, dear friend, that won't go down, in spite of your
machinations. We will try and find out what you really have been
driving at."

And he prepared to brave boldly the terrible catastrophe he
anticipated. Occasionally the desire came upon him to rush on
Porphyrius, and to strangle him there and then. From the first moment
of having entered the magistrate's office what he had dreaded most
was, lest he might lose his temper. He felt his heart beating
violently, his lips become parched, his spittle congealed. He
resolved, however, to hold his tongue, knowing that, under the
circumstances, such would be the best tactics. By similar means, he
felt sure that he would not only not become compromised, but that he
might succeed in exasperating his enemy, in order to let him drop some
imprudent observation. This, at all events, was Raskolnikoff's hope.

"I see you don't believe, you think I am jesting," continued
Porphyrius, more and more at his ease, without ceasing to indulge in
his little laugh, whilst continuing his perambulation about the room.
"You may be right. God has given me a face which only arouses comical
thoughts in others. I'm a buffoon. But excuse an old man's cackle.
You, Rodion Romanovitch, you are in your prime, and, like all young
people, you appreciate, above all things, human intelligence.
Intellectual smartness and abstract rational deductions entice you.
But, to return to the _special case_ we were talking about just now. I
must tell you that we have to deal with reality, with nature. This is
a very important thing, and how admirably does she often foil the
highest skill! Listen to an old man; I am speaking quite seriously,
Rodion"--(on saying which Porphyrius Petrovitch, who was hardly
thirty-five years of age, seemed all of a sudden to have aged, a
sudden metamorphosis had taken place in the whole of his person, nay,
in his very voice)--"to an old man who, however, is not wanting in
candor. Am I or am I not candid? What do you think? It seems to me
that a man could hardly be more so--for do I not reveal confidence,
and that without the prospect of reward? But, to continue, acuteness
of mind is, in my opinion, a very fine thing; it is to all intents and
purposes an ornament of nature, one of the consolations of life by
means of which it would appear a poor magistrate can be easily gulled,
who, after all, is often misled by his own imagination, for he is only
human. But nature comes to the aid of this hum