He woke up, hearing someone come in. He opened his eyes and saw Razumihin standing in the doorway, uncertain whether to come in or not. Raskolnikov sat up quickly on the sofa and gazed at him, as though trying to recall something.
“Ah, you are not asleep! Here I am! Nastasya, bring in the parcel!” Razumihin shouted down the stairs. “You shall have the account directly.”
“What time is it?” asked Raskolnikov, looking round uneasily.
“Yes, you had a fine sleep, brother, it’s almost evening, it will be six o’clock directly. You have slept more than six hours.”
“Good heavens! Have I?”
“And why not? It will do you good. What’s the hurry? A tryst, is it? We’ve all time before us. I’ve been waiting for the last three hours for you; I’ve been up twice and found you asleep. I’ve called on Zossimov twice; not at home, only fancy! But no matter, he will turn up. And I’ve been out on my own business, too. You know I’ve been moving today, moving with my uncle. I have an uncle living with me now. But that’s no matter, to business. Give me the parcel, Nastasya. We will open it directly. And how do you feel now, brother?”
“I am quite well, I am not ill. Razumihin, have you been here long?”
“I tell you I’ve been waiting for the last three hours.”
“No, before.”
“How do you mean?”