under my arm and lock you up!"

"Listen, Razumihin," Raskolnikov began quietly, apparently calm--"can't
you see that I don't want your benevolence? A strange desire you have to
shower benefits on a man who... curses them, who feels them a burden in
fact! Why did you seek me out at the beginning of my illness? Maybe I
was very glad to die. Didn't I tell you plainly enough to-day that
you were torturing me, that I was... sick of you! You seem to want to
torture people! I assure you that all that is seriously hindering my
recovery, because it's continually irritating me. You saw Zossimov
went away just now to avoid irritating me. You leave me alone too, for
goodness' sake! What right have you, indeed, to keep me by force? Don't
you see that I am in possession of all my faculties now? How, how can
I persuade you not to persecute me with your kindness? I may be
ungrateful, I may be mean, only let me be, for God's sake, let me be!
Let me be, let me be!"

He began calmly, gloating beforehand over the venomous phrases he was
about to utter, but finished, panting for breath, in a frenzy, as he had
been with Luzhin.

Razumihin stood a moment, thought and let his hand drop.

"Well, go to hell then," he said gently and thoughtfully. "Stay," he
roared, as Raskolnikov was about to move. "Listen to me. Let me tell
you, that you are all a set of babbling, posing idiots! If you've any
little trouble you brood over it like a hen over an egg. And you are
plagiarists even in that! There isn't a sign of independent life in
you! You are made of spermaceti ointment and you've lymph in your veins
instead of blood. I don't believe in anyone of you! In any circumstances
the first thing for all of you is to be unlike a human being! Stop!" he
cried with redoubled fury, noticing that Raskolnikov was again making
a movement--"hear me out! You know I'm having a house-warming this
evening, I dare say they've arrived by now, but I left my uncle there--I
just ran in--to receive the guests. And if you weren't a fool, a common
fool, a perfect fool, if you were an original instead of a translation...
you see, Rodya, I recognise you're a clever fellow, but you're a
fool!--and if you weren't a fool you'd come round to me this evening
instead of wearing out your boots in the street! Since you have gone
out, there's no help for it! I'd give you a snug easy chair, my landlady
has one... a cup of tea, company.... Or you could lie on the sofa--any
way you wou