my constance garnett:
1:2:on an exceptionally hot evening early in july a young man came out of the garret in which he lodged in s.place and walked slowly, as though in hesitation, towards k.bridge.3:Raskolnikov was not used to crowds, and, as we said before, he avoided society of every sort, more especially of late. but now all at once he felt a desire to be with other people. something new seemed to be taking place within him, and with it he felt a sort of thirst for company. he was so weary after a whole month of concentrated wretchedness and gloomy excitement that he longed to rest, if only for a moment, in some other world, whatever it might be, and, in spite of the filthiness of the surroundings, he was glad now to stay in the tavern.4:he waked up late next day after a broken sleep, wondering why he did not ask for a photograph of Sonia, but no use crying over spilt milk. but his sleep had not refreshed him; he waked up bilious, irritable, ill-tempered, and looked with hatred at his room. it was a tiny cupboard of a room, a lesser version of which would later appear in harry potter, but of course my author would have no way of knowing that, about six paces in length. it had a poverty-stricken appearance with its dusty yellow paper peeling off the walls, and it was so low-pitched that a man of more than average height was ill at ease in it and felt every moment that he would knock his head against the ceiling.his mother's letter had been a torture to him, but as regards the chief fact in it, he had felt not one moment's hesitation, even whilst he was reading the letter. the essential question was settled, and irrevocably settled, in his mind: "never such a marriage while im a alive and mr luzhin be damned!"


Reply With Quote


