looked steadily at Zametov. "You seem to enjoy the subject and would like to know how I should behave in that case, too?" he asked with displeasure. "I should like to," Zametov answered firmly and seriously. Somewhat too much earnestness began to appear in his words and looks. "Very much?" "Very much!" "All right then. This is how I should behave," Raskolnikov began, again bringing his face close to Zametov's, again staring at him and speaking in a whisper, so that the latter positively shuddered. "This is what I should have done. I should have taken the money and jewels, I should have walked out of there and have gone straight to some deserted place with fences round it and scarcely any one to be seen, some kitchen garden or place of that sort. I should have looked out beforehand some stone weighing a hundredweight or more which had been lying in the corner from the time the house was built. I would lift that stone- there would be sure to be a hollow under it, and I would put the jewels and money in that hole. Then I'd roll the stone back so that it would look as before, would press it down with my foot and walk away. And for a year or two, three maybe, I would not touch it. And, well, they could search! There'd be no trace." "You are a madman," said Zametov, and for some reason he too spoke in a whisper, and moved away from Raskolnikov, whose eyes were glittering. He had turned fearfully pale and his upper lip was twitching and quivering. He bent down as close as possible to Zametov, and his lips began to move without uttering a word. This lasted for half a minute; he knew what he was doing, but could not restrain himself. The terrible word trembled on his lips, like the latch on that door; in another moment it will break out, in another moment he will let it go, he will speak out. "And what if it was I who murdered the old woman and Lizaveta?" he said suddenly and- realised what he had done. Zametov looked wildly at him and turned white as the tablecloth. His face wore a contorted smile. "But is it possible?" he brought out faintly. Raskolnikov looked wrathfully at him. "Own up that you believed it, yes, you did?" "Not a bit of it, I believe it less than ever now," Zametov cried hastily. "I've caught my cocksparrow! So you did believe it before, if now you believe less than ever?" "Not at all," cried Zametov, obviously embarrassed. "Have you been frightening me so as to lead up to this?" "You don't believe it then? What were you talking about behind my back when I went out of the police office? And why did the Explosive Lieutenant question me after I fainted? Hey, there," he shouted to the waiter, getting up and taking his cap, "how much?" "Thirty copecks," the latter replied, running up. "And there is twenty copecks for vodka. See what a lot of money!" he held out his shaking hand to Zametov with notes in it. "Red notes and blue, twenty-five roubles. Where did I get them? And where did my new clothes come from? You know I had not a copeck. You've cross-examined my landlady, I'll be bound.... Well, that's enough!

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looked steadily at Zametov. "You seem to enjoy the subject and would like to know how I should behave in that case, too?" he asked with displeasure. "I should like to," Zametov answered firmly and seriously. Somewhat too much earnestness began to appear in his words and looks. "Very much?" "Very much!" "All right then. This is how I should behave," Raskolnikov began, again bringing his face close to Zametov's, again staring at him and speaking in a whisper, so that the latter positively shuddered. "This is what I should have done. I should have taken the money and jewels, I should have walked out of there and have gone straight to some deserted place with fences round it and scarcely any one to be seen, some kitchen garden or place of that sort. I should have looked out beforehand some stone weighing a hundredweight or more which had been lying in the corner from the time the house was built. I would lift that stone- there would be sure to be a hollow under it, and I would put the jewels and money in that hole. Then I'd roll the stone back so that it would look as before, would press it down with my foot and walk away. And for a year or two, three maybe, I would not touch it. And, well, they could search! There'd be no trace." "You are a madman," said Zametov, and for some reason he too spoke in a whisper, and moved away from Raskolnikov, whose eyes were glittering. He had turned fearfully pale and his upper lip was twitching and quivering. He bent down as close as possible to Zametov, and his lips began to move without uttering a word. This lasted for half a minute; he knew what he was doing, but could not restrain himself. The terrible word trembled on his lips, like the latch on that door; in another moment it will break out, in another moment he will let it go, he will speak out. "And what if it was I who murdered the old woman and Lizaveta?" he said suddenly and- realised what he had done. Zametov looked wildly at him and turned white as the tablecloth. His face wore a contorted smile. "But is it possible?" he brought out faintly. Raskolnikov looked wrathfully at him. "Own up that you believed it, yes, you did?" "Not a bit of it, I believe it less than ever now," Zametov cried hastily. "I've caught my cocksparrow! So you did believe it before, if now you believe less than ever?" "Not at all," cried Zametov, obviously embarrassed. "Have you been frightening me so as to lead up to this?" "You don't believe it then? What were you talking about behind my back when I went out of the police office? And why did the Explosive Lieutenant question me after I fainted? Hey, there," he shouted to the waiter, getting up and taking his cap, "how much?" "Thirty copecks," the latter replied, running up. "And there is twenty copecks for vodka. See what a lot of money!" he held out his shaking hand to Zametov with notes in it. "Red notes and blue, twenty-five roubles. Where did I get them? And where did my new clothes come from? You know I had not a copeck. You've cross-examined my landlady, I'll be