he had already spoken. But nothing of all this did they notice. All blinkingly examined the familiar objects without recognizing them, like people who have suddenly taken off their glasses. They often turned around quickly, as if someone were calling them from the rear. But they did not notice this. The cheeks and ears of Musya and Tanya were burning. At first Sergey was a little pale; he soon recovered, and appeared as usual.
Vasily alone attracted attention. Even in such a group he was extraordinary and dreadful. Werner was moved, and said in a low voice to Musya, with deep anxiety:
"What is the matter with him, Musya? Is it possible that he has . . .? Really, we must speak to him."
Vasily looked at Werner from a distance, as if he had not recognized him; then he lowered his eyes.
"But, Vasily, what is the matter with your hair? What is the matter with you? It is nothing, brother, it will soon be over! We must control ourselves! We really must!"
Vasily did not break the silence. But, when they had already concluded that he would say absolutely nothing, there came a hollow, tardy, terribly distant reply, such as the grave might give up after a long appeal:
"But there is nothing the matter with me. I am in control of myself!"
He repeated:
"I am in control of myself!"
Werner was delighted.
"Good, good! You are a brave fellow! All is well!"
But, when his eyes met the dark and heavy gaze of
