Alexey Alexandrovitch sighed, and, without saying more, went into

the bedroom.

When she came into the bedroom, he was already in bed. His lips

were sternly compressed, and his eyes looked away from her. Anna

got into her bed, and lay expecting every minute that he would

begin to speak to her again. She both feared his speaking and

wished for it. But he was silent. She waited for a long while

without moving, and had forgotten about him. She thought of that

other; she pictured him, and felt how her heart was flooded with

emotion and guilty delight at the thought of him. Suddenly she

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heard an even, tranquil snore. For the first instant Alexey

Alexandrovitch seemed, as it were, appalled at his own snoring,

and ceased; but after an interval of two breathings the snore

sounded again, with a new tranquil rhythm.

"It's late, it's late," she whispered with a smile. A long while

she lay, not moving, with open eyes, whose brilliance she almost

fancied she could herself see in the darkness.




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