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"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.