"Damn you, Stefani Gregor!" Karlov rushed to the cot, raised his
terrible fists, his chest heaving. Gregor waited. "No, no! You wish to
die!" The madman swung on his heels and dashed toward the door, sweeping
the pieces of the violin to the floor as he passed the table.
Gregor feebly drew himself back upon his cot and laid his face in the
pillow.
"Ivan--my violin--all that I knew and loved--gone! And God will not let
me die!"