Page 257 of 1294

The head clerk began dictating to him the usual form of

declaration, that he could not pay, that he undertook to do so at

a future date, that he would not leave the town, nor sell his

property, and so on.

"But you can't write, you can hardly hold the pen," observed the

head clerk, looking with curiosity at Raskolnikov. "Are you ill?"

"Yes, I am giddy. Go on!"

"That's all. Sign it."

The head clerk took the paper, and turned to attend to others.