gory,"- and this put me in a humour of pleasantry that it was not easy to shake off.
"Looked at through this prism of Pain," she continued, "the sun itself is black, the most superb flowers in the Red Garden turn to tongues of flame, and the cistern filled with flowers of bliss changes into an infinite, infinite ocean of blood." She looked round, and shuddered.
"Pray, Janka, do not go to bed to-night; do not leave me alone during the dark hours. Truly, I cannot remember when he went out. I think he was not at all at home to-day."
"Yes, he was; he dined with us."
She passed her hand over her brow.
"You are right, but it doesn't matter. At any rate, he will not be here till morning. Janka, do not sleep in your room!"
By this time it is impossible for me to endure the sight of Martha. She fills me with such mystic awe that I am ready to shriek aloud with dread of her. I feel as though I were the cause of all her afflictions, as if it were I who have marred her life. Her eyes hurt me—those great dark-blue, sorrowful
