e threw himself
on his couch, and for a quarter of an hour he tried to arrange his
ideas somewhat, inasmuch as they were very confused.

Within a few days Raskolnikoff convinced himself that Porphyrius
Petrovitch had no real proofs. Deciding to go out, in search of fresh
air, he took up his cap and made for the door, deep in thought. For
the first time he felt in the best of health, really well. He opened
the door, and encountered Porphyrius face to face. The latter entered.

Raskolnikoff staggered for a moment, but quickly recovered. The visit
did not dismay him. "Perhaps this is the finale, but why does he come
upon me like a cat, with muffled tread? Can he have been listening?"

"I have been thinking for a long time of calling on you, and, as I was
passing, I thought I might drop in for a few minutes. Where are you
off to? I won't detain you long, only the time to smoke a cigarette,
if you will allow me?"

"Be seated, Porphyrius Petrovitch, be seated," said Raskolnikoff to
his guest, assuming such an air of friendship that he himself could
have been astonished at his own affability. Thus the victim, in fear
and trembling for his life, at last does not feel the knife at his
throat. He seated himself in front of Porphyrius, and gazed upon him
without flinching. Porphyrius blinked a little, and commenced rolling
his cigarette.

"Speak! speak!" Raskolnikoff mutely cried in his heart. "What are you
going to say?"

"Oh, these cigarettes!" Porphyrius Petrovitch commenced at last,
"they'll be the death of me, and yet I can't give them up! I am always
coughing--a tickling in the throat is setting in, and I am
asthmatical. I have been to consult Botkine of late; he examines every
one of his patients at least half an hour at a time. After having
thumped and bumped me about for ever so long, he told me, amongst
other things: 'Tobacco is a bad thing for you--your lungs are
affected.' That's all very well, but how am I to go without my
tobacco? What am I to use as a substitute? Unfortunately, I can't
drink, hah! hah! Everything is relative, I suppose, Rodion
Romanovitch?"

"There, he is beginning with some more of his silly palaver!"
Raskolnikoff growled to himself. His late interview with the
magistrate suddenly occurred to him, at which anger affected his mind.

"Did you know, by-the-by, that I called on you the night before last?"
continued Porphyrius, looking about. "I was in this very room. I
happened to be coming