bound.... Well, that's enough!,bob娱乐手机app下载looked steadily at Zametov. "You seem to enjoy the subject and would like to know how I should behave in that case, too?" he asked with displeasure. "I should like to," Zametov answered firmly and seriously. Somewhat too much earnestness began to appear in his words and looks. "Very much?" "Very much!" "All right then. This is how I should behave," Raskolnikov began, again bringing his face close to Zametov's, again staring at him and speaking in a whisper, so that the latter positively shuddered. "This is what I should have done. I should have taken the money and jewels, I should have walked out of there and have gone straight to some deserted place with fences round it and scarcely any one to be seen, some kitchen garden or place of that sort. I should have looked out beforehand some stone weighing a hundredweight or more which had been lying in the corner from the time the house was built. I would lift that stone- there would be sure to be a hollow under it, and I would put the jewels and money in that hole. Then I'd roll the stone back so that it would look as before, would press it down with my foot and walk away. And for a year or two, three maybe, I would not touch it. And, well, they could search! There'd be no trace." "You are a madman," said Zametov, and for some reason he too spoke in a whisper, and moved away from Raskolnikov, whose eyes were glittering. He had turned fearfully pale and his upper lip was twitching and quivering. He bent down as close as possible to Zametov, and his lips began to move without uttering a word. This lasted for half a minute; he knew what he was doing, but could not restrain himself. The terrible word trembled on his lips, like the latch on that door; in another moment it will break out, in another moment he will let it go, he will speak out. "And what if it was I who murdered the old woman and Lizaveta?" he said suddenly and- realised what he had done. Zametov looked wildly at him and turned white as the tablecloth. His face wore a contorted smile. "But is it possible?" he brought out faintly. Raskolnikov looked wrathfully at him. "Own up that you believed it, yes, you did?" "Not a bit of it, I believe it less than ever now," Zametov cried hastily. "I've caught my cocksparrow! So you did believe it before, if now you believe less than ever?" "Not at all," cried Zametov, obviously embarrassed. "Have you been frightening me so as to lead up to this?" "You don't believe it then? What were you talking about behind my back when I went out of the police office? And why did the Explosive Lieutenant question me after I fainted? Hey, there," he shouted to the waiter, getting up and taking his cap, "how much?" "Thirty copecks," the latter replied, running up. "And there is twenty copecks for vodka. See what a lot of money!" he held out his shaking hand to Zametov with notes in it. "Red notes and blue, twenty-five roubles. Where did I get them? And where did my new clothes come from? You know I had not a copeck. You've cross-examined my landlady, I'll be bound.... Well, that's enough!looked steadily at Zametov. "You seem to enjoy the subject and would like to know how I should behave in that case, too?" he asked with displeasure. "I should like to," Zametov answered firmly and seriously. Somewhat too much earnestness began to appear in his words and looks. "Very much?" "Very much!" "All right then. This is how I should behave," Raskolnikov began, again bringing his face close to Zametov's, again staring at him and speaking in a whisper, so that the latter positively shuddered. "This is what I should have done. I should have taken the money and jewels, I should have walked out of there and have gone straight to some deserted place with fences round it and scarcely any one to be seen, some kitchen garden or place of that sort. I should have looked out beforehand some stone weighing a hundredweight or more which had been lying in the corner from the time the house was built. I would lift that stone- there would be sure to be a hollow under it, and I would put the jewels and money in that hole. Then I'd roll the stone back so that it would look as before, would press it down with my foot and walk away. And for a year or two, three maybe, I would not touch it. And, well, they could search! There'd be no trace." "You are a madman," said Zametov, and for some reason he too spoke in a whisper, and moved away from Raskolnikov, whose eyes were glittering. He had turned fearfully pale and his upper lip was twitching and quivering. He bent down as close as possible to Zametov, and his lips began to move without uttering a word. This lasted for half a minute; he knew what he was doing, but could not restrain himself. The terrible word trembled on his lips, like the latch on that door; in another moment it will break out, in another moment he will let it go, he will speak out. "And what if it was I who murdered the old woman and Lizaveta?" he said suddenly and- realised what he had done. Zametov looked wildly at him and turned white as the tablecloth. His face wore a contorted smile. "But is it possible?" he brought out faintly. Raskolnikov looked wrathfully at him. "Own up that you believed it, yes, you did?" "Not a bit of it, I believe it less than ever now," Zametov cried hastily. "I've caught my cocksparrow! So you did believe it before, if now you believe less than ever?" "Not at all," cried Zametov, obviously embarrassed. "Have you been frightening me so as to lead up to this?" "You don't believe it then? What were you talking about behind my back when I went out of the police office? And why did the Explosive Lieutenant question me after I fainted? Hey, there," he shouted to the waiter, getting up and taking his cap, "how much?" "Thirty copecks," the latter replied, running up. "And there is twenty copecks for vodka. See what a lot of money!" he held out his shaking hand to Zametov with notes in it. "Red notes and blue, twenty-five roubles. Where did I get them? And where did my new clothes come from? You know I had not a copeck. You've cross-examined my landlady, I'll be