1 There were few people at the time in the tavern.
2 Near the entrance of the tavern stood a cart, but a strange cart.
3 Drunken and horrible-looking figures were hanging about the tavern.
4 Going into the tavern he drank a glass of vodka and ate a pie of some sort.
5 He recalled it on passing an eating-house or tavern, and felt that he was hungry.
6 Near the tavern the road became a dusty track, the dust of which was always black.
7 He got two roubles from her and went into a miserable little tavern on his way home.
8 Till that moment he had never been into a tavern, but now he felt giddy and was tormented by a burning thirst.
9 Looking round, he noticed that he was standing close to a tavern which was entered by steps leading from the pavement to the basement.
10 This trivial talk in a tavern had an immense influence on him in his later action; as though there had really been in it something preordained, some guiding hint.
11 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.
12 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.
13 The tavern, the degraded appearance of the man, the five nights in the hay barge, and the pot of spirits, and yet this poignant love for his wife and children bewildered his listener.
14 As he went out, Raskolnikov had time to put his hand into his pocket, to snatch up the coppers he had received in exchange for his rouble in the tavern and to lay them unnoticed on the window.
15 Evidently Marmeladov was a familiar figure here, and he had most likely acquired his weakness for high-flown speeches from the habit of frequently entering into conversation with strangers of all sorts in the tavern.
16 The persons still in the tavern were a man who appeared to be an artisan, drunk, but not extremely so, sitting before a pot of beer, and his companion, a huge, stout man with a grey beard, in a short full-skirted coat.
17 He was so weary after a whole month of concentrated wretchedness and gloomy excitement that he longed to rest, if only for a moment, in some other world, whatever it might be; and, in spite of the filthiness of the surroundings, he was glad now to stay in the tavern.
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