nd the children will cry....
Then she will fall down, be taken to the police station and to the
hospital, she will die, and the children..."

"Oh, no.... God will not let it be!" broke at last from Sonia's
overburdened bosom.

She listened, looking imploringly at him, clasping her hands in dumb
entreaty, as though it all depended upon him.

Raskolnikov got up and began to walk about the room. A minute passed.
Sonia was standing with her hands and her head hanging in terrible
dejection.

"And can't you save? Put by for a rainy day?" he asked, stopping
suddenly before her.

"No," whispered Sonia.

"Of course not. Have you tried?" he added almost ironically.

"Yes."

"And it didn't come off! Of course not! No need to ask."

And again he paced the room. Another minute passed.

"You don't get money every day?"

Sonia was more confused than ever and colour rushed into her face again.

"No," she whispered with a painful effort.

"It will be the same with Polenka, no doubt," he said suddenly.

"No, no! It can't be, no!" Sonia cried aloud in desperation, as though
she had been stabbed. "God would not allow anything so awful!"

"He lets others come to it."

"No, no! God will protect her, God!" she repeated beside herself.

"But, perhaps, there is no God at all," Raskolnikov answered with a sort
of malignance, laughed and looked at her.

Sonia's face suddenly changed; a tremor passed over it. She looked at
him with unutterable reproach, tried to say something, but could not
speak and broke into bitter, bitter sobs, hiding her face in her hands.

"You say Katerina Ivanovna's mind is unhinged; your own mind is
unhinged," he said after a brief silence.

Five minutes passed. He still paced up and down the room in silence, not
looking at her. At last he went up to her; his eyes glittered. He put
his two hands on her shoulders and looked straight into her tearful
face. His eyes were hard, feverish and piercing, his lips were
twitching. All at once he bent down quickly and dropping to the
ground, kissed her foot. Sonia drew back from him as from a madman. And
certainly he looked like a madman.

"What are you doing to me?" she muttered, turning pale, and a sudden
anguish clutched at her heart.

He stood up at once.

"I did not bow down to you, I bowed down to all the suffering of
humanity," he said wildly and walked away to the window. "Listen," he
added, turning to her a minute later. "I said just now to an