simply can’t imagine what men will say! Though why shouldn’t you imagine? Don’t we talk nonsense ourselves? And let them … that’s the way to learn not to! … Wait a minute, I’ll fetch Zossimov.”
Zossimov pounced upon Raskolnikov almost greedily; he showed a special interest in him; soon his face brightened.
“You must go to bed at once,” he pronounced, examining the patient as far as he could, “and take something for the night. Will you take it? I got it ready some time ago … a powder.”
“Two, if you like,” answered Raskolnikov. The powder was taken at once.
“It’s a good thing you are taking him home,” observed Zossimov to Razumihin—“we shall see how he is tomorrow, today he’s not at all amiss—a considerable change since the afternoon. Live and learn …”
“Do you know what Zossimov whispered to me when we were coming out?” Razumihin blurted out, as soon as they were in the street. “I won’t tell you everything, brother, because they are such fools. Zossimov told me to talk freely to you on the way and get you to talk freely to me, and afterwards I am to tell him about it, for he’s got a notion in his head that you are … mad or close on it. Only fancy! In the first place, you’ve three times the brains he has; in the second, if you are not mad, you needn’t care a hang that he has got such a wild idea; and thirdly, that piece of beef whose specialty is surgery has gone mad on mental diseases, and what’s brought him to this conclusion about you was your conversation today with Zametov.”
“Zametov told you all about it?”
“Yes, and he did well. Now I understand what it all means and so does Zametov. … Well, the fact is, Rodya … the point is … I am a little drunk now. … But that’s … no matter … the point is that this idea …