and only touched here and there with grey, and his thick square beard was even lighter than his hair. His eyes were blue and had a cold and thoughtful look; his lips were crimson. He was a remarkedly well-preserved man and looked much younger than his years.
When Sonia came out on the canal bank, they were the only two persons on the pavement. He observed her dreaminess and preoccupation. On reaching the house where she lodged, Sonia turned in at the gate; he followed her, seeming rather surprised.
In the courtyard she turned to the right corner.
“Bah!” muttered the unknown gentleman, and mounted the stairs behind her.
Only then Sonia noticed him. She reached the third storey, turned down the passage, and rang at No. 9. On the door was inscribed in chalk, “Kapernaumov, Tailor.”
“Bah!” the stranger repeated again, wondering at the strange coincidence, and he rang next door, at No. 8. The doors were two or three yards apart.
“You lodge at Kapernaumov’s,” he said, looking at Sonia and laughing. “He altered a waistcoat for me yesterday. I am staying close here at Madame Resslich’s. How odd!” Sonia looked at him attentively.
“We are neighbours,” he went on gaily. “I only came to town the day before yesterday. Goodbye for the present.”
Sonia made no reply; the door opened and she slipped in. She felt for some reason ashamed and uneasy.
On the way to Porfiry’s, Razumihin was obviously excited.