it. . . . I put it in his hands, to be safe! . . . Forgive me,
Anna Iurievna, if I have done any harm."

It was the deacon, still oppressed by a feeling of guilt. Anna
Iurievna turned to him, and then turned back again, to her father's
body, to the white object shining under the muslin canopy. And
once more Olga Vseslavovna's words came into her mind:

"The will! In his hands! Take it!"

Gently raising the canopy, she softly drew the paper from beneath
the general's clasped hands, and unfolded it. She read no more
than the opening words, but she had read enough to realize that it
was, indeed, her father's will.



Feodor Mikhailovitch Dostoyevsky

Crime and Punishment*


* (At the risk of shocking the reader, it has been decided that the
real permanent detective stories of the world were ill represented
without Dostoyevsky's terrible tale of what might be called "self-
detection." If to sensitive readers the story seems so real as to
be hideous, it is well to recall that Dostoyevsky in 1849 underwent
the agony of sentence to death as a revolutionist. Although the
sentence was commuted to hard labor in Siberia, and although six
years later he was freed and again took up his writing, his mind