Crime and Punishment

Part 1

Chapter I

On an exceptionally hot evening early in July a young man came out of the garret in which he lodged in S.place

… and every time he went out he was obliged to pass her kitchen, the door of which invariably stood open.

He was crushed by poverty, but the anxieties of his position had of late ceased to weigh upon him.

To rack his brains for excuses, to prevaricate, to lie-no, rather than that, he would creep down the stairs like a cat and slip out unseen.

I want to attempt a thing like that and am frightened by these trifles … yes all is in a man’s hands and he lets it all slip from cowardice, that’s an axiom. It would be interesting to know what it is men are most afraid of. Taking a new step, uttering a new word is what they fear most …

The insufferable stench from the pot-houses, which are particularly numerous in that part of the town.

Being acutely aware

An expression of the profoundest disgust gleamed for a moment in the young man’s refined face.

Soon he sank into deep thought, or more accurately speaking into a complete blankness of mind; he walked along not observing what was about him and not caring to observe it.

But, seeing a number of people on the landing, she grew bolder, and opened the door wide.

She was a diminutive, withered up old woman of sixty, with sharp malignant eyes and a sharp little nose.

“I remember, my good sir, I remember quite well your coming here”, the old woman said distinctly, still keeping her inquiring eyes on his face.

How loathsome it all is! And can I, can I possibly… No, it’s nonsense, it’s rubbish! He added resolutely.