g their slippers on. Scenes occur
which I hesitate to describe.

"Oh, how dreadful!" shriek the variegated young ladies. "It's really
too awful!"

"Mesdames, watch!" I cry. "Time is precious!"

And I hasten to measure the diameters. I remember the corona, and
look towards the wounded officer. He stands doing nothing.

"What's the matter?" I shout. "How about the corona?"

He shrugs his shoulders and looks helplessly towards his arms. The
poor fellow has variegated young ladies on both sides of him,
clinging to him in terror and preventing him from working. I seize
a pencil and note down the time to a second. That is of great
importance. I note down the geographical position of the point of
observation. That, too, is of importance. I am just about to measure
the diameter when Mashenka seizes my hand, and says:

"Do not forget to-day, eleven o'clock."

I withdraw my hand, feeling every second precious, try to continue
my observations, but Varenka clutches my arm and clings to me.
Pencil, pieces of glass, drawings--all are scattered on the grass.
Hang it! It's high time the girl realized that I am a man of violent
temper, and when I am roused my fury knows no bounds, I cannot
answer for myself.

I try to continue, but the eclipse is over.

"Look at me!" she whispers tenderly.

Oh, that is the last straw! Trying a man's patience like that can
but have a fatal ending. I am not to blame if something terrible
happens. I allow no one to make a laughing stock of me, and, God
knows, when I am furious, I advise nobody to come near me, damn it
all! There's nothing I might not do! One of the young ladies,
probably noticing from my face what a rage I am in, and anxious to
propitiate me, says:

"I did exactly what you told me, Nikolay Andreitch; I watched the
animals. I saw the grey dog chasing the cat just before the eclipse,
and wagging his tail for a long while afterwards."

So nothing came of the eclipse after all.

I go home. Thanks to the rain, I work indoors instead of on the
balcony. The wounded officer has risked it, and has again got as
far as "I was born in . . ." when I see one of the variegated young
ladies pounce down on him and bear him off to her villa.

I cannot work, for I am still in a fury and suffering from palpitation
of the heart. I do not go to the arbour. It is impolite not to,
but, after all, I can't be expected to go in the rain.

At twelve o'clock I receive a letter from Mashenka, a lett