in high fever again.

No! he did not account her a child. Certain of her looks, certain of her
words, of late, had filled him with apprehension. At times it had struck
him that she was putting too great a restraint upon herself, and he
remembered that he had been alarmed to observe this. He had tried, all
these days, to drive away the heavy thoughts that oppressed him;
but what was the hidden mystery of that soul? The question had long
tormented him, although he implicitly trusted that soul. And now it was
all to be cleared up. It was a dreadful thought. And "that woman" again!
Why did he always feel as though "that woman" were fated to appear at
each critical moment of his life, and tear the thread of his destiny
like a bit of rotten string? That he always HAD felt this he was ready
to swear, although he was half delirious at the moment. If he had tried
to forget her, all this time, it was simply because he was afraid of
her. Did he love the woman or hate her? This question he did not once
ask himself today; his heart was quite pure. He knew whom he loved. He
was not so much afraid of this meeting, nor of its strangeness, nor of
any reasons there might be for it, unknown to himself; he was afraid
of the woman herself, Nastasia Philipovna. He remembered, some days
afterwards, how during all those fevered hours he had seen but HER eyes,
HER look, had heard HER voice, strange words of hers; he remembered
that this was so, although he could not recollect the details of his
thoughts.

He could remember that Vera brought him some dinner, and that he took
it; but whether he slept after dinner, or no, he could not recollect.

He only knew that he began to distinguish things clearly from the moment
when Aglaya suddenly appeared, and he jumped up from the sofa and went
to meet her. It was just a quarter past seven then.

Aglaya was quite alone, and dressed, apparently hastily, in a light
mantle. Her face was pale, as it had been in the morning, and her
eyes were ablaze with bright but subdued fire. He had never seen that
expression in her eyes before.

She gazed attentively at him.

"You are quite ready, I observe," she said, with absolute composure,
"dressed, and your hat in your hand. I see somebody has thought fit to
warn you, and I know who. Hippolyte?"

"Yes, he told me," said the prince, feeling only half alive.

"Come then. You know, I suppose, that you must escort me there? You are
well enough to go out, aren't