ivered, his eyes gleamed, and his voice, which up to that
moment had been self-possessed, reached its highest diapason. "I will
not permit it," he yelled hoarsely, whilst striking a violent blow on
the table. "Do you hear me, Porphyrius Petrovitch, I shall not permit
this!"

"But, goodness gracious! what on earth is wrong with you?" asked the
magistrate, disturbed to all appearances. "_Batuchka_! Rodion
Romanovitch! My good friend! What on earth is the matter with you?"

"I will not permit it!" repeated Raskolnikoff once again.

"_Batuchka!_ not so loud, I must request! Someone will hear you,
someone may come; and then, what shall we say? Just reflect one
moment!" murmured Porphyrius Petrovitch, whose face had approached
that of his visitor.

"I will not permit it, I will not permit it!" mechanically pursued
Raskolnikoff, but in a minor key, so as to be heard by Porphyrius
only.

The latter moved away to open the window. "Let us air the room!
Supposing you were to drink some water, dear friend? You have had a
slight fit!" He was on the point of going to the door to give his
orders to a servant, when he saw a water bottle in a corner. "Drink,
_batuchka_!" he murmured, whilst approaching the young man with the
bottle, "that may do you some good."

Porphyrius's fright seemed so natural that Raskolnikoff remained
silent whilst examining him with curiosity. He refused, however, the
proffered water.

"Rodion Romanovitch! My dear friend! If you go on in this way, you
will go mad, I am positive! Drink, pray, if only a few drops!" He
almost forced the glass of water into his hand. Raskolnikoff raised it
mechanically to his lips, when suddenly he thought better of it, and
replaced it on the table with disgust. "Yes, yes, you have had a
slight fit. One or two more, my friend, and you will have another
attack of your malady," observed the magistrate in the kindest tone of
voice, appearing greatly agitated. "Is it possible that people can
take so little care of themselves? It was the same with Dmitri
Prokofitch, who called here yesterday. I admit mine to be a caustic
temperament, that mine is a horrid disposition, but that such a
meaning could possibly be attributed to harmless remarks. He called
here yesterday, when you had gone, and in the course of dinner he
talked, talked. You had sent him, had you not? But do sit down,
_batuchka!_ do sit down, for heaven's sake!"

"I did not indeed!--although I knew that he had calle