“Oh, don’t talk of them; there have been no more in Petersburg, confound them!” he cried with an air of irritation. “Let’s rather talk of that⁠ ⁠… though⁠ ⁠… H’m! I have not much time, and can’t stay long with you, it’s a pity! I should have found plenty to tell you.”

“What’s your engagement, a woman?”

“Yes, a woman, a casual incident.⁠ ⁠… No, that’s not what I want to talk of.”

“And the hideousness, the filthiness of all your surroundings, doesn’t that affect you? Have you lost the strength to stop yourself?”

“And do you pretend to strength, too? He-he-he! You surprised me just now, Rodion Romanovitch, though I knew beforehand it would be so. You preach to me about vice and aesthetics! You⁠—a Schiller, you⁠—an idealist! Of course that’s all as it should be and it would be surprising if it were not so, yet it is strange in reality.⁠ ⁠… Ah, what a pity I have no time, for you’re a most interesting type! And, by the way, are you fond of Schiller? I am awfully fond of him.”