d with the help of Katerina Ivanovna he unbuttoned the
blood-stained shirt, and bared the injured man's chest. It was gashed,
crushed and fractured, several ribs on the right side were broken.
On the left side, just over the heart, was a large, sinister-looking
yellowish-black bruise--a cruel kick from the horse's hoof. The doctor
frowned. The policeman told him that he was caught in the wheel and
turned round with it for thirty yards on the road.

"It's wonderful that he has recovered consciousness," the doctor
whispered softly to Raskolnikov.

"What do you think of him?" he asked.

"He will die immediately."

"Is there really no hope?"

"Not the faintest! He is at the last gasp.... His head is badly injured,
too... Hm... I could bleed him if you like, but... it would be useless.
He is bound to die within the next five or ten minutes."

"Better bleed him then."

"If you like.... But I warn you it will be perfectly useless."

At that moment other steps were heard; the crowd in the passage parted,
and the priest, a little, grey old man, appeared in the doorway bearing
the sacrament. A policeman had gone for him at the time of the accident.
The doctor changed places with him, exchanging glances with him.
Raskolnikov begged the doctor to remain a little while. He shrugged his
shoulders and remained.

All stepped back. The confession was soon over. The dying man probably
understood little; he could only utter indistinct broken sounds.
Katerina Ivanovna took little Lida, lifted the boy from the chair, knelt
down in the corner by the stove and made the children kneel in front of
her. The little girl was still trembling; but the boy, kneeling on his
little bare knees, lifted his hand rhythmically, crossing himself with
precision and bowed down, touching the floor with his forehead, which
seemed to afford him especial satisfaction. Katerina Ivanovna bit her
lips and held back her tears; she prayed, too, now and then pulling
straight the boy's shirt, and managed to cover the girl's bare shoulders
with a kerchief, which she took from the chest without rising from her
knees or ceasing to pray. Meanwhile the door from the inner rooms was
opened inquisitively again. In the passage the crowd of spectators from
all the flats on the staircase grew denser and denser, but they did not
venture beyond the threshold. A single candle-end lighted up the scene.

At that moment Polenka forced her way through the crowd at the door. Sh