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"I am not in the least. Mayn't I ask a question? Why do you keep

on...?"

"Listen, you are a man of culture and education?"

"I was in the sixth class at the gymnasium," said Zametov with

some dignity.

"Sixth class! Ah, my cock-sparrow! With your parting and your

rings--you are a gentleman of fortune. Foo! what a charming boy!"

Here Raskolnikov broke into a nervous laugh right in Zametov's

face. The latter drew back, more amazed than offended.

"Foo! how strange you are!" Zametov repeated very seriously. "I

can't help thinking you are still delirious."

"I am delirious? You are fibbing, my cock-sparrow! So I am

strange? You find me curious, do you?"

"Yes, curious."

"Shall I tell you what I was reading about, what I was looking

for? See what a lot of papers I've made them bring me.

Suspicious, eh?"

"Well, what is it?"

"You prick up your ears?"

"How do you mean--'prick up my ears'?"