chipped and coarsened by street singing, she sang in hope of having a copper from the shop. Raskolnikov joined two or a few listeners, took out a five copeck piece and put it while in the girl's hand. She broke off abruptly on a sentimental large note, shouted sharply to the organ grinder "Come on, " and both moved about the next shop.
"Do you like street music? " said Raskolnikov, approaching a middle-aged man standing idly by him. The man seen him, startled and wondering.
"I love<b><a xhref="http://www.discoun-therveleger.com/" title="discount herve leger">discount herve leger</a></b> to hear singing to somewhat of a street organ, " said Raskolnikov, and his manner seemed strangely outside of keeping with the subject--"I like it on cold, dark, damp autumn evenings--they has to be damp--when all the passers-by have pale green, sickly faces, or on top of that when wet snow is falling straight down, when there's no wind--you know spinning program so well? --and the street lamps shine through it... "
"I<b><a xhref="hhttp://www.discoun-therveleger.com/" title="herves leger">herves leger</a></b> need ideas of.... Excuse me... " muttered the stranger, frightened by the dilemma and Raskolnikov's strange manner, and he crossed over to the opposite side of the street.
Raskolnikov walked straight on and turned out at the corner of the Hay Market, where the huckster plus his wife had talked with Lizaveta; but they were not really there now. Recognising the place, he stopped, looked round and addressed a fellow in a red shirt who stood gaping before some sort of corn chandler's shop.
"Isn't there a man who keeps a booth together with his wife at this corner? "
"All sorts of people maintain booths here, " answered the young man, glancing superciliously with Raskolnikov.
"What's his name? "
"What he was christened. "
"Aren't anyone a Zaraisky man, too? Which province? "
The young man seen Raskolnikov again.
"It's not a province, your excellency, but some sort of district. Graciously forgive me, your excellency! "
"Is that a tavern for the top there? "
"Yes, it's an eating-house and there's a billiard-room might find princesses there too.... La-la! "
Raskolnikov crossed the sq. In that corner there was a dense crowd of peasants. He pushed his way into your thickest part of it, looking at the faces. He felt an unaccountable inclination to exploit conversation with people. But the peasants took no notice regardin<b><a xhref="http://www.discoun-therveleger.com/" title="discount herve leger">discount herve leger</a></b>g him; they were all shouting in groups together. He stood and thought a little and took a turning to the right to try V.
He had often crossed that little street which converts at an angle, leading from the market-place to Sadovy Avenue. Of late he had often felt drawn to wander relating to this district, when he felt depressed, that he might feel extra so.
Now he walked along, thinking of nothing. At that point the good news is great block of buildings, entirely let out in dram suppliers and eating- houses; women were continually running in and released, bare-headed and in their indoor clothes. Here and there these people gathered in groups, on the pavement, especially about the entrances to various festive establishments while in the lower storeys. From one of these a loud din, seems of singing, the tinkling of a guitar and shouts regarding merriment, floated into the street. A crowd of women were thronging around the door; some were sitting on the steps, others o<b><a xhref="http://www.discoun-therveleger.com/" title="leger herve ">leger herve </a></b>n your pavement, others were standing talking. A drunken soldier, smoking some sort of cigarette, was walking near them in the road, swearing; he seemed to be looking to find his way somewhere, but had forgotten where. One beggar seemed to be quarrelling with another, and a man dead drunk was lying right throughout the road. Raskolnikov joined the throng of women, who were conversing in husky voices. They were bare-headed and wore cotton outfits and goatskin shoes. There were women of forty and some only seventeen; almost all had blackened eyes.
He felt strangely attracted through the singing and all the noise and uproar in the saloon under.... someone could be heard within dancing frantically, marking time together with his heels to the sounds of the guitar and of some sort of thin falsetto voice singing a jaunty air. He listened intently, gloomily plus dreamily, bending down at the entrance and peeping inquisitively in through the pavement.
"Oh, my handsome soldier Don't beat me for absolutely nothing, "
trilled the thin voice of the singer. Raskolnikov felt a fantastic desire to make out what he was singing, as while everything depended on that.
"Shall I go in? " he / she thought. "They are laughing. From drink. Shall I get intoxicated? "
"Won't you come in? " one of the girls asked him. Her voice was still musical and less thick as opposed to others, she was young and not repulsive--the only one belonging to the group.
"Why, she's pretty, " he said, drawing himself up and investigating her.
She smiled, much pleased at the compliment.
"You're incredibly nice looking yourself, " she said.
"Isn't he thin while! " observed another woman in a deep bass. "Have you only come out of a hospital? "
"They're all generals' children, it seems, but they have all snub noses, " interposed a tipsy peasant having a sly smile on his face, wearing a loose coat. "See how jolly they may be. "
"Go along with you! "
"I'll go, sweetie! "
And he darted down into your. Raskolnikov moved on.
"I say, sir, " your girl shouted after him.
"What is it? "
She hesitated.
"I'll be pleased to spend an hour with you, kind gentleman, but now Personally i think shy. Give me six copecks for a drink, there's a great young man! "
Raskolnikov gave her what came first--fifteen copecks.
"Ah, what good-natured gentleman! "