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"He's drunk it! he's drunk it all," the poor woman screamed in

despair--"and his clothes are gone! And they are hungry,

hungry!"--and wringing her hands she pointed to the children.

"Oh, accursed life! And you, are you not ashamed?"--she pounced

all at once upon Raskolnikov--"from the tavern! Have you been

drinking with him? You have been drinking with him, too! Go

away!"

The young man was hastening away without uttering a word. The

inner door was thrown wide open and inquisitive faces were

peering in at it. Coarse laughing faces with pipes and cigarettes

and heads wearing caps thrust themselves in at the doorway.

Further in could be seen figures in dressing gowns flung open, in

costumes of unseemly scantiness, some of them with cards in their

hands. They were particularly diverted, when Marmeladov, dragged

about by his hair, shouted that it was a consolation to him. They

even began to come into the room; at last a sinister shrill

outcry was heard: this came from Amalia Lippevechsel herself

pushing her way amongst them and trying to restore order after

her own fashion and for the hundredth time to frighten the poor

woman by ordering her with coarse abuse to clear out of the room

next day.