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Updated: June 1, 2025
You are very much upset. You are pale and your hands are trembling. Lie down, rest, and put off telling me. I'll sit by you and wait." He hesitated, but I insisted on his lying down. Nastasya brought a cup of vinegar. I wetted a towel and laid it on his head. Then Nastasya stood on a chair and began lighting a lamp before the ikon in the corner.
But what was his amazement when he suddenly saw that Nastasya was not only at home in the kitchen, but was occupied there, taking linen out of a basket and hanging it on a line. Seeing him, she left off hanging the clothes, turned to him and stared at him all the time he was passing. He turned away his eyes, and walked past as though he noticed nothing.
He was thoroughly waked up at last by a violent knocking at his door. "Open, do, are you dead or alive? He keeps sleeping here!" shouted Nastasya, banging with her fist on the door. "For whole days together he's snoring here like a dog! A dog he is too. Open I tell you. It's past ten." "Maybe he's not at home," said a man's voice. "Ha! that's the porter's voice.... What does he want?"
"Stop, I'll do it alone," said the latter, taking the pen and signing his 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."
"Just now... half an hour ago, Ilya Petrovitch, the assistant superintendent, on the stairs.... Why was he ill-treating her like that, and... why was he here?" Nastasya scrutinised him, silent and frowning, and her scrutiny lasted a long time. He felt uneasy, even frightened at her searching eyes. "Nastasya, why don't you speak?" he said timidly at last in a weak voice.
Fancy, we ran here almost straight from the train to embrace you and that woman ah, here she is! Good morning, Nastasya!... She told us at once that you were lying in a high fever and had just run away from the doctor in delirium, and they were looking for you in the streets. You can't imagine how we felt!
Answering his "I won't open" with three bangs with my fist on the door, and shouting after him that I was sure he would send Nastasya for me three times that day, but I would not come, I gave him up and ran off to Yulia Mihailovna. There I was the witness of a revolting scene: the poor woman was deceived to her face, and I could do nothing. Indeed, what could I say to her?
He jumped up and sat on the sofa. The beating of his heart was a positive pain. "Then who can have latched the door?" retorted Nastasya. "He's taken to bolting himself in! As if he were worth stealing! Open, you stupid, wake up!" "What do they want? Why the porter? All's discovered. Resist or open? Come what may!..." He half rose, stooped forward and unlatched the door.
Nastasya was standing with her back to him, blowing up the landlady's samovar. She heard nothing. Who would have dreamed of his going out, indeed? A minute later he was in the street. It was nearly eight o'clock, the sun was setting. It was as stifling as before, but he eagerly drank in the stinking, dusty town air.
"You'll spoil everything," Razumihin answered in the same whisper, losing patience "come out on to the stairs, anyway. Nastasya, show a light! I assure you," he went on in a half whisper on the stairs-"that he was almost beating the doctor and me this afternoon! Do you understand? The doctor himself! Even he gave way and left him, so as not to irritate him.
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