..."
Razumov trudging on interrupted--
"Were you acquainted with Haldin? Did he know where you live?"
"I had the happiness to hear him speak twice," his companion answered in
the feverish whisper contrasting with the gloomy apathy of his face and
bearing. "He did not know where I live.... I am lodging poorly with
an artisan family.... I have just a corner in a room. It is not very
practicable to see me there, but if you should need me for anything I am
ready...."
Razumov trembled with rage and fear. He was beside himself, but kept his
voice low.
"You are not to come near me. You are not to speak to me. Never address
a single word to me. I forbid you."
"Very well," said the other submissively, showing no surprise whatever
at this abrupt prohibition. "You don't wish for secret reasons...
perfectly... I understand."
He edged away at once, not looking up even; and Razumov saw his gaunt,
shabby, famine-stricken figure cross the street obliquely with lowered
head and that peculiar exact motion of the feet.
He watched him as one would watch a vision out of a nightmare, then he
continued on his way, trying not to think. On his landing the landlady
seemed to be waiting for him. She was a short, thick, shapeless woman
with a large yellow face wrapped up everlastingly in a black woollen
shawl.
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