{"id":"01KFE0G89V7Y27YNX23C40B76M","cid":"bafkreicvuo3ey2nocr3jfjwqh5j6ahsvd4ftvou3r4kozjmrykkhdqkjpy","type":"file","properties":{"cid":"bafkreihonufuuh6rcdchpqnpacyitnqf4332wio63nf7aow3kmkccema5a","content_type":"image/jpeg","filename":"crimepunishment00dostiala_page_0156.jpg","key":"pdf-page-1768923078573-m0t1lejdbk","label":"crimepunishment00dostiala_page_0156.jpg","page_number":156,"pdf_type":"born_digital","size":210386,"text":"148 CRIME AND PUNISHMENT\nv«r. She heard nothing. WTio would have dreamed of his going\nout, indeed? A minute later he was in the street.\nIt was nearly eight o'clock, the sun was setting. It was as sti-\nfling asbefore, but he eagerly drank in the stinking, dusty town\nair. His head felt rather dizzy; a sort of savage energy gleamed\nsuddenly in his feverish eyes and his wasted, pale and yellow\nface. He did not know and did not think where he was going,\nhe had one thought only \"that all this must be ended to-day,\nonce for all, immediately; that he would not return home with-\nout it,because he would not go on living like that.\" How, with\nwhat to make an end? He had not an idea about it, he did not\neven want to think of it. He drove away thought; thought tor-\ntured him. All he knew, all he felt was that everything must\nbe changed \"one way or another,\" he repeated with desperate\nand immovable self-confidence and determination.\nFrom old habit he took his usual walk in the direction of the\nHay Market. A dark-haired young man w^ith a barrel organ\nwas standing in the road in front of a little general shop and\nwas grinding out a very sentimental song. He was accompany-\ning agirl of fifteen, who stood on the pavement in front of him.\nShe was dressed up in a crinoline, a mantle and a straw hat with\na flame-coloured feather in it, all very old and shabby. In a\nstrong and rather agreeable voice, cracked and coarsened by\nstreet singing, she sang in hope of getting a copper from the\nshop. Raskolnikov joined two or three listeners, took out a five\ncopeck piece and put it in the girl's hand. She broke off abruptly\non a sentimental high note, shouted sharply to the organ grinder\n\"Come on,\" and both moved on to the next shop.\n\"Do you like street music?\" said Raskolnikov, addressing a\nmiddle-aged man standing idly by him. The man looked at\nhim, startled and wondering.\n\"I love to hear singing to a street organ,\" said Raskolnikov,\nand his manner seemed strangely out of keeping with the\nsubject — \"I like it on cold, dark, damp autumn evenings —\nthey must be damp — when all the passers-by have pale green,\nsickly faces, or better still when wet snow is falling straight\ndown, when there's no wind — you know what I mean? and the\nstreet lamps shine through i*. . . .\"\n\"I don't know. . . . Excuse me ...\" muttered the stranger^","text_extracted_at":"2026-01-20T15:31:18.573Z","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":"2026-01-20T15:31:19.155Z","ts":"2026-01-20T15:31:20.061Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFCZWTBNJH4WFMS8354919KY"}}