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“
What
’
s
the
matter
?
What
’
s
the
matter
with
you
?
”
Razumihin
asked
anxiously
.
“
I
am
a
little
giddy
,
but
that
’
s
not
the
point
,
I
am
so
sad
,
so
sad
.
.
.
like
a
woman
.
Look
,
what
’
s
that
?
Look
,
look
!
”
“
What
is
it
?
”
“
Don
’
t
you
see
?
A
light
in
my
room
,
you
see
?
Through
the
crack
.
.
.
”
They
were
already
at
the
foot
of
the
last
flight
of
stairs
,
at
the
level
of
the
landlady
’
s
door
,
and
they
could
,
as
a
fact
,
see
from
below
that
there
was
a
light
in
Raskolnikov
’
s
garret
.
“
Queer
!
Nastasya
,
perhaps
,
”
observed
Razumihin
.
“
She
is
never
in
my
room
at
this
time
and
she
must
be
in
bed
long
ago
,
but
.
.
.
I
don
’
t
care
!
Good
-
bye
!
”
“
What
do
you
mean
?
I
am
coming
with
you
,
we
’
ll
come
in
together
!
”
“
I
know
we
are
going
in
together
,
but
I
want
to
shake
hands
here
and
say
good
-
bye
to
you
here
.
So
give
me
your
hand
,
good
-
bye
!
”
“
What
’
s
the
matter
with
you
,
Rodya
?
”
