After a rest, I brushed my hair, washed, and went downstairs to tea. The image of the young girl floated before me, my heart was no longer leaping, but was full of a sort of sweet oppression.
'What's the matter?' my father asked me all at once: 'have you killed a rook?'
I was on the point of telling him all about it, but I checked myself, and merely smiled to myself. As I was going to bed, I rotated--I don't know why--three times on one leg, pomaded my hair, got into bed, and slept like a top all night. Before morning I woke up for an instant, raised my head, looked round me in ecstasy, and fell asleep again.