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Yazar: Fyodor Dostoevsky

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"Marfa Petrovna is pleased to visit me," he said, twisting his
mouth into a strange smile.
"How do you mean 'she is pleased to visit you'?"
"She has been three times. I saw her first on the very day of the
funeral, an hour after she was buried. It was the day before I
left to come here. The second time was the day before yesterday,
at daybreak, on the journey at the station of Malaya Vishera, and
the third time was two hours ago in the room where I am staying.
I was alone."
"Were you awake?"
"Quite awake. I was wide awake every time. She comes, speaks to
me for a minute and goes out at the door--always at the door. I
can almost hear her."
"What made me think that something of the sort must be happening
to you?" Raskolnikov said suddenly.
At the same moment he was surprised at having said it. He was
much excited.
"What! Did you think so?" Svidrigailov asked in astonishment.
"Did you really? Didn't I say that there was something in common
between us, eh?"

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