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Chapter 4

           Thegentlemanwasaplump,thickly-setman,aboutthirty,fashionablydressed,withahighcolour,redlipsandmoustaches.Raskolnikovfeltfurious;hehadasuddenlongingtoinsultthisfatdandyinsomeway.Heleftthegirlforamomentandwalkedtowardsthegentleman.

           “Hey!YouSvidrigaïlov!Whatdoyouwanthere?”heshouted,clenchinghisfistsandlaughing,splutteringwithrage.

           “Whatdoyoumean?”thegentlemanaskedsternly,scowlinginhaughtyastonishment.

           “Getaway,that’swhatImean.”

           “Howdareyou,youlowfellow!”

           Heraisedhiscane.Raskolnikovrushedathimwithhisfists,withoutreflectingthatthestoutgentlemanwasamatchfortwomenlikehimself.Butatthatinstantsomeoneseizedhimfrombehind,andapoliceconstablestoodbetweenthem.

           “That’senough,gentlemen,nofighting,please,inapublicplace.Whatdoyouwant?Whoareyou?”heaskedRaskolnikovsternly,noticinghisrags.

           Raskolnikovlookedathimintently.Hehadastraight-forward,sensible,soldierlyface,withgreymoustachesandwhiskers.

           “YouarejustthemanIwant,”Raskolnikovcried,catchingathisarm.“Iamastudent,Raskolnikov....Youmayaswellknowthattoo,”headded,addressingthegentleman,“comealong,Ihavesomethingtoshowyou.”

           Andtakingthepolicemanbythehandhedrewhimtowardstheseat.

           “Lookhere,hopelesslydrunk,andshehasjustcomedowntheboulevard.Thereisnotellingwhoandwhatsheis,shedoesnotlooklikeaprofessional.It’smorelikelyshehasbeengivendrinkanddeceivedsomewhere...

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