Prestuplenie i nakazanie. English

by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

  CHAPTER III

  He was not completely unconscious, however, all the time he was ill; hewas in a feverish state, sometimes delirious, sometimes half conscious.He remembered a great deal afterwards. Sometimes it seemed as thoughthere were a number of people round him; they wanted to take him awaysomewhere, there was a great deal of squabbling and discussing abouthim. Then he would be alone in the room; they had all gone away afraidof him, and only now and then opened the door a crack to look at him;they threatened him, plotted something together, laughed, and mockedat him. He remembered Nastasya often at his bedside; he distinguishedanother person, too, whom he seemed to know very well, though he couldnot remember who he was, and this fretted him, even made him cry.Sometimes he fancied he had been lying there a month; at other timesit all seemed part of the same day. But of _that_--of _that_ he hadno recollection, and yet every minute he felt that he had forgottensomething he ought to remember. He worried and tormented himself tryingto remember, moaned, flew into a rage, or sank into awful, intolerableterror. Then he struggled to get up, would have run away, but someonealways prevented him by force, and he sank back into impotence andforgetfulness. At last he returned to complete consciousness.

  It happened at ten o'clock in the morning. On fine days the sun shoneinto the room at that hour, throwing a streak of light on the rightwall and the corner near the door. Nastasya was standing beside himwith another person, a complete stranger, who was looking at himvery inquisitively. He was a young man with a beard, wearing a full,short-waisted coat, and looked like a messenger. The landlady waspeeping in at the half-opened door. Raskolnikov sat up.

  "Who is this, Nastasya?" he asked, pointing to the young man.

  "I say, he's himself again!" she said.

  "He is himself," echoed the man.

  Concluding that he had returned to his senses, the landlady closed thedoor and disappeared. She was always shy and dreaded conversations ordiscussions. She was a woman of forty, not at all bad-looking, fatand buxom, with black eyes and eyebrows, good-natured from fatness andlaziness, and absurdly bashful.

  "Who... are you?" he went on, addressing the man. But at that momentthe door was flung open, and, stooping a little, as he was so tall,Razumihin came in.

  "What a cabin it is!" he cried. "I am always knocking my head. You callthis a lodging! So you are conscious, brother? I've just heard the newsfrom Pashenka."

  "He has just come to," said Nastasya.

  "Just come to," echoed the man again, with a smile.

  "And who are you?" Razumihin asked, suddenly addressing him. "My name isVrazumihin, at your service; not Razumihin, as I am always called, butVrazumihin, a student and gentleman; and he is my friend. And who areyou?"

  "I am the messenger from our office, from the merchant Shelopaev, andI've come on business."

  "Please sit down." Razumihin seated himself on the other side of thetable. "It's a good thing you've come to, brother," he went on toRaskolnikov. "For the last four days you have scarcely eaten or drunkanything. We had to give you tea in spoonfuls. I brought Zossimov to seeyou twice. You remember Zossimov? He examined you carefully and said atonce it was nothing serious--something seemed to have gone to your head.Some nervous nonsense, the result of bad feeding, he says you have nothad enough beer and radish, but it's nothing much, it will pass and youwill be all right. Zossimov is a first-rate fellow! He is making quite aname. Come, I won't keep you," he said, addressing the man again. "Willyou explain what you want? You must know, Rodya, this is the second timethey have sent from the office; but it was another man last time, and Italked to him. Who was it came before?"

  "That was the day before yesterday, I venture to say, if you please,sir. That was Alexey Semyonovitch; he is in our office, too."

  "He was more intelligent than you, don't you think so?"

  "Yes, indeed, sir, he is of more weight than I am."

  "Quite so; go on."

  "At your mamma's request, through Afanasy Ivanovitch Vahrushin, of whomI presume you have heard more than once, a remittance is sent to youfrom our office," the man began, addressing Raskolnikov. "If you are inan intelligible condition, I've thirty-five roubles to remit to you, asSemyon Semyonovitch has received from Afanasy Ivanovitch at your mamma'srequest instructions to that effect, as on previous occasions. Do youknow him, sir?"

  "Yes, I remember... Vahrushin," Raskolnikov said dreamily.

  "You hear, he knows Vahrushin," cried Razumihin. "He is in 'anintelligible condition'! And I see you are an intelligent man too. Well,it's always pleasant to hear words of wisdom."

