"Where are you going, Rodya?" asked Dounia rather strangely.

"Oh, I'm quite obliged to..." he answered vaguely, as though hesitating
what he would say. But there was a look of sharp determination in his
white face.

"I meant to say... as I was coming here... I meant to tell you, mother,
and you, Dounia, that it would be better for us to part for a time. I
feel ill, I am not at peace.... I will come afterwards, I will come of
myself... when it's possible. I remember you and love you.... Leave me,
leave me alone. I decided this even before... I'm absolutely resolved on
it. Whatever may come to me, whether I come to ruin or not, I want to be
alone. Forget me altogether, it's better. Don't inquire about me. When
I can, I'll come of myself or... I'll send for you. Perhaps it will all
come back, but now if you love me, give me up... else I shall begin to
hate you, I feel it.... Good-bye!"

"Good God!" cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. Both his mother and his sister
were terribly alarmed. Razumihin was also.

"Rodya, Rodya, be reconciled with us! Let us be as before!" cried his
poor mother.

He turned slowly to the door and slowly went out of the room. Dounia
overtook him.

"Brother, what are you doing to mother?" she whispered, her eyes
flashing with indignation.

He looked dully at her.