Crime and Punishment Fyodor Dostoevsky (e books for reading .TXT) đ
- Author: Fyodor Dostoevsky
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âDouniaâs not at home, mother?â
âNo, Rodya. I often donât see her; she leaves me alone. Dmitri Prokofitch comes to see me, itâs so good of him, and he always talks about you. He loves you and respects you, my dear. I donât say that Dounia is very wanting in consideration. I am not complaining. She has her ways and I have mine; she seems to have got some secrets of late and I never have any secrets from you two. Of course, I am sure that Dounia has far too much sense, and besides she loves you and meâ ââ ⊠but I donât know what it will all lead to. Youâve made me so happy by coming now, Rodya, but she has missed you by going out; when she comes in Iâll tell her: âYour brother came in while you were out. Where have you been all this time?â You mustnât spoil me, Rodya, you know; come when you can, but if you canât, it doesnât matter, I can wait. I shall know, anyway, that you are fond of me, that will be enough for me. I shall read what you write, I shall hear about you from everyone, and sometimes youâll come yourself to see me. What could be better? Here youâve come now to comfort your mother, I see that.â
Here Pulcheria Alexandrovna began to cry.
âHere I am again! Donât mind my foolishness. My goodness, why am I sitting here?â she cried, jumping up. âThere is coffee and I donât offer you any. Ah, thatâs the selfishness of old age. Iâll get it at once!â
âMother, donât trouble, I am going at once. I havenât come for that. Please listen to me.â
Pulcheria Alexandrovna went up to him timidly.
âMother, whatever happens, whatever you hear about me, whatever you are told about me, will you always love me as you do now?â he asked suddenly from the fullness of his heart, as though not thinking of his words and not weighing them.
âRodya, Rodya, what is the matter? How can you ask me such a question? Why, who will tell me anything about you? Besides, I shouldnât believe anyone, I should refuse to listen.â
âIâve come to assure you that Iâve always loved you and I am glad that we are alone, even glad Dounia is out,â he went on with the same impulse. âI have come to tell you that though you will be unhappy, you must believe that your son loves you now more than himself, and that all you thought about me, that I was cruel and didnât care about you, was all a mistake. I shall never cease to love you.â ââ ⊠Well, thatâs enough: I thought I must do this and begin with this.â ââ âŠâ
Pulcheria Alexandrovna embraced him in silence, pressing him to her bosom and weeping gently.
âI donât know what is wrong with you, Rodya,â she said at last. âIâve been thinking all this time that we were simply boring you and now I see that there is a great sorrow in store for you, and thatâs why you are miserable. Iâve foreseen it a long time, Rodya. Forgive me for speaking about it. I keep thinking about it and lie awake at nights. Your sister lay talking in her sleep all last night, talking of nothing but you. I caught something, but I couldnât make it out. I felt all the morning as though I were going to be hanged, waiting for something, expecting something, and now it has come! Rodya, Rodya, where are you going? You are going away somewhere?â
âYes.â
âThatâs what I thought! I can come with you, you know, if you need me. And Dounia, too; she loves you, she loves you dearlyâ âand Sofya Semyonovna may come with us if you like. You see, I am glad to look upon her as a daughter evenâ ââ ⊠Dmitri Prokofitch will help us to go together. Butâ ââ ⊠whereâ ââ ⊠are you going?â
âGoodbye, mother.â
âWhat, today?â she cried, as though losing him forever.
âI canât stay, I must go now.â ââ âŠâ
âAnd canât I come with you?â
âNo, but kneel down and pray to God for me. Your prayer perhaps will reach Him.â
âLet me bless you and sign you with the cross. Thatâs right, thatâs right. Oh, God, what are we doing?â
Yes, he was glad, he was very glad that there was no one there, that he was alone with his mother. For the first time after all those awful months his heart was softened. He fell down before her, he kissed her feet and both wept, embracing. And she was not surprised and did not question him this time. For some days she had realised that something awful was happening to her son and that now some terrible minute had come for him.
âRodya, my darling, my first born,â she said sobbing, ânow you are just as when you were little. You would run like this to me and hug me and kiss me. When your father was living and we were poor, you comforted us simply
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