Kitap · Crime and Punishment
Sayfa 494 / 1294
Yazar: Fyodor Dostoevsky
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"But I don't think!"
"Here you have modesty, brother, silence, bashfulness, a savage
virtue... and yet she's sighing and melting like wax, simply
melting! Save me from her, by all that's unholy! She's most
prepossessing... I'll repay you, I'll do anything...."
Zossimov laughed more violently than ever.
"Well, you are smitten! But what am I to do with her?"
"It won't be much trouble, I assure you. Talk any rot you like to
her, as long as you sit by her and talk. You're a doctor, too;
try curing her of something. I swear you won't regret it. She has
a piano, and you know, I strum a little. I have a song there, a
genuine Russian one: 'I shed hot tears.' She likes the genuine
article--and well, it all began with that song; Now you're a
regular performer, a maitre, a Rubinstein.... I assure you, you
won't regret it!"
"But have you made her some promise? Something signed? A promise
of marriage, perhaps?"
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