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- 1J8 CRIME AND PUNISHMENT
moment it will break out, in another moment he will let it go,
he will speak out.
"And what if it was I who murdered the old woman and
i^izaveta?" he said suddenly and — realised what he had done.
Zametov looked wildly at him and turned wh^te as the table-
•.loth. His face wore a contorted smile.
"But is it possible?" he brought out faintly. Raskolnikov
looked wrathfully at him.
"Own up that you believed it, yes, you did?"
"Not a bit of it, I believe it less than ever now," Zametov
cried hastily.
"I've caught my cocksparrow! So you did believe it before,
f now you believe it less than ever?"
"Not at all," cried Zametov, obviously embarrassed. "Have
you been frightening me so as to lead up to this?"
"You don't believe it then? What were you talking about
behind my back when I went out of the police office? And
why did the explosive lieutenant question me after I fainted?
Hey, there," he shouted to the waiter, getting up and taking
his cap, "how much?"
"Thirty copecks," the latter replied, running up.
"And here is twenty copecks for vodka. See what a lot of
money!" he held out his shaking hand to Zametov with notes
in it. "Red notes and blue, twenty-five roubles. Where did I
get them? And where did my new clothes comes from? You
know I had not a copeck. You've cross-examined my landlady,
I'll be bound. . . . Well, that's enough! Assez cause! Till we
meet again!"
He went out, trembling all over from a sort of wild hysteri-
cal sensation, in which there was an element of insufferable
rapture. Yet he was gloomy and terribly tired. His face was
twisted as after a fit. His fatigue increased rapidly. Any shock,
any irritating sensation stimulated and revived his energies at
Dnce, but his strength failed as quickly when the stimulus was
removed.
Zametov, left alone, sat for a long time in the same place,
plunged in thought. Raskolnikov had unwittingly worked a
revolution in his brain on a certain point and had made up his
mind for him conclusively.
"Ilya Petrovitch is a blockhead," he decided.
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