ed Avdotya
Romanovna earnestly and at once uttered a cry, for he squeezed her hand
so painfully.

"Yes, you say yes... well after that you... you..." he cried in
a transport, "you are a fount of goodness, purity, sense... and
perfection. Give me your hand... you give me yours, too! I want to kiss
your hands here at once, on my knees..." and he fell on his knees on the
pavement, fortunately at that time deserted.

"Leave off, I entreat you, what are you doing?" Pulcheria Alexandrovna
cried, greatly distressed.

"Get up, get up!" said Dounia laughing, though she, too, was upset.

"Not for anything till you let me kiss your hands! That's it! Enough! I
get up and we'll go on! I am a luckless fool, I am unworthy of you and
drunk... and I am ashamed.... I am not worthy to love you, but to do
homage to you is the duty of every man who is not a perfect beast! And
I've done homage.... Here are your lodgings, and for that alone Rodya
was right in driving your Pyotr Petrovitch away.... How dare he! how
dare he put you in such lodgings! It's a scandal! Do you know the
sort of people they take in here? And you his betrothed! You are
his betrothed? Yes? Well, then, I'll tell you, your _fiance_ is a
scoundrel."

"Excuse me, Mr. Razumihin, you are forgetting..." Pulcheria Alexandrovna
was beginning.

"Yes, yes, you are right, I did forget myself, I am ashamed of it,"
Razumihin made haste to apologise. "But... but you can't be angry with
me for speaking so! For I speak sincerely and not because... hm, hm!
That would be disgraceful; in fact not because I'm in... hm! Well,
anyway, I won't say why, I daren't.... But we all saw to-day when he
came in that that man is not of our sort. Not because he had his hair
curled at the barber's, not because he was in such a hurry to show his
wit, but because he is a spy, a speculator, because he is a skin-flint
and a buffoon. That's evident. Do you think him clever? No, he is a
fool, a fool. And is he a match for you? Good heavens! Do you see,
ladies?" he stopped suddenly on the way upstairs to their rooms, "though
all my friends there are drunk, yet they are all honest, and though we
do talk a lot of trash, and I do, too, yet we shall talk our way to the
truth at last, for we are on the right path, while Pyotr Petrovitch...
is not on the right path. Though I've been calling them all sorts of
names just now, I do respect them all... though I don't respect Zametov,
I like him, for he is a puppy