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作者: Fyodor Dostoevsky

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"My lodging," he answered, listlessly. "Yes, the lodging had a
great deal to do with it.... I thought that, too.... If only you
knew, though, what a strange thing you said just now, mother," he
said, laughing strangely.
A little more, and their companionship, this mother and this
sister, with him after three years' absence, this intimate tone
of conversation, in face of the utter impossibility of really
speaking about anything, would have been beyond his power of
endurance. But there was one urgent matter which must be settled
one way or the other that day--so he had decided when he woke.
Now he was glad to remember it, as a means of escape.
"Listen, Dounia," he began, gravely and drily, "of course I beg
your pardon for yesterday, but I consider it my duty to tell you
again that I do not withdraw from my chief point. It is me or
Luzhin. If I am a scoundrel, you must not be. One is enough. If
you marry Luzhin, I cease at once to look on you as a sister."

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