een him, and I should scarcely
have known him if I had met him anywhere else. This wrinkled, red,
toothless face, these small, round, dull eyes, this tangled gray hair,
these contortions and motions, this senseless, wandering talk,--what
does it all mean? What cruel suffering torments this unhappy being?
What a dance of death is this!

"Choo, choo, choo," he muttered, bending over continually: "see them,
the Wassilievna--she's just come, with a trou--a trough on the roof"
(he struck his head with his hand), "and she sits there like a shovel,
and cross, cross as Andruscha, the cross Wassilievna" (he meant,
probably, "mute"). "Choo; my cross Wassilievna! Now they are both on
one last--just see her! I have only these two doctors."

Latkin was evidently aware that he was not saying what he meant, and
he made every effort to explain matters to me. Raissa, apparently, did
not hear what he was saying, and her little sister went on snapping
her whip. My head grew confused. "What does it all mean?" I asked of
an old woman who was looking out of the window of the house.

"What does it mean, sir?" answered she in a sing-song voice. "They say
some one--Heaven knows who it was--tried to drown himself, and she saw
him. That frightened her, but she managed to get home: no one noticed
anything strange, and she sat down there on the threshold, and since
then she's sat there like an image, whether one speaks to her or not.
It's as if she had no tongue."

"Good-bye! good-bye!" repeated Latkin, still with the same gestures.

I walked to Raissa and stood just before her. "Raissa," I cried, "what
is the matter?"

She made no answer: it was as if she had not heard me. Her face was no
paler, nor in any way different, except that it had a stony look and
an expression of slight fatigue.

"She is cross too," Latkin whispered to me.

I took Raissa by the hand. "David is alive." I cried louder than
before--"alive and unhurt. David is alive: do you understand? They
have taken him out of the water, he is now at home, and he has sent
word that he will come to-morrow to see you. He is alive."

Raissa turned her eyes toward me slowly, as if it hurt her: she winked
them two or three times, opened them wider: then she turned her head
to one side, flushed suddenly, parted her lips, drew a full breath,
frowned as if from pain and with great effort, bringing out the words,
"Da--Dav--is--al--alive," and rose hastily from the steps and rushed
away.