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- 122 CRIME AND PUNISHMENT
"Bah, Zametov! The police office! And why am I sent foe
to the police office? Where's the notice? Bah! I am mixing it
up; that was then. I looked at my sock then, too, but now
. . . now I have been ill. But what did Zametov come for? ^5^hy
did Razumihin bring him?" he muttered, helplessly sitting on
the sofa again. "What does it mean? Am I still in delirium, or
is it real? I believe it is real. . . . Ah, I remember; I must es-
cape! Make haste to escape. Yes, I must, I must escape! Yes . . .
but where? 'And where are my clothes? I've no boots. They've
taken them away! They've hidden them! I understand! Ah,
here is my coat — they passed that over! And here is money on
the table, thank God! And here's the i.o.u. . . . I'll take the
money and go and take another lodging. They won't find me!
. . . Yes, but the address bureau? They'll find me, Razumihin
will find me. Better escape altogether . . . far away ... to
America, and let them do their worst! And take the i.o.u. . . .
it would be of use there. . . . What else shall I take? They think
I am ill! They don't know that I can walk, ha-ha-ha! I could
see by their eyes that they know all about it! If only I could get
downstairs! And what if they have set a watch there — police-
men! What's this tea? Ah, and here is beer left, half a bottle,
cold!"He snatched up the bottle, which still contained a glassful
of beer, and gulped it down with relish, as though quenching a
flame in his breast. But in another minute the beer had gone
to his head, and a faint and even pleasant shiver ran down his
spine. He lay down and pulled the quilt over him. His sick
and incoherent thoughts grew more and more disconnected,
and soon a light, pleasant drowsiness came upon him. With a
sense of comfort he nestled his head in the pillow, wrapped
more closely about him the soft, wadded quilt which had re-
placed the old, ragged great-coat, sighed softly and sank into
a deep, sound, refreshing sleep.
He woke up, hearing some one come in. He opened his eyes
and saw Razumihin standing in the doorway, uncertain
whether to' come in or not. Raskolnikov sat up quickly on the
sofa and gazed at him, as though trying to recall something.
"Ah, you are not asleep! Here I am! Nastasya, bring in the
parcel!" Razumihin shouted down the stairs. "You shall have
the account directly."
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