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Pagina 544 de 1294

Autor: Fyodor Dostoevsky

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As he said this, he was suddenly overwhelmed with confusion and
turned pale. Again that awful sensation he had known of late
passed with deadly chill over his soul. Again it became suddenly
plain and perceptible to him that he had just told a fearful
lie--that he would never now be able to speak freely of
everything--that he would never again be able to speak of
anything to anyone. The anguish of this thought was such that for
a moment he almost forgot himself. He got up from his seat, and
not looking at anyone walked towards the door.
"What are you about?" cried Razumihin, clutching him by the arm.
He sat down again, and began looking about him, in silence. They
were all looking at him in perplexity.
"But what are you all so dull for?" he shouted, suddenly and
quite unexpectedly. "Do say something! What's the use of sitting
like this? Come, do speak. Let us talk.... We meet together and
sit in silence.... Come, anything!"

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