Page 900 - the-idiot

Sit down,’ said Rogojin; ‘let’s rest a bit.’ There was silence
for a moment.
‘I knew you would be at that hotel,’ he continued, just as
men sometimes commence a serious conversation by dis-
cussing any outside subject before leading up to the main
point. ‘As I entered the passage it struck me that perhaps
you were sitting and waiting for me, just as I was waiting
for you. Have you been to the old lady at Ismailofsky bar-
racks?’
‘Yes,’ said the prince, squeezing the word out with diffi-
culty owing to the dreadful beating of his heart.
‘I thought you would. ‘They’ll talk about it,’ I thought; so
I determined to go and fetch you to spend the night here—
‘We will be together,’ I thought, ‘for this one night—‘’
‘Rogojin, WHERE is Nastasia Philipovna?’ said the
prince, suddenly rising from his seat. He was quaking in all
his limbs, and his words came in a scarcely audible whisper.
Rogojin rose also.
‘There,’ he whispered, nodding his head towards the cur-
tain.
‘Asleep?’ whispered the prince.
Rogojin looked intently at him again, as before.
‘Let’s go in—but you mustn’t—well—let’s go in.’
He lifted the curtain, paused—and turned to the prince.
‘Go in,’ he said, motioning him to pass behind the curtain.
Muishkin went in.
It’s so dark,’ he said.
‘You can see quite enough,’ muttered Rogojin.
‘I can just see there’s a bed—‘