"Where is the story of Lazarus?"

　　"Who brought it?"

　　"Lizaveta, I asked her for it."

　　"Lizaveta! strange!" he thought.

　　Everything about Sonia seemed to him stranger and more wonderfulevery moment. He carried the book to the candle and began to turn overthe pages.

　　"Where is the story of Lazarus?" he asked suddenly.

　　Sonia looked obstinately at the ground and would not answer. She wasstanding sideways to the table.

　　"Where is the raising of Lazarus? Find it for me, Sonia."

　　She stole a glance at him.

　　"You are not looking in the right place.... It's in the fourthgospel," she whispered sternly, without looking at him.

　　"Find it and read it to me," he said. He sat down with his elbowon the table, leaned his head on his hand and looked away sullenly,prepared to listen.

　　"In three weeks' time they'll welcome me in the madhouse! I shall bethere if I am not in a worse place," he muttered to himself.

　　Sonia heard Raskolnikov's request distrustfully and movedhesitatingly to the table. She took the book however.

　　"Haven't you read it?" she asked, looking up at him across thetable.

　　Her voice became sterner and sterner.

　　"Long ago.... When I was at school. Read!"

　　"And haven't you heard it in church?"

　　"I... haven't been. Do you often go?"

　　"N-no," whispered Sonia.

　　Raskolnikov smiled.

　　"I understand.... And you won't go to your father's funeralto-morrow?"