It seemed to him that he was in a sumptuous country-house of which he was the owner.  He had recently purchased the house, and all the estates attached to it.  And he kept thinking:  “It is well, now it is well, but disaster is coming!” Beside him was hovering a tiny little man, his manager; this man kept making obeisances, and trying to demonstrate to Aratoff how admirably everything about his house and estate was arranged.—­“Please, please look,” he kept reiterating, grinning at every word, “how everything is flourishing about you!  Here are horses ... what magnificent horses!” And Aratoff saw a row of huge horses.  They were standing with their backs to him, in stalls; they had wonderful manes and tails ... but as soon as Aratoff walked past them the horses turned their heads toward him and viciously displayed their teeth.

“It is well,” thought Aratoff, “but disaster is coming!”

“Please, please,” repeated his manager again; “please come into the garden; see what splendid apples we have!”

The apples really were splendid, red, and round; but as soon as Aratoff looked at them, they began to shrivel and fall....  “Disaster is coming!” he thought.

“And here is the lake,” murmurs the manager:  “how blue and smooth it is!  And here is a little golden boat!...  Would you like to have a sail in it?...  It moves of itself.”

“I will not get into it!” thought Aratoff; “a disaster is coming!” and nevertheless he did seat himself in the boat.  On the bottom, writhing, lay a little creature resembling an ape; in its paws it was holding a phial filled with a dark liquid.

“Pray do not feel alarmed,” shouted the manager from the shore....  “That is nothing!  That is death!  A prosperous journey!”

The boat darted swiftly onward ... but suddenly a hurricane arose, not like the one of the day before, soft and noiseless—­no; it is a black, terrible, howling hurricane!—­Everything is in confusion round about;—­and amid the swirling gloom Aratoff beholds Clara in theatrical costume:  she is raising the phial to her lips, a distant “Bravo! bravo!” is audible, and a coarse voice shouts in Aratoff’s ear: 

“Ah!  And didst thou think that all this would end in a comedy?—­No! it is a tragedy! a tragedy!”

Aratoff awoke all in a tremble.  It was not dark in the room....  A faint and melancholy light streamed from somewhere or other, impassively illuminating all objects.  Aratoff did not try to account to himself for the light....  He felt but one thing:  Clara was there in that room ... he felt her presence ... he was again and forever in her power!

A shriek burst from his lips:  “Clara, art thou here?”

“Yes!” rang out clearly in the middle of the room illuminated with the motionless light.

Aratoff doubly repeated his question....

“Yes!” was audible once more.

“Then I want to see thee!” he cried, springing out of bed.