Fyodor Dostoevsky

shadow with fasting; and my sister? Imagine for a moment what may have

become of your sister in ten years? What may happen to her during those

ten years? Can you fancy?"

So he tortured himself, fretting himself with such questions, and

finding a kind of enjoyment in it. And yet all these questions were not

new ones suddenly confronting him, they were old familiar aches. It was

long since they had first begun to grip and rend his heart. Long, long

ago his present anguish had its first beginnings; it had waxed and

gathered strength, it had matured and concentrated, until it had taken

the form of a fearful, frenzied and fantastic question, which tortured

his heart and mind, clamouring insistently for an answer. Now his

mother's letter had burst on him like a thunderclap. It was clear

that he must not now suffer passively, worrying himself over unsolved

questions, but that he must do something, do it at once, and do it

quickly. Anyway he must decide on something, or else...

"Or throw up life altogether!" he cried suddenly, in a frenzy--"accept

one's lot humbly as it is, once for all and stifle everything in

oneself, giving up all claim to activity, life and love!"

"Do you understand, sir, do you understand what it means when you have

absolutely nowhere to turn?" Marmeladov's question came suddenly into

his mind, "for every man must have somewhere to turn...."

He gave a sudden start; another thought, that he had had yesterday,

slipped back into his mind. But he did not start at the thought

recurring to him, for he knew, he had _felt beforehand_, that it must

come back, he was expecting it; besides it was not only yesterday's

thought. The difference was that a month ago, yesterday even, the

thought was a mere dream: but now... now it appeared not a dream at all,

it had taken a new menacing and quite unfamiliar shape, and he suddenly

became aware of this himself.... He felt a hammering in his head, and

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