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Updated: June 12, 2025
Nature, my friend, is the most transparent of mirrors. To contemplate her is sufficient. But why do you grow pale, Rodion Romanovitch? Perhaps you are too hot; shall I open the window?" "By no means, I beg!" cried Raskolnikoff, bursting out laughing. "Don't heed me, pray!" Porphyrius stopped short, waited a moment, and burst out laughing himself.
Porphyrius's fright seemed so natural that Raskolnikoff remained silent whilst examining him with curiosity. He refused, however, the proffered water. "Rodion Romanovitch! My dear friend! If you go on in this way, you will go mad, I am positive! Drink, pray, if only a few drops!" He almost forced the glass of water into his hand.
Ah, Rodion Romanovitch, is that you?" she cried, seeing Raskolnikov and rushing up to him. "Explain to this silly girl, please, that nothing better could be done! Even organ-grinders earn their living, and everyone will see at once that we are different, that we are an honourable and bereaved family reduced to beggary. And that general will lose his post, you'll see!
You, Rodion Romanovitch, you are in your prime, and, like all young people, you appreciate, above all things, human intelligence. Intellectual smartness and abstract rational deductions entice you. But, to return to the special case we were talking about just now. I must tell you that we have to deal with reality, with nature.
You, Rodion Romanovitch, you are in your prime, and, like all young people, you appreciate, above all things, human intelligence. Intellectual smartness and abstract rational deductions entice you. But, to return to the SPECIAL CASE we were talking about just now. I must tell you that we have to deal with reality, with nature.
Our proceedings, which are supposed to be inspired by a profound knowledge of psychology, are very ridiculous ones, and very often useless. Now, to return to our method or form: Suppose for a moment that I am deputed to investigate something or other, and that I know the guilty person to be a certain gentleman. Are you not yourself reading for the law, Rodion Romanovitch?" "I was some time ago."
In the mouth of a coarse man, who deprives himself of nothing, such a statement might afford food for laughter. Never mind, however, but there lies a theory in suffering. Mikolka is right. You won't escape, Rodion Romanovitch." Raskolnikoff rose and took his cap. Porphyrius Petrovitch did the same. "Are you going for a walk? The night will be a fine one, as long as we get no storm.
"It was not I murdered her," Raskolnikov whispered like a frightened child caught in the act. "No, it was you, you Rodion Romanovitch, and no one else," Porfiry whispered sternly, with conviction. They were both silent and the silence lasted strangely long, about ten minutes. Raskolnikov put his elbow on the table and passed his fingers through his hair. Porfiry Petrovitch sat quietly waiting.
Raskolnikov's face grew more and more gloomy. Porfiry seemed to guess his state of mind. "I've come to have it out with you, Rodion Romanovitch, my dear fellow! I owe you an explanation and must give it to you," he continued with a slight smile, just patting Raskolnikov's knee.
You may have noticed, Rodion Romanovitch, that here I mean in Russia, of course, and especially in St. Petersburg circles that when two intelligent men happen to meet who, as yet, are not familiar, but who, however, have mutual esteem as, for instance, you and I have at this moment don't know what to talk about for half an hour at a time. They seem, both of them, as if petrified.
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