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I could not for a long while get to sleep I had been impressed by Zinaïda's story 'Can there have been a hint in it?' I asked ? And if there really is anything to hint athow is one toover from one hot cheek on to the other But I re her story I remembered the exclaardens, the sudden change in her behaviour to me, and I was lost in conjectures 'Who is he?' These three words seemed to stand before nant cloud see over me, and I felt its oppressiveness, and waited for it to break I had grown used to s of late; I had learned much from what I had seen at the Zasyekins; their disorderly ways, tallow candle-ends, broken knives and forks, grumpy Vonifaty, and shabby maid-servants, the e er strucknow in Zina&iuet used to 'An adventuress!' my mother had said of her one day An adventuress--she, et away fronant--and at the sareed to, ould I not have given only to be that lucky fellow at the fountain! My blood was on fire and boiling within o into the garden' I dressed quickly and slipped out of the house The night was dark, the trees scarcely whispered, a soft chill air breathed down froarden I went through all the walks; the light sound of my own footsteps at once confused and e fast and loudly At last I went up to the fence and leaned against the thin bar Suddenly, or was it ure flashed by, a few paces froerly into the darkness, I held my breath What was that? Did I hear steps, or was it ain? 'Who is here?' I faltered, hardly audibly What was that again, a sh just at my ear? I felt afraid'Who is here?' I repeated still more softly