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He pondered a long while and at last smiled again, but his smile was sad and gentle. "No!" he said, apparently abandoning all attempt to keep up appearances with Porfiry, "it's not worth it, I don't care about lessening the sentence!" "That's just what I was afraid of!" Porfiry cried warmly and, as it seemed, involuntarily.
At this point in the story Skvorevitch sneezed; Kinarevitch sneezed, too he never failed in anything to follow his colleague's example. Anton Stepanitch looked approvingly at both of them. "Well," Porfiry Kapitonitch went on, "well, so I lay there and again could not go to sleep.
Why did he say bluntly, 'With her'? Why did Zametov add that I spoke artfully? Why do they speak in that tone? Yes, the tone.... Razumihin is sitting here, why does he see nothing? That innocent blockhead never does see anything! Feverish again! Did Porfiry wink at me just now? Of course it's nonsense! What could he wink for? Are they trying to upset my nerves or are they teasing me?
I feel vexed as it is, that I condescended to speak to Zametov yesterday in the restaurant...." "Damn it! I will go myself to Porfiry. I will squeeze it out of him, as one of the family: he must let me know the ins and outs of it all! And as for Zametov..." "At last he sees through him!" thought Raskolnikov. "Stay!" cried Razumihin, seizing him by the shoulder again. "Stay! you were wrong.
The latter fact was very significant in Raskolnikov's eyes: he saw that Porfiry Petrovitch had not been embarrassed just before either, but that he, Raskolnikov, had perhaps fallen into a trap; that there must be something, some motive here unknown to him; that, perhaps, everything was in readiness and in another moment would break upon him...
"Pig!" ejaculated Razumihin, without turning round. "There must have been very grave grounds for it, if he is so furious at the word," Porfiry laughed. "Oh, you sharp lawyer!... Damn you all!" snapped Razumihin, and suddenly bursting out laughing himself, he went up to Porfiry with a more cheerful face as though nothing had happened. "That'll do! We are all fools. To come to business.
Would it be possible? Quite impossible, to my thinking. If you had anything on your conscience, you certainly ought to insist that you were delirious. That's so, isn't it?" There was a note of slyness in this inquiry. Raskolnikov drew back on the sofa as Porfiry bent over him and stared in silent perplexity at him.
Porfiry might well reckon that I should be sure to answer so, and say I had seen them to give an air of truth, and then make some explanation." "But he would have told you at once that the workmen could not have been there two days before, and that therefore you must have been there on the day of the murder at eight o'clock. And so he would have caught you over a detail."
"That's no matter," answered Porfiry Petrovitch, receiving his explanation of his pecuniary position coldly, "but you can, if you prefer, write straight to me, to say, that having been informed of the matter, and claiming such and such as your property, you beg..." "On an ordinary sheet of paper?" Raskolnikov interrupted eagerly, again interested in the financial side of the question.
As soon as Porfiry Petrovitch heard that his visitor had a little matter of business with him, he begged him to sit down on the sofa and sat down himself on the other end, waiting for him to explain his business, with that careful and over-serious attention which is at once oppressive and embarrassing, especially to a stranger, and especially if what you are discussing is in your opinion of far too little importance for such exceptional solemnity.
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