PART I
4. CHAPTER IV
(continued)
Raskolnikov did not sit down, but he felt unwilling to leave her, and
stood facing her in perplexity. This boulevard was never much
frequented; and now, at two o'clock, in the stifling heat, it was
quite deserted. And yet on the further side of the boulevard, about
fifteen paces away, a gentleman was standing on the edge of the
pavement. He, too, would apparently have liked to approach the girl
with some object of his own. He, too, had probably seen her in the
distance and had followed her, but found Raskolnikov in his way. He
looked angrily at him, though he tried to escape his notice, and stood
impatiently biding his time, till the unwelcome man in rags should
have moved away. His intentions were unmistakable. The gentleman was a
plump, thickly-set man, about thirty, fashionably dressed, with a high
colour, red lips and moustaches. Raskolnikov felt furious; he had a
sudden longing to insult this fat dandy in some way. He left the girl
for a moment and walked towards the gentleman.
"Hey! You Svidrigailov! What do you want here?" he shouted, clenching
his fists and laughing, spluttering with rage.
"What do you mean?" the gentleman asked sternly, scowling in haughty
astonishment.
"Get away, that's what I mean."
"How dare you, you low fellow!"
He raised his cane. Raskolnikov rushed at him with his fists, without
reflecting that the stout gentleman was a match for two men like
himself. But at that instant someone seized him from behind, and a
police constable stood between them.
"That's enough, gentlemen, no fighting, please, in a public place.
What do you want? Who are you?" he asked Raskolnikov sternly, noticing
his rags.
Raskolnikov looked at him intently. He had a straight-forward,
sensible, soldierly face, with grey moustaches and whiskers.
"You are just the man I want," Raskolnikov cried, catching at his arm.
"I am a student, Raskolnikov. . . . You may as well know that too," he
added, addressing the gentleman, "come along, I have something to show
you."
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