〃So　much　the　worse。。。〃
  〃Go　to　hell！〃
  But　Luzhin　was　already　leaving　without　finishing　his　speech；
  squeezing　between　the　table　and　the　chair；　Razumihin　got　up　this
  time　to　let　him　pass。　Without　glancing　at　any　one；　and　not　even
  nodding　to　Zossimov；　who　had　for　some　time　been　making　signs　to　him　to
  let　the　sick　man　alone；　he　went　out；　lifting　his　hat　to　the　level　of
  his　shoulders　to　avoid　crushing　it　as　he　stooped　to　go　out　of　the
  door。　And　even　the　curve　of　his　spine　was　expressive　of　the　horrible
  insult　he　had　received。
  〃How　could　you…　how　could　you！〃　Razumihin　said；　shaking　his　head
  in　perplexity。
  〃Let　me　alone…　let　me　alone　all　of　you！〃　Raskolnikov　cried　in　a
  frenzy。　〃Will　you　ever　leave　off　tormenting　me？　I　am　not　afraid　of
  you！　I　am　not　afraid　of　any　one；　any　one　now！　Get　away　from　me！　I　want
  to　be　alone；　alone；　alone！〃
  〃Come　along；〃　said　Zossimov；　nodding　to　Razumihin。
  〃But　we　can't　leave　him　like　this！〃
  〃Come　along；〃　Zossimov　repeated　insistently；　and　he　went　out。
  Razumihin　thought　a　minute　and　ran　to　overtake　him。
  〃It　might　be　worse　not　to　obey　him；〃　said　Zossimov　on　the　stairs。
  〃He　mustn't　be　irritated。〃
  〃What's　the　matter　with　him？〃
  〃If　only　he　could　get　some　favourable　shock；　that's　what　would　do
  it！　At　first　he　was　better。。。。　You　know　he　has　got　something　on　his
  mind！　Some　fixed　idea　weighing　on　him。。。。　I　am　very　much　afraid　so；　he
  must　have！〃
  〃Perhaps　it's　that　gentleman；　Pyotr　Petrovitch。　From　his
  conversation　I　gather　he　is　going　to　marry　his　sister；　and　that　he　had
  received　a　letter　about　it　just　before　his　illness。。。。〃
  〃Yes；　confound　the　man！　he　may　have　upset　the　case　altogether。　But
  have　you　noticed；　he　takes　no　interest　in　anything；　he　does　not
  respond　to　anything　except　one　point　on　which　he　seems　excited…　that's
  the　murder？〃
  〃Yes；　yes；〃　Razumihin　agreed；　〃I　noticed　that；　too。　He　is
  interested；　frightened。　It　gave　him　a　shock　on　the　day　he　was　ill　in
  the　police　office；　he　fainted。〃
  〃Tell　me　more　about　that　this　evening　and　I'll　tell　you　something
  afterwards。　He　interests　me　very　much！　In　half　an　hour　I'll　go　and　see
  him　again。。。。　There'll　be　no　inflammation　though。〃
  〃Thanks！　And　I'll　wait　with　Pashenka　meantime　and　will　keep　watch　on
  him　through　Nastasya。。。。〃
  Raskolnikov；　left　alone；　looked　with　impatience　and　misery　at
  Nastasya；　but　she　still　lingered。
  〃Won't　you　have　some　tea　now？〃　she　asked。
  〃Later！　I　am　sleepy！　Leave　me。〃
  He　turned　abruptly　to　the　wall；　Nastasya　went　out。
  Chapter　Six
  BUT　AS　SOON　as　she　went　out；　he　got　up；　latched　the　door；　undid
  the　parcel　which　Razumihin　had　brought　in　that　evening　and　had　tied　up
  again　and　began　dressing。　Strange　to　say；　he　seemed　immediately　to
  have　become　perfectly　calm；　not　a　trace　of　his　recent　delirium　nor
  of　the　panic　fear　that　had　haunted　him　of　late。　It　was　the　first
  moment　of　a　strange　sudden　calm。　His　movements　were　precise　and
  definite；　a　firm　purpose　was　evident　in　them。　〃To…day；　to…day；〃　he
  muttered　to　himself。　He　understood　that　he　was　still　weak；　but　his
  intense　spiritual　concentration　gave　him　strength　and　self…confidence。
  He　hoped；　moreover；　that　he　would　not　fall　down　in　the　street。　When　he
  had　dressed　in　entirely　new　clothes；　he　looked　at　the　money　lying　on
  the　table；　and　after　a　moment's　thought　put　it　in　his　pocket。　It　was
  twenty…five　roubles。　He　took　also　all　the　copper　change　from　the　ten
