help。。。　to　begin。。。　because　you　are　kinder　than　any　one…　clever；　I
  mean；　and　can　judge。。。　and　now　I　see　that　I　want　nothing。　Do　you　hear？
  Nothing　at　all。。。　no　one's　services。。。　no　one's　sympathy。　I　am　by
  myself。。。　alone。　Come；　that's　enough。　Leave　me　alone。〃
  〃Stay　a　minute；　you　sweep！　You　are　a　perfect　madman。　As　you　like　for
  all　I　care。　I　have　no　lessons；　do　you　see；　and　I　don't　care　about
  that；　but　there's　a　bookseller；　Heruvimov…　and　he　takes　the　place　of　a
  lesson。　I　would　not　exchange　him　for　five　lessons。　He's　doing
  publishing　of　a　kind；　and　issuing　natural　science　manuals　and　what　a
  circulation　they　have！　The　very　titles　are　worth　the　money！　You　always
  maintained　that　I　was　a　fool；　but　by　Jove；　my　boy；　there　are　greater
  fools　than　I　am！　Now　he　is　setting　up　for　being　advanced；　not　that
  he　has　an　inkling　of　anything；　but；　of　course；　I　encourage　him。　Here
  are　two　signatures　of　the　German　text…　in　my　opinion；　the　crudest
  charlatanism；　it　discusses　the　question；　'Is　woman　a　human　being？'
  And；　of　course；　triumphantly　proves　that　she　is。　Heruvimov　is　going　to
  bring　out　this　work　as　a　contribution　to　the　woman　question；　I　am
  translating　it；　he　will　expand　these　two　and　a　half　signatures　into
  six；　we　shall　make　up　a　gorgeous　title　half　a　page　long　and　bring　it
  out　at　half　a　rouble。　It　will　do！　He　pays　me　six　roubles　the
  signature；　it　works　out　to　fifteen　roubles　for　the　job；　and　I've　had
  six　already　in　advance。　When　we　have　finished　this；　we　are　going　to
  begin　a　translation　about　whales；　and　then　some　of　the　dullest
  scandals　out　of　the　second　part　of　Les　Confessions　we　have　marked
  for　translation；　somebody　has　told　Heruvimov；　that　Rousseau　was　a　kind
  of　Radishchev。　You　may　be　sure　I　don't　contradict　him；　hang　him！　Well；
  would　you　like　to　do　the　second　signature　of　'Is　woman　a　human　being？'
  If　you　would；　take　the　German　and　pens　and　paper…　all　those　are
  provided；　and　take　three　roubles；　for　as　I　have　had　six　roubles　in
  advance　on　the　whole　thing；　three　roubles　come　to　you　for　your
  share。　And　when　you　have　finished　the　signature　there　will　be
  another　three　roubles　for　you。　And　please　don't　think　I　am　doing　you　a
  service；　quite　the　contrary；　as　soon　as　you　came　in；　I　saw　how　you
  could　help　me；　to　begin　with；　I　am　weak　in　spelling；　and　secondly；　I
  am　sometimes　utterly　adrift　in　German；　so　that　I　make　it　up　as　I　go
  along　for　the　most　part。　The　only　comfort　is；　that　it's　bound　to　be
  a　change　for　the　better。　Though　who　can　tell；　maybe　it's　sometimes　for
  the　worse。　Will　you　take　it？〃
  Raskolnikov　took　the　German　sheets　in　silence；　took　the　three
  roubles　and　without　a　word　went　out。　Razumihin　gazed　after　him　in
  astonishment。　But　when　Raskolnikov　was　in　the　next　street；　he　turned
  back；　mounted　the　stairs　to　Razumihin's　again　and　laying　on　the
  table　the　German　article　and　the　three　roubles；　went　out　again；
  still　without　uttering　a　word。
  〃Are　you　raving；　or　what？〃　Razumihin　shouted；　roused　to　fury　at
  last。　〃What　farce　is　this？　You'll　drive　me　crazy　too。。。　what　did　you
  come　to　see　me　for；　damn　you？〃
  〃I　don't　want。。。　translation；〃　muttered　Raskolnikov　from　the　stairs。
  〃Then　what　the　devil　do　you　want？〃　shouted　Razumihin　from　above。
  Raskolnikov　continued　descending　the　staircase　in　silence。
  〃Hey；　there！　Where　are　you　living？〃
  No　answer。
  〃Well；　confound　you　then！〃
  But　Raskolnikov　was　already　stepping　into　the　street。　On　the
  Nikolaevsky　Bridge　he　was　roused　to　full　consciousness　again　by　an
  unpleasant　incident。　A　coachman；　after　shouting　at　him　two　or　three
  times；　gave　him　a　violent　lash　on　the　back　with　his　whip；　for　having
  almost　fallen　under　his　horses'　hoofs。　The　lash　so　infuriated　him　that
  he　dashed　away　to　the　railing　（for　some　unknown　reason　he　had　been
