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لوحة المفاتيح

صفحة 540 من 1294

المؤلف: Fyodor Dostoevsky

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"It is as though they were afraid of me," Raskolnikov was
thinking to himself, looking askance at his mother and sister.
Pulcheria Alexandrovna was indeed growing more timid the longer
she kept silent.
"Yet in their absence I seemed to love them so much," flashed
through his mind.
"Do you know, Rodya, Marfa Petrovna is dead," Pulcheria
Alexandrovna suddenly blurted out.
"What Marfa Petrovna?"
"Oh, mercy on us--Marfa Petrovna Svidrigailov. I wrote you so
much about her."
"A-a-h! Yes, I remember.... So she's dead! Oh, really?" he roused
himself suddenly, as if waking up. "What did she die of?"
"Only imagine, quite suddenly," Pulcheria Alexandrovna answered
hurriedly, encouraged by his curiosity. "On the very day I was
sending you that letter! Would you believe it, that awful man
seems to have been the cause of her death. They say he beat her
dreadfully."
"Why, were they on such bad terms?" he asked, addressing his
sister.

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