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"Oh, it's not exactly... you see, since you've been ill I happen

to have mentioned you several times.... So, when he heard about

you... about your being a law student and not able to finish your

studies, he said, 'What a pity!' And so I concluded... from

everything together, not only that; yesterday Zametov... you

know, Rodya, I talked some nonsense on the way home to you

yesterday, when I was drunk... I am afraid, brother, of your

exaggerating it, you see."

"What? That they think I am a madman? Maybe they are right," he

said with a constrained smile.

"Yes, yes.... That is, pooh, no!... But all that I said (and

there was something else too) it was all nonsense, drunken

nonsense."

"But why are you apologising? I am so sick of it all!"

Raskolnikov cried with exaggerated irritability. It was partly

assumed, however.

"I know, I know, I understand. Believe me, I understand. One's

ashamed to speak of it."

"If you are ashamed, then don't speak of it."