- cid
- bafkreiefndhq2uryatuduhls565acm3bz7t6yndrcok2z5xfkxhc6chx2i
- content_type
- image/jpeg
- filename
- crimepunishment00dostiala_page_0129.jpg
- key
- pdf-page-1768923078560-9wxd5c1eabp
- page_number
- 129
- pdf_type
- born_digital
- size
- 203442
- text
- CRIME AND PUNISHMENT 121
at this moment. And then you asked so piteously for fringe
for your trousers. We tried to find out what sort of fringe,
but we could not make it out. Now to business! Here are thir-
ty-five roubles; I. take ten of them, and shall give you an ac-
count of them in an hour or two. I will let Zossimov know
at the same time, though he ought to have been here long ago,
for it is nearly twelve. And you, Nastasya, look in pretty often
while I am away, to see whether he wants a drink or anything
else. And I will tell Pashenka what is wanted m/self. Good-
bye!"
"He calls her Pashenka! Ah, he's a deep one!" said Nastasya
as he went out; then she opened the door and stood listening,
but could not resist running downstairs after him. She was
very eager to hear what he would say to the landlady. She was
evidently quite fascinated by Razumihin.
No sooner had she left the room than the sick man flung off
the bedclothes and leapt out of bed like a madman. With burn-
ing, switching impatience he had waited for them to be gone
so that he might set to work. But to what work? Now, as
though to spite him, it eluded him.
"Good God, only tell me one thing: do they know of it yet
or not? What if they know it and are only pretending, mock-
ing me while I am laid up, and then they will come in and
tell me that it's been discovered long ago and that they have
only . . . What am I to do now? That's what I've forgotten,
as though on purpose; forgotten it all at once, I remembered
a minute ago."
He stood in the middle of the room and gazed in miserable
bewilderment about him; he walked to the door, opened it,
listened; but that was not what he wanted. Suddenly, as though
recalling something, he rushed to the corner where there waj^
a hole under the paper, began examining it, put his hand int«>
the hole, fumbled — but that was not it. He went to the stove,
opened it and began rummaging in the ashes; the frayed edges
of his trousers and the rags cut off his pocket were lying there
just as he had thrown them. No one had looked, then! Then
he remembered, the sock about which Razumihin had just been
telling him. Yes, there it lay on the sofa under the quilt, but it
was so covered with dust and grime that Zametov could not
have seen anything on it.
- text_extracted_at
- 2026-01-20T15:31:18.560Z
- text_extracted_by
- pdf-processor
- text_has_content
- true
- text_source
- born_digital
- uploaded
- true