“ ‘No—I have not forgotten it,’ I replied.

“ ‘Do you also remember a certain compact? Do you remember a man in love explaining to a fair maiden that, should the day ever come when he had ceased to find favour in her eyes, her liberty should be restored to her?’

“ ‘Yes—that also I remember.’ Yet at the moment I hardly knew whether I were alive or dead.

“ ‘You remember that also? Good! Now, in this boat we are one too many. For one of us two men the hour must soon strike. Say, then, my dear one—decide now, my darling, which of us two—he or I—is to hear that hour sound? Speak but the word.’

“I could not answer.”

Further than this Katerina did not get, for at that moment a voice from behind them—a voice hoarse and muffled—called her by name. Ordynov started violently. In the doorway stood Murin—clad in a fur coat, deadly pale, and glaring at the couple with a semi-maniacal expression. Katerina turned as pale as he, and sat returning his stare as though fascinated.

“Return to my room, Katerina,” said the sick man, his voice scarcely intelligible. Then he left them.

Katerina continued to gaze at the doorway as intently as if the old man were still there. Then the blood suddenly flamed into her white cheeks, and with slow deliberation she rose. As she did so the first meeting between her and himself recurred to Ordynov’s memory.

“Until to-morrow, then, my dear one,” she said with a strange smile. “Remember the point where I left off—namely, at the point ‘Choose between us two, my beloved. Decide which of us you desire, and which of us you do not.’ You will remember the place, will you not? You will wait until to-morrow night?”

As she spoke she laid her hands upon the young man’s shoulders, and looked at him tenderly.

“Katerina, do not go away—do not go back to him. He is mad.” “Katerina!” called Murin again from behind the partition-wall.

“What of that?” said Katerina with the same strange smile as before. “What if he does kill me? Good-night, my poor little brother—you whom I ought never to have seen.” Her head touched Ordynov’s breast for a moment, the tears bedewing her face.

“They are my last tears,” she murmured. . . . “Now, dearest one, let all your troubles sleep awhile. To-morrow you will awake the better for them.” With these words there went a passionate embrace.

“Katerina, Katerina!” cried Ordynov as he fell upon his knees and sought to detain her. “Katerina!”

She turned to him with a smiling nod as she left the room. Then Ordynov heard her enter Murin’s apartment, and held his breath to listen. Not a word came from the old man. Perhaps he had once more sunk into oblivion? At all events no sound reached Ordynov’s ears. The young man tried to rise and go himself to Murin’s room, but his legs failed him, and he sank back fainting upon the bed.