bound.... Well, that's enough!,looked steadily at Zametov. "You seem to enjoy the subject and would like to know how I should behave in that case, too?" he asked with displeasure. "I should like to," Zametov answered firmly and seriously. Somewhat too much earnestness began to appear in his words and looks. "Very much?" "Very much!" "All right then. This is how I should behave," Raskolnikov began, again bringing his face close to Zametov's, again staring at him and speaking in a whisper, so that the latter positively shuddered. "This is what I should have done. I should have taken the money and jewels, I should have walked out of there and have gone straight to some deserted place with fences round it and scarcely any one to be seen, some kitchen garden or place of that sort. I should have looked out beforehand some stone weighing a hundredweight or more which had been lying in the corner from the time the house was built. I would lift that stone- there would be sure to be a hollow under it, and I would put the jewels and money in that hole. Then I'd roll the stone back so that it would look as before, would press it down with my foot and walk away. And for a year or two, three maybe, I would not touch it. And, well, they could search! There'd be no trace." "You are a madman," said Zametov, and for some reason he too spoke in a whisper, and moved away from Raskolnikov, whose eyes were glittering. He had turned fearfully pale and his upper lip was twitching and quivering. He bent down as close as possible to Zametov, and his lips began to move without uttering a word. This lasted for half a minute; he knew what he was doing, but could not restrain himself. The terrible word trembled on his lips, like the latch on that door; in another moment it will break out, in another moment he will let it go, he will speak out. "And what if it was I who murdered the old woman and Lizaveta?" he said suddenly and- realised what he had done. Zametov looked wildly at him and turned white as the tablecloth. His face wore a contorted smile. "But is it possible?" he brought out faintly. Raskolnikov looked wrathfully at him. "Own up that you believed it, yes, you did?" "Not a bit of it, I believe it less than ever now," Zametov cried hastily. "I've caught my cocksparrow! So you did believe it before, if now you believe less than ever?" "Not at all," cried Zametov, obviously embarrassed. "Have you been frightening me so as to lead up to this?" "You don't believe it then? What were you talking about behind my back when I went out of the police office? And why did the Explosive Lieutenant question me after I fainted? Hey, there," he shouted to the waiter, getting up and taking his cap, "how much?" "Thirty copecks," the latter replied, running up. "And there is twenty copecks for vodka. See what a lot of money!" he held out his shaking hand to Zametov with notes in it. "Red notes and blue, twenty-five roubles. Where did I get them? And where did my new clothes come from? You know I had not a copeck. You've cross-examined my landlady, I'll be bound.... Well, that's enough!,looked steadily at Zametov. "You seem to enjoy the subject and would like to know how I should behave in that case, too?" he asked with displeasure. "I should like to," Zametov answered firmly and seriously. Somewhat too much earnestness began to appear in his words and looks. "Very much?" "Very much!" "All right then. This is how I should behave," Raskolnikov began, again bringing his face close to Zametov's, again staring at him and speaking in a whisper, so that the latter positively shuddered. "This is what I should have done. I should have taken the money and jewels, I should have walked out of there and have gone straight to some deserted place with fences round it and scarcely any one to be seen, some kitchen garden or place of that sort. I should have looked out beforehand some stone weighing a hundredweight or more which had been lying in the corner from the time the house was built. I would lift that stone- there would be sure to be a hollow under it, and I would put the jewels and money in that hole. Then I'd roll the stone back so that it would look as before, would press it down with my foot and walk away. And for a year or two, three maybe, I would not touch it. And, well, they could search! There'd be no trace." "You are a madman," said Zametov, and for some reason he too spoke in a whisper, and moved away from Raskolnikov, whose eyes were glittering. He had turned fearfully pale and his upper lip was twitching and quivering. He bent down as close as possible to Zametov, and his lips began to move without uttering a word. This lasted for half a minute; he knew what he was doing, but could not restrain himself. The terrible word trembled on his lips, like the latch on that door; in another moment it will break out, in another moment he will let it go, he will speak out. "And what if it was I who murdered the old woman and Lizaveta?" he said suddenly and- realised what he had done. Zametov looked wildly at him and turned white as the tablecloth. His face wore a contorted smile. "But is it possible?" he brought out faintly. Raskolnikov looked wrathfully at him. "Own up that you believed it, yes, you did?" "Not a bit of it, I believe it less than ever now," Zametov cried hastily. "I've caught my cocksparrow! So you did believe it before, if now you believe less than ever?" "Not at all," cried Zametov, obviously embarrassed. "Have you been frightening me so as to lead up to this?" "You don't believe it then? What were you talking about behind my back when I went out of the police office? And why did the Explosive Lieutenant question me after I fainted? Hey, there," he shouted to the waiter, getting up and taking his cap, "how much?" "Thirty copecks," the latter replied, running up. "And there is twenty copecks for vodka. See what a lot of money!" he held out his shaking hand to Zametov with notes in it. "Red notes and blue, twenty-five roubles. Where did I get them? And where did my new clothes come from? You know I had not a copeck. You've cross-examined my landlady, I'll be bound.... Well, that's enough!

