- cid
- bafkreiekccuadg2p34xz6paxuxerh5ixm4h66sxmwcg6owadtavhjlkhpi
- content_type
- image/jpeg
- filename
- crimepunishment00dostiala_page_0110.jpg
- key
- pdf-page-1768923078551-aazra8m9jn
- page_number
- 110
- pdf_type
- born_digital
- size
- 188618
- text
- i02 CRIME AND PUNISHMENT
Raskolnikov, white as a handkerchief, had answered sharply,
jerkily, without dropping his black feverish eyes before Ilya
Petrovitch's stare.
"He can scarcely stand upright. And you . . ." Nikodim
Fomitch was beginning.
"No matter," Ilya Petrovitch pronounced rather peculiarly.
Nikodim Fomitch would have made some further protest,
but glancing at the head clerk who was looking very hard at
him, he did not speak. There was a sudden silence. It was strange.
"Very well, then," concluded Ilya Petrovitch, "we will not
detain you."
Raskolnikov went out. He caught the sound of eager con^
versation on his departure, and above the rest rose the question-
ing voice of Nikodim Fomitch. In the street, his f aintness passed
off completely.
"A search — there will be a search at once," he repeated to
himself, hurrying home. "The brutes! they suspect."
His former terror mastered him completely again.
CHAPTER II
"And what if there has been a search already? "WTiat if I find
them in my room?"
But here was his room. Nothing and no one in it. No one
had peeped in. Even Nastasya had not touched it. But heavens!
how could he have left all those things in the hole?
He rushed to the corner, slipped his hand under the paper,
pulled the things out and filled his pockets with them. There
were eight articles in all: two little boxes with ear-rings or some-
thing ofthe sort, he hardly looked to see; then four small leather
cases. There was a chain, too, merely wrapped in newspaper
and something else in newspaper, that looked like a decoration.
. . . He put them all in the different pockets of his overcoat,
and the remaining pocket of his trousers, trying to conceal them
as much as possible. He took the purse, too. Then he went out
of his room, leaving the door open. He walked quickly and
resolutely, and though he felt shattered, he had his senses about
him. He was afraid of pursuit, he was afraid that in another
half-hour, another quarter of an hour perhaps, instructions
- text_extracted_at
- 2026-01-20T15:31:18.551Z
- text_extracted_by
- pdf-processor
- text_has_content
- true
- text_source
- born_digital
- uploaded
- true