Page 315 - the-idiot

‘Do you cut your pages with it, or what?’ asked Muishkin,
still rather absently, as though unable to throw off a deep
preoccupation into which the conversation had thrown
him.
‘Yes.’
‘It’s a garden knife, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. Can’t one cut pages with a garden knife?’
‘It’s quite new.’
‘Well, what of that? Can’t I buy a new knife if I like?’
shouted Rogojin furiously, his irritation growing with ev-
ery word.
The prince shuddered, and gazed fixedly at Parfen. Sud-
denly he burst out laughing.
‘Why, what an idea!’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to ask you any
of these questions; I was thinking of something quite dif-
ferent! But my head is heavy, and I seem so absent-minded
nowadays! Well, good-bye—I can’t remember what I want-
ed to say—good-bye!’
‘Not that way,’ said Rogojin.
‘There, I’ve forgotten that too!’
‘This way—come along—I’ll show you.’

1 The Idiot