ia.

"So it is not a present from her _fiance_," thought Razumihin, and was
unreasonably delighted.

"I thought it was Luzhin's present," observed Raskolnikov.

"No, he has not made Dounia any presents yet."

"A-ah! And do you remember, mother, I was in love and wanted to get
married?" he said suddenly, looking at his mother, who was disconcerted
by the sudden change of subject and the way he spoke of it.

"Oh, yes, my dear."

Pulcheria Alexandrovna exchanged glances with Dounia and Razumihin.

"H'm, yes. What shall I tell you? I don't remember much indeed. She was
such a sickly girl," he went on, growing dreamy and looking down again.
"Quite an invalid. She was fond of giving alms to the poor, and was
always dreaming of a nunnery, and once she burst into tears when she
began talking to me about it. Yes, yes, I remember. I remember very
well. She was an ugly little thing. I really don't know what drew me
to her then--I think it was because she was always ill. If she had been
lame or hunchback, I believe I should have liked her better still," he
smiled dreamily. "Yes, it was a sort of spring delirium."

"No, it was not only spring delirium," said Dounia, with warm feeling.

He fixed a strained intent look on his sister, but did not hear or did
not understand her words. Then, completely lost in thought, he got up,
went up to his mother, kissed her, went back to his place and sat down.

"You love her even now?" said Pulcheria Alexandrovna, touched.

"Her? Now? Oh, yes.... You ask about her? No... that's all now, as
it were, in another world... and so long ago. And indeed everything
happening here seems somehow far away." He looked attentively at them.
"You, now... I seem to be looking at you from a thousand miles away...
but, goodness knows why we are talking of that! And what's the use of
asking about it?" he added with annoyance, and biting his nails, fell
into dreamy silence again.

"What a wretched lodging you have, Rodya! It's like a tomb," said
Pulcheria Alexandrovna, suddenly breaking the oppressive silence. "I
am sure it's quite half through your lodging you have become so
melancholy."

"My lodging," he answered, listlessly. "Yes, the lodging had a great
deal to do with it.... I thought that, too.... If only you knew, though,
what a strange thing you said just now, mother," he said, laughing
strangely.

A little more, and their companionship, this mother and this sister,
with him after three years'