When the clock struck five, he was sitting on the bed, dangling his
feet to the carpet, talking to the monk:

"In ancient times a happy man grew at last frightened of his happiness
--it was so great!--and to propitiate the gods he brought as a
sacrifice his favourite ring. Do you know, I, too, like Polykrates,
begin to be uneasy of my happiness. It seems strange to me that
from morning to night I feel nothing but joy; it fills my whole
being and smothers all other feelings. I don't know what sadness,
grief, or boredom is. Here I am not asleep; I suffer from sleeplessness,
but I am not dull. I say it in earnest; I begin to feel perplexed."

"But why?" the monk asked in wonder. "Is joy a supernatural feeling?
Ought it not to be the normal state of man? The more highly a man
is developed on the intellectual and moral side, the more independent
he is, the more pleasure life gives him. Socrates, Diogenes, and
Marcus Aurelius, were joyful, not sorrowful. And the Apostle tells
us: 'Rejoice continually'; 'Rejoice and be glad.'"

"But will the gods be suddenly wrathful?" Kovrin jested; and he
laughed. "If they take from me comfort and make me go cold and
hungry, it won't be very much to my taste."

Meanwhile Tanya woke up and looked with amazement and horror at her
husband. He was talking, addressing the arm-chair, laughing and
gesticulating; his eyes were gleaming, and there was something
strange in his laugh.

"Andryusha, whom are you talking to?" she asked, clutching the hand