  walking　in　the　very　middle　of　the　bridge　in　the　traffic）。　He　angrily
  clenched　and　ground　his　teeth。　He　heard　laughter；　of　course。
  〃Serves　him　right！〃
  〃A　pickpocket　I　dare　say。〃
  〃Pretending　to　be　drunk；　for　sure；　and　getting　under　the　wheels　on
  purpose；　and　you　have　to　answer　for　him。〃
  〃It's　a　regular　profession；　that's　what　it　is。〃
  But　while　he　stood　at　the　railing；　still　looking　angry　and
  bewildered　after　the　retreating　carriage；　and　rubbing　his　back；　he
  suddenly　felt　some　one　thrust　money　into　his　hand。　He　looked。　It　was
  an　elderly　woman　in　a　kerchief　and　goatskin　shoes；　with　a　girl；
  probably　her　daughter；　wearing　a　hat；　and　carrying　a　green　parasol。
  〃Take　it；　my　good　man；　in　Christ's　name。〃
  He　took　it　and　they　passed　on。　It　was　a　piece　of　twenty　copecks。
  From　his　dress　and　appearance　they　might　well　have　taken　him　for　a
  beggar　asking　alms　in　the　streets；　and　the　gift　of　the　twenty
  copecks　he　doubtless　owed　to　the　blow；　which　made　them　feel　sorry
  for　him。
  He　closed　his　hand　on　the　twenty　copecks；　walked　on　for　ten　paces；
  and　turned　facing　the　Neva；　looking　towards　the　palace。　The　sky　was
  without　a　cloud　and　the　water　was　almost　bright　blue；　which　is　so　rare
  in　the　Neva。　The　cupola　of　the　cathedral；　which　is　seen　at　its　best
  from　the　bridge　about　twenty　paces　from　the　chapel；　glittered　in　the
  sunlight；　and　in　the　pure　air　every　ornament　on　it　could　be　clearly
  distinguished。　The　pain　from　the　lash　went　off；　and　Raskolnikov　forgot
  about　it；　one　uneasy　and　not　quite　definite　idea　occupied　him　now
  completely。　He　stood　still；　and　gazed　long　and　intently　into　the
  distance；　this　spot　was　especially　familiar　to　him。　When　he　was
  attending　the　university；　he　had　hundreds　of　times…　generally　on　his
  way　home…　stood　still　on　this　spot；　gazed　at　this　truly　magnificent
  spectacle　and　almost　always　marvelled　at　a　vague　and　mysterious
  emotion　it　roused　in　him。　It　left　him　strangely　cold；　this　gorgeous
  picture　was　for　him　blank　and　lifeless。　He　wondered　every　time　at
  his　sombre　and　enigmatic　impression　and；　mistrusting　himself；　put
  off　finding　the　explanation　of　it。　He　vividly　recalled　those　old
  doubts　and　perplexities；　and　it　seemed　to　him　that　it　was　no　mere
  chance　that　he　recalled　them　now。　It　struck　him　as　strange　and
  grotesque；　that　he　should　have　stopped　at　the　same　spot　as　before；
  as　though　he　actually　imagined　he　could　think　the　same　thoughts；　be
  interested　in　the　same　theories　and　pictures　that　had　interested
  him。。。　so　short　a　time　ago。　He　felt　it　almost　amusing；　and　yet　it
  wrung　his　heart。　Deep　down；　hidden　far　away　out　of　sight　all　that
  seemed　to　him　now…　all　his　old　past；　his　old　thoughts；　his　old
  problems　and　theories；　his　old　impressions　and　that　picture　and
  himself　and　all；　all。。。。　He　felt　as　though　he　were　flying　upwards；　and
  everything　were　vanishing　from　his　sight。　Making　an　unconscious
  movement　with　his　hand；　he　suddenly　became　aware　of　the　piece　of　money
  in　his　fist。　He　opened　his　hand；　stared　at　the　coin；　and　with　a
  sweep　his　arm　flung　it　into　the　water；　then　he　turned　and　went　home。
  It　seemed　to　him；　he　had　cut　himself　off　from　every　one　and　from
  everything　that　moment。
  Evening　was　coming　on　when　he　reached　home；　so　that　he　must　have
  been　walking　about　six　hours。　How　and　where　he　came　back　he　did　not
  remember。　Undressing；　and　quivering　like　an　overdriven　horse；　he　lay
  down　on　the　sofa；　drew　his　greatcoat　over　him；　and　at　once　sank　into
  oblivion。。。。
  It　was　dusk　when　he　was　waked　up　by　a　fearful　scream。　Good　God；　what
  a　scream！　Such　unnatural　sounds；　such　howling；　wailing；　grinding；
  tears；　blows　and　curses　he　had　never　heard。
  He　could　never　have　imagined　such　brutality；　such　frenzy。　In
  terror　he　sat　up　in　bed；　almost　sw