Platonida Ivanova was unspeakably delighted at the return of her nephew.  She had thought all sorts of things during his absence!—­“At the very least he has gone to Siberia!” she whispered, as she sat motionless in her little chamber:  “for a year at the very least!”—­Moreover the cook had frightened her by imparting the most authentic news concerning the disappearance of first one, then another young man from the neighbourhood.  Yasha’s complete innocence and trustworthiness did not in the least serve to calm the old woman.—­“Because ... much that signifies!—­he busies himself with photography ... well, and that is enough!  Seize him!” And now here was her Yashenka come back to her safe and sound!  She did notice, it is true, that he appeared to have grown thin, and his face seemed to be sunken—­that was comprehensible ... he had had no one to look after him.  But she did not dare to question him concerning his trip.  At dinner she inquired: 

“And is Kazan a nice town?”

“Yes,” replied Aratoff.

“Tatars live there, I believe?”

“Not Tatars only.”

“And hast not thou brought a khalat[65] thence?”

“No, I have not.”

And there the conversation ended.

But as soon as Aratoff found himself alone in his study he immediately felt as though something were embracing him round about, as though he were again in the power,—­precisely that, in the power of another life, of another being.  Although he had told Anna—­in that outburst of sudden frenzy—­that he was in love with Clara, that word now seemed to him devoid of sense and whimsical.—­No, he was not in love; and how could he fall in love with a dead woman, whom, even during her lifetime he had not liked, whom he had almost forgotten?—­No!  But he was in the power of ... in her power ... he no longer belonged to himself.  He had been taken possession of.  Taken possession of to such a point that he was no longer trying to free himself either by ridiculing his own stupidity, or by arousing in himself if not confidence, at least hope that all this would pass over, that it was nothing but nerves,—­or by seeking proofs of it,—­or in any other way!—­“If I meet him I shall take him” he recalled Clara’s words reported by Anna ... and so now he had been taken.

But was not she dead?  Yes; her body was dead ... but how about her soul?—­Was not that immortal ... did it require bodily organs to manifest its power?  Magnetism has demonstrated to us the influence of the living human soul upon another living human soul....  Why should not that influence be continued after death, if the soul remains alive?—­But with what object?  What might be the result of this?—­But do we, in general, realise the object of everything which goes on around us?

These reflections occupied Aratoff to such a degree that at tea he suddenly asked Platosha whether she believed in the immortality of the soul.  She did not understand at first what it was he had asked; but afterward she crossed herself and replied, “of course.  How could the soul be otherwise than immortal?”