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"Why do you... come and ask for me... and say nothing.... What's

the meaning of it?"

Raskolnikov's voice broke and he seemed unable to articulate the

words clearly.

The man raised his eyes this time and turned a gloomy sinister

look at Raskolnikov.

"Murderer!" he said suddenly in a quiet but clear and distinct

voice.

Raskolnikov went on walking beside him. His legs felt suddenly

weak, a cold shiver ran down his spine, and his heart seemed to

stand still for a moment, then suddenly began throbbing as though

it were set free. So they walked for about a hundred paces, side

by side in silence.

The man did not look at him.

"What do you mean... what is.... Who is a murderer?" muttered

Raskolnikov hardly audibly.

"You are a murderer," the man answered still more articulately

and emphatically, with a smile of triumphant hatred, and again he

looked straight into Raskolnikov's pale face and stricken eyes.