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"Yes, yes, yes! There's no hurry, there's no hurry," muttered Porfiry Petrovitch, moving to and fro about the table without any apparent aim, as it were making dashes towards the window, the bureau and the table, at one moment avoiding Raskolnikov's suspicious glance, then again standing still and looking him straight in the face.
My throat's dry," cried Razumihin. "Capital idea! Perhaps we will all keep you company. Wouldn't you like... something more essential before tea?" "Get along with you!" Porfiry Petrovitch went out to order tea. Raskolnikov's thoughts were in a whirl. He was in terrible exasperation. "The worst of it is they don't disguise it; they don't care to stand on ceremony!
"Listen, Porfiry Petrovitch. You said just now you have nothing but psychology to go on, yet now you've gone on mathematics. Well, what if you are mistaken yourself, now?" "No, Rodion Romanovitch, I am not mistaken. I have a little fact even then, Providence sent it me." "What little fact?" "I won't tell you what, Rodion Romanovitch.
"But we know all who had pledges, and you are the only one who hasn't come forward," Porfiry answered with hardly perceptible irony. "I haven't been quite well." "I heard that too. I heard, indeed, that you were in great distress about something. You look pale still." "I am not pale at all.... No, I am quite well," Raskolnikov snapped out rudely and angrily, completely changing his tone.
His face twitched convulsively. "Your lip is twitching just as it did before," Porfiry Petrovitch observed almost sympathetically. "You've been misunderstanding me, I think, Rodion Romanovitch," he added after a brief pause, "that's why you are so surprised. I came on purpose to tell you everything and deal openly with you."
Yet he felt at once that that was not the only cause of his uneasiness; there was something requiring immediate decision, but it was something he could not clearly understand or put into words. It was a hopeless tangle. "No, better the struggle again! Better Porfiry again... or Svidrigailov.... Better some challenge again... some attack. Yes, yes!" he thought.
"You know it was with no sort of profit to myself, Porfiry Petrovitch," he faltered: "why, I cut my own throat!" My father remained implacable. Latkin never set foot in our house again. Fate itself seemed determined to carry out my father's last cruel words. How he struggled on, what he lived upon it is hard to imagine. He lived in a dilapidated hovel at no great distance from our house.
You see, mother may ask for it before dinner." "Certainly not to the police station. Certainly to Porfiry," Razumihin shouted in extraordinary excitement. "Well, how glad I am. Let us go at once. It is a couple of steps. We shall be sure to find him." "Very well, let us go." "And he will be very, very glad to make your acquaintance. I have often talked to him of you at different times.
Great as was Madame Odintsov's self-control, and superior as she was to every kind of prejudice, she felt awkward when she went into the dining-room to dinner. The meal went off fairly successfully, however. Porfiry Platonovitch made his appearance and told various anecdotes; he had just come back from the town.
Razumihin was more than ecstatic and Raskolnikov perceived it with repulsion. He was alarmed, too, by what Razumihin had just said about Porfiry. "I shall have to pull a long face with him too," he thought, with a beating heart, and he turned white, "and do it naturally, too. But the most natural thing would be to do nothing at all. Carefully do nothing at all!
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