This is his doctor, who has just had a look at him.
I am a comrade of Rodya's, like him, formerly a student, and now I am nursing him; so don't you take any notice of us, but go on with your business." "Thank you.

But shall I not disturb the invalid by my presence and conversation ?" Pyotr Petrovitch asked of Zossimov.
"N-no," mumbled Zossimov; "you may amuse him." He yawned again.
"He has been conscious a long time, since the morning," went on Razumihin, whose familiarity seemed so much like unaffected good-nature that Pyotr Petrovitch began to be more cheerful, partly, perhaps, because this shabby and impudent person had introduced himself as a student.
"Your mamma," began Luzhin.
"Hm!" Razumihin cleared his throat loudly.

Luzhin looked at him inquiringly.
"That's all right, go on." Luzhin shrugged his shoulders.
"Your mamma had commenced a letter to you while I was sojourning in her neighbourhood.

On my arrival here I purposely allowed a few days to elapse before coming to see you, in order that I might be fully assured that you were in full possession of the tidings; but now, to my astonishment..." "I know, I know!" Raskolnikov cried suddenly with impatient vexation.
"So you are the _fiance_?
I know, and that's enough!" There was no doubt about Pyotr Petrovitch's being offended this time, but he said nothing.

He made a violent effort to understand what it all meant.