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Updated: June 1, 2025
Nastasya informed me, in a reverent whisper, that he had gone to bed, but I did not believe it. At Liza's house I succeeded in questioning the servants. They confirmed the story of the elopement, but knew nothing themselves. There was great commotion in the house; their mistress had been attacked by fainting fits, and Mavriky Nikolaevitch was with her.
"To-day, you have not been to the early service, but you are going to the late." "No, not at all; you will go alone; I have grown too lazy, my dear," relied Marfa Timofyevna. "Already I am indulging myself with tea." She addressed Nastasya Karpovna in the singular, though she treated her as an equal.
"So here you are!" he shouted at the top of his voice "you ran away from your bed! And here I've been looking for you under the sofa! We went up to the garret. I almost beat Nastasya on your account. And here he is after all. Rodya! What is the meaning of it? Tell me the whole truth! Confess! Do you hear?"
When she had done the lamp, Nastasya stood in the doorway, leaned her cheek in her right hand, and began gazing at him with a lachrymose air. "Eloignez-la on some excuse," he nodded to me from the sofa. "I can't endure this Russian sympathy, et puis ca m'embete." But she went away of herself. I noticed that he kept looking towards the door and listening for sounds in the passage.
He is the son of Nastasya the charwoman, and is a bully and a ruffian who snatches apples from the women's baskets, and has more than once carried off my knuckle-bones. He looks at me angrily, and I fancy takes a spiteful pleasure in the fact that he, not I, will first go behind the screen.
"Whom do you want?" asked the woman, putting up her hand to shade her eyes from the sun. "Good-morning!" Ivan Ivanitch shouted, too, waving off the red dog with his stick. "Tell me, please, does Nastasya Petrovna Toskunov live here?" "Yes! But what do you want with her?" "Perhaps you are Nastasya Petrovna?" "Well, yes, I am!"
THE charming Vanda, or, as she was described in her passport, the "Honourable Citizen Nastasya Kanavkin," found herself, on leaving the hospital, in a position she had never been in before: without a home to go to or a farthing in her pocket. What was she to do? The first thing she did was to visit a pawn-broker's and pawn her turquoise ring, her one piece of jewellery.
Try to have nobody here and no untidiness, for the place isn't fit to be seen. Nastasya, Nastasya!" The next day, of course, he consented, and, indeed, he could do nothing else. There was one circumstance... Stepan Trofimovitch was simply his trustee, and so, when the nestling was full-fledged, he had given his father a formal authorisation to manage the estate.
Raskolnikov looked at all this with profound astonishment and a dull, unreasoning terror. He made up his mind to keep quiet and see what would happen. "I believe I am not wandering. I believe it's reality," he thought. In a couple of minutes Nastasya returned with the soup, and announced that the tea would be ready directly.
What if I find them in my room?" But here was his room. Nothing and no one in it. No one had peeped in. Even Nastasya had not touched it. But heavens! how could he have left all those things in the hole? He rushed to the corner, slipped his hand under the paper, pulled the things out and lined his pockets with them.
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