ver; from
there they both went into a very snug, pretty little drawing-room
full of an agreeable, rosy twilight.

"Well, sit down here, doctor, and I . . . will be back directly. I
will go and have a look and prepare them."

Kirilov was left alone. The luxury of the drawing-room, the agreeably
subdued light and his own presence in the stranger's unfamiliar
house, which had something of the character of an adventure, did
not apparently affect him. He sat in a low chair and scrutinized
his hands, which were burnt with carbolic. He only caught a passing
glimpse of the bright red lamp-shade and the violoncello case, and
glancing in the direction where the clock was ticking he noticed a
stuffed wolf as substantial and sleek-looking as Abogin himself.

It was quiet. . . . Somewhere far away in the adjoining rooms someone
uttered a loud exclamation:

"Ah!" There was a clang of a glass door, probably of a cupboard,
and again all was still. After waiting five minutes Kirilov left
off scrutinizing his hands and raised his eyes to the door by which
Abogin had vanished.

In the doorway stood Abogin, but he was not the same as when he had
gone out. The look of sleekness and refined elegance had disappeared
--his face, his hands, his attitude were contorted by a revolting
expression of something between horror and agonizing physical pain.
His nose, his lips, his moustache, all his features were moving and
seemed trying to tear themselves from his face, his eyes looked as
though they were laughing with agony. . . .

Abogin took a heavy stride into the drawing-room, bent forward,
moaned, and shook his fists.

"She has deceived me," he cried, with a strong emphasis on the
second syllable of the verb. "Deceived me, gone away. She fell ill
and sent me for the doctor only to run away with that clown
Paptchinsky! My God!"

Abogin took a heavy step towards the doctor, held out his soft white
fists in his face, and shaking them went on yelling:

"Gone away! Deceived me! But why this deception? My God! My God!
What need of this dirty, scoundrelly trick, this diabolical, snakish
farce? What have I done to her? Gone away!"

Tears gushed from his eyes. He turned on one foot and began pacing
up and down the drawing-room. Now in his short coat, his fashionable
narrow trousers which made his legs look disproportionately slim,
with his big head and long mane he was extremely like a lion. A
gleam of curiosity came into the apathetic face