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As he went out, Raskolnikov had time to put his hand into his

pocket, to snatch up the coppers he had received in exchange for

his rouble in the tavern and to lay them unnoticed on the window.

Afterwards on the stairs, he changed his mind and would have gone

back.

"What a stupid thing I've done," he thought to himself, "they

have Sonia and I want it myself." But reflecting that it would be

impossible to take it back now and that in any case he would not

have taken it, he dismissed it with a wave of his hand and went

back to his lodging. "Sonia wants pomatum too," he said as he

walked along the street, and he laughed malignantly--"such

smartness costs money.... Hm! And maybe Sonia herself will be

bankrupt to-day, for there is always a risk, hunting big game...

digging for gold... then they would all be without a crust

to-morrow except for my money. Hurrah for Sonia! What a mine

they've dug there! And they're making the most of it! Yes, they

are making the most of it! They've wept over it and grown used to

it. Man grows used to everything, the scoundrel!"