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Yazar: Fyodor Dostoevsky

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He stayed obstinately at that thought. He liked that explanation
indeed better than any other. He began looking more intently at
her.
"So you pray to God a great deal, Sonia?" he asked her.
Sonia did not speak; he stood beside her waiting for an answer.
"What should I be without God?" she whispered rapidly, forcibly,
glancing at him with suddenly flashing eyes, and squeezing his
hand.
"Ah, so that is it!" he thought.
"And what does God do for you?" he asked, probing her further.
Sonia was silent a long while, as though she could not answer.
Her weak chest kept heaving with emotion.
"Be silent! Don't ask! You don't deserve!" she cried suddenly,
looking sternly and wrathfully at him.
"That's it, that's it," he repeated to himself.
"He does everything," she whispered quickly, looking down again.

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