Page 889 - the-idiot

‘I don’t know that either.’
The door was shut with these words, and the old woman
disappeared. The prince decided to come back within an
hour. Passing out of the house, he met the porter.
‘Is Parfen Semionovitch at home?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Why did they tell me he was not at home, then?’ ‘Where
did they tell you so,—at his door?’ ‘No, at his mother’s flat; I
rang at Parfen Semionovitch’s door and nobody came.’
‘Well, he may have gone out. I can’t tell. Sometimes he
takes the keys with him, and leaves the rooms empty for
two or three days.’
‘Do you know for certain that he was at home last night?’
‘Yes, he was.’
‘Was Nastasia Philipovna with him?’
‘I don’t know; she doesn’t come often. I think I should
have known if she had come.’
The prince went out deep in thought, and walked up
and down the pavement for some time. The windows of all
the rooms occupied by Rogojin were closed, those of his
mother’s apartments were open. It was a hot, bright day.
The prince crossed the road in order to have a good look at
the windows again; not only were Rogojin’s closed, but the
white blinds were all down as well.
He stood there for a minute and then, suddenly and
strangely enough, it seemed to him that a little corner of
one of the blinds was lifted, and Rogojin’s face appeared for
an instant and then vanished. He waited another minute,
and decided to go and ring the bell once more; however, he

The Idiot