“I had heard my father speak of you⁠ ⁠… only I did not know your name, and he did not know it. And now I came⁠ ⁠… and as I had learnt your name, I asked today, ‘Where does Mr. Raskolnikov live?’ I did not know you had only a room too.⁠ ⁠… Goodbye, I will tell Katerina Ivanovna.”

She was extremely glad to escape at last; she went away looking down, hurrying to get out of sight as soon as possible, to walk the twenty steps to the turning on the right and to be at last alone, and then moving rapidly along, looking at no one, noticing nothing, to think, to remember, to meditate on every word, every detail. Never, never had she felt anything like this. Dimly and unconsciously a whole new world was opening before her. She remembered suddenly that Raskolnikov meant to come to her that day, perhaps at once!

“Only not today, please, not today!” she kept muttering with a sinking heart, as though entreating someone, like a frightened child. “Mercy! to me⁠ ⁠… to that room⁠ ⁠… he will see⁠ ⁠… oh, dear!”