th passion, was unthinkable. It would be
cruel and inhuman. Yes. Rogojin is not fair to himself; he has a large
heart; he has aptitude for sympathy. When he learns the truth, and finds
what a pitiable being is this injured, broken, half-insane creature, he
will forgive her all the torment she has caused him. He will become her
slave, her brother, her friend. Compassion will teach even Rogojin,
it will show him how to reason. Compassion is the chief law of human
existence. Oh, how guilty he felt towards Rogojin! And, for a few warm,
hasty words spoken in Moscow, Parfen had called him "brother," while
he--but no, this was delirium! It would all come right! That gloomy
Parfen had implied that his faith was waning; he must suffer dreadfully.
He said he liked to look at that picture; it was not that he liked
it, but he felt the need of looking at it. Rogojin was not merely a
passionate soul; he was a fighter. He was fighting for the restoration
of his dying faith. He must have something to hold on to and believe,
and someone to believe in. What a strange picture that of Holbein's is!
Why, this is the street, and here's the house, No. 16.

The prince rang the bell, and asked for Nastasia Philipovna. The lady of
the house came out, and stated that Nastasia had gone to stay with Daria
Alexeyevna at Pavlofsk, and might be there some days.

Madame Filisoff was a little woman of forty, with a cunning face, and
crafty, piercing eyes. When, with an air of mystery, she asked her
visitor's name, he refused at first to answer, but in a moment he
changed his mind, and left strict instructions that it should be given
to Nastasia Philipovna. The urgency of his request seemed to impress
Madame Filisoff, and she put on a knowing expression, as if to say, "You
need not be afraid, I quite understand." The prince's name evidently
was a great surprise to her. He stood and looked absently at her for a
moment, then turned, and took the road back to his hotel. But he went
away not as he came. A great change had suddenly come over him. He went
blindly forward; his knees shook under him; he was tormented by "ideas";
his lips were blue, and trembled with a feeble, meaningless smile. His
demon was upon him once more.

What had happened to him? Why was his brow clammy with drops of
moisture, his knees shaking beneath him, and his soul oppressed with a
cold gloom? Was it because he had just seen these dreadful eyes again?
Why, he had left the Summer G