to God that if Duimoff only recovered, she would love him again and be his faithful wife. Then, forgetting herself for a moment, she looked at Korosteleff and thought: “How tiresome it is to be such a simple, undistinguished, obscure man, and to have such bad manners.” It seemed to Iier that God would strike her dead for her cowardice in keeping away from her husband. And altogether she was oppressed by a dead melancholy, and a feeling that; her life was ruined, and that nothing now would mend it.
After dinner, darkness. Olga Ivanovna went into the drawing-room, and found Korosteleff asleep on a couch, his head resting on a silk cushion embroidr ered with gold. He snored loudly.
Alone the doctors, coming on and off duty, ignored the disorder. The strange man sleeping and snoring in the drawing-room, the studies on the walls, the wonderful decorations, the mistress's dishevelled hair and untidy dress — none of these awakened the least interest. One of the doctors laughed; and this laugh had such a timid sound that it was painful to hear.
When next Olga Ivanovna entered the drawing-room Korosteleff was awake. He sat up and smoked.
“He has got diphtheria . . . in the nasal cavity,” he said quietly. “Yes , . . and his heart is weak. . . . It is a bad business.”
“Better send for Sehreck,” said Olga Ivanovna.
