character, I had no doubt that such contemptuous treatment by his
superior officers had deeply mortified him. But the change that I
fancied I saw in Tyeglev was more like sadness and there was a more
personal note about it.

"It's getting damp, though," he brought out at last and he shrugged
his shoulders. "Let us go into the hut--and it's bed-time, too." He
had the habit of shrugging his shoulders and turning his head from
side to side, putting his right hand to his throat as he did so, as
though his cravat were constricting it. Tyeglev's character was
expressed, so at least it seemed to me, in this uneasy and nervous
movement. He, too, felt constricted in the world.

We went back into the hut, and both lay down on benches, he in the
corner facing the door and I on the opposite side.

VII

Tyeglev was for a long time turning from side to side on his bench and
I could not get to sleep, either. Whether his stories had excited my
nerves or the strange night had fevered my blood--anyway, I could not
go to sleep. All inclination for sleep disappeared at last and I lay
with my eyes open and thought, thought intensely, goodness knows of
what; of most senseless trifles--as always happens when one is
sleepless. Turning from side to side I stretched out my hands.... My
finger hit one of the beams of the wall. It emitted a faint but
resounding, and as it were, prolonged note.... I must have struck a
hollow place.

I tapped again ... this time on purpose. The same sound was repeated.