PART II
1. CHAPTER I
(continued)
He gathered them all up in his hands and stood in the middle of the
room.
"In the stove? But they would ransack the stove first of all. Burn
them? But what can I burn them with? There are no matches even. No,
better go out and throw it all away somewhere. Yes, better throw it
away," he repeated, sitting down on the sofa again, "and at once, this
minute, without lingering . . ."
But his head sank on the pillow instead. Again the unbearable icy
shivering came over him; again he drew his coat over him.
And for a long while, for some hours, he was haunted by the impulse to
"go off somewhere at once, this moment, and fling it all away, so that
it may be out of sight and done with, at once, at once!" Several times
he tried to rise from the sofa, but could not.
He was thoroughly waked up at last by a violent knocking at his door.
"Open, do, are you dead or alive? He keeps sleeping here!" shouted
Nastasya, banging with her fist on the door. "For whole days
together he's snoring here like a dog! A dog he is too. Open I tell
you. It's past ten."
"Maybe he's not at home," said a man's voice.
"Ha! that's the porter's voice. . . . What does he want?"
He jumped up and sat on the sofa. The beating of his heart was a
positive pain.
"Then who can have latched the door?" retorted Nastasya. "He's taken
to bolting himself in! As if he were worth stealing! Open, you stupid,
wake up!"
"What do they want? Why the porter? All's discovered. Resist or open?
Come what may! . . ."
He half rose, stooped forward and unlatched the door.
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