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The very fact of his proximity to Porphyrius, with whom he had scarcely as yet interchanged a word, had immeasurably increased his mistrust; he marked this in a moment, and concluded that such a mood was an exceedingly dangerous one, inasmuch as his agitation, his nervous irritation, would only increase. "That is bad! very bad! I shall be saying something thoughtless!" "Quite right.
"Sachepris here is far better qualified to amuse you than I; some years since, at any rate, she lead a wonderful store of tales. I wish you a pleasant day!" And with this farewell greeting, Constantine left the vessel, nor did he once look back at it or its pretty inhabitant as he made his way towards the house of Porphyrius.
"And I will help you, my friend," said Demetrius, "We will go to the Hippodrome the gentry you will meet with there are capital blood-hounds after such game as the daughter of your 'own sister, my good woman. As to the black-haired Christian girl I have seen her many a time on board ship..." "Oh! she will take refuge with some fellow-Christians," remarked Porphyrius.
She warmly praised everything in the dead woman which was not in her estimation absolutely reprobate and godless, and brought forward all the comforting arguments which a pious Christian can command for the edification and encouragement of those who mourn a beloved friend; but to Gorgo all this well-meant discourse was as the babble of an unknown tongue; and it was only when, at length, Marianne went up to her and drew her to her motherly bosom, to kiss her, and bid her be welcome under Clelnens' roof till Porphyrius should be at home again, that she understood that the good woman meant kindly, and honestly desired to help and comfort her.
The steward led the van with Herse, talking freely in reply to her enquiries. His master, he said, was one of the great merchants of the city, whose wife had died twenty years since in giving birth to Gorgo. His two sons were at present absent on their travels. The old lady who had been so liberal in her treatment of the singers was Damia, the mother of Porphyrius.
Only too glad to be out of the crush and danger, the girl nimbly climbed into the chariot, and, after hastily greeting the father and daughter, signed to Marcus to follow her; but Demetrius held his brother back, and it was hurriedly agreed that Dada should be sent for that evening to the house of Porphyrius.
"Forgive my strange manner just now, Porphyrius Petrovitch, I was hasty," began Raskolnikoff, who had regained all his self-possession, and who even experienced an irresistible wish to chaff the magistrate. "Don't say any more, it was nothing," replied Porphyrius in almost joyful tone. "Till we meet again!" "Till we meet again!" The young man forthwith went home.
The old priest's presence was a comfort to her; for her earnest wish was to become a Christian from conviction; as soon as they were alone she poured out before them all the accusations she had to bring against the adherents of their Faith: They had triumphed in ruining the creations of Art; the Temple of Isis and the ship-yard lay in ashes, destroyed by Christian incendiaries; their tears were not yet dry when they flowed afresh for the sons of Porphyrius Christians themselves who, unless some happy accident had saved them, must have perished with thousands of innocent sufferers believers and infidels together by the orders of the Emperor whom Constantine had always lauded as a wise sovereign and pious Christian, as the Defender of the Faith, and as a faithful disciple of the Redeemer.
Everything is relative, I suppose, Rodion Romanovitch?" "There, he is beginning with some more of his silly palaver!" Raskolnikoff growled to himself. His late interview with the magistrate suddenly occurred to him, at which anger affected his mind. "Did you know, by-the-by, that I called on you the night before last?" continued Porphyrius, looking about. "I was in this very room.
If he consents and he certainly will take him with you to our uncle Porphyrius and wait there till I come; then, if all goes well, I will take you and Dada to your mother or, if not, we will go with Eusebius." "Dada to my mother!" cried Marcus. "But what will she. . . ."
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