Jeudi 24 février 2011

If it all has really been done deliberately and not idiotically

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Other ideas crept into his mind. He felt all at once that it would be loathsome to pass that seat on which after the girl was gone, he had sat and pondered, and that it would be hateful, too, to meet that whiskered policeman to whom he had given the twenty copecks: "Damn him!" He walked, looking about him angrily and distractedly. All his ideas now seemed to be circling round some single point, and he felt that there really was such a point, and that now, now, he was left facing that point- and for the first time, indeed, during the last two months.

"Damn it all!" he thought suddenly, in a fit of ungovernable fury. "If it has begun, then it has begun. Hang the new life! Good Lord, how stupid it is!... And what lies I told to-day! How despicably I fawned upon that wretched Ilya Petrovitch! But that is all folly! What do I care for them all, and my fawning upon them! It is not that at all! It is not that at all!" Suddenly he stopped; a new utterly unexpected and exceedingly simple question perplexed and bitterly confounded him. "If it all has really been done deliberately and not idiotically, if I really had a certain and definite object, how is it I did not even glance into the purse and don't know what I had there, for which I have undergone these agonies, and have deliberately undertaken this base, filthy degrading business? And here I wanted at once to throw into the water the purse together with all the things which I had not seen either..

"If it all has really been done deliberately and not idiotically, if I really had a certain and definite object, how is it I did not even glance into the purse and don't know what I had there, for which I have undergone these agonies, and have deliberately undertaken this base, filthy degrading business? And here I wanted at once to throw into the water the purse together with all the things which I had not seen either... how's that?" Yes, that was so, that was all so. Yet he had known it all before, and it was not a new question for him, even when it was decided in the night without hesitation and consideration, as though so it must be, as though it could not possibly be otherwise..
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Par poloallen0011 - 0 commentaire(s)le 24 février 2011

He dashed to the axe (it was an axe) and pulled it out from under the bench

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"And what a chance I have lost for ever!" he muttered, standing aimlessly in the gateway, just opposite the porter's little dark room, which was also open. Suddenly he started. From the porter's room, two paces away from him, something shining under the bench to the right caught his eye.... He looked about him- nobody. He approached the room on tiptoe, went down two steps into it and in a faint voice called the porter. "Yes, not at home! Somewhere near though, in the yard, for the door is wide open."

He dashed to the axe (it was an axe) and pulled it out from under the bench, where it lay between two chunks of wood; at once before going out, he made it fast in the noose, he thrust both hands into his pockets and went out of the room; no one had noticed him! "When reason fails, the devil helps!" he thought with a strange grin. This chance raised his spirits extraordinarily. He walked along quietly and sedately, without hurry, to avoid awakening suspicion. He scarcely looked at the passers-by, tried to escape looking at their faces at all, and to be as little noticeable as possible.

He scarcely looked at the passers-by, tried to escape looking at their faces at all, and to be as little noticeable as possible. Suddenly he thought of his hat. "Good heavens! I had the money the day before yesterday and did not get a cap to wear instead!" A curse rose from the bottom of his soul. Glancing out of the corner of his eye into a shop, he saw by a clock on the wall that it was ten minutes past seven. He had to make haste and at the same time to go someway round, so as to approach the house from the other side..
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Par poloallen0011 - 0 commentaire(s)le 24 février 2011

I have buried my tracks

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"I have buried my tracks! And who, who can think of looking under that stone? It has been lying there most likely ever since the house was built, and will lie as many years more. And if it were found, who would think of me? It is all over! No clue!" And he laughed. Yes, he remembered that he began laughing a thin, nervous noiseless laugh, and went on laughing all the time he was crossing the square. But when he reached the K___ Boulevard where two days before he had come upon that girl, his laughter suddenly ceased.

But when he reached the K___ Boulevard where two days before he had come upon that girl, his laughter suddenly ceased. Other ideas crept into his mind. He felt all at once that it would be loathsome to pass that seat on which after the girl was gone, he had sat and pondered, and that it would be hateful, too, to meet that whiskered policeman to whom he had given the twenty copecks: "Damn him!" He walked, looking about him angrily and distractedly. All his ideas now seemed to be circling round some single point, and he felt that there really was such a point, and that now, now, he was left facing that point- and for the first time, indeed, during the last two months.

"Damn it all!" he thought suddenly, in a fit of ungovernable fury. "If it has begun, then it has begun. Hang the new life! Good Lord, how stupid it is!... And what lies I told to-day! How despicably I fawned upon that wretched Ilya Petrovitch! But that is all folly! What do I care for them all, and my fawning upon them! It is not that at all! It is not that at all!" Suddenly he stopped; a new utterly unexpected and exceedingly simple question perplexed and bitterly confounded him. "If it all has really been done deliberately and not idiotically, if I really had a certain and definite object, how is it I did not even glance into the purse and don't know what I had there, for which I have undergone these agonies, and have deliberately undertaken this base, filthy degrading business? And here I wanted at once to throw into the water the purse together with all the things which I had not seen either..
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Par poloallen0011 - 0 commentaire(s)le 24 février 2011

His spleen rose within him

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Raskolnikov pulled away his hand. "Never mind," he said, "I have come for this; I have no lessons.... I wanted... but I don't want lessons...." "But I say! You are delirious, you know!" Razumihin observed, watching him carefully. "No, I am not." Raskolnikov got up from the sofa. As he had mounted the stairs to Razumihin's, he had not realised that he would be meeting his friend face to face. Now, in a flash, he knew, that what he was least of all disposed for at that moment was to be face to face with any one in the wide world.

