ts took
possession of her. She began to argue with herself, to assure herself
that there was no reason to be afraid. She even began to feel ashamed
of her weakness. 'Is there any danger? isn't he better?' she murmured.
'Why, if we had not been at the theatre to-day, all this would never
have entered my head.'

At that instant she saw high above the water a white sea-gull; some
fisherman had scared it, it seemed, for it flew noiselessly with
uncertain course, as though seeking a spot where it could alight. 'Come,
if it flies here,' thought Elena, 'it will be a good omen.' ... The
sea-gull flew round in a circle, folded its wings, and, as though it had
been shot, dropped with a plaintive cry in the distance behind a dark
ship. Elena shuddered; then she was ashamed of having shuddered, and,
without undressing, she lay down on the bed beside Insarov, who was
breathing quickly and heavily.

XXXIV

Insarov waked late with a dull pain in his head, and a feeling, as he
expressed it, of disgusting weakness all over. He got up however.

'Renditch has not come?' was his first question.

'Not yet,' answered Elena, and she handed him the latest number of the
_Osservatore Triestino_, in which there was much upon the war, the Slav
Provinces, and the Principalities. Insarov began reading it; she busied
herself in getting some coffee ready for him. Some one knocked at the
door.

'Renditch,' both thought at once, but a voice said in Russian, 'May I
come in?' Elena and Insarov looked at each other in astonishment; and
without waiting for an answer, an elegantly dressed young man entered
the room, with a small sharp-featured face, and bright little eyes. He
was beaming all over, as though he had just won a fortune or heard a
most delightful piece of news.

Insarov got up from his seat

'You don't recognise me,' began the stranger, going up to him with an
easy air, and bowing politely to Elena, 'Lupoyarov, do you remember, we
met at Moscow at the E----'s.'

'Yes, at the E----'s,' replied Insarov.

'To be sure, to be sure! I beg you to present me to your wife. Madam,
I have always had the profoundest respect for Dmitri Vassilyevitch' (he
corrected himself)--'for Nikanor Vassilyevitch, and am very happy
to have the pleasure at last of making your acquaintance. Fancy,' he
continued, turning to Insarov, 'I only heard yesterday evening that
you were here. I am staying at this hotel too. What a city! Venice is
poetry--that