4. CHAPTER IV
Raskolnikov went straight to the house on the canal bank where Sonia
lived. It was an old green house of three storeys. He found the porter
and obtained from him vague directions as to the whereabouts of
Kapernaumov, the tailor. Having found in the corner of the courtyard
the entrance to the dark and narrow staircase, he mounted to the
second floor and came out into a gallery that ran round the whole
second storey 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
"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.