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Автор: Fyodor Dostoevsky

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Dounia looked at her brother with incredulous wonder. He held his
cap in his hand, he was preparing to leave them.
"One would think you were burying me or saying good-bye for
ever," he said somewhat oddly. He attempted to smile, but it did
not turn out a smile. "But who knows, perhaps it is the last time
we shall see each other..." he let slip accidentally. It was what
he was thinking, and it somehow was uttered aloud.
"What is the matter with you?" cried his mother.
"Where are you going, Rodya?" asked Dounia rather strangely.
"Oh, I'm quite obliged to..." he answered vaguely, as though
hesitating what he would say. But there was a look of sharp
determination in his white face.

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