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With unnatural strength he had succeeded in propping himself on

his elbow. He looked wildly and fixedly for some time on his

daughter, as though not recognising her. He had never seen her

before in such attire. Suddenly he recognised her, crushed and

ashamed in her humiliation and gaudy finery, meekly awaiting her

turn to say good-bye to her dying father. His face showed intense

suffering.

"Sonia! Daughter! Forgive!" he cried, and he tried to hold out

his hand to her, but losing his balance, he fell off the sofa,

face downwards on the floor. They rushed to pick him up, they put

him on the sofa; but he was dying. Sonia with a faint cry ran up,

embraced him and remained so without moving. He died in her arms.

"He's got what he wanted," Katerina Ivanovna cried, seeing her

husband's dead body. "Well, what's to be done now? How am I to

bury him! What can I give them to-morrow to eat?"

Raskolnikov went up to Katerina Ivanovna.