- cid
- bafkreiguol3ake4gyimexszh2lmguautyvldnzutnshkkp5wkefeq67bwu
- content_type
- image/jpeg
- filename
- crimepunishment00dostiala_page_0159.jpg
- key
- pdf-page-1768922966663-cydg7ydvtmc
- page_number
- 159
- pdf_type
- born_digital
- size
- 191087
- text
- CRIME AND PUNISHMENT 151
"I say, sir," the girl shouted after him.
"What is it?"
She hesitated.
"I'll always be pleased to spend an hour wkh you, kind
gentleman, but now I feel shy. Give me six copecks for a drink,
there's a nice young man!"
Raskolnikov gave her what came first — fifteen copecks.
"Ah, what a good-natured gentleman!"
"What's your name?"
"Ask for DucHda."
"Well, that's too much," one of the women observed, shak-
ing her head at Duclida. "I don't know how you can ask like
that. I believe I should drop with shame. ..."
Raskolnikov looked curiously at the speaker. She was a pock-
marked wench of thirty, covered with bruises, with her upper
lip swollen. She made her criticism quietly and earnestly.
"Where is it," thought Raskolnikov. "Where is it I've read that
some one condemned to death says or thinks, an hour before his
death, that if he had to live on some high rock, on such a narrow
ledge that he'd only room to stand, and the ocean, everlasting
darkness, everlasting solitude, everlasting tempest around him,
if he had to remain standing on a square yard of space all his life,
a thousand years, eternity, it were better to live so than to die
at once! Only to live, to live and live! Life, whatever it may be!
. . . How true it is! Good God, how true! Man is a vile creature!
. . . And vile is he who calls him vile for that," he added a mo-
ment later.
He went into another street. "Bah, the Palais de Crystal!
Razumihin was just talking of the Palais de Crystal. But what
on earth was it I wanted? Yes, the newspapers. . . . Zossimov
said he'd read it in the papers. Have you the papers?" he asked,
going into a very spacious and positively clean restaurant, con-
sisting ofseveral rooms, which were however rather empty. Two
or three people were drinking tea, and in a room further away
were sitting four men drinking champagne. Raskolnikov fan-
cied that Zametov was one of them, but he could not be sure at
that distance. "What if it is!" he thought.
"Will you have vodka?" asked the waiter.
"Give me some tea and bring me the papers, the old ones
for the last five days and I'll give you something."
- text_extracted_at
- 2026-01-20T15:29:26.663Z
- text_extracted_by
- pdf-processor
- text_has_content
- true
- text_source
- born_digital
- uploaded
- true