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Updated: June 22, 2025
I am coming with you, we'll come in together!" "I know we are going in together, but I want to shake hands here and say good-bye to you here. So give me your hand, good-bye!" "What's the matter with you, Rodya?" "Nothing... come along... you shall be witness." They began mounting the stairs, and the idea struck Razumihin that perhaps Zossimov might be right after all.
Then he got up, took leave with an impressive and affable bow, while blessings, warm gratitude, and entreaties were showered upon him, and Avdotya Romanovna spontaneously offered her hand to him. He went out exceedingly pleased with his visit and still more so with himself. "We'll talk to-morrow; go to bed at once!" Razumihin said in conclusion, following Zossimov out.
I may be mistaken, but I fancy I find clearer views, more, so to say, criticism, more practicality..." "That's true," Zossimov let drop. "Nonsense! There's no practicality." Razumihin flew at him. "Practicality is a difficult thing to find; it does not drop down from heaven. And for the last two hundred years we have been divorced from all practical life.
Some nervous nonsense, the result of bad feeding, he says you have not had enough beer and radish, but it's nothing much, it will pass and you will be all right. Zossimov is a first-rate fellow! He is making quite a name. Come, I won't keep you," he said, addressing the man again. "Will you explain what you want?
"Nothing," Raskolnikov answered faintly, turning to the wall. All were silent for a while. "He must have waked from a dream," Razumihin said at last, looking inquiringly at Zossimov. The latter slightly shook his head. "Well, go on," said Zossimov. "What next?" "What next?
I know this corridor, I've been here, there was a scandal here at Number 3.... Where are you here? Which number? eight? Well, lock yourselves in for the night, then. Don't let anybody in. In a quarter of an hour I'll come back with news, and half an hour later I'll bring Zossimov, you'll see! Good-bye, I'll run."
On Pulcheria Alexandrovna's anxiously and timidly inquiring as to "some suspicion of insanity," he replied with a composed and candid smile that his words had been exaggerated; that certainly the patient had some fixed idea, something approaching a monomania he, Zossimov, was now particularly studying this interesting branch of medicine but that it must be recollected that until to-day the patient had been in delirium and... and that no doubt the presence of his family would have a favourable effect on his recovery and distract his mind, "if only all fresh shocks can be avoided," he added significantly.
When Zossimov said "This is Raskolnikov" he jumped up quickly, sat on the sofa and with an almost defiant, but weak and breaking, voice articulated: "Yes, I am Raskolnikov! What do you want?" The visitor scrutinised him and pronounced impressively: "Pyotr Petrovitch Luzhin. I believe I have reason to hope that my name is not wholly unknown to you?"
Zossimov laughed more violently than ever. "Well, you are smitten! But what am I to do with her?" "It won't be much trouble, I assure you. Talk any rot you like to her, as long as you sit by her and talk. You're a doctor, too; try curing her of something. I swear you won't regret it. She has a piano, and you know, I strum a little.
"For the last four days you have scarcely eaten or drunk anything. We had to give you tea in spoonfuls. I brought Zossimov to see you twice. You remember Zossimov? He examined you carefully and said at once it was nothing serious something seemed to have gone to your head.
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