right。　On　the　other　side　of　the　waggon　he　could　hear　shouting　and
  quarrelling；　but　no　one　noticed　him　and　no　one　met　him。　Many　windows
  looking　into　that　huge　quadrangular　yard　were　open　at　that　moment；　but
  he　did　not　raise　his　head…　he　had　not　the　strength　to。　The　staircase
  leading　to　the　old　woman's　room　was　close　by；　just　on　the　right　of　the
  gateway。　He　was　already　on　the　stairs。。。。
  Drawing　a　breath；　pressing　his　hand　against　his　throbbing　heart；　and
  once　more　feeling　for　the　axe　and　setting　it　straight；　he　began　softly
  and　cautiously　ascending　the　stairs；　listening　every　minute。　But　the
  stairs；　too；　were　quite　deserted；　all　the　doors　were　shut；　he　met　no
  one。　One　flat　indeed　on　the　first　floor　was　wide　open　and　painters
  were　at　work　in　it；　but　they　did　not　glance　at　him。　He　stood　still；
  thought　a　minute　and　went　on。　〃Of　course　it　would　be　better　if　they
  had　not　been　here；　but。。。　it's　two　storeys　above　them。〃
  And　there　was　the　fourth　storey；　here　was　the　door；　here　was　the
  flat　opposite；　the　empty　one。　The　flat　underneath　the　old　woman's
  was　apparently　empty　also；　the　visiting　card　nailed　on　the　door　had
  been　torn　off…　they　had　gone　away！。。。　He　was　out　of　breath。　For　one
  instant　the　thought　floated　through　his　mind　〃Shall　I　go　back？〃　But　he
  made　no　answer　and　began　listening　at　the　old　woman's　door；　a　dead
  silence。　Then　he　listened　again　on　the　staircase；　listened　long　and
  intently。。。　then　looked　about　him　for　the　last　time；　pulled　himself
  together；　drew　himself　up；　and　once　more　tried　the　axe　in　the　noose。
  〃Am　I　very　pale？〃　he　wondered。　〃Am　I　not　evidently　agitated？　She　is
  mistrustful。。。。　Had　I　better　wait　a　little　longer。。。　till　my　heart
  leaves　off　thumping？〃
  But　his　heart　did　not　leave　off。　On　the　contrary；　as　though　to　spite
  him；　it　throbbed　more　and　more　violently。　He　could　stand　it　no　longer；
  he　slowly　put　out　his　hand　to　the　bell　and　rang。　Half　a　minute　later
  he　rang　again；　more　loudly。
  No　answer。　To　go　on　ringing　was　useless　and　out　of　place。　The　old
  woman　was；　of　course；　at　home；　but　she　was　suspicious　and　alone。　He
  had　some　knowledge　of　her　habits。。。　and　once　more　he　put　his　ear　to
  the　door。　Either　his　senses　were　peculiarly　keen　（which　it　is
  difficult　to　suppose）；　or　the　sound　was　really　very　distinct。
  Anyway；　he　suddenly　heard　something　like　the　cautious　touch　of　a
  hand　on　the　lock　and　the　rustle　of　a　skirt　at　the　very　door。　Some
  one　was　standing　stealthily　close　to　the　lock　and　just　as　he　was　doing
  on　the　outside　was　secretly　listening　within；　and　seemed　to　have　her
  ear　to　the　door。。。。　He　moved　a　little　on　purpose　and　muttered
  something　aloud　that　he　might　not　have　the　appearance　of　hiding；
  then　rang　a　third　time；　but　quietly；　soberly　and　without　impatience；
  Recalling　it　afterwards；　that　moment　stood　out　in　his　mind　vividly；
  distinctly；　forever；　he　could　not　make　out　how　he　had　had　such
  cunning；　for　his　mind　was　as　it　were　clouded　at　moments　and　he　was
  almost　unconscious　of　his　body。。。。　An　instant　later　he　heard　the　latch
  unfastened。
  Chapter　Seven
  THE　DOOR　was　as　before　opened　a　tiny　crack；　and　again　two　sharp
  and　suspicious　eyes　stared　at　him　out　of　the　darkness。　Then
  Raskolnikov　lost　his　head　and　nearly　made　a　great　mistake。
  Fearing　the　old　woman　would　be　frightened　by　their　being　alone；
  and　not　hoping　that　the　sight　of　him　would　disarm　her　suspicions；　he
  took　hold　of　the　door　and　drew　it　towards　him　to　prevent　the　old　woman
  from　attempting　to　shut　it　again。　Seeing　this　she　did　not　pull　the
  door　back；　but　she　did　not　let　go　the　handle　so　that　he　almost　dragged
