myself with Gavrilov, and could not make out in what respect he was
better than I.... But suddenly everything was changed. In the middle of
April, Gavrilov fell ill, and died in the arms of Kolosov, who never
left his room for an instant, and went nowhere for a whole week
afterwards. We were all grieved for poor Gavrilov; the pale, silent lad
seemed to have had a foreboding of his end. I too grieved sincerely for
him, but my heart ached with expectation of something.... One ever
memorable evening ... I was alone, lying on the sofa, gazing idly at
the ceiling ... some one rapidly opened the door of my room and stood
still in the doorway; I raised my head; before me stood Kolosov.

He slowly came in and sat down beside me. 'I have come to you,' he
began in a rather thick voice, 'because you care more for me than any
of the others do.... I have lost my best friend'--his voice shook a
little--'and I feel lonely.... None of you knew Gavrilov ... none of
you knew....' He got up, paced up and down the room, came rapidly
towards me again.... 'Will you take his place?' he said, and gave me
his hand. I leaped up and flung myself on his breast. My genuine
delight touched him.... I did not know what to say, I was choking....
Kolosov looked at me and softly laughed. We had tea. At tea he talked
of Gavrilov; I heard that that timid, gentle boy had saved Kolosov's
life, and I could not but own to myself that in Gavrilov's place I
couldn't have resisted chattering about it--boasting of my luck. It
struck eight. Kolosov got up, went to the window, drummed on the panes,
turned swiftly round to me, tried to say something ... and sat down on
a chair without a word. I took his hand. 'Kolosov, truly, truly I
deserve your confidence!' He looked straight into my eyes. 'Well, if
so,' he brought out at last, 'take your cap and come along.' 'Where
to?' 'Gavrilov did not ask me.' I was silent at once. 'Can you play at
cards?' 'Yes.'