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- CRIME AND PUNISHMENT 97
used the most disgraceful language to the respectable family of
a civil councillor, his wife and daughter. And there was one of
them turned out of a confectioner's shop the other day. They
are like that, authors, literary men, students, town-criers . . .
Pfoo! You get along! I shall look in upon you myself one day.
Then you had better be careful! Do you hear?"
With hurried deference, Luise Ivanovna fell to curtsying in
all directions, and so curtsied herself to the door. But at the door,
she stumbled backwards against a good-looking officer with
a fresh, open face and splendid thick fair whiskers. This was the
superintendent of the district himself, Nikodim Fomitch. Luise
Iranovna made haste to curtsy almost to the ground, and with
mincing little steps, she fluttered out of the office.
"Again thunder and lightning — a hurricane!" said Nikodim
Fomitch to Ilya Petrovitch in a civil and friendly tone. "You
are aroused again, you are fuming again! I heard it on the
stairs!"
"Well, what then!" Ilya Petrovitch drawled, with gentle-
manly nonchalance; and he walked with some papers to another
table, with a jaunty swing of his shoulders at each step. "Here,
if you will kindly look: an author, or a student, has been one at
least, does not pay his debts, has given an i.o.u. won't clear out
of his room, and complaints are constantly being lodged against
him, and here he has been pleased to make a protest against my
smoking in his presence! He behaves like a cad himself, and
just look at him, please. Here's the gentleman, and very at-
tractive heis!" "
"Poverty is not a vice, my friend, but we know you go oflf
like powder, you can't bear a slight, I daresay you took offence
at something and went too far yourself," continued Nikodim
Fomitch, turning affably to Raskolnikov. "But you were wrong
there; he is a capital fellow, I assure you, but explosive, ex-
plosive! He gets hot, fires up, boils over, and no stopping him!
And then it's all over! And at the bottom he's a heart of gold!
His nickname in the regiment was the Explosive Lieutenant . . ."
"And what a regiment it was, too," cried Ilya Petrovitch,
much gratified at this agreeable banter, though still sulky.
Raskolnikov had a sudden desire to say something exception-
ally pleasant to them all. "Excuse me. Captain," he began easily,
suddenly addressing Nikodim Fomitch, "will you enter into my
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