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150 CRIME AND PUNISHMENT sitting on the steps, others on the pavement, others were stand- ing talking. A drunken soldier, smoking a cigarette, was walk- ing near them in the road, swearing; he seemed to be trying to find his way somewhere, but had forgotten where. One beggar was quarrelling with another, and a man dead drunk was lying right across the road. Raskolnikov joined the throng of women, who were talking in husky voices. They were bare-headed and wore CQtton dresses and goatskin shoes. There were women of forty and some not more than seventeen; almost all had black- ened eyes. He felt strangely attracted by the singing and all the noise and uproar in the saloon below. . . . Some one could be heard within dancing frantically, marking time with his heels to the sounds of the guitar and of a thin falsetto voice singing a jaunty air. He listened intently, gloomily and dreamily, bending down at the entrance and peeping inquisitively in from the pavement. "Oh, my handsome soldier Don't beat me for nothing" trilled the thin voice of the singer. Raskolnikov felt a great desire to make out what he was singing, as though everything depended on that. "Shall I go in?" he thought. "They are laughing. From drink. Shall I get drunk?" "Won't you come in?" one of the women asked him. Her voice was still musical and less thick than the others, she was young and not repulsive — the only one of the group. "Why, she's pretty," he said, drawing himself up and lookingat her. She smiled, much pleased at the compliment. "You're very nice looking yourself," she said. "Isn't he thin though!" observed another woman in a deep bass. "Have you just come out of a hospital?" "They're all generals' daughters it seems, but they have all snub noses," interposed a tipsy peasant with a sly smile on his face, wearing a loose coat. "See how jolly they are." "Go along with you!" "I'll go, sweetie!" And he darted down into the saloon below. Raskolnikov moved on.
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