upon　the　grass　and　instantly　fell　asleep。
  In　a　morbid　condition　of　the　brain；　dreams　often　have　a　singular
  actuality；　vividness；　and　extraordinary　semblance　of　reality。　At　times
  monstrous　images　are　created；　but　the　setting　and　the　whole　picture
  are　so　truthlike　and　filled　with　details　so　delicate；　so　unexpectedly；
  but　so　artistically　consistent；　that　the　dreamer；　were　he　an　artist
  like　Pushkin　or　Turgenev　even；　could　never　have　invented　them　in　the
  waking　state。　Such　sick　dreams　always　remain　long　in　the　memory　and
  make　a　powerful　impression　on　the　overwrought　and　deranged　nervous
  system。
  Raskolnikov　had　a　fearful　dream。　He　dreamt　he　was　back　in　his
  childhood　in　the　little　town　of　his　birth。　He　was　a　child　about
  seven　years　old；　walking　into　the　country　with　his　father　on　the
  evening　of　a　holiday。　It　was　a　grey　and　heavy　day；　the　country　was
  exactly　as　he　remembered　it；　indeed　he　recalled　it　far　more　vividly　in
  his　dream　than　he　had　done　in　memory。　The　little　town　stood　on　a　level
  flat　as　bare　as　the　hand；　not　even　a　willow　near　it；　only　in　the　far
  distance；　a　copse　lay；　a　dark　blur　on　the　very　edge　of　the　horizon。
  A　few　paces　beyond　the　last　market　garden　stood　a　tavern；　a　big
  tavern；　which　had　always　aroused　in　him　a　feeling　of　aversion；　even　of
  fear；　when　he　walked　by　it　with　his　father。　There　was　always　a　crowd
  there；　always　shouting；　laughter　and　abuse；　hideous　hoarse　singing　and
  often　fighting。　Drunken　and　horrible…looking　figures　were　hanging
  about　the　tavern。　He　used　to　cling　close　to　his　father；　trembling
  all　over　when　he　met　them。　Near　the　tavern　the　road　became　a　dusty
  track；　the　dust　of　which　was　always　black。　It　was　a　winding　road；
  and　about　a　hundred　paces　further　on；　it　turned　to　the　right　to　the
  graveyard。　In　the　middle　of　the　graveyard　stood　a　stone　church　with
  a　green　cupola　where　he　used　to　go　to　mass　two　or　three　times　a　year
  with　his　father　and　mother；　when　a　service　was　held　in　memory　of　his
  grandmother；　who　had　long　been　dead；　and　whom　he　had　never　seen。　On
  these　occasions　they　used　to　take　on　a　white　dish　tied　up　in　a　table
  napkin　a　special　sort　of　rice　pudding　with　raisins　stuck　in　it　in
  the　shape　of　a　cross。　He　loved　that　church；　the　old…fashioned；
  unadorned　ikons　and　the　old　priest　with　the　shaking　head。　Near　his
  grandmother's　grave；　which　was　marked　by　a　stone；　was　the　little　grave
  of　his　younger　brother　who　had　died　at　six　months　old。　He　did　not
  remember　him　at　all；　but　he　had　been　told　about　his　little　brother；
  and　whenever　he　visited　the　graveyard　he　used　religiously　and
  reverently　to　cross　himself　and　to　bow　down　and　kiss　the　little　grave。
  And　now　he　dreamt　that　he　was　walking　with　his　father　past　the
  tavern　on　the　way　to　the　graveyard；　he　was　holding　his　father's　hand
  and　looking　with　dread　at　the　tavern。　A　peculiar　circumstance
  attracted　his　attention：　there　seemed　to　be　some　kind　of　festivity
  going　on；　there　were　crowds　of　gaily　dressed　townspeople；　peasant
  women；　their　husbands；　and　riff…raff　of　all　sorts；　all　singing　and　all
  more　or　less　drunk。　Near　the　entrance　of　the　tavern　stood　a　cart；
  but　a　strange　cart。　It　was　one　of　those　big　carts　usually　drawn　by
  heavy　cart…horses　and　laden　with　casks　of　wine　or　other　heavy　goods。
  He　always　liked　looking　at　those　great　cart…horses；　with　their　long
  manes；　thick　legs；　and　slow　even　pace；　drawing　along　a　perfect
  mountain　with　no　appearance　of　effort；　as　though　it　were　easier
  going　with　a　load　than　without　it。　But　now；　strange　to　say；　in　the
  shafts　of　such　a　cart　he　saw　a　thin　little　sorrel　beast；　one　of
