a confident belief that the duel would end in nothing; it was dread at the thought of something unknown which was to happen next morning for the first time in his life, and dread of the coming night.… He knew that the night would be long and sleepless, and that he would have to think not only of Von Koren and his hatred, but also of the mountain of lies which he had to get through, and which he had not strength or ability to dispense with. It was as though he had been taken suddenly ill; all at once he lost all interest in the cards and in people, grew restless, and began asking them to let him go home. He was eager to get into bed, to lie without moving, and to prepare his thoughts for the night. Sheshkovsky and the postal superintendent saw him home and went on to Von Koren’s to arrange about the duel.

Near his lodgings Laevsky met Atchmianov. The young man was breathless and excited.

“I am looking for you, Ivan Andreitch,” he said. “I beg you to come quickly.…”

“Where?”

“Some one wants to see you, some one you don’t know, about very important business; he earnestly begs you to come for a minute. He wants to speak to you of something.… For him it’s a question of life and death.…” In his excitement Atchmianov spoke in a strong Armenian accent.

“Who is it?” asked Laevsky.

“He asked me not to tell you his name.”

“Tell him I’m busy; to-morrow, if he likes.…”

“How can you!” Atchmianov was aghast. “He wants to tell you something very important for you … very important! If you don’t come, something dreadful will happen.”

“Strange …” muttered Laevsky, unable to understand why Atchmianov was so excited and what mysteries there could be in this dull, useless little town.

“Strange,” he repeated in hesitation. “Come along though; I don’t care.”

Atchmianov walked rapidly on ahead and Laevsky followed him. They walked down a street, then turned into an alley.

“What a bore this is!” said Laevsky.

“One minute, one minute … it’s near.”

Near the old rampart they went down a narrow alley between two empty enclosures, then they came into a sort of large yard and went towards a small house.

“That’s Muridov’s, isn’t it?” asked Laevsky.

“Yes.”

“But why we’ve come by the back yards I don’t understand. We might have come by the street; it’s nearer.…”

“Never mind, never mind.…”

It struck Laevsky as strange, too, that Atchmianov led him to a back entrance, and motioned to him as though bidding him go quietly and hold his tongue.

“This way, this way …” said Atchmianov, cautiously opening the door and going into the passage on tiptoe. “Quietly, quietly, I beg you … they may hear.”