3. CHAPTER III
He was not completely unconscious, however, all the time he was ill;
he was in a feverish state, sometimes delirious, sometimes half
conscious. He remembered a great deal afterwards. Sometimes it seemed
as though there were a number of people round him; they wanted to take
him away somewhere, there was a great deal of squabbling and
discussing about him. Then he would be alone in the room; they had all
gone away afraid of him, and only now and then opened the door a crack
to look at him; they threatened him, plotted something together,
laughed, and mocked at him. He remembered Nastasya often at his
bedside; he distinguished another person, too, whom he seemed to know
very well, though he could not remember who he was, and this fretted
him, even made him cry. Sometimes he fancied he had been lying there a
month; at other times it all seemed part of the same day. But of
/that/--of /that/ he had no recollection, and yet every minute he felt
that he had forgotten something he ought to remember. He worried and
tormented himself trying to remember, moaned, flew into a rage, or
sank into awful, intolerable terror. Then he struggled to get up,
would have run away, but someone always prevented him by force, and
he sank back into impotence and forgetfulness. At last he returned to
It happened at ten o'clock in the morning. On fine days the sun shone
into the room at that hour, throwing a streak of light on the right
wall and the corner near the door. Nastasya was standing beside him
with another person, a complete stranger, who was looking at him very
inquisitively. He was a young man with a beard, wearing a full, short-waisted coat, and looked like a messenger. The landlady was peeping in
at the half-opened door. Raskolnikov sat up.
"Who is this, Nastasya?" he asked, pointing to the young man.
"I say, he's himself again!" she said.
"He is himself," echoed the man.
Concluding that he had returned to his senses, the landlady closed the
door and disappeared. She was always shy and dreaded conversations or
discussions. She was a woman of forty, not at all bad-looking, fat and
buxom, with black eyes and eyebrows, good-natured from fatness and
laziness, and absurdly bashful.