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Автор: Fyodor Dostoevsky

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When he had said this, he suddenly held out his hand to his
sister, smiling without a word. But in this smile there was a
flash of real unfeigned feeling. Dounia caught it at once, and
warmly pressed his hand, overjoyed and thankful. It was the first
time he had addressed her since their dispute the previous day.
The mother's face lighted up with ecstatic happiness at the sight
of this conclusive unspoken reconciliation. "Yes, that is what I
love him for," Razumihin, exaggerating it all, muttered to
himself, with a vigorous turn in his chair. "He has these
movements."

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