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Raskolnikov still gazed wildly with strained attention. Meanwhile

Razumihin sat down on the sofa beside him, as clumsily as a bear

put his left arm round Raskolnikov's head, although he was able

to sit up, and with his right hand gave him a spoonful of soup,

blowing on it that it might not burn him. But the soup was only

just warm. Raskolnikov swallowed one spoonful greedily, then a

second, then a third. But after giving him a few more spoonfuls

of soup, Razumihin suddenly stopped, and said that he must ask

Zossimov whether he ought to have more.

Nastasya came in with two bottles of beer.

"And will you have tea?"

"Yes."

"Cut along, Nastasya, and bring some tea, for tea we may venture

on without the faculty. But here is the beer!" He moved back to

his chair, pulled the soup and meat in front of him, and began

eating as though he had not touched food for three days.