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- 382 CRIMB AND PUNISHMENT
"It's a good thing you are taking him home," observed Zos-
simov to Razumihin — "we shall see how he is to-morrow, to-day
he's not at all amiss: a considerable change since the afternoon.
Live and learn . . ."
"Do you know what Zossimov whispered to me when we
were coming out?" Razumihin blurted out, as soon as they were
in the street. "I won't tell you everything, brother, because they
are such fools. Zossimov told me to talk freely to you on the way
and get you to talk freely to me, and afterwards I am to tell
him about it, for he's got a notion in his head that you are . . .
mad or close on it. Only fancy! In the first place, you've three
times the brains he has; in the second, if you are not mad, you
needn't care a hang that he has got such a wild idea; and thirdly,
that piece of beef whose specialty is surgery has gone mad on
mental diseases, and what's brought him to this conclusion
«bout you was your conversation to-day with Zametov."
"Zametov told you all about it?"
"Yes, and he did well. Now I understand what it all means
and so does Zametov. . . . Well, the fact is, Rodya . . . the point
is ... I am a little drunk now. . . . But that's ... no matter . . .
the point is that this idea . . . you understand? was just being
hatched in their brains . . . you understand? That is, no one ven-
tured to say it aloud, because the idea is too absurd and especially
since the arrest of that painter, that bubble's bvu"st and gone for
ever. But why are they such fools? I gave Zametov a bit of a
thrashing at the time — that's between ourselves, brother; please
don't let out a hint that you know of it; I've noticed he is a
ticklish subject; it was at Luise Ivanovna's. But to-day, to-day
it's all cleared up. That Ilya Petrovitch is at the bottom of it!
He took advantage of your fainting at the police station, but
he is ashamed of it himself now; I know that . . ."
Raskolnikov listened greedily. Razumihin was drunk enough
to talk too freely.
"I fainted then because it was so close and the smell of paint,"said Raskolnikov.
"No need to explain that! And it wasn't the paint only: the
fever had been coming on for a month; Zossimov testifies to
that! But how crushed that boy is now, you wouldn't believe!
T am not worth his little finger,* he says. Yours, he means. He
has good feelings at times, brother. But the lesson, the lesson you
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