  "That's the gentleman, Vahrushin, Afanasy Ivanovitch. And at the requestof your mamma, who has sent you a remittance once before in thesame manner through him, he did not refuse this time also, and sentinstructions to Semyon Semyonovitch some days since to hand youthirty-five roubles in the hope of better to come."

  "That 'hoping for better to come' is the best thing you've said, though'your mamma' is not bad either. Come then, what do you say? Is he fullyconscious, eh?"

  "That's all right. If only he can sign this little paper."

  "He can scrawl his name. Have you got the book?"

  "Yes, here's the book."

  "Give it to me. Here, Rodya, sit up. I'll hold you. Take the pen andscribble 'Raskolnikov' for him. For just now, brother, money is sweeterto us than treacle."

  "I don't want it," said Raskolnikov, pushing away the pen.

  "Not want it?"

  "I won't sign it."

  "How the devil can you do without signing it?"

  "I don't want... the money."

  "Don't want the money! Come, brother, that's nonsense, I bear witness.Don't trouble, please, it's only that he is on his travels again. Butthat's pretty common with him at all times though.... You are a man ofjudgment and we will take him in hand, that is, more simply, take hishand and he will sign it. Here."

  "But I can come another time."

  "No, no. Why should we trouble you? You are a man of judgment.... Now,Rodya, don't keep your visitor, you see he is waiting," and he madeready to hold Raskolnikov's hand in earnest.

  "Stop, I'll do it alone," said the latter, taking the pen and signinghis name.

  The messenger took out the money and went away.

  "Bravo! And now, brother, are you hungry?"

  "Yes," answered Raskolnikov.

  "Is there any soup?"

  "Some of yesterday's," answered Nastasya, who was still standing there.

  "With potatoes and rice in it?"

  "Yes."

  "I know it by heart. Bring soup and give us some tea."

  "Very well."

  Raskolnikov looked at all this with profound astonishment and a dull,unreasoning terror. He made up his mind to keep quiet and see whatwould happen. "I believe I am not wandering. I believe it's reality," hethought.

  In a couple of minutes Nastasya returned with the soup, and announcedthat the tea would be ready directly. With the soup she brought twospoons, two plates, salt, pepper, mustard for the beef, and so on. Thetable was set as it had not been for a long time. The cloth was clean.

  "It would not be amiss, Nastasya, if Praskovya Pavlovna were to send usup a couple of bottles of beer. We could empty them."

  "Well, you are a cool hand," muttered Nastasya, and she departed tocarry out his orders.

  Raskolnikov still gazed wildly with strained attention. MeanwhileRazumihin sat down on the sofa beside him, as clumsily as a bear put hisleft arm round Raskolnikov's head, although he was able to sit up, andwith his right hand gave him a spoonful of soup, blowing on it thatit might not burn him. But the soup was only just warm. Raskolnikovswallowed one spoonful greedily, then a second, then a third. But aftergiving him a few more spoonfuls of soup, Razumihin suddenly stopped, andsaid that he must ask Zossimov whether he ought to have more.

  Nastasya came in with two bottles of beer.

  "And will you have tea?"

  "Yes."

  "Cut along, Nastasya, and bring some tea, for te
a we may venture onwithout the faculty. But here is the beer!" He moved back to his chair,pulled the soup and meat in front of him, and began eating as though hehad not touched food for three days.

  "I must tell you, Rodya, I dine like this here every day now," hemumbled with his mouth full of beef, "and it's all Pashenka, your dearlittle landlady, who sees to that; she loves to do anything for me. Idon't ask for it, but, of course, I don't object. And here's Nastasyawith the tea. She is a quick girl. Nastasya, my dear, won't you havesome beer?"

  "Get along with your nonsense!"

  "A cup of tea, then?"

  "A cup of tea, maybe."

  "Pour it out. Stay, I'll pour it out myself. Sit down."

  He poured out two cups, left his dinner, and sat on the sofa again. Asbefore, he put his left arm round the sick man's head, raised him upand gave him tea in spoonfuls, again blowing each spoonful steadily andearnestly, as though this process was the principal and most effectivemeans towards his friend's recovery. Raskolnikov said nothing and madeno resistance, though he felt quite strong enough to sit up on the sofawithout support and could not merely have held a cup or a spoon, buteven perhaps could have walked about. But from some queer, almostanimal, cunning he conceived the idea of hiding his strength and lyinglow for a time, pretending if necessary not to be yet in full possessionof his faculties, and meanwhile listening to find out what was going on.Yet he could not overcome his sense of repugnance. After sipping a dozenspoonfuls of tea, he suddenly released his head, pushed the spoon awaycapriciously, and sank back on the pillow. There were actually realpillows under his head now, down pillows in clean cases, he observedthat, too, and took note of it.

