"I believe it. Why do you need all this?

"Do you literally believe?"

— Literally.

Porfiry Petrovich was not mistaken. The seeds of future repentance fell into Raskolnikov's soul. Therefore, he came to Sonya Marmeladova.

"There was some kind of book on the chest of drawers. Every time he passed back and forth, he noticed her; Now he took it and looked. It was the New Testament in Russian translation. The book was old, second-hand, in a leather binding...

"Where is it about Lazarus?" He asked suddenly.

Sonya stubbornly stared at the ground and did not answer. She stood a little sideways to the table.

"Where is the resurrection of Lazarus?" Find it for me, Sonya.

She glanced sideways at him.

"Look in the wrong place... in the fourth Gospel," she whispered sternly, without moving towards him.

"Find it and read it to me," he said, and sat down, leaned on the table, propped his head on his hand, and stared sullenly to the side, ready to listen.

Sonya hesitantly stepped to the table, listening incredulously to Raskolnikov's strange desire. However, she took the book.

"Haven't you read it?" She asked, glancing at him across the table, from under her brow. Her voice grew harsher and harsher.

"A long time ago... When I studied. Read!

"Have you heard of it in church?"

"I... I didn't go. Do you go often?..

Sonya hesitated. Her heart was pounding. Somehow she did not dare to read to him. He looked almost anguished at the "unfortunate madwoman."

"Why do you need it?" After all, you do not believe?.. She whispered softly and somewhat breathlessly.

"Read it!" I want it so much! he insisted. "I read it to Lizaveta!"

Sonya unfolded the book and found a place. Her hands were trembling, her voice was not enough. Twice she began, and still the first syllable was not pronounced.

"A certain Lazarus from Bethany was sick..." she said at last with an effort, but suddenly, at the third word, her voice rang and broke like a string that was too tight. My breath crossed, and my chest tightened.