looked steadily at Zametov. "You seem to enjoy the subject and would like to know how I should behave in that case, too?" he asked with displeasure. "I should like to," Zametov answered firmly and seriously. Somewhat too much earnestness began to appear in his words and looks. "Very much?" "Very much!" "All right then. This is how I should behave," Raskolnikov began, again bringing his face close to Zametov's, again staring at him and speaking in a whisper, so that the latter positively shuddered. "This is what I should have done. I should have taken the money and jewels, I should have walked out of there and have gone straight to some deserted place with fences round it and scarcely any one to be seen, some kitchen garden or place of that sort. I should have looked out beforehand some stone weighing a hundredweight or more which had been lying in the corner from the time the house was built. I would lift that stone- there would be sure to be a hollow under it, and I would put the jewels and money in that hole. Then I'd roll the stone back so that it would look as before, would press it down with my foot and walk away. And for a year or two, three maybe, I would not touch it. And, well, they could search! There'd be no trace." "You are a madman," said Zametov, and for some reason he too spoke in a whisper, and moved away from Raskolnikov, whose eyes were glittering. He had turned fearfully pale and his upper lip was twitching and quivering. He bent down as close as possible to Zametov, and his lips began to move without uttering a word. This lasted for half a minute; he knew what he was doing, but could not restrain himself. The terrible word trembled on his lips, like the latch on that door; in another moment it will break out, in another moment he will let it go, he will speak out. "And what if it was I who murdered the old woman and Lizaveta?" he said suddenly and- realised what he had done. Zametov looked wildly at him and turned white as the tablecloth. His face wore a contorted smile. "But is it possible?" he brought out faintly. Raskolnikov looked wrathfully at him. "Own up that you believed it, yes, you did?" "Not a bit of it, I believe it less than ever now," Zametov cried hastily. "I've caught my cocksparrow! So you did believe it before, if now you believe less than ever?" "Not at all," cried Zametov, obviously embarrassed. "Have you been frightening me so as to lead up to this?" "You don't believe it then? What were you talking about behind my back when I went out of the police office? And why did the Explosive Lieutenant question me after I fainted? Hey, there," he shouted to the waiter, getting up and taking his cap, "how much?" "Thirty copecks," the latter replied, running up. "And there is twenty copecks for vodka. See what a lot of money!" he held out his shaking hand to Zametov with notes in it. "Red notes and blue, twenty-five roubles. Where did I get them? And where did my new clothes come from? You know I had not a copeck. You've cross-examined my landlady, I'll be bound.... Well, that's enough!,bob综合下载looked steadily at Zametov. "You seem to enjoy the subject and would like to know how I should behave in that case, too?" he asked with displeasure. "I should like to," Zametov answered firmly and seriously. Somewhat too much earnestness began to appear in his words and looks. "Very much?" "Very much!" "All right then. This is how I should behave," Raskolnikov began, again bringing his face close to Zametov's, again staring at him and speaking in a whisper, so that the latter positively shuddered. "This is what I should have done. I should have taken the money and jewels, I should have walked out of there and have gone straight to some deserted place with fences round it and scarcely any one to be seen, some kitchen garden or place of that sort. I should have looked out beforehand some stone weighing a hundredweight or more which had been lying in the corner from the time the house was built. I would lift that stone- there would be sure to be a hollow under it, and I would put the jewels and money in that hole. Then I'd roll the stone back so that it would look as before, would press it down with my foot and walk away. And for a year or two, three maybe, I would not touch it. And, well, they could search! There'd be no trace." "You are a madman," said Zametov, and for some reason he too spoke in a whisper, and moved away from Raskolnikov, whose eyes were glittering. He had turned fearfully pale and his upper lip was twitching and quivering. He bent down as close as possible to Zametov, and his lips began to move without uttering a word. This lasted for half a minute; he knew what he was doing, but could not restrain himself. The terrible word trembled on his lips, like the latch on that door; in another moment it will break out, in another moment he will let it go, he will speak out. "And what if it was I who murdered the old woman and Lizaveta?" he said suddenly and- realised what he had done. Zametov looked wildly at him and turned white as the tablecloth. His face wore a contorted smile. "But is it possible?" he brought out faintly. Raskolnikov looked wrathfully at him. "Own up that you believed it, yes, you did?" "Not a bit of it, I believe it less than ever now," Zametov cried hastily. "I've caught my cocksparrow! So you did believe it before, if now you believe less than ever?" "Not at all," cried Zametov, obviously embarrassed. "Have you been frightening me so as to lead up to this?" "You don't believe it then? What were you talking about behind my back when I went out of the police office? And why did the Explosive Lieutenant question me after I fainted? Hey, there," he shouted to the waiter, getting up and taking his cap, "how much?" "Thirty copecks," the latter replied, running up. "And there is twenty copecks for vodka. See what a lot of money!" he held out his shaking hand to Zametov with notes in it. "Red notes and blue, twenty-five roubles. Where did I get them? And where did my new clothes come from? You know I had not a copeck. You've cross-examined my landlady, I'll be bound.... Well, that's enough!,looked steadily