  "Pashenka must give us some raspberry jam to-day to make him someraspberry tea," said Razumihin, going back to his chair and attackinghis soup and beer again.

  "And where is she to get raspberries for you?" asked Nastasya, balancinga saucer on her five outspread fingers and sipping tea through a lump ofsugar.

  "She'll get it at the shop, my dear. You see, Rodya, all sorts of thingshave been happening while you have been laid up. When you decamped inthat rascally way without leaving your address, I felt so angry that Iresolved to find you out and punish you. I set to work that very day.How I ran about making inquiries for you! This lodging of yours I hadforgotten, though I never remembered it, indeed, because I did not knowit; and as for your old lodgings, I could only remember it was at theFive Corners, Harlamov's house. I kept trying to find that Harlamov'shouse, and afterwards it turned out that it was not Harlamov's, butBuch's. How one muddles up sound sometimes! So I lost my temper, and Iwent on the chance to the address bureau next day, and only fancy, intwo minutes they looked you up! Your name is down there."

  "My name!"

  "I should think so; and yet a General Kobelev they could not find whileI was there. Well, it's a long story. But as soon as I did land on thisplace, I soon got to know all your affairs--all, all, brother, I knoweverything; Nastasya here will tell you. I made the acquaintance ofNikodim Fomitch and Ilya Petrovitch, and the house-porter and Mr.Zametov, Alexandr Grigorievitch, the head clerk in the police office,and, last, but not least, of Pashenka; Nastasya here knows...."

  "He's got round her," Nastasya murmured, smiling slyly.

  "Why don't you put the sugar in your tea, Nastasya Nikiforovna?"

  "You are a one!" Nastasya cried suddenly, going off into a giggle. "I amnot Nikiforovna, but Petrovna," she added suddenly, recovering from hermirth.

  "I'll make a note of it. Well, brother, to make a long story short,I was going in for a regular explosion here to uproot all malignantinfluences in the locality, but Pashenka won the day. I had notexpected, brother, to find her so... prepossessing. Eh, what do youthink?"

  Raskolnikov did not speak, but he still kept his eyes fixed upon him,full of alarm.

  "And all that could be wished, indeed, in every respect," Razumihin wenton, not at all embarrassed by his silence.

  "Ah, the sly dog!" Nastasya shrieked again. This conversation affordedher unspeakable delight.

  "It's a pity, brother, that you did not set to work in the right wayat first. You ought to have approached her differently. She is, soto speak, a most unaccountable character. But we will talk about hercharacter later.... How could you let things come to such a pass thatshe gave up sending you your dinner? And that I O U? You must have beenmad to sign an I O U. And that promise of marriage when her daughter,Natalya Yegorovna, was alive?... I know all about it! But I see that'sa delicate matter and I am an ass; forgive me. But, talking offoolishness, do you know Praskovya Pavlovna is not nearly so foolish asyou would think at first sight?"

  "No," mumbled Raskolnikov, looking away, but feeling that it was betterto keep up the conversation.

  "She isn't, is she?" cried Razumihin, delighted to get an answer outof him. "But she is not very clever either, eh? She is essentially,essentially an unaccountable character! I am sometimes quite at a loss,I assure you.... She must be forty; she says she is thirty-six, andof course she has every right to say so. But I swear I judge herintellectually, simply from the metaphysical point of view; there is asort of symbolism sprung up between us, a sort of algebra or what not!I don't understand it! Well, that's all nonsense. Only, seeing that youare not a student now and have lost your lessons and your clothes, andthat through the young lady's death she has no need to treat you asa relation, she suddenly took fright; and as you hid in your den anddropped all your old relations with her, she planned to get rid of you.And she's been cherishing that design a long time, but was sorry to losethe I O U, for you assured her yourself that your mother would pay."

  "It was base of me to say that.... My mother herself is almosta beggar... and I told a lie to keep my lodging... and be fed,"Raskolnikov said loudly and distinctly.

