“It’s not Katerina Ivanovna I am afraid of now,” he muttered in agitation⁠—“and that she will begin pulling my hair. What does my hair matter! Bother my hair! That’s what I say! Indeed it will be better if she does begin pulling it, that’s not what I am afraid of⁠ ⁠… it’s her eyes I am afraid of⁠ ⁠… yes, her eyes⁠ ⁠… the red on her cheeks, too, frightens me⁠ ⁠… and her breathing too.⁠ ⁠… Have you noticed how people in that disease breathe⁠ ⁠… when they are excited? I am frightened of the children’s crying, too.⁠ ⁠… For if Sonia has not taken them food⁠ ⁠… I don’t know what’s happened! I don’t know! But blows I am not afraid of.⁠ ⁠… Know, sir, that such blows are not a pain to me, but even an enjoyment. In fact I can’t get on without it.⁠ ⁠… It’s better so. Let her strike me, it relieves her heart⁠ ⁠… it’s better so⁠ ⁠… There is the house. The house of Kozel, the cabinetmaker⁠ ⁠… a German, well-to-do. Lead the way!”

They went in from the yard and up to the fourth storey. The staircase got darker and darker as they went up. It was nearly eleven o’clock and although in summer in Petersburg there is no real night, yet it was quite dark at the top of the stairs.