“Why, carry out logically the theory you were advocating just now, and it follows that people may be killed⁠ ⁠…”

“Upon my word!” cried Luzhin.

“No, that’s not so,” put in Zossimov.

Raskolnikov lay with a white face and twitching upper lip, breathing painfully.

“There’s a measure in all things,” Luzhin went on superciliously. “Economic ideas are not an incitement to murder, and one has but to suppose⁠ ⁠…”

“And is it true,” Raskolnikov interposed once more suddenly, again in a voice quivering with fury and delight in insulting him, “is it true that you told your fiancée⁠ ⁠… within an hour of her acceptance, that what pleased you most⁠ ⁠… was that she was a beggar⁠ ⁠… because it was better to raise a wife from poverty, so that you may have complete control over her, and reproach her with your being her benefactor?”