Zametov was not there, nor, of course, Nikodim Fomitch.
"No one in?" Raskolnikov asked, addressing the person at the bureau.
"Whom do you want?"
"A-ah!
Not a sound was heard, not a sight was seen, but I scent the Russian... how does it go on in the fairy tale... I've forgotten!
'At your service!'" a familiar voice cried suddenly.
Raskolnikov shuddered.
The Explosive Lieutenant stood before him. He had just come in from the third room.
"It is the hand of fate," thought Raskolnikov. "Why is he here?"
"You've come to see us?
What about?" cried Ilya Petrovitch. He was obviously in an exceedingly good humour and perhaps a trifle exhilarated.
"If it's on business you are rather early.[*] It's only a chance that I am here... however I'll do what I can.
I must admit, I... what is it, what is it?
Excuse me...."
[*] Dostoevsky appears to have forgotten that it is after sunset, and that the last time Raskolnikov visited the police office at two in the afternoon he was reproached for coming too late.--TRANSLATOR.
"Raskolnikov." "Of course, Raskolnikov.
You didn't imagine I'd forgotten?
Don't think I am like that...
Rodion Ro--Ro--Rodionovitch, that's it, isn't it?"
"Rodion Romanovitch."
"Yes, yes, of course, Rodion Romanovitch!
I was just getting at it.
I made many inquiries about you.
I assure you I've been genuinely grieved since that... since I behaved like that... it was explained to me afterwards that you were a literary man... and a learned one too... and so to say the first steps...
Mercy on us!
What literary or scientific man does not begin by some originality of conduct!
My wife and I have the greatest respect for literature, in my wife it's a genuine passion!
Literature and art!
If only a man is a gentleman, all the rest can be gained by talents, learning, good sense, genius.
As for a hat--well, what does a hat matter?
I can buy a hat as easily as I can a bun; but what's under the hat, what the hat covers, I can't buy that!
I was even meaning to come and apologise to you, but thought maybe you'd...
But I am forgetting to ask you, is there anything you want really?
I hear your family have come?"
"Yes, my mother and sister."
"I've even had the honour and happiness of meeting your sister--a highly cultivated and charming person.
I confess I was sorry I got so hot with you.
There it is!
But as for my looking suspiciously at your fainting fit--that affair has been cleared up splendidly!
Bigotry and fanaticism!
I understand your indignation.
Perhaps you are changing your lodging on account of your family's arriving?"
"No, I only looked in...
I came to ask... I thought that I should find Zametov here."
"Oh, yes!
Of course, you've made friends, I heard.
Well, no, Zametov is not here.
Yes, we've lost Zametov.
He's not been here since yesterday... he quarrelled with everyone on leaving... in the rudest way.
He is a feather-headed youngster, that's all; one might have expected something from him, but there, you know what they are, our brilliant young men.