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"I fainted then because it was so close and the smell of paint,"

said Raskolnikov.

"No need to explain that! And it wasn't the paint only: the fever

had been coming on for a month; Zossimov testifies to that! But

how crushed that boy is now, you wouldn't believe! 'I am not

worth his little finger,' he says. Yours, he means. He has good

feelings at times, brother. But the lesson, the lesson you gave

him to-day in the Palais de Cristal, that was too good for

anything! You frightened him at first, you know, he nearly went

into convulsions! You almost convinced him again of the truth of

all that hideous nonsense, and then you suddenly--put out your

tongue at him: 'There now, what do you make of it?' It was

perfect! He is crushed, annihilated now! It was masterly, by

Jove, it's what they deserve! Ah, that I wasn't there! He was

hoping to see you awfully. Porfiry, too, wants to make your

acquaintance..."

"Ah!... he too... but why did they put me down as mad?"