“She has not written to me since we have been
in camp,” observed Tyeglev.
“That proves nothing, Ilya Stepanitch.”
Tyeglev waved me off. “No! she is certainly
not in this world. She called me.”
He suddenly turned to the window. “Someone
is knocking again!”
I could not help laughing. “No, excuse
me, Ilya Stepanitch! This time it is your nerves.
You see, it is getting light. In ten minutes the
sun will be up—it is past three o’clock—and
ghosts have no power in the day.”
Tyeglev cast a gloomy glance at me and muttering through
his teeth “good-bye,” lay down on the
bench and turned his back on me.
I lay down, too, and before I fell asleep I remember
I wondered why Tyeglev was always hinting at ... suicide.
What nonsense! What humbug! Of his own free
will he had refused to marry her, had cast her off
... and now he wanted to kill himself! There
was no sense in it! He could not resist posing!
With these thoughts I fell into a sound sleep and
when I opened my eyes the sun was already high in
the sky—and Tyeglev was not in the hut.
He had, so his servant said, gone to the town.
I spent a very dull and wearisome day. Tyeglev
did not return to dinner nor to supper; I did not
expect my brother. Towards evening a thick fog
came on again, thicker even than the day before.
I went to bed rather early. I was awakened by
a knocking under the window.
It was my turn to be startled!
The knock was repeated and so insistently distinct
that one could have no doubt of its reality.
I got up, opened the window and saw Tyeglev.
Wrapped in his great-coat, with his cap pulled over
his eyes, he stood motionless.
“Ilya Stepanitch!” I cried, “is
that you? I gave up expecting you. Come
in. Is the door locked?”
Tyeglev shook his head. “I do not intend
to come in,” he pronounced in a hollow tone.
“I only want to ask you to give this letter to
the commanding officer to-morrow.”
He gave me a big envelope sealed with five seals.
I was astonished—however, I took the envelope
mechanically. Tyeglev at once walked away into
the middle of the road.
“Stop! stop!” I began. “Where
are you going? Have you only just come?
And what is the letter?”
“Do you promise to deliver it?” said Tyeglev,
and moved away a few steps further. The fog blurred
the outlines of his figure. “Do you promise?”
“I promise ... but first—”
Tyeglev moved still further away and became a long
dark blur. “Good-bye,” I heard his
voice. “Farewell, Ridel, don’t remember
evil against me.... And don’t forget Semyon....”
And the blur itself vanished.
This was too much. “Oh, the damned poseur,”
I thought. “You must always be straining
after effect!” I felt uneasy, however; an involuntary
fear clutched at my heart. I flung on my great-coat
and ran out into the road.
