"Why did I say, 'So it seemed?'" reflected the young man all of a sudden. "After all, what can be the harm of it? Why should I distress myself about that!" he added, mentally, a moment afterwards. The very fact of his proximity to Porphyrius, with whom he had scarcely as yet interchanged a word, had immeasurably increased his mistrust; he marked this in a moment, and concluded that such a mood was an exceedingly dangerous one, inasmuch as his agitation, his nervous irritation, would only increase. "That is bad! very bad! I shall be saying something thoughtless!"
"Quite right. But do not put yourself out of the way, there is time, plenty of time," murmured Petrovitch, who, without apparent design, kept going to and fro, now approaching the window, now his bureau, to return a moment afterwards to the table. At times he would avoid Raskolnikoff's suspicious look, at times again he drew up sharp whilst looking his visitor straight in the face. The sight of this short chubby man, whose movements recalled those of a ball rebounding from wall to wall, was an extremely odd one. "No hurry, no hurry, I assure you! But you smoke, do you not! Have you any tobacco? Here is a cigarette!" he went on, offering his visitor a paquitos. "You notice that I am receiving you here, but my quarters are there behind the wainscoting. The State provides me with that. I am here as it were on the wing, because certain alterations are being made in my rooms. Everything is almost straight now. Do you know that quarters provided by the State are by no means to be despised?"
"I believe you," answered Raskolnikoff, looking at him almost derisively.
"Not to be despised, by any means," repeated Porphyrius Petrovitch, whose mind seemed to be preoccupied with something else—"not to be despised!" he continued in a very loud tone of voice, and drawing himself up close to Raskolnikoff, whom he stared out of countenance. The incessant repetition of the statement that quarters provided by the State were by no means to be despised contrasted singularly, by its platitude, with the serious, profound, enigmatical look he now cast on his visitor.
Raskolnikoff's anger grew in consequence; he could hardly help returning the magistrate's look with an imprudently scornful glance. "Is it true?" the latter commenced, with a complacently insolent air, "is it true that it is a judicial maxim, a maxim resorted to by all magistrates, to begin an interview about trifling things, or even, occasionally, about more serious matter, foreign to the main question however, with a view to embolden, to distract, or even to lull the suspicion of a person under examination, and then all of a sudden to crush him with the main question, just as you strike a man a blow straight between the eyes?"
"Such a custom, I believe, is religiously observed in your profession, is it not?
"Then you are of opinion that when I spoke to you about quarters provided by the State, I did so—" Saying which, Porphyrius Petrovitch blinked, his face assumed for a moment an expression of roguish gayety, the wrinkles on his brow became smoothed, his small eyes grew smaller still, his features expanded, and, looking Raskolnikoff straight in the face, he burst out into a prolonged fit of nervous laughter, which shook him from head to foot. The young man, on his part, laughed likewise, with more or less of an effort, however, at sight of which Porphyrius's hilarity increased to such an extent that his face grew nearly crimson. At this Raskolnikoff experienced more or less aversion, which led him to forget all caution; he ceased laughing, knitting his brows, and, whilst Porphyrius gave way to his hilarity, which seemed a somewhat feigned one, he fixed on him a look of hatred. In truth, they were both off their guard. Porphyrius had, in fact, laughed at his visitor, who had taken this in bad part; whereas the former seemed to care but little about Raskolnikoff's displeasure. This circumstance gave the young man much matter for thought. He fancied that his visit had in no kind of way discomposed the magistrate; on the contrary, it was Raskolnikoff who had been caught in a trap, a snare, an ambush of some kind or other. The mine was, perhaps, already charged, and might burst at any moment.
Anxious to get straight to the point, Raskolnikoff rose and took up his cap. "Porphyrius Petrovitch," he cried, in a resolute tone of voice, betraying more or less irritation, "yesterday you expressed the desire to subject me to a judicial examination." (He laid special stress on this last word.) "I have called at your bidding; if you have questions to put, do so: if not, allow me to withdraw. I can't afford to waste my time here, as I have other things to attend to. In a word, I must go to the funeral of the official who has been run over, and of whom you have heard speak," he added, regretting, however, the last part of his sentence. Then, with increasing anger, he went on: "Let me tell you that all this worries me! The thing is hanging over much too long. It is that mainly that has made me ill. In one word,"—he continued, his voice seeming more and more irritable, for he felt that the remark about his illness was yet more out of place than the previous one— "in one word, either be good enough to cross-examine me, or let me go this very moment. If you do question me, do so in the usual formal way; otherwise, I shall object. In the meanwhile, adieu, since we have nothing more to do with one another."
"Good gracious! What can you be talking about? Question you about what?" replied the magistrate, immediately ceasing his laugh. "Don't, I beg, disturb yourself." He requested Raskolnikoff to sit down once more, continuing, nevertheless, his tramp about the room. "There is time, plenty of time. The matter is not of such importance after all. On the contrary, I am delighted at your visit—for as such do I take your call. As for my horrid way of laughing, batuchka, Rodion Romanovitch, I must apologize. I am a nervous man, and the shrewdness of your observations has tickled me. There are times when I go up and down like an elastic ball, and that for half an hour at a time. I am fond of laughter. My temperament leads me to dread apoplexy. But, pray, do sit down— why remain standing? Do, I must request you, batuchka; otherwise I shall fancy that you are cross."
His brows still knit, Raskolnikoff held his tongue, listened, and watched. In the meanwhile he sat down.