im. 'Have you told the
dvornik to inform the police?'

"He made no answer, and went out. I rose, closed the door, took the
cigarettes and the matches, and began to smoke. I had not finished one
cigarette, when a drowsy feeling came over me and sent me into a deep
sleep. I surely slept two hours. I remember having dreamed that I was on
good terms with her, that after a quarrel we were in the act of making
up, that something prevented us, but that we were friends all the same.

"A knock at the door awoke me.

"'It is the police,' thought I, as I opened my eyes. 'I have killed, I
believe. But perhaps it is SHE; perhaps nothing has happened.'

"Another knock. I did not answer. I was solving the question: 'Has it
happened or not? Yes, it has happened.'

"I remembered the resistance of the corset, and then. . . . 'Yes, it has
happened. Yes, it has happened. Yes, now I must execute myself,' said I
to myself.

"I said it, but I knew well that I should not kill myself. Nevertheless,
I rose and took the revolver, but, strange thing, I remembered that
formerly I had very often had suicidal ideas, that that very night, on
the cars, it had seemed to me easy, especially easy because I thought
how it would stupefy her. Now I not only could not kill myself, but I
could not even think of it.

"'Why do it?' I asked myself, without answering.

"Another knock at the door.

"'Yes, but I must first know who is knocking. I have time enough.'

"I put the revolver back on the table, and hid it under my newspaper. I
went to the door and drew back the bolt.

"It was my wife's sister,--a good and stupid widow.

"'Basile, what does this mean?' said she, and her tears, always ready,
began to flow.

"'What do you want?' I asked roughly.

"I saw clearly that there was no necessity of being rough with her, but
I could not speak in any other tone.

"'Basile, she is dying. Ivan Fedorowitch says so.'

"Ivan Fedorowitch was the doctor, HER doctor, her counsellor.

"'Is he here?' I inquired.

"And all my hatred of her arose anew.

"Well, what?

"'Basile, go to her! Ah! how terrible it is!' said she.

"'Go to her?' I asked myself; and immediately I made answer to myself
that I ought to go, that probably that was the thing that is usually
done when a husband like myself kills his wife, that it was absolutely
necessary that I should go and see her.

"'If that is the proper thing, I must go,' I repeated to myself. 'Yes,
if it is nec