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What was he beside such a girl--he, the drunken noisy braggart of

last night? Was it possible to imagine so absurd and cynical a

juxtaposition? Razumihin blushed desperately at the very idea and

suddenly the recollection forced itself vividly upon him of how

he had said last night on the stairs that the landlady would be

jealous of Avdotya Romanovna... that was simply intolerable. He

brought his fist down heavily on the kitchen stove, hurt his hand

and sent one of the bricks flying.

"Of course," he muttered to himself a minute later with a feeling

of self-abasement, "of course, all these infamies can never be

wiped out or smoothed over... and so it's useless even to think

of it, and I must go to them in silence and do my duty... in

silence, too... and not ask forgiveness, and say nothing... for

all is lost now!"