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"I remember now," said Raskolnikov after a long, sullen silence.

Razumihin looked at him, frowning and uneasy.

The door opened and a tall, stout man whose appearance seemed

familiar to Raskolnikov came in.

CHAPTER IV

Zossimov was a tall, fat man with a puffy, colourless,

clean-shaven face and straight flaxen hair. He wore spectacles,

and a big gold ring on his fat finger. He was twenty-seven. He

had on a light grey fashionable loose coat, light summer

trousers, and everything about him loose, fashionable and spick

and span; his linen was irreproachable, his watch-chain was

massive. In manner he was slow and, as it were, nonchalant, and

at the same time studiously free and easy; he made efforts to

conceal his self-importance, but it was apparent at every

instant. All his acquaintances found him tedious, but said he was

clever at his work.

"I've been to you twice to-day, brother. You see, he's come to

himself," cried Razumihin.