“Yes. My head seems to be swimming round and round.”

“Wait a moment, then, and I will get you a mattress and another pillow. I will lay them here for you, and you shall go to sleep on them, and dream of me. The sickness will soon be gone. . . . Our old servant is ill too.”

As she spoke she was making up a bed—glancing at Ordynov now and then, and smiling at him over her shoulder.

“What a lot of books you have got!” she went on as she lifted up the box in which they were stored. Then she approached the young man, and, taking him by the hand, led him to the spot where she had made up the bed, and covered him with a blanket.

“They say that books are not good for people,” she added with a wise little toss of her head. “Do you like books?”

“Yes,” replied Ordynov, though only at a venture, for he hardly knew whether he were really asleep or awake. However, on pressing Katerina’s hand, he at once realised that he was at least not asleep.

“My protector also possesses a great many books. Would you like to see them some time? He tells me that they are devotional books, and is for ever reading to me out of them. Some day I will show them you, and then you shall explain to me what it is that he reads.”

“Please go on talking to me,” murmured Ordynov, his gaze bent intently upon her.

“Do you like saying your prayers?” she resumed after a pause. “You know, I am afraid—I am afraid that——”

Without finishing her sentence, she seemed to sink into a deep reverie. Ordynov lifted her hand to his lips.

“Why do you kiss my hand so?” she said with a blush. “Well, well! Take both of them, if you really must kiss them,” and she gave him both her hands. Then, drawing one of them back, she laid it upon the young man’s burning forehead, and set herself to stroke his hair, while blushing more and more every moment. At length she seated herself upon the floor near the bed, and, pressing her cheek against his, caressed his face with her warm, damp breath. Suddenly he became conscious that hot tears were falling upon his cheeks, like molten lead, while every moment he could feel himself growing weaker, and his hands becoming incapable of moving. All at once there came a knock at the front door, followed by the squeak of a bolt; and once more Ordynov felt sensible of the old man’s presence behind the partition-wall. Also, he saw Katerina rise—though without either haste or embarrassment—and make the sign of the cross over his bed. Then he closed his eyes, and almost at the same moment there settled upon his lips a long, warm kiss. Instantly he felt as though a knife had been thrust through his heart as, heaving a deep sigh, he fainted away.