Kitap · Crime and Punishment
Sayfa 787 / 1294
Yazar: Fyodor Dostoevsky
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"A capital thing, a capital thing," repeated Porfiry Petrovitch,
as though he had just thought of something quite different. "Yes,
a capital thing," he almost shouted at last, suddenly staring at
Raskolnikov and stopping short two steps from him.
This stupid repetition was too incongruous in its ineptitude with
the serious, brooding and enigmatic glance he turned upon his
visitor.
But this stirred Raskolnikov's spleen more than ever and he could
not resist an ironical and rather incautious challenge.
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