Raskolnikovwasalreadyenteringtheroom。Hecameinlookingasthoughhehadtheutmostdifficultynottoburstoutlaughingagain。BehindhimRazumihinstrodeingawkyandawkward，shamefacedandredasapeony，withanutterlycrestfallenandferociousexpression。HisfaceandwholefigurereallywereridiculousatthatmomentandamplyjustifiedRaskolnikov’slaughter。Raskolnikov，notwaitingforanintroduction，bowedtoPorfiryPetrovitch，whostoodinthemiddleoftheroomlookinginquiringlyatthem。Heheldouthishandandshookhands，stillapparentlymakingdesperateeffortstosubduehismirthandutterafewwordstointroducehimself。ButhehadnosoonersucceededinassumingaseriousairandmutteringsomethingwhenhesuddenlyglancedagainasthoughaccidentallyatRazumihin，andcouldnolongercontrolhimself:hisstifledlaughterbrokeoutthemoreirresistiblythemorehetriedtorestrainit。TheextraordinaryferocitywithwhichRazumihinreceivedthis“spontaneous”mirthgavethewholescenetheappearanceofmostgenuinefunandnaturalness。Razumihinstrengthenedthisimpressionasthoughonpurpose。
“Fool！Youfiend，”heroared，wavinghisarmwhichatoncestruckalittleroundtablewithanemptytea-glassonit。Everythingwassentflyingandcrashing。
“Butwhybreakchairs，gentlemen？Youknowit’salosstotheCrown，”PorfiryPetrovitchquotedgaily。
Raskolnikovwasstilllaughing，withhishandinPorfiryPetrovitch’s，butanxiousnottooverdoit，awaitedtherightmomenttoputanaturalendtoit。Razumihin，completelyputtoconfusionbyupsettingthetableandsmashingtheglass，gazedgloomilyatthefragments，cursedandturnedsharplytothewindowwherehestoodlookingoutwithhisbacktothecompanywithafiercelyscowlingcountenance，seeingnothing。PorfiryPetrovitchlaughedandwasreadytogoonlaughing，butobviouslylookedforexplanations。Zametovhadbeensittinginthecorner，butheroseatthevisitors’entranceandwasstandinginexpectationwithasmileonhislips，thoughhelookedwithsurpriseandevenitseemedincredulityatthewholesceneandatRaskolnikovwithacertainembarrassment。Zametov’sunexpectedpresencestruckRaskolnikovunpleasantly。
“I’vegottothinkofthat，”hethought。“Excuseme，please，”hebegan，affectingextremeembarrassment。“Raskolnikov。”