said to her. She got up and
was going to get ready. 'No,' he decided, 'let us wait till to-morrow.'
Towards evening Insarov was rather better.

For eight days this torture was prolonged. Elena appeared calm; but she
could eat nothing, and did not sleep at night. There was a dull ache in
all her limbs; her head seemed full of a sort of dry burning smoke. 'Our
young lady's wasting like a candle,' her maid said of her.

At last by the ninth day the crisis was passing over. Elena was sitting
in the drawing-room near Anna Vassilyevna, and, without knowing herself
what she was doing, was reading her the _Moscow Gazette_; Bersenyev came
in. Elena glanced at him--how rapid, and fearful, and penetrating, and
tremulous, was the first glance she turned on him every time--and at
once she guessed that he brought good news. He was smiling; he nodded
slightly to her, she got up to go and meet him.

'He has regained consciousness, he is saved, he will be quite well again
in a week,' he whispered to her.

Elena had stretched out her arm as though to ward off a blow, and she
said nothing, only her lips trembled and a flush of crimson overspread
her whole face. Bersenyev began to talk to Anna Vassilyevna, and Elena
went off to her own room, dropped on her knees and fell to praying, to
thanking God. Light, shining tears trickled down her cheeks. Suddenly
she was conscious of intense weariness, laid her head down on the
pillow, whispered 'poor Andrei Petrovitch!' and at once fell asleep with
wet eheeks and eyelashes. It was long since she had slept or wept.

XXVII

Bersenyev's words turned out only partly true; the danger was over,
but Insarov gained strength slowly, and the doctor talked of a complete
undermining of the whole system. The patient left his bed for all
that, and began to walk about the room; Bersenyev went home to his own
lodging, but he came every day to his still feeble friend; and every day
as before he informed Elena of the state of his health. Insarov did
not dare to write to her, and only indirectly in his conversations with
Bersenyev referred to her; but Bersenyev, with assumed carelessness,
told him about his visits to the Stahovs, trying, however, to give him
to understand that Elena had been deeply distressed, and that now she
was calmer. Elena too did not write to Insarov; she had a plan in her
head.

One day Bersenyev had just informed her with a cheerful face that the
doctor had already allowed I