herself, root and all, from his very heart, he saw that where those roots had been was a bleeding heart.
He had moments when it still appeared to him that what had befallen him could not really have happened. Surely he was befooled, surely Krista would return to him all at once. And then he seemed to hear her step, and the rustling of her dress: for a moment he saw her dancing eyes, her heavenly look, and heard her glorious voice. He turned his eyes in the direction whence that step and that rustling seemed to come, and when he perceived that it was but a mere delusion he cursed his fate.
If some one had asked him how long he had already sat thus, he would have said, “A whole eternity”, and he would have spoken the truth. And if he had been further asked how long he had walked with Krista in the world, he would have answered, “Two or three days”, and would equally have spoken the truth.
Then Venik arose and went again into the world. Sometimes he played and sometimes he did not play, as the fancy took him. Sometimes it seemed to him as though he wandered in the world in search of Krista; and again it seemed to him that if he found her he should cast her from him that he might have her no more with him.
First he came to the parishes in which he had dwelt long since with Krista; and when his old comrades saw him desolate, they asked him, where he had left Krista. Then he sometimes answered with a word, sometimes with a smile, sometimes with a tear, just as was consonant with the answer. But through it all it was apparent that each of these modes of reply tormented him; he felt it, too, himself, and, therefore, made up his mind not to go to villages where he was known, but only to go among strangers.
In villages where he was not known, indeed, no one inquired for Krista, because no one had known her. But even that was not a clear gain to him, for he observed that he himself also on that very account made fewer inquiries about her. Already he had not inquired about her for many a long day.
Sometimes the whole business of strolling through the villages and of playing to people also wearied him; he was sick of it all; and then if he could find any gay young fellows anywhere he would attach himself to them as long as they wished to listen. By his playing he lured them to the dance, and he played so that any one who had wished to tarry always beside him would perhaps have been led to destruction. And then although at the beginning he was but sombre and melancholy, the further his
