“What was it?”

“It is said that, in a paroxysm of madness, he inflicted a grave injury upon a young merchant for whom, until then, he had cherished a great affection; as well as that, on recovering his senses, he was so shocked at what he had done that he came very near to committing suicide. At all events that is what I have been told—and I have had means of hearing of things which he has done. However, it is said that, during the last few years, he has been performing a sort of religious penance. . . . But what is the matter with you, Vassilii Michaelovitch? Does my story weary you?”

“No, no! Quite the contrary! Pray continue, pray continue! You were saying that he performs a sort of religious penance? Surely he was not the only actor in the tragedy of which you speak, was he?”

“I do not know. I only know that it is said that he was—that no one else was implicated in the affair. But now I have told you all that I know of him, except that——”

“Except that what?”

“Well, I know—at least——But no, I do not know any more. I merely wished to warn you that, if you should detect anything unusual in him, anything beyond the normal, you must set it down to his numerous misfortunes.”

“Then he is very religious—an actual fanatic?”

“Yes, I think so. But look at what he has suffered! For myself, I believe him to be, at heart, a good sort.”

“He is not mad now, is he? He is quite sane?”

“Certainly. I can guarantee that. I would even venture to assert that he has the full use of his faculties. Only, as you have so truly remarked, he is exceedingly strange and exceedingly religious. Besides, he is a man of intellect, and can discourse well and fluently and to the point. But it is strange that he should be so well versed in book lore. His chequered life has left its marks upon his face.”

“He reads a great deal of devotional literature, I understand?”

“Yes, he does. You see, he is a mystic.”

“A what?”

“A mystic. I tell you this in confidence, and to it I would add that for a long time he was regarded with great suspicion, for the reason that he used to exercise so strong an influence over persons who came to consult him.”

“What sort of an influence?”

“Well, you may, or you may not, believe it——But I will give you an instance of what I mean. Some years ago, before the old man came to live in this quarter, there went to call upon him, one day, a certain Alexander Ignatievitch (a gentleman of honour and position who occupied a high post and enjoyed universal esteem) and a lieutenant. Their sole motive was curiosity. Well, Alexander knocked at the door, which was opened to him by Murin, who stood looking at his visitors in a strange, fixed sort of a way. It was always his custom that, if he had a mind to be civil, he looked his visitors full in the face; but if he had no such mind, he just sent them about their business. After a moment’s silence Murin said to them rudely, ‘What do you want of me, gentlemen?’ to which Alexander replied, ‘Your art ought to have told you that we have come to consult you.’ ‘Very well, then; come with me into my study,’ said Murin, addressing himself unhesitatingly to the precise member of the pair who had come to ask for his advice. Now, although never, to this day, has Alexander told me exactly what passed within, at all events he came out with his face looking the colour of a sheet. The same thing happened to a lady who stands high in society. She too came out with a face the colour of a sheet, as well as all dissolved in tears. She came out looking both surprised at the eloquence of the man and terrified at his predictions.”