Talen

Toetsenbord

Pagina 149 van 1294

Auteur: Fyodor Dostoevsky

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He rose to his feet, looked round in wonder as though surprised
at finding himself in this place, and went towards the bridge. He
was pale, his eyes glowed, he was exhausted in every limb, but he
seemed suddenly to breathe more easily. He felt he had cast off
that fearful burden that had so long been weighing upon him, and
all at once there was a sense of relief and peace in his soul.
"Lord," he prayed, "show me my path--I renounce that accursed...
dream of mine."
Crossing the bridge, he gazed quietly and calmly at the Neva, at
the glowing red sun setting in the glowing sky. In spite of his
weakness he was not conscious of fatigue. It was as though an
abscess that had been forming for a month past in his heart had
suddenly broken. Freedom, freedom! He was free from that spell,
that sorcery, that obsession!

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