No, I am not reading about the fires. Here he looked mysteriously at Zametov; his lips were twisted again in a mocking smile. No, I am not reading about the fires, he went on, winking at Zametov. But confess now, my dear fellow, youre awfully anxious to know what I am reading about?
I am not in the least. Maynt I ask a question? Why do you keep on...?
Listen, you are a man of culture and education?
I was in the sixth class at the gymnasium, said Zametov with some dignity.
Sixth class! Ah, my c**k-sparrow! With your parting and your ringsyou are a gentleman of fortune. Foo! what a charming boy! Here Raskolnikov broke into a nervous laugh right in Zametovs face. The latter drew back, more amazed than offended.
Foo! how strange you are! Zametov repeated very seriously
