“Confound it,” he went on almost aloud. “He talked sensibly but yet⁠ ⁠… I am a fool! As if madmen didn’t talk sensibly! And this was just what Zossimov seemed afraid of.” He struck his finger on his forehead. “What if⁠ ⁠… how could I let him go off alone? He may drown himself.⁠ ⁠… Ach, what a blunder! I can’t.” And he ran back to overtake Raskolnikov, but there was no trace of him. With a curse he returned with rapid steps to the Palais de Cristal to question Zametov.