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A giddiness came over him again. "I shall fall down!" flashed through his mind, but the unknown began to speak and he recovered himself at once. "What's up? Are they asleep or murdered? D-damn them!" he bawled in a thick voice, "Hey, Alyona Ivanovna, old witch! Lizaveta Ivanovna, hey, my beauty! open the door! Oh, damn them! Are they asleep or what?"
"Oh, come, don't we all think ourselves Napoleons now in Russia?" Porfiry Petrovitch said with alarming familiarity. Something peculiar betrayed itself in the very intonation of his voice. "Perhaps it was one of these future Napoleons who did for Alyona Ivanovna last week?" Zametov blurted out from the corner. Raskolnikov did not speak, but looked firmly and intently at Porfiry.
And do you remember your story of how Columbus discovered America, and they all cried out, 'Land! land!? My nurse Alyona Frolovna says I was light-headed at night afterwards, and kept crying out 'land! land! in my sleep. And do you remember how you told me the story of Prince Hamlet? And do you remember how you described to me how the poor emigrants were transported from Europe to America?
Seeing that she was standing in the doorway not allowing him to pass, he advanced straight upon her. She stepped back in alarm, tried to say something, but seemed unable to speak and stared with open eyes at him. "Good evening, Alyona Ivanovna," he began, trying to speak easily, but his voice would not obey him, it broke and shook.
And following with her eyes the doctor's well-built figure, she said, as though trying to soften the crudity of her decision: "He's a nice man. . . . We shall get through life somehow." She returned home. While she was dressing, Auntie Dasha came into the room, and said: "Alyona upset you, darling; I've sent her home to the village. Her mother's given her a good beating and has come here, crying."
"You have chosen a time to clean up," said Vera with annoyance. "Go away." Alyona was overwhelmed, and in her terror could not understand what was wanted of her. She began hurriedly tidying up the dressing-table. "Go out of the room, I tell you," Vera shouted, turning cold; she had never had such an oppressive feeling before. "Go away!"
My life is wretched, worse than any dog's. . . . I send greetings to Alyona, one-eyed Yegorka, and the coachman, and don't give my concertina to anyone. I remain, your grandson, Ivan Zhukov. Dear grandfather, do come."
There was only one girl from the village living in the house, Alyona, and she stayed because her whole family old people and children were living upon her wages.
"Why, Alyona Ivanovna, you know me... Raskolnikov... here, I brought you the pledge I promised the other day..." And he held out the pledge. The old woman glanced for a moment at the pledge, but at once stared in the eyes of her uninvited visitor. She looked intently, maliciously and mistrustfully.
This Alyona, a pale, rather stupid little thing, spent the whole day turning out the rooms, waiting at table, heating the stoves, sewing, washing; but it always seemed as though she were only pottering about, treading heavily with her boots, and were nothing but a hindrance in the house.
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