eemed to her in
delirium that she was sitting beside some sick woman, and recognised
her as herself. "I'll pay it back. It would be stupid to imagine
that it was for money I . . . I will go away and send him the money
from Petersburg. At first a hundred . . . then another hundred . . .
and then the third hundred. . . ."

It was late at night when Laevsky came in.

"At first a hundred . . ." Nadyezhda Fyodorovna said to him, "then
another hundred . . ."

"You ought to take some quinine," he said, and thought, "To-morrow
is Wednesday; the steamer goes and I am not going in it. So I shall
have to go on living here till Saturday."

Nadyezhda Fyodorovna knelt up in bed.

"I didn't say anything just now, did I?" she asked, smiling and
screwing up her eyes at the light.

"No, nothing. We shall have to send for the doctor to-morrow morning.
Go to sleep."

He took his pillow and went to the door. Ever since he had finally
made up his mind to go away and leave Nadyezhda Fyodorovna, she had
begun to raise in him pity and a sense of guilt; he felt a little
ashamed in her presence, as though in the presence of a sick or old
horse whom one has decided to kill. He stopped in the doorway and
looked round at her.

"I was out of humour at the picnic and said something rude to you.
Forgive me, for God's sake!"

Saying this, he went off to his study, lay down, and for a long
while could not get to sleep.

Next morning when Samoylenko, attired, as it was a holiday, in
full-dress uniform with epaulettes on his shoulders and decorations
on his breast, came out of the bedroom after feeling Nadyezhda
Fyodorovna's pulse and looking at her tongue, Laevsky, who was
standing in the doorway, asked him anxiously: "Well? Well?"

There was an expression of terror, of extreme uneasiness, and of
hope on his face.

"Don't worry yourself; there's nothing dangerous," said Samoylenko;
"it's the usual fever."

"I don't mean that." Laevsky frowned impatiently. "Have you got the
money?"

"My dear soul, forgive me," he whispered, looking round at the door
and overcome with confusion.

"For God's sake, forgive me! No one has anything to spare, and I've
only been able to collect by five- and by ten-rouble notes. . . .
Only a hundred and ten in all. To-day I'll speak to some one else.
Have patience."

"But Saturday is the latest date," whispered Laevsky, trembling
with impatience. "By all that's sacred, get it by Saturday! If I
don't get aw