over the yard. While he was wandering in the darkness, uncertain where
to turn for Kapernaumov's door, a door opened three paces from him; he
mechanically took hold of it.

"Who is there?" a woman's voice asked uneasily.

"It's I... come to see you," answered Raskolnikov and he walked into the
tiny entry.

On a broken chair stood a candle in a battered copper candlestick.

"It's you! Good heavens!" cried Sonia weakly, and she stood rooted to
the spot.

"Which is your room? This way?" and Raskolnikov, trying not to look at
her, hastened in.

A minute later Sonia, too, came in with the candle, set down the
candlestick and, completely disconcerted, stood before him inexpressibly
agitated and apparently frightened by his unexpected visit. The colour
rushed suddenly to her pale face and tears came into her eyes... She
felt sick and ashamed and happy, too.... Raskolnikov turned away quickly
and sat on a chair by the table. He scanned the room in a rapid glance.

It was a large but exceedingly low-pitched room, the only one let by the
Kapernaumovs, to whose rooms a closed door led in the wall on the left.
In the opposite side on the right hand wall was another door, always
kept locked. That led to the next flat, which formed a separate lodging.
Sonia's room looked like a barn; it was a very irregular quadrangle and
this gave it a grotesque appearance. A wall with three windows looking