1294ページ中200ページ

In the middle of the room stood Lizaveta with a big bundle in her

arms. She was gazing in stupefaction at her murdered sister,

white as a sheet and seeming not to have the strength to cry out.

Seeing him run out of the bedroom, she began faintly quivering

all over, like a leaf, a shudder ran down her face; she lifted

her hand, opened her mouth, but still did not scream. She began

slowly backing away from him into the corner, staring intently,

persistently at him, but still uttered no sound, as though she

could not get breath to scream. He rushed at her with the axe;

her mouth twitched piteously, as one sees babies' mouths, when

they begin to be frightened, stare intently at what frightens

them and are on the point of screaming. And this hapless Lizaveta

was so simple and had been so thoroughly crushed and scared that

she did not even raise a hand to guard her face, though that was

the most necessary and natural action at the moment, for the axe

was raised over her face.