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Updated: May 6, 2025
But no matter, to return to Dushkin's story. 'I've known this peasant, Nikolay Dementyev, from a child; he comes from the same province and district of Zaraisk, we are both Ryazan men. And though Nikolay is not a drunkard, he drinks, and I knew he had a job in that house, painting work with Dmitri, who comes from the same village, too.
He stopped, and turned to a young fellow, in a red shirt, who was gaping at the entrance to a flour shop. "A man trades here at this corner, with his wife, eh?" "Everyone trades here," replied the lad, scanning his questioner from head to foot. "What is he called?" "What he was christened." "But you belong to Zaraisk, don't you? To what Government?" The boy stared at Raskolnikoff.
He stopped, and turned to a young fellow, in a red shirt, who was gaping at the entrance to a flour shop. "A man trades here at this corner, with his wife, eh?" "Everyone trades here," replied the lad, scanning his questioner from head to foot. "What is he called?" "What he was christened." "But you belong to Zaraisk, don't you? To what Government?" The boy stared at Raskolnikoff.
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