But they danced around his bed, they pinched him, pulled him by the hair, spat in his face, pulled his injured leg. Their eyes burned, they laughed, they swore, they howled like dogs. Their mockery was taking on an indescribably hideous and cynical character. They were drunk with revenge, they reached a state of frenzy.

All in white, half-dressed, heated by the jostling, they were monstrously terrible.

Vaska roared, waving his right arm; the proprietress, at the door, was screaming in a dreadful voice:

“Enough! Give it up.…I’ll call the police! You’ll kill him.…Oh, dear, oh, dear!”

But they did not listen to her. He had been tormenting them for years, they had minutes in which to retaliate, and they were in haste.…

Suddenly the noise and howling of the orgy was pierced by a thick imploring voice:

“Girls! Enough.…Girls, have pity.…He too is…he too…feels pain! My dears, for Christ’s sake…my dears.…”

This voice acted like a cold shower on the girls; frightened, they left Vaska hastily.

It was Aksinya who had spoken; she stood at the window all atremble and she bowed low to them, now pressing her hands against her stomach, now stretching them out absurdly in front of her.

Vaska lay motionless. The shirt on his chest was torn, and this broad chest, with its thick red wool, was heaving rapidly as though something were beating in it, madly trying to escape from it. There was a rattle in his throat, and his eyes were closed.

Massed together, so that they seemed to form one large body, the girls stood at the door silent, listening to Aksinya’s muffled mumbling and Vaska’s rattling. Lida, standing in front of them all, was quickly wiping from her right hand the red hairs that stuck to her fingers.

“And…suppose he dies?” someone whispered. And there was silence again.

One after another, trying not to make any noise, the girls were cautiously leaving Vaska’s room, and when they had all left, there were many rags and tatters on the floor.…

Only Aksinya remained there.

Sighing heavily, she went over to Vaska and in her usual deep voice asked him:

“What shall I do for you now?”

He opened his eyes, looked at her, but made no answer.

“You may talk now.…Should I clean up?…I’ll clean up.…And maybe you want a drink of water? I’ll give you a drink.…”

Vaska silently shook his head and moved his lips. But he did not say a word.

“So that’s how it is—you can’t even speak!” Aksinya said, winding her braid around her neck. “We were pretty nasty to you, all right.…Does it hurt, Vaska, eh? Be patient, you’ll get over it…it’s only at first that it hurts.…I know.”

A muscle twitched in Vaska’s face, he said hoarsely:

“Water.…”