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- Федор Достоевский
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- Преступление и наказание
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- Стр. 46/453
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His
strength
was
failing
him
again
.
But
his
answer
sounded
like
the
truth
;
the
old
woman
took
the
pledge
.
“
What
is
it
?
”
she
asked
once
more
,
scanning
Raskolnikov
intently
,
and
weighing
the
pledge
in
her
hand
.
“
A
thing
.
.
.
cigarette
case
.
.
.
.
Silver
.
.
.
.
Look
at
it
.
”
“
It
does
not
seem
somehow
like
silver
.
.
.
.
How
he
has
wrapped
it
up
!
”
Trying
to
untie
the
string
and
turning
to
the
window
,
to
the
light
(
all
her
windows
were
shut
,
in
spite
of
the
stifling
heat
)
,
she
left
him
altogether
for
some
seconds
and
stood
with
her
back
to
him
.
He
unbuttoned
his
coat
and
freed
the
axe
from
the
noose
,
but
did
not
yet
take
it
out
altogether
,
simply
holding
it
in
his
right
hand
under
the
coat
.
His
hands
were
fearfully
weak
,
he
felt
them
every
moment
growing
more
numb
and
more
wooden
.
He
was
afraid
he
would
let
the
axe
slip
and
fall
.
.
.
.
A
sudden
giddiness
came
over
him
.
“
But
what
has
he
tied
it
up
like
this
for
?
”
the
old
woman
cried
with
vexation
and
moved
towards
him
.
He
had
not
a
minute
more
to
lose
.
He
pulled
the
axe
quite
out
,
swung
it
with
both
arms
,
scarcely
conscious
of
himself
,
and
almost
without
effort
,
almost
mechanically
,
brought
the
blunt
side
down
on
her
head
.
He
seemed
not
to
use
his
own
strength
in
this
.
But
as
soon
as
he
had
once
brought
the
axe
down
,
his
strength
returned
to
him
.
The
old
woman
was
as
always
bareheaded
.
Her
thin
,
light
hair
,
streaked
with
grey
,
thickly
smeared
with
grease
,
was
plaited
in
a
rat
’
s
tail
and
fastened
by
a
broken
horn
comb
which
stood
out
on
the
nape
of
her
neck
.
As
she
was
so
short
,
the
blow
fell
on
the
very
top
of
her
skull
.
She
cried
out
,
but
very
faintly
,
and
suddenly
sank
all
of
a
heap
on
the
floor
,
raising
her
hands
to
her
head
.
In
one
hand
she
still
held
“
the
pledge
.
”
Then
he
dealt
her
another
and
another
blow
with
the
blunt
side
and
on
the
same
spot
.
The
blood
gushed
as
from
an
overturned
glass
,
the
body
fell
back
.
He
stepped
back
,
let
it
fall
,
and
at
once
bent
over
her
face
;
she
was
dead
.
Her
eyes
seemed
to
be
starting
out
of
their
sockets
,
the
brow
and
the
whole
face
were
drawn
and
contorted
convulsively
.
He
laid
the
axe
on
the
ground
near
the
dead
body
and
felt
at
once
in
her
pocket
(
trying
to
avoid
the
streaming
body
)
—
the
same
right
-
hand
pocket
from
which
she
had
taken
the
key
on
his
last
visit
.
He
was
in
full
possession
of
his
faculties
,
free
from
confusion
or
giddiness
,
but
his
hands
were
still
trembling
.
He
remembered
afterwards
that
he
had
been
particularly
collected
and
careful
,
trying
all
the
time
not
to
get
smeared
with
blood
.
.
.
.
He
pulled
out
the
keys
at
once
,
they
were
all
,
as
before
,
in
one
bunch
on
a
steel
ring
.
He
ran
at
once
into
the
bedroom
with
them
.
It
was
a
very
small
room
with
a
whole
shrine
of
holy
images
.
Against
the
other
wall
stood
a
big
bed
,
very
clean
and
covered
with
a
silk
patchwork
wadded
quilt
.
Against
a
third
wall
was
a
chest
of
drawers
.
Strange
to
say
,
so
soon
as
he
began
to
fit
the
keys
into
the
chest
,
so
soon
as
he
heard
their
jingling
,
a
convulsive
shudder
passed
over
him
.
He
suddenly
felt
tempted
again
to
give
it
all
up
and
go
away
.
But
that
was
only
for
an
instant
;
it
was
too
late
to
go
back
.
He
positively
smiled
at
himself
,
when
suddenly
another
terrifying
idea
occurred
to
his
mind
.
He
suddenly
fancied
that
the
old
woman
might
be
still
alive
and
might
recover
her
senses
.
Leaving
the
keys
in
the
chest
,
he
ran
back
to
the
body
,
snatched
up
the
axe
and
lifted
it
once
more
over
the
old
woman
,
but
did
not
bring
it
down
.
There
was
no
doubt
that
she
was
dead
.
Bending
down
and
examining
her
again
more
closely
,
he
saw
clearly
that
the
skull
was
broken
and
even
battered
in
on
one
side
.
