Kitap · Crime and Punishment
Sayfa 197 / 1294
Yazar: Fyodor Dostoevsky
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At the top, under a white sheet, was a coat of red brocade lined
with hareskin; under it was a silk dress, then a shawl and it
seemed as though there was nothing below but clothes. The first
thing he did was to wipe his blood-stained hands on the red
brocade. "It's red, and on red blood will be less noticeable,"
the thought passed through his mind; then he suddenly came to
himself. "Good God, am I going out of my senses?" he thought with
terror.
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