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"My God! His whole chest is crushed! How he is bleeding," she

said in despair. "We must take off his clothes. Turn a little,

Semyon Zaharovitch, if you can," she cried to him.

Marmeladov recognised her.

"A priest," he articulated huskily.

Katerina Ivanovna walked to the window, laid her head against the

window frame and exclaimed in despair:

"Oh, cursed life!"

"A priest," the dying man said again after a moment's silence.

"They've gone for him," Katerina Ivanovna shouted to him, he

obeyed her shout and was silent. With sad and timid eyes he

looked for her; she returned and stood by his pillow. He seemed a

little easier but not for long.

Soon his eyes rested on little Lida, his favourite, who was

shaking in the corner, as though she were in a fit, and staring

at him with her wondering childish eyes.

"A-ah," he signed towards her uneasily. He wanted to say

something.

"What now?" cried Katerina Ivanovna.

"Barefoot, barefoot!" he muttered, indicating with frenzied eyes

the child's bare feet.