I don't know anything myself. The
order comes from higher quarters."
And indeed there had appeared, shortly after the arrival of the
policemen of the district, a very superior gentleman in a fur coat and
a shiny hat, who sat down in the room and looked through all the papers
himself. He came alone and went away by himself, taking nothing with
him. She had been trying to put things straight a little since they
left.
Razumov turned away brusquely and entered his rooms.
All his books had been shaken and thrown on the floor. His landlady
followed him, and stooping painfully began to pick them up into her
apron. His papers and notes which were kept always neatly sorted (they
all related to his studies) had been shuffled up and heaped together
into a ragged pile in the middle of the table.
This disorder affected him profoundly, unreasonably. He sat down
and stared. He had a distinct sensation of his very existence being
undermined in some mysterious manner, of his moral supports falling away
from him one by one. He even experienced a slight physical giddiness and
made a movement as if to reach for something to steady himself with.
The old woman, rising to her feet with a low groan, shot all the
books she had collected in her apron on to the sofa and left the room
muttering and sighing.
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