"But it will be better if she does die."
"No, not better, not at all better!" Sonia unconsciously repeated in dismay.
"And the children? What can you do except take them to live with you?"
"Oh, I don't know," cried Sonia, almost in despair, and she put her hands to her head.
It was evident that that idea had very often occurred to her before and he had only roused it again.
"And, what, if even now, while Katerina Ivanovna is alive, you get ill and are taken to the hospital, what will happen then?" he persisted pitilessly.
"How can you? That cannot be!"
And Sonia's face worked with awful terror.
"Cannot be?" Raskolnikov went on with a harsh smile. "You are not insured against it, are you? What will happen to them then? They will be in the street, all of them, she will cough and beg and knock her head against some wall, as she did to-day, and the children will cry. . . . Then she will fall down, be taken to the police station and to the hospital, she will die, and the children . . ."
"Oh, no. . . . God will not let it be!" broke at last from Sonia's overburdened bosom.
She listened, looking imploringly at him, clasping her hands in dumb entreaty, as though it all depended upon him.
Raskolnikov got up and began to walk about the room. A minute passed. Sonia was standing with her hands and her head hanging in terrible dejection.
"And can't you save? Put by for a rainy day?" he asked, stopping suddenly before her.
"No," whispered Sonia.
"Of course not. Have you tried?" he added almost ironically.
"Yes."
"And it didn't come off! Of course not! No need to ask." And again he paced the room. Another minute passed.
"You don't get money every day?"
Sonia was more confused than ever and colour rushed into her face again.
"No," she whispered with a painful effort.
