Pagina 813 de 1294

"Why this, Rodion Romanovitch, that I know more than that about

you; I know about everything. I know how you went to take a flat

at night when it was dark and how you rang the bell and asked

about the blood, so that the workmen and the porter did not know

what to make of it. Yes, I understand your state of mind at that

time... but you'll drive yourself mad like that, upon my word!

You'll lose your head! You're full of generous indignation at the

wrongs you've received, first from destiny, and then from the

police officers, and so you rush from one thing to another to

force them to speak out and make an end of it all, because you

are sick of all this suspicion and foolishness. That's so, isn't

it? I have guessed how you feel, haven't I? Only in that way

you'll lose your head and Razumihin's, too; he's too good a man

for such a position, you must know that. You are ill and he is

good and your illness is infectious for him... I'll tell you

about it when you are more yourself....