get　it　back　from　a　friend。。。〃　he　broke　off　in　confusion。
  〃Well；　we　will　talk　about　it　then；　sir。〃
  〃Good…bye…　are　you　always　at　home　alone；　your　sister　is　not　here
  with　you？〃　He　asked　her　as　casually　as　possible　as　he　went　out　into
  the　passage。
  〃What　business　is　she　of　yours；　my　good　sir？〃
  〃Oh；　nothing　particular；　I　simply　asked。　You　are　too　quick。。。。
  Good…day；　Alyona　Ivanovna。〃
  Raskolnikov　went　out　in　complete　confusion。　This　confusion　became
  more　and　more　intense。　As　he　went　down　the　stairs；　he　even　stopped
  short；　two　or　three　times；　as　though　suddenly　struck　by　some
  thought。　When　he　was　in　the　street　he　cried　out；　〃Oh；　God；　how
  loathsome　it　all　is！　and　can　I；　can　I　possibly。。。。　No；　it's
  nonsense；　it's　rubbish！〃　he　added　resolutely。　〃And　how　could　such　an
  atrocious　thing　come　into　my　head？　What　filthy　things　my　heart　is
  capable　of。　Yes；　filthy　above　all；　disgusting；　loathsome；
  loathsome！…　and　for　a　whole　month　I've　been。。。。〃　But　no　words；　no
  exclamations；　could　express　his　agitation。　The　feeling　of　intense
  repulsion；　which　had　begun　to　oppress　and　torture　his　heart　while　he
  was　on　his　way　to　the　old　woman；　had　by　now　reached　such　a　pitch　and
  had　taken　such　a　definite　form　that　he　did　not　know　what　to　do　with
  himself　to　escape　from　his　wretchedness。　He　walked　along　the
  pavement　like　a　drunken　man；　regardless　of　the　passers…by；　and
  jostling　against　them；　and　only　came　to　his　senses　when　he　was　in
  the　next　street。　Looking　round；　he　noticed　that　he　was　standing
  close　to　a　tavern　which　was　entered　by　steps　leading　from　the　pavement
  to　the　basement。　At　that　instant　two　drunken　men　came　out　at　the　door；
  and　abusing　and　supporting　one　another；　they　mounted　the　steps。
  Without　stopping　to　think；　Raskolnikov　went　down　the　steps　at　once。
  Till　that　moment　he　had　never　been　into　a　tavern；　but　now　he　felt
  giddy　and　was　tormented　by　a　burning　thirst。　He　longed　for　a　drink
  of　cold　beer；　and　attributed　his　sudden　weakness　to　the　want　of
  food。　He　sat　down　at　a　sticky　little　table　in　a　dark　and　dirty　corner；
  ordered　some　beer；　and　eagerly　drank　off　the　first　glassful。　At　once
  he　felt　easier；　and　his　thoughts　became　clear。
  〃All　that's　nonsense；〃　he　said　hopefully；　〃and　there　is　nothing　in
  it　all　to　worry　about！　It's　simply　physical　derangement。　Just　a
  glass　of　beer；　a　piece　of　dry　bread…　and　in　one　moment　the　brain　is
  stronger；　the　mind　is　clearer　and　the　will　is　firm！　Phew；　how
  utterly　petty　it　all　is！〃
  But　in　spite　of　this　scornful　reflection；　he　was　by　now　looking
  cheerful　as　though　he　were　suddenly　set　free　from　a　terrible　burden：
  and　he　gazed　round　in　a　friendly　way　at　the　people　in　the　room。　But
  even　at　that　moment　he　had　a　dim　foreboding　that　this　happier　frame　of
  mind　was　also　not　normal。
  There　were　few　people　at　the　time　in　the　tavern。　Besides　the　two
  drunken　men　he　had　met　on　the　steps；　a　group　consisting　of　about
  five　men　and　a　girl　with　a　concertina　had　gone　out　at　the　same　time。
  Their　departure　left　the　room　quiet　and　rather　empty。　The　persons
  still　in　the　tavern　were　a　man　who　appeared　to　be　an　artisan；　drunk；
  but　not　extremely　so；　sitting　before　a　pot　of　beer；　and　his　companion；
  a　huge；　stout　man　with　a　grey　beard；　in　a　short　full…skirted　coat。
  He　was　very　drunk：　and　had　dropped　asleep　on　the　bench；　every　now
  and　then；　he　began　as　though　in　his　sleep；　cracking　his　fingers；
  with　his　arms　wide　apart　and　the　upper　part　of　his　body　bounding　about
  on　the　bench；　while　he　hummed　some　meaningless　refrain；　trying　to
