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Chapter 2

           Allwhomethimwereloathsometohimheloathedtheirfaces,theirmovements,theirgestures.Ifanyonehadaddressedhim,hefeltthathemighthavespatathimorbittenhim....

           Hestoppedsuddenly,oncomingoutonthebankoftheLittleNeva,nearthebridgetoVassilyevskyOstrov.“Why,heliveshere,inthathouse,”hethought,“why,IhavenotcometoRazumihinofmyownaccord!Hereit’sthesamethingoveragain....Veryinterestingtoknow,though;haveIcomeonpurposeorhaveIsimplywalkedherebychance?Nevermind,IsaidthedaybeforeyesterdaythatIwouldgoandseehimthedayafter;well,andsoIwill!BesidesIreallycannotgofurthernow.”

           HewentuptoRazumihin’sroomonthefifthfloor.

           Thelatterwasathomeinhisgarret,busilywritingatthemoment,andheopenedthedoorhimself.Itwasfourmonthssincetheyhadseeneachother.Razumihinwassittinginaraggeddressing-gown,withslippersonhisbarefeet,unkempt,unshavenandunwashed.Hisfaceshowedsurprise.

           “Isityou?”hecried.Helookedhiscomradeupanddown;thenafterabriefpause,hewhistled.“Ashardupasallthat!Why,brother,you’vecutmeout!”headded,lookingatRaskolnikov’srags.“Comesitdown,youaretired,I’llbebound.”

           AndwhenhehadsunkdownontheAmericanleathersofa,whichwasinevenworseconditionthanhisown,Razumihinsawatoncethathisvisitorwasill.

           “Why,youareseriouslyill,doyouknowthat?”Hebeganfeelinghispulse.Raskolnikovpulledawayhishand.

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