r?"

"Yes, I played with her," said Rogojin, after a short silence.

"Where are the cards?"

"Here they are," said Rogojin, after a still longer pause.

He pulled out a pack of cards, wrapped in a bit of paper, from his
pocket, and handed them to the prince. The latter took them, with a sort
of perplexity. A new, sad, helpless feeling weighed on his heart; he had
suddenly realized that not only at this moment, but for a long while,
he had not been saying what he wanted to say, had not been acting as he
wanted to act; and that these cards which he held in his hand, and which
he had been so delighted to have at first, were now of no use--no use...
He rose, and wrung his hands. Rogojin lay motionless, and seemed neither
to hear nor see his movements; but his eyes blazed in the darkness, and
were fixed in a wild stare.

The prince sat down on a chair, and watched him in alarm. Half an hour
went by.

Suddenly Rogojin burst into a loud abrupt laugh, as though he had quite
forgotten that they must speak in whispers.

"That officer, eh!--that young officer--don't you remember that fellow
at the band? Eh? Ha, ha, ha! Didn't she whip him smartly, eh?"

The prince jumped up from his seat in renewed terror. When Rogojin
quieted down (which he did at once) the prince bent over him, sat down
beside him, and with painfully beating heart and still more painful
breath, watched his face intently. Rogojin never turned his head, and
seemed to have forgotten all about him. The prince watched and waited.
Time went on--it began to grow light.

Rogojin began to wander--muttering disconnectedly; then he took to
shouting and laughing. The prince stretched out a trembling hand and
gently stroked his hair and his cheeks--he could do nothing more. His
legs trembled again and he seemed to have lost the use of them. A
new sensation came over him, filling his heart and soul with infinite
anguish.

Meanwhile the daylight grew full and strong; and at last the prince
lay down, as though overcome by despair, and laid his face against the
white, motionless face of Rogojin. His tears flowed on to Rogojin's
cheek, though he was perhaps not aware of them himself.

At all events when, after many hours, the door was opened and people
thronged in, they found the murderer unconscious and in a raging fever.
The prince was sitting by him, motionless, and each time that the sick
man gave a laugh, or a shout, he hastened to pass his own trembling hand
o