at Zametov. "You seem to enjoy the subject and would like to know how I should behave in that case, too?" he asked with displeasure. "I should like to," Zametov answered firmly and seriously. Somewhat too much earnestness began to appear in his words and looks. "Very much?" "Very much!" "All right then. This is how I should behave," Raskolnikov began, again bringing his face close to Zametov's, again staring at him and speaking in a whisper, so that the latter positively shuddered. "This is what I should have done. I should have taken the money and jewels, I should have walked out of there and have gone straight to some deserted place with fences round it and scarcely any one to be seen, some kitchen garden or place of that sort. I should have looked out beforehand some stone weighing a hundredweight or more which had been lying in the corner from the time the house was built. I would lift that stone- there would be sure to be a hollow under it, and I would put the jewels and money in that hole. Then I'd roll the stone back so that it would look as before, would press it down with my foot and walk away. And for a year or two, three maybe, I would not touch it. And, well, they could search! There'd be no trace." "You are a madman," said Zametov, and for some reason he too spoke in a whisper, and moved away from Raskolnikov, whose eyes were glittering. He had turned fearfully pale and his upper lip was twitching and quivering. He bent down as close as possible to Zametov, and his lips began to move without uttering a word. This lasted for half a minute; he knew what he was doing, but could not restrain himself. The terrible word trembled on his lips, like the latch on that door; in another moment it will break out, in another moment he will let it go, he will speak out. "And what if it was I who murdered the old woman and Lizaveta?" he said suddenly and- realised what he had done. Zametov looked wildly at him and turned white as the tablecloth. His face wore a contorted smile. "But is it possible?" he brought out faintly. Raskolnikov looked wrathfully at him. "Own up that you believed it, yes, you did?" "Not a bit of it, I believe it less than ever now," Zametov cried hastily. "I've caught my cocksparrow! So you did believe it before, if now you believe less than ever?" "Not at all," cried Zametov, obviously embarrassed. "Have you been frightening me so as to lead up to this?" "You don't believe it then? What were you talking about behind my back when I went out of the police office? And why did the Explosive Lieutenant question me after I fainted? Hey, there," he shouted to the waiter, getting up and taking his cap, "how much?" "Thirty copecks," the latter replied, running up. "And there is twenty copecks for vodka. See what a lot of money!" he held out his shaking hand to Zametov with notes in it. "Red notes and blue, twenty-five roubles. Where did I get them? And where did my new clothes come from? You know I had not a copeck. You've cross-examined my landlady, I'll be bound.... Well, that's enough!bob体育投注官网

looked steadily at Zametov. "You seem to enjoy the subject and would like to know how I should behave in that case, too?" he asked with displeasure. "I should like to," Zametov answered firmly and seriously. Somewhat too much earnestness began to appear in his words and looks. "Very much?" "Very much!" "All right then. This is how I should behave," Raskolnikov began, again bringing his face close to Zametov's, again staring at him and speaking in a whisper, so that the latter positively shuddered. "This is what I should have done. I should have taken the money and jewels, I should have walked out of there and have gone straight to some deserted place with fences round it and scarcely any one to be seen, some kitchen garden or place of that sort. I should have looked out beforehand some stone weighing a hundredweight or more which had been lying in the corner from the time the house was built. I would lift that stone- there would be sure to be a hollow under it, and I would put the jewels and money in that hole. Then I'd roll the stone back so that it would look as before, would press it down with my foot and walk away. And for a year or two, three maybe, I would not touch it. And, well, they could search! There'd be no trace." "You are a madman," said Zametov, and for some reason he too spoke in a whisper, and moved away from Raskolnikov, whose eyes were glittering. He had turned fearfully pale and his upper lip was twitching and quivering. He bent down as close as possible to Zametov, and his lips began to move without uttering a word. This lasted for half a minute; he knew what he was doing, but could not restrain himself. The terrible word trembled on his lips, like the latch on that door; in another moment it will break out, in another moment he will let it go, he will speak out. "And what if it was I who murdered the old woman and Lizaveta?" he said suddenly and- realised what he had done. Zametov looked wildly at him and turned white as the tablecloth. His face wore a contorted smile. "But is it possible?" he brought out faintly. Raskolnikov looked wrathfully at him. "Own up that you believed it, yes, you did?" "Not a bit of it, I believe it less than ever now," Zametov cried hastily. "I've caught my cocksparrow! So you did believe it before, if now you believe less than ever?" "Not at all," cried Zametov, obviously embarrassed. "Have you been frightening me so as to lead up to this?" "You don't believe it then? What were you talking about behind my back when I went out of the police office? And why did the Explosive Lieutenant question me after I fainted? Hey, there," he shouted to the waiter, getting up and taking his cap, "how much?" "Thirty copecks," the latter replied, running up. "And there is twenty copecks for vodka. See what a lot of money!" he held out his shaking hand to Zametov with notes in it. "Red notes and blue, twenty-five roubles. Where did I get them? And where did my new clothes come from? You know I had not a copeck. You've cross-examined my landlady, I'll be bound.... Well, that's enough!,bob官方体育登陆looked steadily at