‘No matter.... Do go, for goodness’
sake! I have a presentiment.... Please do
as I say! Go at once, take a sledge....’
‘Come, what nonsense!’ Fustov responded
coolly; ’how could I go now? To-morrow
morning I will be there, and everything will be cleared
up.’
’But, Alexander, remember, she said that she
was dying, that you would not find her... And
if you had seen her face! Only think, imagine,
to make up her mind to come to me... what it must
have cost her....’
‘She’s a little high-flown,’ observed
Fustov, who had apparently regained his self-possession
completely. ’All girls are like that...
at first. I repeat, everything will be all right
to-morrow. Meanwhile, good-bye. I’m
tired, and you’re sleepy too.’
He took his cap, and went out of the room.
‘But you promise to come here at once, and tell
me all about it?’ I called after him.
‘I promise.... Good-bye!’
I went to bed, but in my heart I was uneasy, and I
felt vexed with my friend. I fell asleep late
and dreamed that I was wandering with Susanna along
underground, damp passages of some sort, and crawling
along narrow, steep staircases, and continually going
deeper and deeper down, though we were trying to get
higher up out into the air. Some one was all
the while incessantly calling us in monotonous, plaintive
tones.
Some one’s hand lay on my shoulder and pushed
it several times.... I opened my eyes and in
the faint light of the solitary candle, I saw Fustov
standing before me. He frightened me. He
was staggering; his face was yellow, almost the same
colour as his hair; his lips seemed hanging down,
his muddy eyes were staring senselessly away.
What had become of his invariably amiable, sympathetic
expression? I had a cousin who from epilepsy
was sinking into idiocy.... Fustov looked like
him at that moment.
I sat up hurriedly.
‘What is it? What is the matter? Heavens!’
He made no answer.
‘Why, what has happened? Fustov! Do
speak! Susanna?...’
Fustov gave a slight start.
‘She...’ he began in a hoarse voice, and
broke off.
‘What of her? Have you seen her?’
He stared at me.
‘She’s no more.’
‘No more?’
‘No. She is dead.’
I jumped out of bed.
‘Dead? Susanna? Dead?’
Fustov turned his eyes away again.
‘Yes; she is dead; she died at midnight.’
‘He’s raving!’ crossed my mind.
‘At midnight! And what’s the time
now?’
’It’s eight o’clock in the morning
now.
They sent to tell me. She is to be buried to-morrow.’
I seized him by the hand.
‘Alexander, you’re not delirious?
Are you in your senses?’
‘I am in my senses,’ he answered.
’Directly I heard it, I came straight to you.’
