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"That's the gentleman, Vahrushin, Afanasy Ivanovitch. And at the

request of your mamma, who has sent you a remittance once before

in the same manner through him, he did not refuse this time also,

and sent instructions to Semyon Semyonovitch some days since to

hand you thirty-five roubles in the hope of better to come."

"That 'hoping for better to come' is the best thing you've said,

though 'your mamma' is not bad either. Come then, what do you

say? Is he fully conscious, eh?"

"That's all right. If only he can sign this little paper."

"He can scrawl his name. Have you got the book?"

"Yes, here's the book."

"Give it to me. Here, Rodya, sit up. I'll hold you. Take the pen

and scribble 'Raskolnikov' for him. For just now, brother, money

is sweeter to us than treacle."

"I don't want it," said Raskolnikov, pushing away the pen.

"Not want it?"

"I won't sign it."

"How the devil can you do without signing it?"

"I don't want... the money."