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- Федор Достоевский
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- Стр. 73/453
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“
Along
the
street
.
”
“
Short
and
clear
”
Raskolnikov
,
white
as
a
handkerchief
,
had
answered
sharply
,
jerkily
,
without
dropping
his
black
feverish
eyes
before
Ilya
Petrovitch
’
s
stare
.
“
He
can
scarcely
stand
upright
.
And
you
.
.
.
”
Nikodim
Fomitch
was
beginning
.
“
No
matter
,
”
Ilya
Petrovitch
pronounced
rather
peculiarly
.
Nikodim
Fomitch
would
have
made
some
further
protest
,
but
glancing
at
the
head
clerk
who
was
looking
very
hard
at
him
,
he
did
not
speak
.
There
was
a
sudden
silence
.
It
was
strange
.
“
Very
well
,
then
,
”
concluded
Ilya
Petrovitch
,
“
we
will
not
detain
you
.
”
Raskolnikov
went
out
.
He
caught
the
sound
of
eager
conversation
on
his
departure
,
and
above
the
rest
rose
the
questioning
voice
of
Nikodim
Fomitch
.
In
the
street
,
his
faintness
passed
off
completely
.
“
A
search
—
there
will
be
a
search
at
once
,
”
he
repeated
to
himself
,
hurrying
home
.
“
The
brutes
!
they
suspect
.
”
