An hour later he was in St. Petersburg, and by ten o’clock he had rung the bell at Rogojin’s.
He had gone to the front door, and was kept waiting a long while before anyone came. At last the door of old Mrs. Rogojin’s flat was opened, and an aged servant appeared.
“Parfen Semionovitch is not at home,” she announced from the doorway. “Whom do you want?”
“Parfen Semionovitch.”
“He is not in.”
The old woman examined the prince from head to foot with great curiosity.
“At all events tell me whether he slept at home last night, and whether he came alone?”
The old woman continued to stare at him, but said nothing.
“Was not Nastasia Philipovna here with him, yesterday evening?”
“And, pray, who are you yourself?”
“Prince Lef Nicolaievitch Muishkin; he knows me well.”
“He is not at home.”
The woman lowered her eyes.
“And Nastasia Philipovna?”