Zossimov, who had begun his sage advice partly to make an effect before the ladies, was certainly somewhat mystified, when, glancing at his patient, he observed unmistakable mockery on his face. This lasted an instant, however. Pulcheria Alexandrovna began at once thanking Zossimov, especially for his visit to their lodging the previous night.

“What! he saw you last night?” Raskolnikov asked, as though startled. “Then you have not slept either after your journey.”

“Ach, Rodya, that was only till two o’clock. Dounia and I never go to bed before two at home.”

“I don’t know how to thank him either,” Raskolnikov went on, suddenly frowning and looking down. “Setting aside the question of payment⁠—forgive me for referring to it (he turned to Zossimov)⁠—I really don’t know what I have done to deserve such special attention from you! I simply don’t understand it⁠ ⁠… and⁠ ⁠… and⁠ ⁠… it weighs upon me, indeed, because I don’t understand it. I tell you so candidly.”