awfully anxious to know what I am reading about?”

“I am not in the least. Mayn’t I ask a question? Why do you keep on...?”

“Listen, you are a man of culture and education?”

“I was in the sixth class at the gymnasium,” said Zametov with some dignity.

“Sixth class! Ah, my cock-sparrow! With your parting and your rings — you are a gentleman of fortune. Foo! what a charming boy!” Here Raskolnikov broke into a nervous laugh right in Zametov’s face. The latter drew back, more amazed than offended.

“Foo! how strange you are!” Zametov repeated very seriously. “I can’t help thinking you are still delirious.”