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Yazar: Fyodor Dostoevsky

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"And aren't you sorry for them? Aren't you sorry?" Sonia flew at
him again. "Why, I know, you gave your last penny yourself,
though you'd seen nothing of it, and if you'd seen everything, oh
dear! And how often, how often I've brought her to tears! Only
last week! Yes, I! Only a week before his death. I was cruel! And
how often I've done it! Ah, I've been wretched at the thought of
it all day!"
Sonia wrung her hands as she spoke at the pain of remembering it.
"You were cruel?"

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