membered the resistance of the corset and the sinking of the dagger, and a chill ran down my back. 'Yes, it has. And now I must do away with myself,' I said to myself. I said this, and I knew that I would not kill myself. Still, I arose and took the revolver into my hands. But, strange to say, although I had often been near committing suicide, although even on that day this had seemed to me an easy thing to do, as I was riding on the railway, easy because I thought I would startle her with it,—now I was not only unable to do so, but even to think of it. 'Why do I want to do it?' I asked myself, and there was no answer. They again knocked at the door. 'Yes, first I must find out who is knocking. I shall have time to do this.' I put down the revolver and covered it with a newspaper. I went up to the door and opened the latch. It was my wife's sister, a kind, stupid widow. 'Vásya, what is this?' she said, and the ever ready tears burst forth.
"'What do you want?' I asked, roughly. I saw that there was no reason whatever for me to be rough with her, but I could not think of any other tone of voice. 'Vásya, she is dying! Iván Zakhárych said so.'
"Iván Zakhárych was her doctor, her adviser. 'Is he here?' I asked, and all my rage against her again rose in me. 'Well what of it?'—'Vásya, go to her. Ah, how terrible it is!' she said. 'Shall I go to her?' I asked myself, and I immediately answered myself that I must, that, no doubt, it is always that way,—that when a man kills his wife he must go to see her. 'If that is the way it is done, I must go,' I said to myself. 'Well, if it is necessary for me to shoot myself, I shall have time to do so,' I thought in regard to my intention of killing myself, and followed her. Now there will be phrases. and grimaces, but I will not submit to them.' 'Wait,' I said to her sister, 'it is foolish to go without my boots. Let me at least put on my slippers.'
