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- CRIME AND PUNISHMENT 263
take him. When he was within ten paces he recognised him and
was frightened; it was the same man with stooping shoulders
in the long coat. Raskolnikov followed him at a distance; his
heart was beating; they went down a turning; the man still did
not look round. "Does he know I am following him?" thought
Raskolnikov. The man went into the gateway of a big house.
Raskolnikov hastened to the gate and looked in to see whether
he would look round and sign to him. In the courtyard the man
did turn round and again seemed to beckon him. Raskolnikov
at once followed him into the yard, but the man was gone. He
must have gone up the first staircase. Raskolnikov rushed after
him. He heard slow measured steps two flights above. The stair-
case seemed strangely familiar. He reached the window on the
first floor; the moon shone through the panes with a melancholy
and mysterious light; then he reached the second floor. Bah!
this is the flat where the painters were at work . . . but how was
it he did not recognise it at once? The steps of the man above
had died away. "So he must have stopped or hidden somewhere."
He reached the third storey, should he go on? There was a still-
ness that was dreadful. . . . But he went on. The sound of his
own footsteps scared and frightened him. How dark it was!
The man must be hiding in some corner here. Ah! the flat was
standing wide open, he hesitated and went in. It was very dark
and empty in the passage, as though everything had been re-
moved; hecrept on tiptoe into the parlour which was flooded
with moonlight. Everything there was as before, the chairs, the
looking-glass, the yellow sofa and the pictures in the frames. A
huge, round, copper-red moon looked in at the windows. "It's
the moon that makes it so still, weaving some mystery,"
thought Raskolnikov. He stood and waited, waited a long while,
and the more silent the moonlight, the more violently his heart
beat, till it was painful. And still the same hush. Suddenly he
heard a momentary sharp crack like the snapping of a splinter
and all was still again. A fly flew up suddenly and struck the
window pane with a plaintive buzz. At that moment he noticed
in the corner between the window and the little cupboard some-
thing like a cloak hanging on the wall. "Why is that cloak
here?" he thought, "it wasn't there before. . . ." He went up to
it quietly and felt that there was some one hiding behind it.
He cautiously moved the cloak and saw, sitting on a chair in
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