  those　peasants'　nags　which　he　had　often　seen　straining　their　utmost
  under　a　heavy　load　of　wood　or　hay；　especially　when　the　wheels　were
  stuck　in　the　mud　or　in　a　rut。　And　the　peasants　would　be　at　them　so
  cruelly；　sometimes　even　about　the　nose　and　eyes　and　he　felt　so
  sorry；　so　sorry　for　them　that　he　almost　cried；　and　his　mother　always
  used　to　take　him　away　from　the　window。　All　of　a　sudden　there　was　a
  great　uproar　of　shouting；　singing　and　the　balalaika；　and　from　the
  tavern　a　number　of　big　and　very　drunken　peasants　came　out；　wearing　red
  and　blue　shirts　and　coats　thrown　over　their　shoulders。
  〃Get　in；　get　in！〃　shouted　one　of　them；　a　young　thick…necked
  peasant　with　a　fleshy　face　red　as　a　carrot。　〃I'll　take　you　all；　get
  in！〃
  But　at　once　there　was　an　outbreak　of　laughter　and　exclamations　in
  the　crowd。
  〃Take　us　all　with　a　beast　like　that！〃
  〃Why；　Mikolka；　are　you　crazy　to　put　a　nag　like　that　in　such　a　cart？〃
  〃And　this　mare　is　twenty　if　she　is　a　day；　mates！〃
  〃Get　in；　I'll　take　you　all；〃　Mikolka　shouted　again；　leaping　first
  into　the　cart；　seizing　the　reins　and　standing　straight　up　in　front。
  〃The　bay　has　gone　with　Marvey；〃　he　shouted　from　the　cart…　〃and　this
  brute；　mates；　is　just　breaking　my　heart；　I　feel　as　if　I　could　kill
  her。　She's　just　eating　her　head　off。　Get　in；　I　tell　you！　I'll　make　her
  gallop！　She'll　gallop！〃　and　he　picked　up　the　whip；　preparing　himself
  with　relish　to　flog　the　little　mare。
  〃Get　in！　Come　along！〃　The　crowd　laughed。　〃D'you　hear；　she'll
  gallop！〃
  〃Gallop　indeed！　She　has　not　had　a　gallop　in　her　for　the　last　ten
  years！〃
  〃She'll　jog　along！〃
  〃Don't　you　mind　her；　mates；　bring　a　whip　each　of　you；　get　ready！〃
  〃All　right！　Give　it　to　her！〃
  They　all　clambered　into　Mikolka's　cart；　laughing　and　making　jokes。
  Six　men　got　in　and　there　was　still　room　for　more。　They　hauled　in　a
  fat；　rosy…cheeked　woman。　She　was　dressed　in　red　cotton；　in　a
  pointed；　beaded　headdress　and　thick　leather　shoes；　she　was　cracking
  nuts　and　laughing。　The　crowd　round　them　was　laughing　too　and　indeed；
  how　could　they　help　laughing？　That　wretched　nag　was　to　drag　all　the
  cartload　of　them　at　a　gallop！　Two　young　fellows　in　the　cart　were
  just　getting　whips　ready　to　help　Mikolka。　With　the　cry　of　〃now；〃　the
  mare　tugged　with　all　her　might；　but　far　from　galloping；　could　scarcely
  move　forward；　she　struggled　with　her　legs；　gasping　and　shrinking
  from　the　blows　of　the　three　whips　which　were　showered　upon　her　like
  hail。　The　laughter　in　the　cart　and　in　the　crowd　was　redoubled；　but
  Mikolka　flew　into　a　rage　and　furiously　thrashed　the　mare；　as　though　he
  supposed　she　really　could　gallop。
  〃Let　me　get　in；　too；　mates；〃　shouted　a　young　man　in　the　crowd
  whose　appetite　was　aroused。
  〃Get　in；　all　get　in；〃　cried　Mikolka；　〃she　will　draw　you　all。　I'll
  beat　her　to　death！〃　And　he　thrashed　and　thrashed　at　the　mare；　beside
  himself　with　fury。
  〃Father；　father；〃　he　cried；　〃father；　what　are　they　doing？　Father；
  they　are　beating　the　poor　horse！〃
  〃Come　along；　come　along！〃　said　his　father。　〃They　are　drunken　and
  foolish；　they　are　in　fun；　come　away；　don't　look！〃　and　he　tried　to　draw
  him　away；　but　he　tore　himself　away　from　his　hand；　and；　beside
  himself　with　horror；　ran　to　the　horse。　The　poor　beast　was　in　a　bad
  way。　She　was　gasping；　standing　still；　then　tugging　again　and　almost
  falling。
  〃Beat　her　to　death；〃　cried　Mikolka；　〃it's　come　to　that。　I'll　do
  for　her！〃
  〃What　are　you　about；　are　you　a　Christian；　you　devil？〃　shouted　an　old
  man　in　the　crowd。
  〃Did　any　one　ever　see　the　like？　A　wretched　nag　like　that　pulling
  such　a　cartload；〃　said　another。
  〃You'll　kill　her；〃　shouted　the　third。
  〃Don't　meddle！　It's　my　property。