repared his bed, and hobbled
off to a quiet evening, a pipe, and the companionship of the old
_concierge_ who came up to sit with him nightly.

Meantime, Sosha's master had not yet moved, but sat at the table where
the water in the copper pot now bubbled merrily, his eyes still fixed on
some far-off vision of night. There was about his appearance and his
occasional slight movements that mechanical unconsciousness that is a
strong signal of danger. For, when burdens grow unbearable, when one is
taxed beyond that point at which nature sets her limit of endurance,
there comes a condition of mental numbness in which men are apt for
deeds quite transcending their normal natures. And this was the
condition to which, by a long series of mistakes and accidents all
similar in effect, Ivan had been reduced. Many years had passed since
the time when, by the folly of a fortnight, he had been stripped of
youth, gayety, wealth. Since then, balanced only by his little success
of the previous winter, had come a countless string of disappointments
and misfortunes, which, striking him always in one spot, had rendered
him exquisitely sensitive. Now, in one afternoon, he had lost the fruits
of eight months of sincere and careful labor. In his heart he knew that
it was at last too much; and he felt himself driven, with a wild rush,
down towards the valley of the shadow.

Tea had come; Sosha was gone; he was alone with the night. The samovar
hissed and steamed, comfortably; and to its accompaniment the man filled
a glass with the amber liquid, tore the wrapper from his chemist's
package, and poured into one hand a dozen yellowish pills. In the other
hand he grasped the tea-glass. There was an instant's pause. He smiled
and his lips moved. Then, suddenly, he lifted his hand to his face,
gulped down the morphia pellets, following them with the steaming
tea.--In that instant all his chains, loosened, rattled down about him
to the floor. Brave man or coward, he felt a sudden mighty wave of
relief over-sweep him. The set, strained look left his face. His eyes
softened. Once or twice he paced across the room. Then he went to his
arm-chair, threw himself into it, and leaned back with closed eyes.

The period of waiting seemed long. He remembered so much that he ought
to have done: papers that should have been destroyed.--Still, it was too
late for that.--After all, this languor was very pleasant. He was glad
his eyes were closed. Back of them--be