iano. Elena gave a just perceptible shrug of the
shoulders, and with her eyes motioned Insarov to the door. Then she
twice slowly touched the table with her finger, and looked at him. He
understood that she was promising to see him in two days, and she gave
him a quick smile when she saw he understood her. Insarov got up and
began to take leave; he felt unwell. Kurnatovsky arrived. Nikolai
Artemyevitch jumped up, raised his right hand higher than his head, and
softly dropped it into the palm of the chief secretary. Insarov would
have remained a few minutes longer, to have a look at his rival. Elena
shook her head unseen; the host did not think it necessary to introduce
them to one another, and Insarov departed, exchanging one last look with
Elena. Shubin pondered and pondered, and threw himself into a fierce
argument with Kurnatovsky on a legislative question, about which he had
not a single idea.

Insarov did not sleep all night, and in the morning he felt very ill; he
set to work, however, putting his papers into order and writing letters,
but his head was heavy and confused. At dinner time he began to be in
a fever; he could eat nothing. The fever grew rapidly worse towards
evening; he had aching pains in all his limbs, and a terrible headache.
Insarov lay down on the very little sofa on which Elena had lately sat;
he thought: 'It serves me right for going to that old rascal,' and he
tried to sleep.... But the illness had by now complete mastery of him.
His veins were throbbing violently, his blood was on fire, his thoughts
were flying round like birds. He sank into forgetfulness. He lay like a
man felled by a blow on his face, and suddenly, it seemed to him, some
one was softly laughing and whispering over him: he opened his eyes with
an effort, the light of the flaring candle smote him like a knife....
What was it? the old attorney was before him in an Oriental silk
gown belted with a silk handkerchief, as he had seen him the evening
before.... 'Karolina Vogelmeier,' muttered his toothless mouth. Insarov
stared, and the old man grew wide and thick and tall, he was no longer a
man, he was a tree.... Insarov had to climb along its gnarled branches.
He clung, and fell with his breast on a sharp stone, and Karolina
Vogelmeier was sitting on her heels, looking like a pedlar-woman, and
lisping: 'Pies, pies, pies for sale'; and there were streams of blood
and swords flashing incessantly.... Elena! And everything vanished i