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"I am lying?" Porfiry repeated, apparently incensed, but

preserving a good-humoured and ironical face, as though he were

not in the least concerned at Raskolnikov's opinion of him. "I am

lying... but how did I treat you just now, I, the examining

lawyer? Prompting you and giving you every means for your

defence; illness, I said, delirium, injury, melancholy and the

police officers and all the rest of it? Ah! He-he-he! Though,

indeed, all those psychological means of defence are not very

reliable and cut both ways: illness, delirium, I don't

remember--that's all right, but why, my good sir, in your illness

and in your delirium were you haunted by just those delusions and

not by any others? There may have been others, eh? He-he-he!"

Raskolnikov looked haughtily and contemptuously at him.