PART IV
5. CHAPTER V
(continued)
"Oh, don't trouble, please," cried Raskolnikov and he suddenly broke
into a laugh. "Please don't trouble."
Porfiry stood facing him, paused a moment and suddenly he too laughed.
Raskolnikov got up from the sofa, abruptly checking his hysterical
laughter.
"Porfiry Petrovitch," he began, speaking loudly and distinctly, though
his legs trembled and he could scarcely stand. "I see clearly at last
that you actually suspect me of murdering that old woman and her
sister Lizaveta. Let me tell you for my part that I am sick of this.
If you find that you have a right to prosecute me legally, to arrest
me, then prosecute me, arrest me. But I will not let myself be jeered
at to my face and worried . . ."
His lips trembled, his eyes glowed with fury and he could not restrain
his voice.
"I won't allow it!" he shouted, bringing his fist down on the table.
"Do you hear that, Porfiry Petrovitch? I won't allow it."
"Good heavens! What does it mean?" cried Porfiry Petrovitch,
apparently quite frightened. "Rodion Romanovitch, my dear fellow, what
is the matter with you?"
"I won't allow it," Raskolnikov shouted again.
"Hush, my dear man! They'll hear and come in. Just think, what could
we say to them?" Porfiry Petrovitch whispered in horror, bringing his
face close to Raskolnikov's.
"I won't allow it, I won't allow it," Raskolnikov repeated
mechanically, but he too spoke in a sudden whisper.
Porfiry turned quickly and ran to open the window.
"Some fresh air! And you must have some water, my dear fellow. You're
ill!" and he was running to the door to call for some when he found a
decanter of water in the corner. "Come, drink a little," he whispered,
rushing up to him with the decanter. "It will be sure to do you good."
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