{"id":"01KFE0BCXN2E1S9830TXTBM60M","cid":"bafkreicox6xbdn2yxukvyvgycldkcynfbusnf66omudjaljiy3ydq5ipu4","type":"file","properties":{"cid":"bafkreihildanamv57tlyans37txkr6op7dhwkdlp3pq3xj6b4f6nzsycpu","content_type":"image/jpeg","filename":"crimepunishment00dostiala_page_0061.jpg","key":"pdf-page-1768922919384-m6x2v9t4c","label":"crimepunishment00dostiala_page_0061.jpg","page_number":61,"pdf_type":"born_digital","size":221918,"text":"CRIME AND PUNISHMENT 53\non the very edge of the horizon. A few paces beyond the last\nmarket garden stood a tavern, a big tavern, which had always\naroused in him a feeling of aversion, even of fear, when he\nwalked by it with his father. There was always a crowd there,\nalways shouting, laughter and abuse, hideous hoarse singing and\noften fighting. Drunken and horrible-looking figures were\nhanging about the tavern. He used to cling close to his father,\ntrembling all over when he met them. Near the tavern the road\nbecame a dusty track, the dust of which was always black. It\nwas a winding road, and about a hundred paces further on, it\nturned to the right to the graveyard. In the middle of the grave-\nyard stood a stone church with a green cupola where he used to\ngo to mass two or three times a year with his father and mother,\nwhen a service was held in memory of his grandmother, who had\nlong been dead, and whom he had never seen. On these occasions\nthey used to take on a white dish tied up in a table napkin a\nspecial sort of rice pudding with raisins stuck in it in the shape\nof a cross. He loved that church, the old-fashioned, unadorned\nikons and the old priest with the shaking head. Near his grand-\nmother's grave, which was marked by a stone, was the little\ngrave of his younger brother who had died at six months old. He\ndid not remember him at all, but he had been told about his\nlittle brother, and whenever he visited the graveyard he used\nreligiously and reverently to cross himself and to bow down and\nkiss the little grave. And now he dreamt that he was walking\nwith his father past the tavern on the way to the graveyard; he\nwas holding his father's hand and looking with dread at the\ntavern. A peculiar circumstance attracted his attention: there\nseemed to be some kind of festivity going on, there were crowds\nof gaily dressed townspeople, peasant women, their husbands,\nand riff-raff of all sorts, all singing and all more or less drunk.\nNear the entrance of the tavern stood a cart, but a strange cart.\nIt was one of those big carts usually drawn by heavy cart-horses\nand laden with casks of wine or other heavy goods. He always\nliked looking at those great cart-horses, with their long manes,\nthick legs, and slow even pace, drawing along a perfect moun-\ntain with no ap[>earance of effort, as though it were easier going\nwith a load than without it. But now, strange to say, in the\nshafts of such a cart he saw a thin little sorrel beast, one of those\npeasants' nags which he had often seen straining their utmost","text_extracted_at":"2026-01-20T15:28:39.384Z","text_extracted_by":"pdf-processor","text_has_content":true,"text_source":"born_digital","uploaded":true},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KFCZZ05FKVDDMJJV3YE9Q4WH","peer_label":"crimepunishment00dostiala.pdf","peer_type":"file","predicate":"derived_from"},{"peer":"01KESYJX0Z6XE0HWTS5N3SDG0B","peer_label":"The Classics","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-20T15:28:39.956Z","ts":"2026-01-20T15:28:42.168Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFCZWTBNJH4WFMS8354919KY"}}