- cid
- bafkreiazwyk475yycloizhe3b2svcqs7qvc45sou6g5y2dtfsm5akck2c4
- content_type
- image/jpeg
- filename
- crimepunishment00dostiala_page_0508.jpg
- key
- pdf-page-1768923089177-26r34414sdj
- page_number
- 508
- pdf_type
- born_digital
- size
- 187944
- text
- 500 CRIME AND PUNISHMENT
"Oh, not at all, as often as you like. It's a pleasure to see
you and I am glad to say so."
Ilya Petrovitch held out his hand.
"I only wanted ... I came to see Zametov."
"I understand, I understand, and it's a pleasure to see you."
"L. . . am very glad . . . good-bye," Raskolnikov smiled.
He went out; he reeled, he was overtaken with giddiness and
did not know what he was doing. He began going down the
stairs, supp>orting himself with his right hand against the wall.
He fancied that a porter pushed past him on his way upstairs
to the police office, that a dog in the lower storey kept up a shrill
barking and that a woman flimg a rolling-pin at it and shouted.
He went down and out into the yard. There, not far from the
entrance, stood Sonia, pale and horror-stricken. She looked
wildly at him. He stood still before her. There was a look of
poignant agony, of despair, in her face. She clasped her hands.
His lips worked in an ugly, meaningless smile. He stood still
a minute, grinned and went back to the police office.
Ilya Petrovitch had sat down and was rummaging among
some papers. Before him stood the same peasant who had pushed
by on the stairs.
"Hulloa! Back again! have you left something behind?
"What's the matter?"
Raskolnikov, with white lips and staring eyes, came slowly
nearer. He walked right to the table, leaned his hand on it,
tried to say something, but could not; only incoherent sounds
were audible.
"You are feeling ill, a chair! Here, sit down! Some water!"
Raskolnikov dropped on to a chair, but he kept his eyes fixed
on the face of Ilya Petrovitch which expressed unpleasant sur-
prise. Both looked at one another for a minute and waited.
Water was brought.
"It was I . . ." began Raskolnikov.
"Drink some water."
Raskolnikov refused the water with his hand, and softly and
brokenly, but distinctly said:
"It was I killed the old pawnbroker woman and her sister
Uzaveta with an axe and robbed them."
Ilya Petrovitch opened his mouth. People ran up on all sides.
Raskolnikov repeated his statement.
- text_extracted_at
- 2026-01-20T15:31:29.177Z
- text_extracted_by
- pdf-processor
- text_has_content
- true
- text_source
- born_digital
- uploaded
- true