  her　out　with　it　on　to　the　stairs。　Seeing　that　she　was　standing　in
  the　doorway　not　allowing　him　to　pass；　he　advanced　straight　upon　her。
  She　stepped　back　in　alarm；　tried　to　say　something；　but　seemed　unable
  to　speak　and　stared　with　open　eyes　at　him。
  〃Good　evening；　Alyona　Ivanovna；〃　he　began；　trying　to　speak　easily；
  but　his　voice　would　not　obey　him；　it　broke　and　shook。　〃I　have
  come。。。　I　have　brought　something。。。　but　we'd　better　come　in。。。　to
  the　light。。。。〃
  And　leaving　her；　he　passed　straight　into　the　room　uninvited。　The　old
  woman　ran　after　him；　her　tongue　was　unloosed。
  〃Good　heavens！　What　it　is？　Who　is　it？　What　do　you　want？〃
  〃Why；　Alyona　Ivanovna；　you　know　me。。。　Raskolnikov。。。　here；　I　brought
  you　the　pledge　I　promised　the　other　day。。。〃　and　he　held　out　the
  pledge。
  The　old　woman　glanced　for　a　moment　at　the　pledge；　but　at　once　stared
  in　the　eyes　of　her　uninvited　visitor。　She　looked　intently；　maliciously
  and　mistrustfully。　A　minute　passed；　he　even　fancied　something　like　a
  sneer　in　her　eyes；　as　though　she　had　already　guessed　everything。　He
  felt　that　he　was　losing　his　head；　that　he　was　almost　frightened；　so
  frightened　that　if　she　were　to　look　like　that　and　not　say　a　word　for
  another　half　minute；　he　thought　he　would　have　run　away　from　her。
  〃Why　do　you　look　at　me　as　though　you　did　not　know　me？〃　he　said
  suddenly；　also　with　malice。　〃Take　it　if　you　like；　if　not　I'll　go
  elsewhere；　I　am　in　a　hurry。〃
  He　had　not　even　thought　of　saying　this；　but　it　was　suddenly　said
  of　itself。　The　old　woman　recovered　herself；　and　her　visitor's　resolute
  tone　evidently　restored　her　confidence。
  〃But　why；　my　good　sir；　all　of　a　minute。。。。　What　is　it？〃　she　asked；
  looking　at　the　pledge。
  〃The　silver　cigarette　case；　I　spoke　of　it　last　time；　you　know。〃
  She　held　out　her　hand。
  〃But　how　pale　you　are；　to　be　sure。。。　and　your　hands　are　trembling
  too？　Have　you　been　bathing；　or　what？〃
  〃Fever；〃　he　answered　abruptly。　〃You　can't　help　getting　pale。。。　if
  you've　nothing　to　eat；〃　he　added；　with　difficulty　articulating　the
  words。
  His　strength　was　failing　him　again。　But　his　answer　sounded　like
  the　truth；　the　old　woman　took　the　pledge。
  〃What　is　it？〃　she　asked　once　more；　scanning　Raskolnikov　intently；
  and　weighing　the　pledge　in　her　hand。
  〃A　thing。。。　cigarette　case。。。。　Silver。。。。　Look　at　it。〃
  〃It　does　not　seem　somehow　like　silver。。。。　How　he　has　wrapped　it　up！〃
  Trying　to　untie　the　string　and　turning　to　the　window；　to　the　light
  （all　her　windows　were　shut；　in　spite　of　the　stifling　heat）；　she　left
  him　altogether　for　some　seconds　and　stood　with　her　back　to　him。　He
  unbuttoned　his　coat　and　freed　the　axe　from　the　noose；　but　did　not
  yet　take　it　out　altogether；　simply　holding　it　in　his　right　hand
  under　the　coat。　His　hands　were　fearfully　weak；　he　felt　them　every
  moment　growing　more　numb　and　more　wooden。　He　was　afraid　he　would　let
  the　axe　slip　and　fall。。。。　A　sudden　giddiness　came　over　him。
  〃But　what　has　he　tied　it　up　like　this　for？〃　the　old　woman　cried　with
  vexation　and　moved　towards　him。
  He　had　not　a　minute　more　to　lose。　He　pulled　the　axe　quite　out；　swung
  it　with　both　arms；　scarcely　conscious　of　himself；　and　almost　without
  effort；　almost　mechanically；　brought　the　blunt　side　down　on　her
  head。　He　seemed　not　to　use　his　own　strength　in　this。　But　as　soon　as　he
  had　once　brought　the　axe　down；　his　strength　returned　to　him。
  The　old　woman　was　as　always　bareheaded。　Her　thin；　light　hair；
  streaked　with　grey；　thickly　smeared　with　grease；　was　plaited　in　a
  rat's　tail　and　fastened　by　a　broken　horn　comb　which　stood　out　on　the
  nape　of　her　neck。　As　she　was　so　short；　the　blow　fell　on　the　very　top
  of　her　skull。　She　cried　out；　bu