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"Well, I've just come from one and it's the fifth night I've

slept so...." He filled his glass, emptied it and paused. Bits of

hay were in fact clinging to his clothes and sticking to his

hair. It seemed quite probable that he had not undressed or

washed for the last five days. His hands, particularly, were

filthy. They were fat and red, with black nails.

His conversation seemed to excite a general though languid

interest. The boys at the counter fell to sniggering. The

innkeeper came down from the upper room, apparently on purpose to

listen to the "funny fellow" and sat down at a little distance,

yawning lazily, but with dignity. Evidently Marmeladov was a

familiar figure here, and he had most likely acquired his

weakness for high-flown speeches from the habit of frequently

entering into conversation with strangers of all sorts in the

tavern. This habit develops into a necessity in some drunkards,

and especially in those who are looked after sharply and kept in

order at home. Hence in the company of other drinkers they try to

justify themselves and even if possible obtain consideration.