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Razumihin somehow discovered and proved that while Raskolnikov was at the university he had helped a poor consumptive fellow student and had spent his last penny on supporting him for six months, and when this student died, leaving a decrepit old father whom he had maintained almost from his thirteenth year, Raskolnikov had got the old man into a hospital and paid for his funeral when he died.
"But I am not a father confessor; I shall come and go away; I've plenty to do besides looking after them." "One thing worries me," interposed Razumihin, frowning. "On the way home I talked a lot of drunken nonsense to him... all sorts of things... and amongst them that you were afraid that he... might become insane." "You told the ladies so, too." "I know it was stupid!
"What are you about?" cried Razumihin, clutching him by the arm. He sat down again, and began looking about him, in silence. They were all looking at him in perplexity. "But what are you all so dull for?" he shouted, suddenly and quite unexpectedly. "Do say something! What's the use of sitting like this? Come, do speak. Let us talk.... We meet together and sit in silence.... Come, anything!"
He came in looking as though he had the utmost difficulty not to burst out laughing again. Behind him Razumihin strode in gawky and awkward, shamefaced and red as a peony, with an utterly crestfallen and ferocious expression. His face and whole figure really were ridiculous at that moment and amply justified Raskolnikov's laughter.
Porfiry Petrovitch returned quickly. He became suddenly more jovial. "Your party yesterday, brother, has left my head rather.... And I am out of sorts altogether," he began in quite a different tone, laughing to Razumihin. "Was it interesting? I left you yesterday at the most interesting point. Who got the best of it?" "Oh, no one, of course.
But no matter, he will turn up. And I'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's no matter, to business. Give me the parcel, Nastasya. We will open it directly. And how do you feel now, brother?" "I am quite well, I am not ill. Razumihin, have you been here long?"
And so write a letter before to-morrow, to refuse him... Let me read it in the morning and that will be the end of it!" "That I can't do!" the girl cried, offended, "what right have you..." "Dounia, you are hasty, too, be quiet, to-morrow... Don't you see..." the mother interposed in dismay. "Better come away!" "He is raving," Razumihin cried tipsily, "or how would he dare!
At the final leave-taking he smiled strangely at his sister's and Razumihin's fervent anticipations of their happy future together when he should come out of prison. He predicted that their mother's illness would soon have a fatal ending. Sonia and he at last set off. Two months later Dounia was married to Razumihin.
"Could I have expected to set it all straight and to find a way out by means of Razumihin alone?" he asked himself in perplexity. He pondered and rubbed his forehead, and, strange to say, after long musing, suddenly, as if it were spontaneously and by chance, a fantastic thought came into his head.
The head clerk? What for?" Raskolnikov turned round quickly and fixed his eyes on Razumihin. "What's the matter with you?... What are you upset about? He wanted to make your acquaintance because I talked to him a lot about you.... How could I have found out so much except from him? He is a capital fellow, brother, first-rate... in his own way, of course.
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