all these questions rushed at once into her mind. And again she could not believe it: “He, he is a murderer! Could it be true?”
“What’s the meaning of it? Where am I?” she said in complete bewilderment, as though still unable to recover herself. “How could you, you, a man like you. … How could you bring yourself to it? … What does it mean?”
“Oh, well—to plunder. Leave off, Sonia,” he answered wearily, almost with vexation.
Sonia stood as though struck dumb, but suddenly she cried:
“You were hungry! It was … to help your mother? Yes?”
“No, Sonia, no,” he muttered, turning away and hanging his head. “I was not so hungry. … I certainly did want to help my mother, but … that’s not the real thing either. … Don’t torture me, Sonia.”
Sonia clasped her hands.
“Could it, could it all be true? Good God, what a truth! Who could believe it? And how could you give away your last farthing and yet rob and murder! Ah,” she cried suddenly, “that money you gave Katerina Ivanovna … that money. … Can that money …”
“No, Sonia,” he broke in hurriedly, “that money was not it. Don’t worry yourself! That money my mother sent me and it came when I was ill, the day I gave it to you. … Razumihin saw it … he received it for me. … That money was mine—my own.”
Sonia listened to him in bewilderment and did her utmost to comprehend.
“And that money. … I don’t even know really whether there was any money,” he added softly, as though reflecting. “I took a purse off her