  "Yes, you did very sensibly. But the worst of it is that at that pointMr. Tchebarov turns up, a business man. Pashenka would never havethought of doing anything on her own account, she is too retiring; butthe business man is by no means retiring, and first thing he puts thequestion, 'Is there any hope of realising the I O U?' Answer: there is,because he has a mother who would save her Rodya with her hundred andtwenty-five roubles pension, if she has to starve herself; and a sister,too, who would go into bondage for his sake. That's what he was buildingupon.... Why do you start? I know all the ins and outs of your affairsnow, my dear boy--it's not for nothing that you were so open withPashenka when you were her prospective son-in-law, and I say all this asa friend.... But I tell you what it is; an honest and sensitive man isopen; and a business man 'listens and goes on eating' you up. Well,then she gave the I O U by way of payment to this Tchebarov, and withouthesitation he made a formal demand for payment. When I heard of all thisI wanted to blow him up, too, to clear my conscience, but by that timeharmony reigned between me and Pashenka, and I insisted on stoppingthe whole affair, engaging that you would pay. I went security for you,brother. Do you understand? We called Tchebarov, flung him tenroubles and got the I O U back from him, and here I have the honour ofpresenting it to you. She trusts your word now. Here, take it, you see Ihave torn it."

  Razumihin put the note on the table. Raskolnikov looked at him andturned to the wall without uttering a word. Even Razumihin felt atwinge.

  "I see, brother," he said a moment later, "that I have been playing thefool again. I thought I should amuse you with my chatter, and I believeI have only made you cross."

  "Was it you I did not recognise when I was delirious?" Raskolnikovasked, after a moment's pause without turning his head.

  "Yes, and you flew into a rage about it, especially when I broughtZametov one day."

  "Zametov? The head clerk? What for?" Raskolnikov turned round quicklyand fixed his eyes on Razumihin.

  "What's the matter with you?... What are you upset about? He wanted tomake your acquaintance because I talked to him a lot about you.... Howcould I have found out so much except from him? He is a capitalfellow, brother, first-rate... in his own way, of course. Now
we arefriends--see each other almost every day. I have moved into this part,you know. I have only just moved. I've been with him to Luise Ivanovnaonce or twice.... Do you remember Luise, Luise Ivanovna?

  "Did I say anything in delirium?"

  "I should think so! You were beside yourself."

  "What did I rave about?"

  "What next? What did you rave about? What people do rave about.... Well,brother, now I must not lose time. To work." He got up from the tableand took up his cap.

  "What did I rave about?"

  "How he keeps on! Are you afraid of having let out some secret? Don'tworry yourself; you said nothing about a countess. But you said a lotabout a bulldog, and about ear-rings and chains, and about KrestovskyIsland, and some porter, and Nikodim Fomitch and Ilya Petrovitch, theassistant superintendent. And another thing that was of special interestto you was your own sock. You whined, 'Give me my sock.' Zametovhunted all about your room for your socks, and with his own scented,ring-bedecked fingers he gave you the rag. And only then were youcomforted, and for the next twenty-four hours you held the wretchedthing in your hand; we could not get it from you. It is most likelysomewhere under your quilt at this moment. And then you asked sopiteously for fringe for your trousers. We tried to find out what sortof fringe, but we could not make it out. Now to business! Here arethirty-five roubles; I take ten of them, and shall give you an accountof them in an hour or two. I will let Zossimov know at the same time,though he ought to have been here long ago, for it is nearly twelve. Andyou, Nastasya, look in pretty often while I am away, to see whether hewants a drink or anything else. And I will tell Pashenka what is wantedmyself. Good-bye!"

  "He calls her Pashenka! Ah, he's a deep one!" said Nastasya as he wentout; then she opened the door and stood listening, but could not resistrunning downstairs after him. She was very eager to hear what he wouldsay to the landlady. She was evidently quite fascinated by Razumihin.

  No sooner had she left the room than the sick man flung off thebedclothes and leapt out of bed like a madman. With burning, twitchingimpatience he had waited for them to be gone so that he might set towork. But to what work? Now, as though to spite him, it eluded him.

  "Good God, only tell me one thing: do they know of it yet or not? Whatif they know it and are only pretending, mocking me while I am laid up,and then they will come in and tell me that it's been discovered longago and that they have only... What am I to do now? That's what I'veforgotten, as though on purpose; forgotten it all at once, I remembereda minute ago."

