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- Федор Достоевский
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With
Razumihin
he
had
got
on
,
or
,
at
least
,
he
was
more
unreserved
and
communicative
with
him
.
Indeed
it
was
impossible
to
be
on
any
other
terms
with
Razumihin
.
He
was
an
exceptionally
good
-
humoured
and
candid
youth
,
good
-
natured
to
the
point
of
simplicity
,
though
both
depth
and
dignity
lay
concealed
under
that
simplicity
.
The
better
of
his
comrades
understood
this
,
and
all
were
fond
of
him
.
He
was
extremely
intelligent
,
though
he
was
certainly
rather
a
simpleton
at
times
.
He
was
of
striking
appearance
—
tall
,
thin
,
blackhaired
and
always
badly
shaved
.
He
was
sometimes
uproarious
and
was
reputed
to
be
of
great
physical
strength
.
One
night
,
when
out
in
a
festive
company
,
he
had
with
one
blow
laid
a
gigantic
policeman
on
his
back
.
There
was
no
limit
to
his
drinking
powers
,
but
he
could
abstain
from
drink
altogether
;
he
sometimes
went
too
far
in
his
pranks
;
but
he
could
do
without
pranks
altogether
.
Another
thing
striking
about
Razumihin
,
no
failure
distressed
him
,
and
it
seemed
as
though
no
unfavourable
circumstances
could
crush
him
.
He
could
lodge
anywhere
,
and
bear
the
extremes
of
cold
and
hunger
.
He
was
very
poor
,
and
kept
himself
entirely
on
what
he
could
earn
by
work
of
one
sort
or
another
.
He
knew
of
no
end
of
resources
by
which
to
earn
money
He
spent
one
whole
winter
without
lighting
his
stove
,
and
used
to
declare
that
he
liked
it
better
,
because
one
slept
more
soundly
in
the
cold
.
For
the
present
he
,
too
,
had
been
obliged
to
give
up
the
university
,
but
it
was
only
for
a
time
,
and
he
was
working
with
all
his
might
to
save
enough
to
return
to
his
studies
again
.
Raskolnikov
had
not
been
to
see
him
for
the
last
four
months
,
and
Razumihin
did
not
even
know
his
address
.
About
two
months
before
,
they
had
met
in
the
street
,
but
Raskolnikov
had
turned
away
and
even
crossed
to
the
other
side
that
he
might
not
be
observed
.
And
though
Razumihin
noticed
him
,
he
passed
him
by
,
as
he
did
not
want
to
annoy
him
.
“
Of
course
,
I
’
ve
been
meaning
lately
to
go
to
Razumihin
’
s
to
ask
for
work
,
to
ask
him
to
get
me
lessons
or
something
.
.
.
”
Raskolnikov
thought
,
“
but
what
help
can
he
be
to
me
now
?
Suppose
he
gets
me
lessons
,
suppose
he
shares
his
last
farthing
with
me
,
if
he
has
any
farthings
,
so
that
I
could
get
some
boots
and
make
myself
tidy
enough
to
give
lessons
.
.
.
hm
.
.
.
Well
and
what
then
?
What
shall
I
do
with
the
few
coppers
I
earn
?
That
’
s
not
what
I
want
now
.
It
’
s
really
absurd
for
me
to
go
to
Razumihin
.
.
.
.
”
The
question
why
he
was
now
going
to
Razumihin
agitated
him
even
more
than
he
was
himself
aware
;
he
kept
uneasily
seeking
for
some
sinister
significance
in
this
apparently
ordinary
action
.
“
Could
I
have
expected
to
set
it
all
straight
and
to
find
a
way
out
by
means
of
Razumihin
alone
?
”
he
asked
himself
in
perplexity
.
He
pondered
and
rubbed
his
forehead
,
and
,
strange
to
say
,
after
long
musing
,
suddenly
,
as
if
it
were
spontaneously
and
by
chance
,
a
fantastic
thought
came
into
his
head
.
“
Hm
.
.
.
to
Razumihin
’
s
,
”
he
said
all
at
once
,
calmly
,
as
though
he
had
reached
a
final
determination
.
“
I
shall
go
to
Razumihin
’
s
of
course
,
but
.
.
.
not
now
.
I
shall
go
to
him
.
.
.
on
the
next
day
after
It
,
when
It
will
be
over
and
everything
will
begin
afresh
.
.
.
.
”
And
suddenly
he
realised
what
he
was
thinking
.
“
After
It
,
”
he
shouted
,
jumping
up
from
the
seat
,
“
but
is
It
really
going
to
happen
?
Is
it
possible
it
really
will
happen
?
”
He
left
the
seat
,
and
went
off
almost
at
a
run
;
he
meant
to
turn
back
,
homewards
,
but
the
thought
of
going
home
suddenly
filled
him
with
intense
loathing
;
in
that
hole
,
in
that
awful
little
cupboard
of
his
,
all
this
had
for
a
month
past
been
growing
up
in
him
;
and
he
walked
on
at
random
.
His
nervous
shudder
had
passed
into
a
fever
that
made
him
feel
shivering
;
in
spite
of
the
heat
he
felt
cold
.
With
a
kind
of
effort
he
began
almost
unconsciously
,
from
some
inner
craving
,
to
stare
at
all
the
objects
before
him
,
as
though
looking
for
something
to
distract
his
attention
;
but
he
did
not
succeed
,
and
kept
dropping
every
moment
into
brooding
.
When
with
a
start
he
lifted
his
head
again
and
looked
round
,
he
forgot
at
once
what
he
had
just
been
thinking
about
and
even
where
he
was
going
.
In
this
way
he
walked
right
across
Vassilyevsky
Ostrov
,
came
out
on
to
the
Lesser
Neva
,
crossed
the
bridge
and
turned
towards
the
islands
.
The
greenness
and
freshness
were
at
first
restful
to
his
weary
eyes
after
the
dust
of
the
town
and
the
huge
houses
that
hemmed
him
in
and
weighed
upon
him
.
Here
there
were
no
taverns
,
no
stifling
closeness
,
no
stench
.
But
soon
these
new
pleasant
sensations
passed
into
morbid
irritability
.
Sometimes
he
stood
still
before
a
brightly
painted
summer
villa
standing
among
green
foliage
,
he
gazed
through
the
fence
,
he
saw
in
the
distance
smartly
dressed
women
on
the
verandahs
and
balconies
,
and
children
running
in
the
gardens
.
