{"id":"01KFE0G1YEQ4G0BWF0D04CV3EC","cid":"bafkreidwzgxcj524l2y2oacjnog54la2yc4xshnzt4dx4cbxljobh3ty3i","type":"file","properties":{"cid":"bafkreib4s3mhnpfgzlfhixcli54kz5ng3xpefhb6keprhyrdhand4kfkse","content_type":"image/jpeg","filename":"crimepunishment00dostiala_page_0483.jpg","key":"pdf-page-1768923071980-wf1z60p5lu","label":"crimepunishment00dostiala_page_0483.jpg","page_number":483,"pdf_type":"born_digital","size":216634,"text":"CRIME AND PUNISHMENT 475\npeeped through. The rcjom, which was somewhat larger than\nhis, had two occupants. One of them, a very curly-headed man\nwith a red inflamed face, was standing in the pose of an orator,\nwitho^it his coat, with his legs wide apart to preserve his balance,\nand smiting himself on the breast. He reproached the other with\nbeing a beggar, with having no standing whatever. He declared\nthat he had taken the other out of the gutter and he could turn\nhim out when he liked, and that only the finger of Providence\nsees it all. The object of his reproaches was sitting in a chair,\nand had the air of a man who wants dreadfully to sneeze, but\ncan't. He sometimes turned sheepish and befogged eyes on the\nspeaker, but obviously had not the slightest idea what he was\ntalking about and scarcely heard it. A candle was burning down\non the table; there were wine glasses, a nearly empty bottle of\nvodka, bread and cucumber, and glasses with the dregs of stale\ntea. After gazing attentively at this, Svidrigailov turned away\nindifferently and sat down on the bed.\nThe ragged attendant, returning with the tea, could not resist\nasking him again whether he didn't want anything more, and\nagain receiving a negative reply, finally withdrew. Svidrigailov\nmade haste to drink a glass of tea to warm himself, but could not\neat anything. He began to feel feverish. He took off his coat\nand, wrapping himself in the blanket, lay down on the bed. He\nwas annoyed. \"It would have been better to be well for the\noccasion,\" he thought with a smile. The room was close, the\ncandle burnt dimly, the wind was roaring outside, he heard a\nmouse scratching in the corner and the room smelt of mice and\nof leather. He lay in a sort of reverie: one thought followed\nanother. He felt a longing to fix his imagination on something.\n\"It must be a garden under the window,\" he thought. \"There's\na sound of trees. How I dislike the sound of trees on a stormy\nnight, in the dark! They give one a horrid feeling.\" He remem-\nbered how he had disliked it when he passed Petrovsky Park just\nnow. This reminded him of the bridge over the Little Neva and\nhe felt cold again as he had when standing there. \"I never have\nliked water,\" he thought, \"even in a landscap>e,\" and he suddenly\nsmiled again at a strange idea: \"Surely now all these questions\nof taste and comfort ought not to matter, but I've become more\nparticular, like an animal that picks eut a special place . . . for\nsuch an occasion. I ought to have gone into the Petro^vsky Park!","text_extracted_at":"2026-01-20T15:31:11.980Z","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":"2026-01-20T15:31:12.652Z","ts":"2026-01-20T15:31:14.086Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFCZWTBNJH4WFMS8354919KY"}}