His spleen rose within him. He almost choked with rage at himself as soon as he crossed Razumihin's threshold. "Good-bye," he said abruptly, and walked to the door. "Stop, stop! You queer fish." "I don't want to," said the other, again pulling away his hand. "Then why the devil have you come? Are you mad, or what? Why, this is... almost insulting! I won't let you go like that." "Well, then, I came to you because I know no one but you who could help... to begin... because you are kinder than any one- clever, I mean, and can judge..

. to begin... because you are kinder than any one- clever, I mean, and can judge... and now I see that I want nothing. Do you hear? Nothing at all... no one's services... no one's sympathy. I am by myself... alone. Come, that's enough. Leave me alone." "Stay a minute, you sweep! You are a perfect madman. As you like for all I care. I have no lessons, do you see, and I don't care about that, but there's a bookseller, Heruvimov- and he takes the place of a lesson. I would not exchange him for five lessons.
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Par poloallen0011 - 0 commentaire(s)le 24 février 2011

It was his first crime, I assure you

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"That's what throws you all off the scent. But I maintain that he is not cunning, nor practised, and probably this was his first crime! The supposition that it was a calculated crime and a cunning criminal doesn't work. Suppose him to have been inexperienced, and it's clear that it was only a chance that saved him- and chance may do anything. Why, he did not foresee obstacles, perhaps! And how did he set to work? He took jewels worth ten or twenty roubles, stuffing his pockets with them, ransacked the old woman's trunk, her rags- and they found fifteen hundred roubles, besides notes, in a box in the top drawer of the chest! He did not know how to rob; he could only murder.

It was his first crime, I assure you, his first crime; he lost his head. And he got off more by luck than good counsel!" "You are talking of the murder of the old pawnbroker, I believe?" Pyotr Petrovitch put in, addressing Zossimov. He was standing, hat and gloves in hand, but before departing he felt disposed to throw off a few more intellectual phrases. He was evidently anxious to make a favourable impression and his vanity overcame his prudence. "Yes. You've heard of it?" "Oh, yes, being in the neighbourhood."

He was standing, hat and gloves in hand, but before departing he felt disposed to throw off a few more intellectual phrases. He was evidently anxious to make a favourable impression and his vanity overcame his prudence. "Yes. You've heard of it?" "Oh, yes, being in the neighbourhood." "Do you know the details?" "I can't say that; but another circumstance interests me in the case- the whole question, so to say. Not to speak of the fact that crime has been greatly on the increase among the lower classes during the last five years, not to speak of the cases of robbery and arson everywhere, what strikes me as the strangest thing is that in the higher classes, too, crime is increasing proportionately.
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Par poloallen0011 - 0 commentaire(s)le 24 février 2011

Where are you living?

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"Are you raving, or what?" Razumihin shouted, roused to fury at last. "What farce is this? You'll drive me crazy too... what did you come to see me for, damn you?" "I don't want... translation," muttered Raskolnikov from the stairs. "Then what the devil do you want?" shouted Razumihin from above. Raskolnikov continued descending the staircase in silence. "Hey, there! Where are you living?" No answer. "Well, confound you then!" But Raskolnikov was already stepping into the street. On the Nikolaevsky Bridge he was roused to full consciousness again by an unpleasant incident.

"Hey, there! Where are you living?" No answer. "Well, confound you then!" But Raskolnikov was already stepping into the street. On the Nikolaevsky Bridge he was roused to full consciousness again by an unpleasant incident. A coachman, after shouting at him two or three times, gave him a violent lash on the back with his whip, for having almost fallen under his horses' hoofs. The lash so infuriated him that he dashed away to the railing (for some unknown reason he had been walking in the very middle of the bridge in the traffic).

He angrily clenched and ground his teeth. He heard laughter, of course. "Serves him right!" "A pickpocket I dare say." "Pretending to be drunk, for sure, and getting under the wheels on purpose; and you have to answer for him." "It's a regular profession, that's what it is." But while he stood at the railing, still looking angry and bewildered after the retreating carriage, and rubbing his back, he suddenly felt some one thrust money into his hand. He looked. It was an elderly woman in a kerchief and goatskin shoes, with a girl, probably her daughter, wearing a hat, and carrying a green parasol.
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Par poloallen0011 - 0 commentaire(s)le 24 février 2011
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