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Raskolnikov had just passed and heard no more. He passed softly,

unnoticed, trying not to miss a word. His first amazement was

followed by a thrill of horror, like a shiver running down his

spine. He had learnt, he had suddenly quite unexpectedly learnt,

that the next day at seven o'clock Lizaveta, the old woman's

sister and only companion, would be away from home and that

therefore at seven o'clock precisely the old woman would be left

alone.

He was only a few steps from his lodging. He went in like a man

condemned to death. He thought of nothing and was incapable of

thinking; but he felt suddenly in his whole being that he had no

more freedom of thought, no will, and that everything was

suddenly and irrevocably decided.