  recall　some　such　lines　as　these：
  …
  〃His　wife　a　year　he　fondly　loved
  His　wife　a…　a　year　he…　fondly　loved。〃
  …
  Or　suddenly　waking　up　again：
  …
  〃Walking　along　the　crowded　row
  He　met　the　one　he　used　to　know。〃
  …
  But　no　one　shared　his　enjoyment：　his　silent　companion　looked　with
  positive　hostility　and　mistrust　at　all　these　manifestations。　There　was
  another　man　in　the　room　who　looked　somewhat　like　a　retired
  government　clerk。　He　was　sitting　apart；　now　and　then　sipping　from
  his　pot　and　looking　round　at　the　company。　He；　too；　appeared　to　be　in
  some　agitation。
  Chapter　Two
  RASKOLNIKOV　was　not　used　to　crowds；　and；　as　we　said　before；　he
  avoided　society　of　every　sort；　more　especially　of　late。　But　now　all　at
  once　he　felt　a　desire　to　be　with　other　people。　Something　new　seemed　to
  be　taking　place　within　him；　and　with　it　he　felt　a　sort　of　thirst　for
  company。　He　was　so　weary　after　a　whole　month　of　concentrated
  wretchedness　and　gloomy　excitement　that　he　longed　to　rest；　if　only　for
  a　moment；　in　some　other　world；　whatever　it　might　be；　and；　in　spite
  of　the　filthiness　of　the　surroundings；　he　was　glad　now　to　stay　in
  the　tavern。
  The　master　of　the　establishment　was　in　another　room；　but　he
  frequently　came　down　some　steps　into　the　main　room；　his　jaunty；　tarred
  boots　with　red　turn…over　tops　coming　into　view　each　time　before　the
  rest　of　his　person。　He　wore　a　full　coat　and　a　horribly　greasy　black
  satin　waistcoat；　with　no　cravat；　and　his　whole　face　seemed　smeared
  with　oil　like　an　iron　lock。　At　the　counter　stood　a　boy　of　about
  fourteen；　and　there　was　another　boy　somewhat　younger　who　handed
  whatever　was　wanted。　On　the　counter　lay　some　sliced　cucumber；　some
  pieces　of　dried　black　bread；　and　some　fish；　chopped　up　small；　all
  smelling　very　bad。　It　was　insufferably　close；　and　so　heavy　with　the
  fumes　of　spirits　that　five　minutes　in　such　an　atmosphere　might　well
  make　a　man　drunk。
  There　are　chance　meetings　with　strangers　that　interest　us　from　the
  first　moment；　before　a　word　is　spoken。　Such　was　the　impression　made　on
  Raskolnikov　by　the　person　sitting　a　little　distance　from　him；　who
  looked　like　a　retired　clerk。　The　young　man　often　recalled　this
  impression　afterwards；　and　even　ascribed　it　to　presentiment。　He　looked
  repeatedly　at　the　clerk；　partly　no　doubt　because　the　latter　was
  staring　persistently　at　him；　obviously　anxious　to　enter　into
  conversation。　At　the　other　persons　in　the　room；　including　the
  tavern…keeper；　the　clerk　looked　as　though　he　were　used　to　their
  company；　and　weary　of　it；　showing　a　shade　of　condescending　contempt
  for　them　as　persons　of　station　and　culture　inferior　to　his　own；　with
  whom　it　would　be　useless　for　him　to　converse。　He　was　a　man　over　fifty；
  bald　and　grizzled；　of　medium　height；　and　stoutly　built。　His　face；
  bloated　from　continual　drinking；　was　of　a　yellow；　even　greenish；
  tinge；　with　swollen　eyelids　out　of　which　keen　reddish　eyes　gleamed
  like　little　chinks。　But　there　was　something　very　strange　in　him；　there
  was　a　light　in　his　eyes　as　though　of　intense　feeling…　perhaps　there
  were　even　thought　and　intelligence；　but　at　the　same　time　there　was　a
  gleam　of　something　like　madness。　He　was　wearing　an　old　and
  hopelessly　ragged　black　dress　coat；　with　all　its　buttons　missing
  except　one；　and　that　one　he　had　buttoned；　evidently　clinging　to　this
  last　trace　of　respectability。　A　crumpled　shirt　front　covered　with
  spots　and　stains；　protruded　from　his　canvas　waistcoat。　Like　a　clerk；
  he　wore　no　beard；　nor　moustache