Gagin felt for the dressing-gown by the stove, put it on, and went
quietly back to his room.

When her husband went out Marya Mihalovna got into bed and waited.
For the first three minutes her mind was at rest, but after that
she began to feel uneasy.

"What a long time he's gone," she thought. "It's all right if he
is there . . . that immoral man . . . but if it's a burglar?"

And again her imagination drew a picture of her husband going into
the dark kitchen . . . a blow with an axe . . . dying without
uttering a single sound . . . a pool of blood! . . .

Five minutes passed . . . five and a half . . . at last six. . . .
A cold sweat came out on her forehead.

"_Basile!_" she shrieked, "_Basile!_"

"What are you shouting for? I am here." She heard her husband's
voice and steps. "Are you being murdered?"

The assistant procurator went up to the bedstead and sat down on
the edge of it.

"There's nobody there at all," he said. "It was your fancy, you
queer creature. . . . You can sleep easy, your fool of a Pelagea
is as virtuous as her mistress. What a coward you are! What a . . . ."

And the deputy procurator began teasing his wife. He was wide awake