There was a moment's silence.
Meanwhile Raskolnikov, who had turned a little towards him when he answered, began suddenly staring at him again with marked curiosity, as though he had not had a good look at him yet, or as though something new had struck him; he rose from his pillow on purpose to stare at him.

There certainly was something peculiar in Pyotr Petrovitch's whole appearance, something which seemed to justify the title of "fiance" so unceremoniously applied to him.

In the first place, it was evident, far too much so indeed, that Pyotr Petrovitch had made eager use of his few days in the capital to get himself up and rig himself out in expectation of his betrothed--a perfectly innocent and permissible proceeding, indeed.

Even his own, perhaps too complacent, consciousness of the agreeable improvement in his appearance might have been forgiven in such circumstances, seeing that Pyotr Petrovitch had taken up the role of fiance.

All his clothes were fresh from the tailor's and were all right, except for being too new and too distinctly appropriate.