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Yazar: Fyodor Dostoevsky

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"Go away, it's too soon! Wait till you are sent for!... Why have
you brought him so soon?" Porfiry Petrovitch muttered, extremely
annoyed, and as it were thrown out of his reckoning.
But Nikolay suddenly knelt down.
"What's the matter?" cried Porfiry, surprised.
"I am guilty! Mine is the sin! I am the murderer," Nikolay
articulated suddenly, rather breathless, but speaking fairly
loudly.
For ten seconds there was silence as though all had been struck
dumb; even the warder stepped back, mechanically retreated to the
door, and stood immovable.
"What is it?" cried Porfiry Petrovitch, recovering from his
momentary stupefaction.
"I... am the murderer," repeated Nikolay, after a brief pause.
"What... you... what... whom did you kill?" Porfiry Petrovitch
was obviously bewildered.
Nikolay again was silent for a moment.
"Alyona Ivanovna and her sister Lizaveta Ivanovna, I... killed...
with an axe. Darkness came over me," he added suddenly, and was
again silent.

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