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- Стр. 147/453
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“
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
.
“
Be
silent
,
”
Katerina
Ivanovna
cried
irritably
,
“
you
know
why
she
is
barefooted
.
”
“
Thank
God
,
the
doctor
,
”
exclaimed
Raskolnikov
,
relieved
.
The
doctor
came
in
,
a
precise
little
old
man
,
a
German
,
looking
about
him
mistrustfully
;
he
went
up
to
the
sick
man
,
took
his
pulse
,
carefully
felt
his
head
and
with
the
help
of
Katerina
Ivanovna
he
unbuttoned
the
blood
-
stained
shirt
,
and
bared
the
injured
man
’
s
chest
.
It
was
gashed
,
crushed
and
fractured
,
several
ribs
on
the
right
side
were
broken
.
On
the
left
side
,
just
over
the
heart
,
was
a
large
,
sinister
-
looking
yellowish
-
black
bruise
—
a
cruel
kick
from
the
horse
’
s
hoof
.
The
doctor
frowned
.
The
policeman
told
him
that
he
was
caught
in
the
wheel
and
turned
round
with
it
for
thirty
yards
on
the
road
.
