Fyodor Dostoevsky

There was a continual coming and going through the two gates and in the

two courtyards of the house. Three or four door-keepers were employed on

the building. The young man was very glad to meet none of them, and

at once slipped unnoticed through the door on the right, and up the

staircase. It was a back staircase, dark and narrow, but he was familiar

with it already, and knew his way, and he liked all these surroundings:

in such darkness even the most inquisitive eyes were not to be dreaded.

"If I am so scared now, what would it be if it somehow came to pass that

I were really going to do it?" he could not help asking himself as he

reached the fourth storey. There his progress was barred by some porters

who were engaged in moving furniture out of a flat. He knew that the

flat had been occupied by a German clerk in the civil service, and his

family. This German was moving out then, and so the fourth floor on this

staircase would be untenanted except by the old woman. "That's a good

thing anyway," he thought to himself, as he rang the bell of the old

woman's flat. The bell gave a faint tinkle as though it were made of

tin and not of copper. The little flats in such houses always have bells

that ring like that. He had forgotten the note of that bell, and now

its peculiar tinkle seemed to remind him of something and to bring it

clearly before him.... He started, his nerves were terribly overstrained

by now. In a little while, the door was opened a tiny crack: the old

woman eyed her visitor with evident distrust through the crack, and

nothing could be seen but her little eyes, glittering in the darkness.

But, seeing a number of people on the landing, she grew bolder, and

opened the door wide. The young man stepped into the dark entry, which

was partitioned off from the tiny kitchen. The old woman stood facing

him in silence and looking inquiringly at him. She was a diminutive,

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