Zametov. "You seem to enjoy the subject and would like to know how I should behave in that case, too?" he asked with displeasure. "I should like to," Zametov answered firmly and seriously. Somewhat too much earnestness began to appear in his words and looks. "Very much?" "Very much!" "All right then. This is how I should behave," Raskolnikov began, again bringing his face close to Zametov's, again staring at him and speaking in a whisper, so that the latter positively shuddered. "This is what I should have done. I should have taken the money and jewels, I should have walked out of there and have gone straight to some deserted place with fences round it and scarcely any one to be seen, some kitchen garden or place of that sort. I should have looked out beforehand some stone weighing a hundredweight or more which had been lying in the corner from the time the house was built. I would lift that stone- there would be sure to be a hollow under it, and I would put the jewels and money in that hole. Then I'd roll the stone back so that it would look as before, would press it down with my foot and walk away. And for a year or two, three maybe, I would not touch it. And, well, they could search! There'd be no trace." "You are a madman," said Zametov, and for some reason he too spoke in a whisper, and moved away from Raskolnikov, whose eyes were glittering. He had turned fearfully pale and his upper lip was twitching and quivering. He bent down as close as possible to Zametov, and his lips began to move without uttering a word. This lasted for half a minute; he knew what he was doing, but could not restrain himself. The terrible word trembled on his lips, like the latch on that door; in another moment it will break out, in another moment he will let it go, he will speak out. "And what if it was I who murdered the old woman and Lizaveta?" he said suddenly and- realised what he had done. Zametov looked wildly at him and turned white as the tablecloth. His face wore a contorted smile. "But is it possible?" he brought out faintly. Raskolnikov looked wrathfully at him. "Own up that you believed it, yes, you did?" "Not a bit of it, I believe it less than ever now," Zametov cried hastily. "I've caught my cocksparrow! So you did believe it before, if now you believe less than ever?" "Not at all," cried Zametov, obviously embarrassed. "Have you been frightening me so as to lead up to this?" "You don't believe it then? What were you talking about behind my back when I went out of the police office? And why did the Explosive Lieutenant question me after I fainted? Hey, there," he shouted to the waiter, getting up and taking his cap, "how much?" "Thirty copecks," the latter replied, running up. "And there is twenty copecks for vodka. See what a lot of money!" he held out his shaking hand to Zametov with notes in it. "Red notes and blue, twenty-five roubles. Where did I get them? And where did my new clothes come from? You know I had not a copeck. You've cross-examined my landlady, I'll be bound.... Well, that's enough!

looked steadily at Zametov. "You seem to enjoy the subject and would like to know how I should behave in that case, too?" he asked with displeasure. "I should like to," Zametov answered firmly and seriously. Somewhat too much earnestness began to appear in his words and looks. "Very much?" "Very much!" "All right then. This is how I should behave," Raskolnikov began, again bringing his face close to Zametov's, again staring at him and speaking in a whisper, so that the latter positively shuddered. "This is what I should have done. I should have taken the money and jewels, I should have walked out of there and have gone straight to some deserted place with fences round it and scarcely any one to be seen, some kitchen garden or place of that sort. I should have looked out beforehand some stone weighing a hundredweight or more which had been lying in the corner from the time the house was built. I would lift that stone- there would be sure to be a hollow under it, and I would put the jewels and money in that hole. Then I'd roll the stone back so that it would look as before, would press it down with my foot and walk away. And for a year or two, three maybe, I would not touch it. And, well, they could search! There'd be no trace." "You are a madman," said Zametov, and for some reason he too spoke in a whisper, and moved away from Raskolnikov, whose eyes were glittering. He had turned fearfully pale and his upper lip was twitching and quivering. He bent down as close as possible to Zametov, and his lips began to move without uttering a word. This lasted for half a minute; he knew what he was doing, but could not restrain himself. The terrible word trembled on his lips, like the latch on that door; in another moment it will break out, in another moment he will let it go, he will speak out. "And what if it was I who murdered the old woman and Lizaveta?" he said suddenly and- realised what he had done. Zametov looked wildly at him and turned white as the tablecloth. His face wore a contorted smile. "But is it possible?" he brought out faintly. Raskolnikov looked wrathfully at him. "Own up that you believed it, yes, you did?" "Not a bit of it, I believe it less than ever now," Zametov cried hastily. "I've caught my cocksparrow! So you did believe it before, if now you believe less than ever?" "Not at all," cried Zametov, obviously embarrassed. "Have you been frightening me so as to lead up to this?" "You don't believe it then? What were you talking about behind my back when I went out of the police office? And why did the Explosive Lieutenant question me after I fainted? Hey, there," he shouted to the waiter, getting up and taking his cap, "how much?" "Thirty copecks," the latter replied, running up. "And there is twenty copecks for vodka. See what a lot of money!" he held out his shaking hand to Zametov with notes in it. "Red notes and blue, twenty-five roubles. Where did I get them? And where did my new clothes come from? You know I had not a copeck. You've cross-examined my landlady, I'll be bound.... Well, that's enough!,bob,bob综合体育app平台looked steadily at Zametov. "You