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- 202 CRIME AND PUNISHMENT
like a dormouse. Zossimov gave orders that they shouldn't 'w^ke
him and promised to see him again about eleven.
"If he is still at home," he added. "Damn it all! If one can't
control one's patients, how is one to cure them! Do you know
whether he will go to them, or whether they are coming here?"
"They are coming, I think," said Razumihin, understanding
the object of the question, "and they will discuss their family
affairs, no doubt. I'll be off. You, as the doctor, have more right
to be here than I."
"But I am not a father confessor; I shall come and go away;
I've plenty to do besides looking after them."
"One thing worries me," interposed Razumihin, frowning.
"On the way home I talked a lot of drunken nonsense to him
... all sort of things . . . and amongst them that you were afraid
that he . . . might become insane."
"You told the ladies so, too."
"I know it was stupid! You may beat me if you like! Did
you think so seriously?"
"That's nonsense, I tell you, how could I think it seriously!
You, yourself, described him as a monomaniac when you fetched
me to him . . . and we added fuel to the fire yesterday, you did,
that is, with your story about the painter; it was a nice con-
versation, when he was, perhaps, mad on that very point! If
only I'd known what happened then at the police station and
that some wretch . . . had insulted him with this suspicion!
Hm ... I would not have allowed that conversation yesterday.
These monomaniacs will make a mountain out of a molehill
. . . and see their fancies as solid realities. ... As far as I remem-
ber, itwas Zametov's story that cleared up half the mystery
to my mind. Why, I know one case in which a hypochrondriac,
a man of forty, cut the throat of a little boy of eight, because
he couldn't endure the jokes he made every day at table! And
in this case his rags, the insolent police officer, the fever and
this suspicion! All that working upon a man half frantic with
hypochondria, and with his morbid exceptional vanity! That
may well have been the starting-point of illness. Well, bother
it all! . . . And, by the way, that Zametov certainly is a nice
fellow, but hm ... he shouldn't have told all that last night.
He is an awful chatterbox!"
"But whom did he tell it to? You and me?"
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