  roubles　spent　by　Razumihin　on　the　clothes。　Then　he　softly　unlatched
  the　door；　went　out；　slipped　downstairs　and　glanced　in　at　the　open
  kitchen　door。　Nastasya　was　standing　with　her　back　to　him；　blowing　up
  the　landlady's　samovar。　She　heard　nothing。　Who　would　have　dreamed　of
  his　going　out；　indeed？　A　minute　later　he　was　in　the　street。
  It　was　nearly　eight　o'clock；　the　sun　was　setting。　It　was　as　stifling
  as　before；　but　he　eagerly　drank　in　the　stinking；　dusty　town　air。　His
  head　felt　rather　dizzy；　a　sort　of　savage　energy　gleamed　suddenly　in
  his　feverish　eyes　and　his　wasted；　pale　and　yellow　face。　He　did　not
  know　and　did　not　think　where　he　was　going；　he　had　one　thought　only
  〃that　all　this　must　be　ended　to…day；　once　for　all；　immediately；　that
  he　would　not　return　home　without　it；　because　he　would　not　go　on　living
  like　that。〃　How；　with　what　to　make　an　end？　He　had　not　an　idea　about
  it；　he　did　not　even　want　to　think　of　it。　He　drove　away　thought；
  thought　tortured　him。　All　he　knew；　all　he　felt　was　that　everything
  must　be　changed　〃one　way　or　another；〃　he　repeated　with　desperate　and
  immovable　self…confidence　and　determination。
  From　old　habit　he　took　his　usual　walk　in　the　direction　of　the　Hay
  Market。　A　dark…haired　young　man　with　a　barrel　organ　was　standing　in
  the　road　in　front　of　a　little　general　shop　and　was　grinding　out　a　very
  sentimental　song。　He　was　accompanying　a　girl　of　fifteen；　who　stood
  on　the　pavement　in　front　of　him。　She　was　dressed　up　in　a　crinoline；
  a　mantle　and　a　straw　hat　with　a　flame…coloured　feather　in　it；　all　very
  old　and　shabby。　In　a　strong　and　rather　agreeable　voice；　cracked　and
  coarsened　by　street　singing；　she　sang　in　hope　of　getting　a　copper　from
  the　shop。　Raskolnikov　joined　two　or　three　listeners；　took　out　a　five
  copeck　piece　and　put　it　in　the　girl's　hand。　She　broke　off　abruptly
  on　a　sentimental　high　note；　shouted　sharply　to　the　organ　grinder　〃Come
  on；〃　and　both　moved　on　to　the　next　shop。
  〃Do　you　like　street　music？〃　said　Raskolnikov；　addressing　a
  middle…aged　man　standing　idly　by　him。　The　man　looked　at　him；
  startled　and　wondering。
  〃I　love　to　hear　singing　to　a　street　organ；〃　said　Raskolnikov；　and
  his　manner　seemed　strangely　out　of　keeping　with　the　subject…　〃I　like
  it　on　cold；　dark；　damp　autumn　evenings…　they　must　be　damp…　when　all
  the　passers…by　have　pale　green；　sickly　faces；　or　better　still　when　wet
  snow　is　falling　straight　down；　when　there's　no　wind…　you　know　what　I
  mean？　and　the　street　lamps　shine　through　it。。。〃
  〃I　don't　know。。。。　Excuse　me。。。〃　muttered　the　stranger；　frightened　by
  the　question　and　Raskolnikov's　strange　manner；　and　he　crossed　over
  to　the　other　side　of　the　street。
  Raskolnikov　walked　straight　on　and　came　out　at　the　corner　of　the　Hay
  Market；　where　the　huckster　and　his　wife　had　talked　with　Lizaveta；
  but　they　were　not　there　now。　Recognising　the　place；　he　stopped；　looked
  round　and　addressed　a　young　fellow　in　a　red　shirt　who　stood　gaping
  before　a　corn　chandler's　shop。
  〃Isn't　there　a　man　who　keeps　a　booth　with　his　wife　at　this　corner？〃
  〃All　sorts　of　people　keep　booths　here；〃　answered　the　young　man；
  glancing　superciliously　at　Raskolnikov。
  〃What's　his　name？〃
  〃What　he　was　christened。〃
  〃Aren't　you　a　Zaraisky　man；　too？　Which　province？〃
  The　young　man　looked　at　Raskolnikov　again。
  〃It's　not　a　province；　your　excellency；　but　a　district。　Graciously
  forgive　me；　your　excellency！〃
  〃Is　that　a　tavern　at　the　top　there？〃
  〃Yes；　it's　an　eating…house　an