“Vanya,” she called. “Ivan Andreitch!”

There was no answer. Thinking that Laevsky had come in and was standing behind her chair, she sobbed like a child, and said:

“Why did you not tell me before that he was dead? I wouldn’t have gone to the picnic; I shouldn’t have laughed so horribly.… Then men said horrid things to me. What a sin, what a sin! Save me, Vanya, save me.… I have been mad.… I am lost.…”

Laevsky heard her sobs. He felt stifled and his heart was beating violently. In his misery he got up, stood in the middle of the room, groped his way in the dark to an easy-chair by the table, and sat down.

“This is a prison …” he thought. “I must get away.… I can’t bear it.”

It was too late to go and play cards; there were no restaurants in the town. He lay down again and covered his ears that he might not hear her sobbing, and he suddenly remembered that he could go to Samoylenko. To avoid going near Nadyezhda Fyodorovna, he got out of the window into the garden, climbed over the garden fence and went along the street. It was dark. A steamer, judging by its lights, a big passenger one, had just come in.… He heard the clank of the anchor chain. A red light was moving rapidly from the shore in the direction of the steamer: it was the Customs boat going out to it.

“The passengers are asleep in their cabins …” thought Laevsky, and he envied the peace of mind of other people.

The windows in Samoylenko’s house were open. Laevsky looked in at one of them, then in at another; it was dark and still in the rooms.

“Alexandr Daviditch, are you asleep?” he called. “Alexandr Daviditch!”

He heard a cough and an uneasy shout:

“Who’s there? What the devil?”

“It is I, Alexandr Daviditch; excuse me.”

A little later the door opened; there was a glow of soft light from the lamp, and Samoylenka’s huge figure appeared all in white, with a white nightcap on his head.

“What now?” he asked, scratching himself and breathing hard from sleepiness. “Wait a minute; I’ll open the door directly.”

“Don’t trouble; I’ll get in at the window.…”

Laevsky climbed in at the window, and when he reached Samoylenko, seized him by the hand.

“Alexandr Daviditch,” he said in a shaking voice, “save me! I beseech you, I implore you. Understand me! My position is agonising. If it goes on for another two days I shall strangle myself like … like a dog.”

“Wait a bit. … What are you talking about exactly?”

“Light a candle.”

“Oh … oh! …” sighed Samoylenko, lighting a candle. “My God! My God! … Why, it’s past one, brother.”

“Excuse me, but I can’t stay at home,” said Laevsky, feeling great comfort from the light and the presence of Samoylenko. “You are my best, my only friend, Alexandr Daviditch. … You are my only hope. For God’s