Книга · Crime and Punishment
Страница 817 из 1294
Автор: Fyodor Dostoevsky
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"Yes, I hear and understand. You said yesterday you were not
delirious, you were particularly emphatic about it! I understand
all you can tell me! A-ach!... Listen, Rodion Romanovitch, my
dear fellow. If you were actually a criminal, or were somehow
mixed up in this damnable business, would you insist that you
were not delirious but in full possession of your faculties? And
so emphatically and persistently? Would it be possible? Quite
impossible, to my thinking. If you had anything on your
conscience, you certainly ought to insist that you were
delirious. That's so, isn't it?"
There was a note of slyness in this inquiry. Raskolnikov drew
back on the sofa as Porfiry bent over him and stared in silent
perplexity at him.
"Another thing about Razumihin--you certainly ought to have said
that he came of his own accord, to have concealed your part in
it! But you don't conceal it! You lay stress on his coming at
your instigation."
Raskolnikov had not done so. A chill went down his back.
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