d you get the tea if you
haven't any?"

Shatov told her about Kirillov briefly. She had heard something of him.

"I know he is mad; say no more, please; there are plenty of fools. So
you've been in America? I heard, you wrote."

"Yes, I... I wrote to you in Paris."

"Enough, please talk of something else. Are you a Slavophil in your
convictions?"

"I... I am not exactly.... Since I cannot be a Russian, I became a
Slavophil." He smiled a wry smile with the effort of one who feels he
has made a strained and inappropriate jest.

"Why, aren't you a Russian?"

"No, I'm not."

"Well, that's all foolishness. Do sit down, I entreat you. Why are you
all over the place? Do you think I am lightheaded? Perhaps I shall be.
You say there are only you two in the house."

"Yes.... Downstairs..."

"And both such clever people. What is there downstairs? You said
downstairs?"

"No, nothing."

"Why nothing? I want to know."

"I only meant to say that now we are only two in the yard, but that the
Lebyadkins used to live downstairs...."

"That woman who was murdered last night?" she started suddenly. "I heard
of it. I heard of it as soon as I arrived. There was a fire here, wasn't
there?"

"Yes, Marie, yes, and perhaps I am doing a scoundrelly thing this moment
in forgiving the scoundrels...." He stood up suddenly and paced about
the room, raising his arms as though in a frenzy.

But Marie had not quite understood him. She heard his answers
inattentively; she asked questions but did not listen.

"Fine things are being done among you! Oh, how contemptible it all is!
What scoundrels men all are! But do sit down, I beg you, oh, how you
exasperate me!" and she let her head sink on the pillow, exhausted.

"Marie, I won't.... Perhaps you'll lie down, Marie?" She made no answer
and closed her eyes helplessly. Her pale face looked death-like. She
fell asleep almost instantly. Shatov looked round, snuffed the candle,
looked uneasily at her face once, more, pressed his hands tight in front
of him and walked on tiptoe out of the room into the passage. At the
top of the stairs he stood in the corner with his face to the wall and
remained so for ten minutes without sound or movement. He would have
stood there longer, but he suddenly caught the sound of soft cautious
steps below. Some one was coming up the stairs. Shatov remembered he had
forgotten to fasten the gate.

"Who's there?" he asked in a whisper. The unknown visitor wen