Kitap · Crime and Punishment
Sayfa 370 / 1294
Yazar: Fyodor Dostoevsky
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"Upon my word," Luzhin cried wrathfully and irritably, crimson
with confusion, "to distort my words in this way! Excuse me,
allow me to assure you that the report which has reached you, or
rather, let me say, has been conveyed to you, has no foundation
in truth, and I... suspect who... in a word... this arrow... in a
word, your mamma... She seemed to me in other things, with all
her excellent qualities, of a somewhat high-flown and romantic
way of thinking.... But I was a thousand miles from supposing
that she would misunderstand and misrepresent things in so
fanciful a way.... And indeed... indeed..."
"I tell you what," cried Raskolnikov, raising himself on his
pillow and fixing his piercing, glittering eyes upon him, "I tell
you what."
"What?" Luzhin stood still, waiting with a defiant and offended
face. Silence lasted for some seconds.
"Why, if ever again... you dare to mention a single word... about
my mother... I shall send you flying downstairs!"
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