down.

"This is a prison . . ." he thought. "I must get away . . . I can't
bear it."

It was too late to go and play cards; there were no restaurants in
the town. He lay down again and covered his ears that he might not
hear her sobbing, and he suddenly remembered that he could go to
Samoylenko. To avoid going near Nadyezhda Fyodorovna, he got out
of the window into the garden, climbed over the garden fence and
went along the street. It was dark. A steamer, judging by its lights,
a big passenger one, had just come in. He heard the clank of the
anchor chain. A red light was moving rapidly from the shore in the
direction of the steamer: it was the Customs boat going out to it.

"The passengers are asleep in their cabins . . ." thought Laevsky,
and he envied the peace of mind of other people.

The windows in Samoylenko's house were open. Laevsky looked in at
one of them, then in at another; it was dark and still in the rooms.

"Alexandr Daviditch, are you asleep?" he called. "Alexandr Daviditch!"

He heard a cough and an uneasy shout:

"Who's there? What the devil?"

"It is I, Alexandr Daviditch; excuse me."

A little later the door opened; there was a glow of soft light from