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112 CRIME AND PUNISHMENT "It's the blood," she answered at last softly, as though speak- ing to herself. "Blood? What blood?" he muttered, growing white and turn- ing towards the wall. Nastasya still looked at him without speaking. "Nobody has been beating the landlady," she declared at last in a firm, resolute voice. He gazed at her, hardly able to breathe. "I heard it myself. ... I was not asleep ... I was sitting up," he said still more timidly. "I listened a long while. The assistant- sup>erintendent came. . . . Every one ran out on to the stairs from all the flats." "No one has been here. That's the blood crying in your ears. When there's no outlet for it and it gets clotted, you begin fancying things. . . . Will you eat something?" He made no answer. Nastasya still stood over him, watching him. "Give me something to drink . . . Nastasya."She went downstairs and returned with a white earthenware jug of water. He remembered only swallowing one sip of the cold water and spilling some on his neck. Then followed forget- fulness. CHAPTER m He was not completely unconscious, however, all the time he was ill; he was in a feverish state, sometimes delirious, some- times half conscious. He remembered a great deal afterwards. Sometimes it seemed as though there were a number of people round him; they wanted to take him away somewhere, there was a great deal of squabbling and discussing about him. Then he would be alone in the room; they had all gone away afraid of him, and only now and then opened the door a crack to look at him; they threatened him, plotted something together, laughed, and mocked at him. He remembered Nastasya often at his bedside; he distinguished another person, too, whom he seemed to know very well, though he could not remember who he was, and this fretted him, even made him cry. Sometimes he fancied he had been lying there a month; at other times it all soemed part of the same day. But of that—oi that he had no
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