كتاب · Crime and Punishment
صفحة 408 من 1294
المؤلف: Fyodor Dostoevsky
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"She's drunk herself out of her senses," the same woman's voice
wailed at her side. "Out of her senses. The other day she tried
to hang herself, we cut her down. I ran out to the shop just now,
left my little girl to look after her--and here she's in trouble
again! A neighbour, gentleman, a neighbour, we live close by, the
second house from the end, see yonder...."
The crowd broke up. The police still remained round the woman,
someone mentioned the police station.... Raskolnikov looked on
with a strange sensation of indifference and apathy. He felt
disgusted. "No, that's loathsome... water... it's not good
enough," he muttered to himself. "Nothing will come of it," he
added, "no use to wait. What about the police office...? And why
isn't Zametov at the police office? The police office is open
till ten o'clock...." He turned his back to the railing and
looked about him.
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