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著者: Fyodor Dostoevsky

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正確性100.0%

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"We'll talk to-morrow; go to bed at once!" Razumihin said in
conclusion, following Zossimov out. "I'll be with you to-morrow
morning as early as possible with my report."
"That's a fetching little girl, Avdotya Romanovna," remarked
Zossimov, almost licking his lips as they both came out into the
street.
"Fetching? You said fetching?" roared Razumihin and he flew at
Zossimov and seized him by the throat. "If you ever dare.... Do
you understand? Do you understand?" he shouted, shaking him by
the collar and squeezing him against the wall. "Do you hear?"
"Let me go, you drunken devil," said Zossimov, struggling and
when he had let him go, he stared at him and went off into a
sudden guffaw. Razumihin stood facing him in gloomy and earnest
reflection.
"Of course, I am an ass," he observed, sombre as a storm cloud,
"but still... you are another."
"No, brother, not at all such another. I am not dreaming of any
folly."

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