PART IV
6. CHAPTER VI
(continued)
"I believe we can say /good-bye/!"
"That's in God's hands," muttered Porfiry, with an unnatural smile.
As he walked through the office, Raskolnikov noticed that many people
were looking at him. Among them he saw the two porters from /the
house, whom he had invited that night to the police station. They
stood there waiting. But he was no sooner on the stairs than he heard
the voice of Porfiry Petrovitch behind him. Turning round, he saw the
latter running after him, out of breath.
"One word, Rodion Romanovitch; as to all the rest, it's in God's
hands, but as a matter of form there are some questions I shall have
to ask you . . . so we shall meet again, shan't we?"
And Porfiry stood still, facing him with a smile.
"Shan't we?" he added again.
He seemed to want to say something more, but could not speak out.
"You must forgive me, Porfiry Petrovitch, for what has just passed
. . . I lost my temper," began Raskolnikov, who had so far regained
his courage that he felt irresistibly inclined to display his
coolness.
"Don't mention it, don't mention it," Porfiry replied, almost
gleefully. "I myself, too . . . I have a wicked temper, I admit it!
But we shall meet again. If it's God's will, we may see a great deal
of one another."
"And will get to know each other through and through?" added
Raskolnikov.
"Yes; know each other through and through," assented Porfiry
Petrovitch, and he screwed up his eyes, looking earnestly at
Raskolnikov. "Now you're going to a birthday party?"
"To a funeral."
"Of course, the funeral! Take care of yourself, and get well."
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