Fyodor Dostoevsky

one sort or another. He knew of no end of resources by which to earn

money. He spent one whole winter without lighting his stove, and used to

declare that he liked it better, because one slept more soundly in

the cold. For the present he, too, had been obliged to give up the

university, but it was only for a time, and he was working with all his

might to save enough to return to his studies again. Raskolnikov had

not been to see him for the last four months, and Razumihin did not even

know his address. About two months before, they had met in the street,

but Raskolnikov had turned away and even crossed to the other side that

he might not be observed. And though Razumihin noticed him, he passed

him by, as he did not want to annoy him.

CHAPTER V

"Of course, I've been meaning lately to go to Razumihin's to ask for

work, to ask him to get me lessons or something..." Raskolnikov thought,

"but what help can he be to me now? Suppose he gets me lessons, suppose

he shares his last farthing with me, if he has any farthings, so that

I could get some boots and make myself tidy enough to give lessons...

hm... Well and what then? What shall I do with the few coppers I

earn? That's not what I want now. It's really absurd for me to go to

Razumihin...."

The question why he was now going to Razumihin agitated him even more

than he was himself aware; he kept uneasily seeking for some sinister

significance in this apparently ordinary action.

"Could I have expected to set it all straight and to find a way out by

means of Razumihin alone?" he asked himself in perplexity.

He pondered and rubbed his forehead, and, strange to say, after long

musing, suddenly, as if it were spontaneously and by chance, a fantastic

thought came into his head.

"Hm... to Razumihin's," he said all at once, calmly, as though he had

reached a final determination. "I shall go to Razumihin's of course,

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