y; but he
hoped to find rest in bed. The strained condition of his nerves caused
him a fatigue which was far more intolerable than the physical weariness
of the journey and the road. But great as was his fatigue, he could not
get to sleep. He tried to read ... but the lines got entangled before
his eyes. He extinguished his candle, and darkness took possession of
his chamber.--But he continued to lie there sleepless, with closed
eyes.... And now it seemed to him that some one was whispering in his
ear.... "It is the beating of my heart, the rippling of the blood," he
thought.... But the whisper passed into coherent speech. Some one was
talking Russian hurriedly, plaintively, and incomprehensibly. It was
impossible to distinguish a single separate word.... But it was Clara's
voice!

Aratoff opened his eyes, rose up in bed, propped himself on his
elbows.... The voice grew fainter, but continued its plaintive, hurried,
unintelligible speech as before....

It was indubitably Clara's voice!

Some one's fingers ran over the keys of the piano in light arpeggios....
Then the voice began to speak again. More prolonged sounds made
themselves audible ... like moans ... always the same. And then words
began to detach themselves....

"Roses ... roses ... roses."....

"Roses," repeated Aratoff in a whisper.--

"Akh, yes! The roses which I saw on the head of that woman in my
dream...."

"Roses," was audible again.

"Is it thou?" asked Aratoff, whispering as before.

The voice suddenly ceased.

Aratoff waited ... waited--and dropped his head on his pillow. "A
hallucination of hearing," he thought. "Well, and what if ... what if
she really is here, close to me?... What if I were to see her, would I
be frightened? But why should I be frightened? Why should I rejoice?
Possibly because it would be a proof that there is another world, that
the soul is immortal.--But, however, even if I were to see anything,
that also might be a hallucination of the sight"....

Nevertheless he lighted his candle, and shot a glance over the whole
room not without some trepidation ... and descried nothing unusual in
it. He rose, approached the stereoscope ... and there again was the same
grey doll, with eyes which gazed to one side. The feeling of alarm in
Aratoff was replaced by one of vexation. He had been, as it were,
deceived in his expectations ... and those same expectations appeared to
him absurd.--"Well, this is downright stupid!" he mut