sphere foretold a storm, and the prince felt a
certain charm in the contemplative mood which possessed him. He found
pleasure, too, in gazing at the exterior objects around him. All the
time he was trying to forget some thing, to escape from some idea that
haunted him; but melancholy thoughts came back, though he would so
willingly have escaped from them. He remembered suddenly how he had been
talking to the waiter, while he dined, about a recently committed murder
which the whole town was discussing, and as he thought of it something
strange came over him. He was seized all at once by a violent desire,
almost a temptation, against which he strove in vain.

He jumped up and walked off as fast as he could towards the "Petersburg
Side." [One of the quarters of St. Petersburg.] He had asked someone, a
little while before, to show him which was the Petersburg Side, on the
banks of the Neva. He had not gone there, however; and he knew very
well that it was of no use to go now, for he would certainly not find
Lebedeff's relation at home. He had the address, but she must certainly
have gone to Pavlofsk, or Colia would have let him know. If he were to
go now, it would merely be out of curiosity, but a sudden, new idea had
come into his head.

However, it was something to move on and know where he was going. A
minute later he was still moving on, but without knowing anything. He
could no longer think out his new idea. He tried to take an interest in
all he saw; in the sky, in the Neva. He spoke to some children he met.
He felt his epileptic condition becoming more and more developed. The
evening was very close; thunder was heard some way off.

The prince was haunted all that day by the face of Lebedeff's nephew
whom he had seen for the first time that morning, just as one is haunted
at times by some persistent musical refrain. By a curious association
of ideas, the young man always appeared as the murderer of whom Lebedeff
had spoken when introducing him to Muishkin. Yes, he had read something
about the murder, and that quite recently. Since he came to Russia, he
had heard many stories of this kind, and was interested in them. His
conversation with the waiter, an hour ago, chanced to be on the subject
of this murder of the Zemarins, and the latter had agreed with him about
it. He thought of the waiter again, and decided that he was no fool, but
a steady, intelligent man: though, said he to himself, "God knows
what he may reall