felt at that moment that he was not really feeling sorry for me and that he neither loved me nor realized how much I loved him if he thought that I would do whatever he wanted just for sweets. I, the child, understood him thoroughly and I felt as if that understanding had wounded me for ever.
the first dostoyevsky tale of children suffering from their fathers. this will return in dostoyevsky’s works almost forty years later, in brothers karamazov :(
