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But why is it you do nothing now?" "I am doing..." Raskolnikov began sullenly and reluctantly. "What are you doing?" "Work..." "What sort of work?" "I am thinking," he answered seriously after a pause. Nastasya was overcome with a fit of laughter. She was given to laughter and when anything amused her, she laughed inaudibly, quivering and shaking all over till she felt ill. "And have you made much money by your thinking?" she managed to articulate at last. "One can't go out to give lessons without boots.

"One can't go out to give lessons without boots. And I'm sick of it." "Don't quarrel with your bread and butter." "They pay so little for lessons. What's the use of a few coppers?" he answered, reluctantly, as though replying to his own thought. "And you want to get a fortune all at once?" He looked at her strangely. "Yes, I want a fortune," he answered firmly, after a brief pause. "Don't be in such a hurry, you quite frighten me! Shall I get you the loaf or not?" "As you please." "Ah, I forgot! A letter came for you yesterday when you were out."

"Ah, I forgot! A letter came for you yesterday when you were out." "A letter? for me! from whom?" "I can't say. I gave three copecks of my own to the postman for it. Will you pay me back?" "Then bring it to me, for God's sake, bring it," cried Raskolnikov greatly excited- "good God!" A minute later the letter was brought him. That was it: from his mother, from the province of R___. He turned pale when he took it. It was a long while since he had received a letter, but another feeling also suddenly stabbed his heart.
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