ehead, it must be hot--how dark she is under the eyes,
and... and yet how beautiful the oval of her face is and her rich hair,
how..."

And he made haste to turn away his eyes, to walk away as though he were
frightened at the very idea of seeing in her anything but an unhappy,
exhausted fellow-creature who needed _help_--"how could he think of
_hopes_, oh, how mean, how base is man!" And he would go back to his
corner, sit down, hide his face in his hands and again sink into dreams
and reminiscences... and again he was haunted by hopes.

"Oh, I am tired, I am tired," he remembered her exclamations, her
weak broken voice. "Good God! Abandon her now, and she has only eighty
kopecks; she held out her purse, a tiny old thing! She's come to look
for a job. What does she know about jobs? What do they know about
Russia? Why, they are like naughty children, they've nothing but their
own fancies made up by themselves, and she is angry, poor thing,
that Russia is not like their foreign dreams! The luckless, innocent
creatures!... It's really cold here, though."

He remembered that she had complained, that he had promised to heat the
stove. "There are logs here, I can fetch them if only I don't wake her.
But I can do it without waking her. But what shall I do about the veal?
When she gets up perhaps she will be hungry.... Well, that will do
later: Kirillov doesn't go to bed all night. What could I cover her
with, she is sleeping so soundly, but she must be cold, ah, she must be
cold!" And once more he went to look at her; her dress had worked up
a little and her right leg was half uncovered to the knee. He suddenly
turned away almost in dismay, took off his warm overcoat, and, remaining
in his wretched old jacket, covered it up, trying not to look at it.

A great deal of time was spent in righting the fire, stepping about
on tiptoe, looking at the sleeping woman, dreaming in the corner, then
looking at her again. Two or three hours had passed. During that time
Verhovensky and Liputin had been at Kirillov's. At last he, too, began
to doze in the corner. He heard her groan; she waked up and called him;
he jumped up like a criminal.

"Marie, I was dropping asleep.... Ah, what a wretch I am, Marie!"

She sat up, looking about her with wonder, seeming not to recognise
where she was, and suddenly leapt up in indignation and anger.

"I've taken your bed, I fell asleep so tired I didn't know what I was
doing; how dared you not wake