“She’s gone out of her mind,” said another.
“Lord have mercy upon us,” said a woman, crossing herself.
“Have they caught the little girl and the boy? They’re being brought back, the elder one’s got them. … Ah, the naughty imps!”
When they examined Katerina Ivanovna carefully, they saw that she had not cut herself against a stone, as Sonia thought, but that the blood that stained the pavement red was from her chest.
“I’ve seen that before,” muttered the official to Raskolnikov and Lebeziatnikov; “that’s consumption; the blood flows and chokes the patient. I saw the same thing with a relative of my own not long ago … nearly a pint of blood, all in a minute. … What’s to be done though? She is dying.”
“This way, this way, to my room!” Sonia implored. “I live here! … See, that house, the second from here. … Come to me, make haste,” she turned from one to the other. “Send for the doctor! Oh, dear!”
Thanks to the official’s efforts, this plan was adopted, the policeman even helping to carry Katerina Ivanovna. She was carried to Sonia’s room, almost unconscious, and laid on the bed. The blood was still flowing, but she seemed to be coming to herself. Raskolnikov, Lebeziatnikov, and the official accompanied Sonia into the room and were followed by the policeman, who first drove back the crowd which followed to the very door. Polenka came in holding Kolya and Lida, who were trembling and weeping.