‘What have you come for?’
’You waked me up. At first you kept moaning
as it were ... and then you cried out all of a sudden,
“Save me! help me! “’
‘I cried out?’
’Yes, and such a hoarse cry, “Save me!”
I thought, Mercy on us! He’s never ill,
is he? And I came in. Are you quite well?’
‘Perfectly well.’
’Well, you must have had a bad dream then.
Would you like me to burn a little incense?’
Aratov once more stared intently at his aunt, and
laughed aloud.... The figure of the good old
lady in her nightcap and dressing-jacket, with her
long face and scared expression, was certainly very
comic. All the mystery surrounding him, oppressing
him—everything weird was sent flying instantaneously.
‘No, Platosha dear, there’s no need,’
he said. ’Please forgive me for unwittingly
troubling you. Sleep well, and I will sleep too.’
Platonida Ivanovna remained a minute standing where
she was, pointed to the candle, grumbled, ‘Why
not put it out ... an accident happens in a minute?’
and as she went out, could not refrain, though only
at a distance, from making the sign of the cross over
him.
Aratov fell asleep quickly, and slept till morning.
He even got up in a happy frame of mind ... though
he felt sorry for something.... He felt light
and free. ‘What romantic fancies, if you
come to think of it!’ he said to himself with
a smile. He never once glanced either at the
stereoscope, or at the page torn out of the diary.
Immediately after breakfast, however, he set off to
go to Kupfer’s.
What drew him there ... he was dimly aware.
Aratov found his sanguine friend at home. He
chatted a little with him, reproached him for having
quite forgotten his aunt and himself, listened to
fresh praises of that heart of gold, the princess,
who had just sent Kupfer from Yaroslav a smoking-cap
embroidered with fish-scales ... and all at once,
sitting just opposite Kupfer and looking him straight
in the face, he announced that he had been a journey
to Kazan.
‘You have been to Kazan; what for?’
‘Oh, I wanted to collect some facts about that
... Clara Militch.’
‘The one that poisoned herself?’
‘Yes.’
Kupfer shook his head. ’Well, you are a
chap! And so quiet about it! Toiled a thousand
miles out there and back ... for what? Eh?
If there’d been some woman in the case now!
Then I can understand anything! anything! any madness!’
Kupfer ruffled up his hair. ’But simply
to collect materials, as it’s called among you
learned people.... I’d rather be excused!
There are statistical writers to do that job!
Well, and did you make friends with the old lady and
the sister? Isn’t she a delightful girl?’
‘Delightful,’ answered Aratov, ’she
gave me a great deal of interesting information.’
‘Did she tell you exactly how Clara took poison?’
