Leave me, leave me alone. I decided this even before … I’m absolutely resolved on it. Whatever may come to me, whether I come to ruin or not, I want to be alone. Forget me altogether, it’s better. Don’t inquire about me. When I can, I’ll come of myself or … I’ll send for you. Perhaps it will all come back, but now if you love me, give me up … else I shall begin to hate you, I feel it. … Goodbye!”
“Good God!” cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. Both his mother and his sister were terribly alarmed. Razumihin was also.
“Rodya, Rodya, be reconciled with us! Let us be as before!” cried his poor mother.
He turned slowly to the door and slowly went out of the room. Dounia overtook him.
“Brother, what are you doing to mother?” she whispered, her eyes flashing with indignation.
He looked dully at her.
“No matter, I shall come. … I’m coming,” he muttered in an undertone, as though not fully conscious of what he was saying, and he went out of the room.
“Wicked, heartless egoist!” cried Dounia.
“He is insane, but not heartless. He is mad! Don’t you see it? You’re heartless after that!” Razumihin whispered in her ear, squeezing her hand tightly.
“I shall be back directly,” he shouted to the horror-stricken mother, and he ran out of the room.
Raskolnikov was waiting for him at the end of the passage.