as it is. . . . Missy, hey, missy!" he bent over her once more.
She opened her eyes fully all of a sudden, looked at him intently, as though realising something, got up from the seat and walked away in the direction from which she had come. "Oh shameful wretches, they won't let me alone!" she said, waving her hand again. She walked quickly, though staggering as before. The dandy followed her, but along another avenue, keeping his eye on her.
"Don't be anxious, I won't let him have her," the policeman said resolutely, and he set off after them.
"Ah, the vice one sees nowadays!" he repeated aloud, sighing.
At that moment something seemed to sting Raskolnikov; in an instant a complete revulsion of feeling came over him.
"Hey, here!" he shouted after the policeman.
The latter turned round.
"Let them be! What is it to do with you? Let her go! Let him amuse himself." He pointed at the dandy, "What is it to do with you?"
The policeman was bewildered, and stared at him open-eyed. Raskolnikov laughed.
"Well!" ejaculated the policeman, with a gesture of contempt, and he walked after the dandy and the girl, probably taking Raskolnikov for a madman or something even worse.
"He has carried off my twenty copecks," Raskolnikov murmured angrily when he was left alone. "Well, let him take as much from the other fellow to allow him to have the girl and so let it end. And why did I want to interfere? Is it for me to help? Have I any right to help? Let them devour each other alive—what is to me? How did I dare to give him twenty copecks? Were they mine?"
In spite of those strange words he felt very wretched. He sat down on the deserted seat. His thoughts strayed aimlessly. . . . He found it hard to fix his mind on anything at that moment. He longed to forget himself altogether, to forget everything, and then to wake up and begin life anew. . . .
"Poor girl!" he said, looking at the empty corner where she had sat—"She will come to herself and weep, and then