seem to enjoy the subject and would like to know how I should behave in that case, too?" he asked with displeasure. "I should like to," Zametov answered firmly and seriously. Somewhat too much earnestness began to appear in his words and looks. "Very much?" "Very much!" "All right then. This is how I should behave," Raskolnikov began, again bringing his face close to Zametov's, again staring at him and speaking in a whisper, so that the latter positively shuddered. "This is what I should have done. I should have taken the money and jewels, I should have walked out of there and have gone straight to some deserted place with fences round it and scarcely any one to be seen, some kitchen garden or place of that sort. I should have looked out beforehand some stone weighing a hundredweight or more which had been lying in the corner from the time the house was built. I would lift that stone- there would be sure to be a hollow under it, and I would put the jewels and money in that hole. Then I'd roll the stone back so that it would look as before, would press it down with my foot and walk away. And for a year or two, three maybe, I would not touch it. And, well, they could search! There'd be no trace." "You are a madman," said Zametov, and for some reason he too spoke in a whisper, and moved away from Raskolnikov, whose eyes were glittering. He had turned fearfully pale and his upper lip was twitching and quivering. He bent down as close as possible to Zametov, and his lips began to move without uttering a word. This lasted for half a minute; he knew what he was doing, but could not restrain himself. The terrible word trembled on his lips, like the latch on that door; in another moment it will break out, in another moment he will let it go, he will speak out. "And what if it was I who murdered the old woman and Lizaveta?" he said suddenly and- realised what he had done. Zametov looked wildly at him and turned white as the tablecloth. His face wore a contorted smile. "But is it possible?" he brought out faintly. Raskolnikov looked wrathfully at him. "Own up that you believed it, yes, you did?" "Not a bit of it, I believe it less than ever now," Zametov cried hastily. "I've caught my cocksparrow! So you did believe it before, if now you believe less than ever?" "Not at all," cried Zametov, obviously embarrassed. "Have you been frightening me so as to lead up to this?" "You don't believe it then? What were you talking about behind my back when I went out of the police office? And why did the Explosive Lieutenant question me after I fainted? Hey, there," he shouted to the waiter, getting up and taking his cap, "how much?" "Thirty copecks," the latter replied, running up. "And there is twenty copecks for vodka. See what a lot of money!" he held out his shaking hand to Zametov with notes in it. "Red notes and blue, twenty-five roubles. Where did I get them? And where did my new clothes come from? You know I had not a copeck. You've cross-examined my landlady, I'll be bound.... Well, that's enough!

looked steadily at Zametov. "You seem to enjoy the subject and would like to know how I should behave in that case, too?" he asked with displeasure. "I should like to," Zametov answered firmly and seriously. Somewhat too much earnestness began to appear in his words and looks. "Very much?" "Very much!" "All right then. This is how I should behave," Raskolnikov began, again bringing his face close to Zametov's, again staring at him and speaking in a whisper, so that the latter positively shuddered. "This is what I should have done. I should have taken the money and jewels, I should have walked out of there and have gone straight to some deserted place with fences round it and scarcely any one to be seen, some kitchen garden or place of that sort. I should have looked out beforehand some stone weighing a hundredweight or more which had been lying in the corner from the time the house was built. I would lift that stone- there would be sure to be a hollow under it, and I would put the jewels and money in that hole. Then I'd roll the stone back so that it would look as before, would press it down with my foot and walk away. And for a year or two, three maybe, I would not touch it. And, well, they could search! There'd be no trace." "You are a madman," said Zametov, and for some reason he too spoke in a whisper, and moved away from Raskolnikov, whose eyes were glittering. He had turned fearfully pale and his upper lip was twitching and quivering. He bent down as close as possible to Zametov, and his lips began to move without uttering a word. This lasted for half a minute; he knew what he was doing, but could not restrain himself. The terrible word trembled on his lips, like the latch on that door; in another moment it will break out, in another moment he will let it go, he will speak out. "And what if it was I who murdered the old woman and Lizaveta?" he said suddenly and- realised what he had done. Zametov looked wildly at him and turned white as the tablecloth. His face wore a contorted smile. "But is it possible?" he brought out faintly. Raskolnikov looked wrathfully at him. "Own up that you believed it, yes, you did?" "Not a bit of it, I believe it less than ever now," Zametov cried hastily. "I've caught my cocksparrow! So you did believe it before, if now you believe less than ever?" "Not at all," cried Zametov, obviously embarrassed. "Have you been frightening me so as to lead up to this?" "You don't believe it then? What were you talking about behind my back when I went out of the police office? And why did the Explosive Lieutenant question me after I fainted? Hey, there," he shouted to the waiter, getting up and taking his cap, "how much?" "Thirty copecks," the latter replied, running up. "And there is twenty copecks for vodka. See what a lot of money!" he held out his shaking hand to Zametov with notes in it. "Red notes and blue, twenty-five roubles. Where did I get them? And where did my new clothes come from? You know I had not a copeck. You've cross-examined my landlady, I'll be bound.... Well, that's enough!,bob88体育怎么样looked steadily at Zametov. "You seem to