined to live in those parts
of the town where there are no gardens nor fountains; where
there is most dirt and smell and all sorts of nastiness. Then his
own walks through the Hay Market came back to his mind, and
for a moment he waked up to reality. "What nonsense!" he
thought, "better think of nothing at all!"
"So probably men led to execution clutch mentally at every
object that meets them on the way," flashed through his mind,
but simply flashed, like lightning; he made haste to dismiss this
thought. . . . And by now he was near; here was the house, here
was the gate. Suddenly a clock somewhere struck once. "What!
can it be half-past seven? Impossible, it must be fast!"
Luckily for him, everything went well again at the gates.
At that very moment, as though expressly for his benefit, a huge
waggon of hay had just driven in at the gate, completely screen-
ing him as he passed under the gateway, and the waggon had
scarcely had time to drive through into the yard, before he had
slipped in a flash to the right. On the other side of the waggon he
could hear shouting and quarrelling; but no one noticed him and
no one met him. Many windows looking into that huge quad-
rangular yard were open at that moment, but he did not raise his
head — he had not the strength to. The staircase leading to the
old woman's room was close by, just on the right of the gate-
way. He was already on die stairs. . . .
Drawing a breath, pressing his hand against his throbbing
heart, and once more feeling for the axe and setting it straight.
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