An hour or two passed, and he was still sitting and thinking. . . .

Towards three o'clock, when it was beginning to get light, the door
creaked cautiously and his _maman_ came into the room.

"Aren't you asleep?" she asked, yawning. "Go to sleep; I have only
come in for a minute. . . . I am only fetching the drops. . . ."

"What for?"

"Poor Lili has got spasms again. Go to sleep, my child, your
examination's to-morrow. . . ."

She took a bottle of something out of the cupboard, went to the
window, read the label, and went away.

"Marya Leontyevna, those are not the drops!" Volodya heard a woman's
voice, a minute later. "That's convallaria, and Lili wants morphine.
Is your son asleep? Ask him to look for it. . . ."

It was Nyuta's voice. Volodya turned cold. He hurriedly put on his
trousers, flung his coat over his shoulders, and went to the door.

"Do you understand? Morphine," Nyuta explained in a whisper. "There
must be a label in Latin. Wake Volodya; he will find it."

_Maman_ opened the door and Volodya caught sight of Nyuta. She was
wearing the same loose wrapper in which she had gone to bathe. Her
hair hung loose and disordered on her shoulders, her face looked
sleepy and dark in the half-light. . . .