  He stood in the middle of the room and gazed in miserable bewildermentabout him; he walked to the door, opened it, listened; but that was notwhat he wanted. Suddenly, as though recalling something, he rushed tothe corner where there was a hole under the paper, began examining it,put his hand into the hole, fumbled--but that was not it. He went to thestove, opened it and began rummaging in the ashes; the frayed edges ofhis trousers and the rags cut off his pocket were lying there just ashe had thrown them. No one had looked, then! Then he remembered the sockabout which Razumihin had just been telling him. Yes, there it lay onthe sofa under the quilt, but it was so covered with dust and grime thatZametov could not have seen anything on it.

  "Bah, Zametov! The police office! And why am I sent for to the policeoffice? Where's the notice? Bah! I am mixing it up; that was then. Ilooked at my sock then, too, but now... now I have been ill. Butwhat did Zametov come for? Why did Razumihin bring him?" he muttered,helplessly sitting on the sofa again. "What does it mean? Am I still indelirium, or is it real? I believe it is real.... Ah, I remember; I mustescape! Make haste to escape. Yes, I must, I must escape! Yes... butwhere? And where are my clothes? I've no boots. They've taken them away!They've hidden them! I understand! Ah, here is my coat--they passed thatover! And here is money on the table, thank God! And here's the I O U...I'll take the money and go and take another lodging. They won't findme!... Yes, but the address bureau? They'll find me, Razumihin will findme. Better escape altogether... far away... to America, and let themdo their worst! And take the I O U... it would be of use there.... Whatelse shall I take? They think I am ill! They don't know that I can walk,ha-ha-ha! I could see by their eyes that they know all about it! Ifonly I could get downstairs! And what if they have set a watchthere--policemen! What's this tea? Ah, and here is beer left, half abottle, cold!"

  He snatched up the bottle, which still contained a glassful of beer, andgulped it down with relish, as though quenching a flame in his breast.But in another minute the beer had gone to his head, and a faint andeven pleasant shiver ran down his spine. He lay down and pulled thequilt over him. His sick and incoherent thoughts grew more and moredisconnected, and soon a light, pleasant drowsiness came upon him. Witha sense of comfort he nestled his head into the pillow, wrapped moreclosely about him the soft, wadded quilt which had replaced the old,ragged greatcoat, sighed softly and sank into a deep, sound, refreshingsleep.

  He woke up, hearing someone come in. He opened his eyes and sawRazumihin standing in the doorway, uncertain whether to come in ornot. Raskolnikov sat up quickly on the sofa and gazed at him, as thoughtrying to recall something.

  "Ah, you are not asleep! Here I am! Nastasya, bring in the parcel!"Razumihin shouted down the stairs. "You shall have the accountdirectly."

  "What time is it?" asked Raskolnikov, looking round uneasily.

  "Yes, you had a fine sleep, brother, it's almost evening, it will be sixo'clock directly. You have slept more than six hours."

  "Good heavens! Have I?"

  "And why not? It will do you good. What's the hurry? A tryst, is it?We've all time before us. I've been waiting for the last three hours foryou; I've been up twice and found you asleep. I've called on Zossimovtwice; not at home, only fancy! But no matter, he will turn up. AndI've been out on my own business, too. You know I've been moving to-day,moving with my uncle. I have an uncle living with me now. But that'sno matter, to business. Give me the parcel, Nastasya. We will open itdirectly. And how do you feel now, brother?"

  "I am quite well, I am not ill. Razumihin, have you been here long?"

  "I tell you I've been waiting for the last three hours."

  "No, before."

  "How do you mean?"

  "How long have you been coming here?"

  "Why I told you all about it this morning. Don't you remember?"

  Raskolnikov pondered. The morning seemed like a dream to him. He couldnot remember alone, and looked inquiringly at Razumihin.

  "Hm!" said the latter, "he has forgotten. I fancied then that you werenot quite yourself. Now you are better for your sleep.... You reallylook much better. First-rate! Well, to business. Look here, my dearboy."

  He began untying the bundle, which evidently interested him.

  "Believe me, brother, this is something specially near my heart. For wemust make a man of you. Let's begin from the top. Do you see thiscap?" he said, taking out of the bundle a fairly good though cheap andordinary cap. "Let me try it on."

  "Presently, afterwards," said Raskolnikov, waving it off pettishly.

