secret way or other? But how to find it? How? You won't find it by lying here. Even water won't flow under a stone at rest. But to look for this secret remedy. . . . It may be that the inventor is actually walking the streets and looking for a purchaser. Yes, of course. He can't advertise in the papers. . . . But in the streets hawking things round, selling what he likes from under his coat,—that's quite possible. He goes round and offers it on the quiet. If anyone wants a secret remedy, he doesn't stay tossing about in bed."
Having arrived at this conclusion, Saranin began to dress quickly, mumbling to himself:
"Twelve o'clock at night. . ."
He was not afraid that he would wake his wife. He knew that Aglaya slept soundly.
"Just like a buxter," he said aloud.—"Just like a clod-hopper," he thought to himself.
He finished dressing and went into the street. He had not the slightest wish for slumber. His spirits were light, and he was in the mood peculiar to a seeker of adventure when he has Some new and interesting experience before him.
The law-abiding official, who had lived quietly and colourlessly for the third of a century, suddenly felt within him the spirit of a venturesome and untrammelled hunter in wild deserts,—a hero of Cooper or Mayne-Reid.
But when he had gone a few steps along his
