“Leave off, I entreat you, what are you doing?” Pulcheria Alexandrovna cried, greatly distressed.
“Get up, get up!” said Dounia laughing, though she, too, was upset.
“Not for anything till you let me kiss your hands! That’s it! Enough! I get up and we’ll go on! I am a luckless fool, I am unworthy of you and drunk … and I am ashamed. … I am not worthy to love you, but to do homage to you is the duty of every man who is not a perfect beast! And I’ve done homage. … Here are your lodgings, and for that alone Rodya was right in driving your Pyotr Petrovitch away. … How dare he! how dare he put you in such lodgings! It’s a scandal! Do you know the sort of people they take in here? And you his betrothed! You are his betrothed? Yes? Well, then, I’ll tell you, your fiancé is a scoundrel.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Razumihin, you are forgetting …” Pulcheria Alexandrovna was beginning.
“Yes, yes, you are right, I did forget myself, I am ashamed of it,” Razumihin made haste to apologise.
“But … but you can’t be angry with me for speaking so! For I speak sincerely and not because … hm, hm! That would be disgraceful; in fact not because I’m in … hm! Well, anyway, I won’t say why, I daren’t. … But we all saw today when he came in that that man is not of our sort. Not because he had his hair curled at the barber’s, not because he was in such a hurry to show his wit, but because he is a spy, a speculator, because he is a skinflint and a buffoon. That’s evident. Do you think him clever? No, he is a fool, a fool. And is he a match for you? Good heavens! Do you see, ladies?”
he stopped suddenly on the way upstairs to their rooms, > “though all my friends there are drunk, yet they are all honest, and though we do talk a lot of trash, and I do,