Zametoff turned quite pale; then his face changed to a smile. "Can it be so?" he muttered to himself.
Raskolnikoff eyed him savagely. "Speak out. What do you think? Yes? Is it so?"
"Of course not. I believe it now less than ever," replied Zametoff hastily.
"Caught at last! caught, my fine fellow! What people believe less than ever, they must have believed once, eh?"
"Not at all. You frightened me into the supposition," said Zametoff, visibly confused.
"So you do not think this? Then why those questions in the office? Why did the lieutenant question me after my swoon? Waiter," he cried, seizing his cap, "here, how much?"
"Thirty kopecks, sir," replied the man.
"There you are, and twenty for yourself. Look, what a lot of money!" turning to Zametoff and thrusting forth his shaking hand filled with the twenty-five rubles, red and blue notes. "Whence comes all this? Where did I obtain these new clothes from? You know I had none. You have asked the landlady, I suppose? Well, no matter!—Enough! Adieu, most affectionately."
He went out, shaking from some savage hysterical emotion, a mixture of delight, gloom, and weariness. His face was drawn as if he had just recovered from a fit; and, as his agitation of mind increased, so did his weakness.
Meanwhile, Zametoff remained in the restaurant where Raskolnikoff had left him, deeply buried in thought, considering the different points Raskolnikoff had placed before him.