Seite 379 von 1294

He had often crossed that little street which turns at an angle,

leading from the market-place to Sadovy Street. Of late he had

often felt drawn to wander about this district, when he felt

depressed, that he might feel more so.

Now he walked along, thinking of nothing. At that point there is

a great block of buildings, entirely let out in dram shops and

eating-houses; women were continually running in and out,

bare-headed and in their indoor clothes. Here and there they

gathered in groups, on the pavement, especially about the

entrances to various festive establishments in the lower storeys.

From one of these a loud din, sounds of singing, the tinkling of

a guitar and shouts of merriment, floated into the street. A

crowd of women were thronging round the door; some were sitting

on the steps, others on the pavement, others were standing

talking. A drunken soldier, smoking a cigarette, was walking near

them in the road, swearing; he seemed to be trying to find his

way somewhere, but had forgotten where. One beggar was

quarrelling with another, and a man dead drunk was lying right

across the road. Raskolnikov joined the throng of women, who were

talking in husky voices.