  "Come, Rodya, my boy, don't oppose it, afterwards will be too late; andI shan't sleep all night, for I bought it by guess, without measure.Just right!" he cried triumphantly, fitting it on, "just your size! Aproper head-covering is the first thing in dress and a recommendation inits own way. Tolstyakov, a friend of mine, is always obliged to take offhis pudding basin when he goes into any public place where otherpeople wear their hats or caps. People think he does it from slavishpoliteness, but it's simply because he is ashamed of his bird's nest;he is such a boastful fellow! Look, Nastasya, here are two specimens ofheadgear: this Palmerston"--he took from the corner Raskolnikov's old,battered hat, which for some unknown reason, he called a Palmerston--"orthis jewel! Guess the price, Rodya, what do you suppose I paid for it,Nastasya!" he said, turning to her, seeing that Raskolnikov did notspeak.

  "Twenty copecks, no more, I dare say," answered Nastasya.

  "Twenty copecks, silly!" he cried, offended. "Wh
y, nowadays you wouldcost more than that--eighty copecks! And that only because it has beenworn. And it's bought on condition that when's it's worn out, they willgive you another next year. Yes, on my word! Well, now let us pass tothe United States of America, as they called them at school. I assureyou I am proud of these breeches," and he exhibited to Raskolnikov apair of light, summer trousers of grey woollen material. "No holes, nospots, and quite respectable, although a little worn; and a waistcoatto match, quite in the fashion. And its being worn really is animprovement, it's softer, smoother.... You see, Rodya, to my thinking,the great thing for getting on in the world is always to keep to theseasons; if you don't insist on having asparagus in January, you keepyour money in your purse; and it's the same with this purchase. It'ssummer now, so I've been buying summer things--warmer materials will bewanted for autumn, so you will have to throw these away in any case...especially as they will be done for by then from their own lack ofcoherence if not your higher standard of luxury. Come, price them! Whatdo you say? Two roubles twenty-five copecks! And remember the condition:if you wear these out, you will have another suit for nothing! They onlydo business on that system at Fedyaev's; if you've bought a thing once,you are satisfied for life, for you will never go there again of yourown free will. Now for the boots. What do you say? You see that they area bit worn, but they'll last a couple of months, for it's foreign workand foreign leather; the secretary of the English Embassy sold them lastweek--he had only worn them six days, but he was very short of cash.Price--a rouble and a half. A bargain?"

  "But perhaps they won't fit," observed Nastasya.

  "Not fit? Just look!" and he pulled out of his pocket Raskolnikov'sold, broken boot, stiffly coated with dry mud. "I did not goempty-handed--they took the size from this monster. We all did our best.And as to your linen, your landlady has seen to that. Here, to beginwith are three shirts, hempen but with a fashionable front.... Wellnow then, eighty copecks the cap, two roubles twenty-five copecks thesuit--together three roubles five copecks--a rouble and a half for theboots--for, you see, they are very good--and that makes four roublesfifty-five copecks; five roubles for the underclothes--they werebought in the lo--which makes exactly nine roubles fifty-five copecks.Forty-five copecks change in coppers. Will you take it? And so, Rodya,you are set up with a complete new rig-out, for your overcoat willserve, and even has a style of its own. That comes from getting one'sclothes from Sharmer's! As for your socks and other things, I leave themto you; we've twenty-five roubles left. And as for Pashenka and payingfor your lodging, don't you worry. I tell you she'll trust you foranything. And now, brother, let me change your linen, for I daresay youwill throw off your illness with your shirt."

  "Let me be! I don't want to!" Raskolnikov waved him off. He had listenedwith disgust to Razumihin's efforts to be playful about his purchases.

  "Come, brother, don't tell me I've been trudging around for nothing,"Razumihin insisted. "Nastasya, don't be bashful, but help me--that'sit," and in spite of Raskolnikov's resistance he changed his linen. Thelatter sank back on the pillows and for a minute or two said nothing.

  "It will be long before I get rid of them," he thought. "What money wasall that bought with?" he asked at last, gazing at the wall.

  "Money? Why, your own, what the messenger brought from Vahrushin, yourmother sent it. Have you forgotten that, too?"

  "I remember now," said Raskolnikov after a long, sullen silence.Razumihin looked at him, frowning and uneasy.

  The door opened and a tall, stout man whose appearance seemed familiarto Raskolnikov came in.