I remember you and love you....
Leave me, leave me alone.
I decided this even before...
I'm absolutely resolved on it.
Whatever may come to me, whether I come to ruin or not, I want to be alone.
Forget me altogether, it's better.
Don't inquire about me.
When I can, I'll come of myself or...
I'll send for you.
Perhaps it will all come back, but now if you love me, give me up... else I shall begin to hate you, I feel it....
Good-bye!"
"Good God!" cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna.
Both his mother and his sister were terribly alarmed.
Razumihin was also.
"Rodya, Rodya, be reconciled with us! Let us be as before!" cried his poor mother.
He turned slowly to the door and slowly went out of the room.
Dounia overtook him.
"Brother, what are you doing to mother?" she whispered, her eyes flashing with indignation.
He looked dully at her.
"No matter, I shall come.... I'm coming," he muttered in an undertone, as though not fully conscious of what he was saying, and he went out of the room.
"Wicked, heartless egoist!" cried Dounia.
"He is insane, but not heartless.
He is mad!
Don't you see it?
You're heartless after that!" Razumihin whispered in her ear, squeezing her hand tightly.
"I shall be back directly," he shouted to the horror-stricken mother, and he ran out of the room.
Raskolnikov was waiting for him at the end of the passage.
"I knew you would run after me," he said.
"Go back to them--be with them... be with them to-morrow and always....
I... perhaps I shall come... if I can.
Good-bye."
And without holding out his hand he walked away.
"But where are you going?
What are you doing?
What's the matter with you?
How can you go on like this?" Razumihin muttered, at his wits' end.
Raskolnikov stopped once more.
"Once for all, never ask me about anything.
I have nothing to tell you.
Don't come to see me.
Maybe I'll come here....
Leave me, but _don't leave_ them.
Do you understand me?"
It was dark in the corridor, they were standing near the lamp.
For a minute they were looking at one another in silence.
Razumihin remembered that minute all his life.
Raskolnikov's burning and intent eyes grew more penetrating every moment, piercing into his soul, into his consciousness.
Suddenly Razumihin started.
Something strange, as it were, passed between them....
Some idea, some hint, as it were, slipped, something awful, hideous, and suddenly understood on both sides....