kitchen, from the kitchen into the dining-room . . . the silver in
the cupboard . . . next into the bedroom . . . an axe . . . the
face of a brigand . . . jewelry. . . . Her knees gave way under her
and a shiver ran down her back.

"Vassya!" she said, shaking her husband, "_Basile!_ Vassily Prokovitch!
Ah! mercy on us, he might be dead! Wake up, _Basile_, I beseech
you!"

"W-well?" grunted the assistant procurator, with a deep inward
breath and a munching sound.

"For God's sake, wake up! A burglar has got into the kitchen! I was
standing at the window looking out and someone got in at the window.
He will get into the dining-room next . . . the spoons are in the
cupboard! _Basile!_ They broke into Mavra Yegorovna's last year."

"Wha--what's the matter?"

"Heavens! he does not understand. Do listen, you stupid! I tell you
I've just seen a man getting in at the kitchen window! Pelagea will
be frightened and . . . and the silver is in the cupboard!"

"Stuff and nonsense!"

"_Basile_, this is unbearable! I tell you of a real danger and you
sleep and grunt! What would you have? Would you have us robbed and
murdered?"

The assistant procurator slowly got up and sat on the bed, filling