صفحة 447 من 1294

"He's dead," answered Raskolnikov. "The doctor and the priest

have been, all as it should have been. Don't worry the poor woman

too much, she is in consumption as it is. Try and cheer her up,

if possible... you are a kind-hearted man, I know..." he added

with a smile, looking straight in his face.

"But you are spattered with blood," observed Nikodim Fomitch,

noticing in the lamplight some fresh stains on Raskolnikov's

waistcoat.

"Yes... I'm covered with blood," Raskolnikov said with a peculiar

air; then he smiled, nodded and went downstairs.