All the following morning my head ached, and I could scarcely move my legs;
but I cared little for my bodily discomfort; I was devoured by regret,
overwhelmed with vexation.
I was excessively annoyed with myself. ‘Coward!’ I repeated incessantly;
‘yes--Alice was right. What was I frightened of? how could I miss such an
opportunity?... I might have seen Cæsar himself--and I was senseless with
terror, I whimpered and turned away, like a child at the sight of the rod.
Razin, now--that’s another matter. As a nobleman and landowner ... though,
indeed, even then what had I really to fear? Coward! coward!’...
‘But wasn’t it all a dream?’ I asked myself at last. I called my
housekeeper.
‘Marfa, what o’clock did I go to bed yesterday--do you remember?’
‘Why, who can tell, master?... Late enough, surely. Before it was quite
dark you went out of the house; and you were tramping about in your bedroom
when the night was more than half over. Just on morning--yes. And this is
the third day it’s been the same. You’ve something on your mind, it’s easy
to see.’
‘Aha-ha!’ I thought. ‘Then there’s no doubt about the flying. Well, and how
do I look to-day?’ I added aloud.
‘How do you look? Let me have a look at you. You’ve got thinner a bit. Yes,
and you’re pale, master; to be sure, there’s not a drop of blood in your
face.’