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And I have already drunk it! Come, who will have pity on a man

like me, eh? Are you sorry for me, sir, or not? Tell me, sir, are

you sorry or not? He-he-he!"

He would have filled his glass, but there was no drink left. The

pot was empty.

"What are you to be pitied for?" shouted the tavern-keeper who

was again near them.

Shouts of laughter and even oaths followed. The laughter and the

oaths came from those who were listening and also from those who

had heard nothing but were simply looking at the figure of the

discharged government clerk.

"To be pitied! Why am I to be pitied?" Marmeladov suddenly

declaimed, standing up with his arm outstretched, as though he

had been only waiting for that question.