enjoy the subject and would like to know how I should behave in that case, too?" he asked with displeasure. "I should like to," Zametov answered firmly and seriously. Somewhat too much earnestness began to appear in his words and looks. "Very much?" "Very much!" "All right then. This is how I should behave," Raskolnikov began, again bringing his face close to Zametov's, again staring at him and speaking in a whisper, so that the latter positively shuddered. "This is what I should have done. I should have taken the money and jewels, I should have walked out of there and have gone straight to some deserted place with fences round it and scarcely any one to be seen, some kitchen garden or place of that sort. I should have looked out beforehand some stone weighing a hundredweight or more which had been lying in the corner from the time the house was built. I would lift that stone- there would be sure to be a hollow under it, and I would put the jewels and money in that hole. Then I'd roll the stone back so that it would look as before, would press it down with my foot and walk away. And for a year or two, three maybe, I would not touch it. And, well, they could search! There'd be no trace." "You are a madman," said Zametov, and for some reason he too spoke in a whisper, and moved away from Raskolnikov, whose eyes were glittering. He had turned fearfully pale and his upper lip was twitching and quivering. He bent down as close as possible to Zametov, and his lips began to move without uttering a word. This lasted for half a minute; he knew what he was doing, but could not restrain himself. The terrible word trembled on his lips, like the latch on that door; in another moment it will break out, in another moment he will let it go, he will speak out. "And what if it was I who murdered the old woman and Lizaveta?" he said suddenly and- realised what he had done. Zametov looked wildly at him and turned white as the tablecloth. His face wore a contorted smile. "But is it possible?" he brought out faintly. Raskolnikov looked wrathfully at him. "Own up that you believed it, yes, you did?" "Not a bit of it, I believe it less than ever now," Zametov cried hastily. "I've caught my cocksparrow! So you did believe it before, if now you believe less than ever?" "Not at all," cried Zametov, obviously embarrassed. "Have you been frightening me so as to lead up to this?" "You don't believe it then? What were you talking about behind my back when I went out of the police office? And why did the Explosive Lieutenant question me after I fainted? Hey, there," he shouted to the waiter, getting up and taking his cap, "how much?" "Thirty copecks," the latter replied, running up. "And there is twenty copecks for vodka. See what a lot of money!" he held out his shaking hand to Zametov with notes in it. "Red notes and blue, twenty-five roubles. Where did I get them? And where did my new clothes come from? You know I had not a copeck. You've cross-examined my landlady, I'll be bound.... Well, that's enough!bob软件下载软件下载,looked steadily at Zametov. "You seem to enjoy the subject and would like to know how I should behave in that case, too?" he asked with displeasure. "I should like to," Zametov answered firmly and seriously. Somewhat too much earnestness began to appear in his words and looks. "Very much?" "Very much!" "All right then. This is how I should behave," Raskolnikov began, again bringing his face close to Zametov's, again staring at him and speaking in a whisper, so that the latter positively shuddered. "This is what I should have done. I should have taken the money and jewels, I should have walked out of there and have gone straight to some deserted place with fences round it and scarcely any one to be seen, some kitchen garden or place of that sort. I should have looked out beforehand some stone weighing a hundredweight or more which had been lying in the corner from the time the house was built. I would lift that stone- there would be sure to be a hollow under it, and I would put the jewels and money in that hole. Then I'd roll the stone back so that it would look as before, would press it down with my foot and walk away. And for a year or two, three maybe, I would not touch it. And, well, they could search! There'd be no trace." "You are a madman," said Zametov, and for some reason he too spoke in a whisper, and moved away from Raskolnikov, whose eyes were glittering. He had turned fearfully pale and his upper lip was twitching and quivering. He bent down as close as possible to Zametov, and his lips began to move without uttering a word. This lasted for half a minute; he knew what he was doing, but could not restrain himself. The terrible word trembled on his lips, like the latch on that door; in another moment it will break out, in another moment he will let it go, he will speak out. "And what if it was I who murdered the old woman and Lizaveta?" he said suddenly and- realised what he had done. Zametov looked wildly at him and turned white as the tablecloth. His face wore a contorted smile. "But is it possible?" he brought out faintly. Raskolnikov looked wrathfully at him. "Own up that you believed it, yes, you did?" "Not a bit of it, I believe it less than ever now," Zametov cried hastily. "I've caught my cocksparrow! So you did believe it before, if now you believe less than ever?" "Not at all," cried Zametov, obviously embarrassed. "Have you been frightening me so as to lead up to this?" "You don't believe it then? What were you talking about behind my back when I went out of the police office? And why did the Explosive Lieutenant question me after I fainted? Hey, there," he shouted to the waiter, getting up and taking his cap, "how much?" "Thirty copecks," the latter replied, running up. "And there is twenty copecks for vodka. See what a lot of money!" he held out his shaking hand to Zametov with notes in it. "Red notes and blue, twenty-five roubles. Where did I get them? And where did my new clothes come from? You know I had not a copeck. You've cross-examined my landlady, I'll be bound.... Well, that's enough!

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