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Here." "But I can come another time." "No, no. Why should we trouble you? You are a man of judgment.... Now, Rodya, don't keep your visitor, you see he is waiting," and he made ready to hold Raskolnikov's hand in earnest. "Stop, I'll do it alone," said the latter, taking the pen and signing his name. The messenger took out the money and went away. "Bravo! And now, brother, are you hungry?" "Yes," answered Raskolnikov. "Is there any soup?" "Some of yesterday's," answered Nastasya, who was still standing there.

"Is there any soup?" "Some of yesterday's," answered Nastasya, who was still standing there. "With potatoes and rice in it?" "Yes." "I know it by heart. Bring soup and give us some tea." "Very well." Raskolnikov looked at all this with profound astonishment and a dull, unreasoning terror. He made up his mind to keep quiet and see what would happen. "I believe I am not wandering. I believe it's reality," he thought. In a couple of minutes Nastasya returned with the soup, and announced that the tea would be ready directly.

With the soup she brought two spoons, two plates, salt, pepper, mustard for the beef, and so on. The table was set as it had not been for a long time. The cloth was clean. "It would not be amiss, Nastasya, if Praskovya Pavlovna were to send us up a couple of bottles of beer. We could empty them." "Well, you are a cool hand," muttered Nastasya, and she departed to carry out his orders.Raskolnikov still gazed wildly with strained attention. Meanwhile Razumihin sat down on the sofa beside him, as clumsily as a bear put his left arm round Raskolnikov's head, although he was able to sit up, and with his right hand gave him a spoonful of soup, blowing on it that it might not burn him.
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