3. CHAPTER III
"Yes, indeed, sir, he is of more weight than I am."
"Quite so; go on."
"At your mamma's request, through Afanasy Ivanovitch Vahrushin, of
whom I presume you have heard more than once, a remittance is sent to
you from our office," the man began, addressing Raskolnikov. "If you
are in an intelligible condition, I've thirty-five roubles to remit to
you, as Semyon Semyonovitch has received from Afanasy Ivanovitch at
your mamma's request instructions to that effect, as on previous
occasions. Do you know him, sir?"
"Yes, I remember . . . Vahrushin," Raskolnikov said dreamily.
"You hear, he knows Vahrushin," cried Razumihin. "He is in 'an
intelligible condition'! And I see you are an intelligent man too.
Well, it's always pleasant to hear words of wisdom."
"That's the gentleman, Vahrushin, Afanasy Ivanovitch. And at the
request of your mamma, who has sent you a remittance once before in
the same manner through him, he did not refuse this time also, and
sent instructions to Semyon Semyonovitch some days since to hand you
thirty-five roubles in the hope of better to come."
"That 'hoping for better to come' is the best thing you've said,
though 'your mamma' is not bad either. Come then, what do you say? Is
he fully conscious, eh?"
"That's all right. If only he can sign this little paper."
"He can scrawl his name. Have you got the book?"
"Yes, here's the book."
"Give it to me. Here, Rodya, sit up. I'll hold you. Take the pen and
scribble 'Raskolnikov' for him. For just now, brother, money is
sweeter to us than treacle."
"I don't want it," said Raskolnikov, pushing away the pen.
"Not want it?"