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Updated: July 9, 2025
She did not, for instance, complain of getting no letters from him, though in previous years she had only lived on the hope of letters from her beloved Rodya. This was the cause of great uneasiness to Dounia; the idea occurred to her that her mother suspected that there was something terrible in her son's fate and was afraid to ask, for fear of hearing something still more awful.
Pulcheria Alexandrovna embraced him in silence, pressing him to her bosom and weeping gently. "I don't know what is wrong with you, Rodya," she said at last. "I've 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 that's why you are miserable. I've foreseen it a long time, Rodya. Forgive me for speaking about it.
At last he opened it; it was a thick heavy letter, weighing over two ounces, two large sheets of note paper were covered with very small handwriting. "My dear Rodya," wrote his mother "it's two months since I last had a talk with you by letter which has distressed me and even kept me awake at night, thinking. But I am sure you will not blame me for my inevitable silence.
Indeed, dear Rodya, the letter was so nobly and touchingly written that I sobbed when I read it and to this day I cannot read it without tears. Moreover, the evidence of the servants, too, cleared Dounia's reputation; they had seen and known a great deal more than Mr. Svidrigailov had himself supposed as indeed is always the case with servants.
"I know nothing about it, of course," put in Pulcheria Alexandrovna, "it may be a good idea, but again God knows. It's new and untried. Of course, we must remain here at least for a time." She looked at Rodya. "What do you think, brother?" said Dounia. "I think he's got a very good idea," he answered.
I thought just now that perhaps I really am mad, and have only seen a phantom." "What do you mean?" "Why, who can tell? Perhaps I am really mad, and perhaps everything that happened all these days may be only imagination." "Ach, Rodya, you have been upset again!... But what did he say, what did he come for?" Raskolnikov did not answer. Razumihin thought a minute.
"You don't think, sister, that I was simply afraid of the water?" he asked, looking into her face with a sinister smile. "Oh, Rodya, hush!" cried Dounia bitterly. Silence lasted for two minutes. He sat with his eyes fixed on the floor; Dounia stood at the other end of the table and looked at him with anguish. Suddenly he got up. "It's late, it's time to go! I am going at once to give myself up.
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 couldn't 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?" "Yes."
They got on to everlasting questions, floated off into space." "Only fancy, Rodya, what we got on to yesterday. Whether there is such a thing as crime. I told you that we talked our heads off." "What is there strange? It's an everyday social question," Raskolnikov answered casually. "The question wasn't put quite like that," observed Porfiry.
This article she was continually reading, she even read it aloud, almost took it to bed with her, but scarcely asked where Rodya was, though the subject was obviously avoided by the others, which might have been enough to awaken her suspicions. They began to be frightened at last at Pulcheria Alexandrovna's strange silence on certain subjects.
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