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"Allow me to observe," he answered dryly, "that I don't consider

myself a Mahomet or a Napoleon, nor any personage of that kind,

and not being one of them I cannot tell you how I should act."

"Oh, come, don't we all think ourselves Napoleons now in Russia?"

Porfiry Petrovitch said with alarming familiarity.

Something peculiar betrayed itself in the very intonation of his

voice.

"Perhaps it was one of these future Napoleons who did for Alyona

Ivanovna last week?" Zametov blurted out from the corner.

Raskolnikov did not speak, but looked firmly and intently at

Porfiry. Razumihin was scowling gloomily. He seemed before this

to be noticing something. He looked angrily around. There was a

minute of gloomy silence. Raskolnikov turned to go.