“Was it you?” he muttered, at last, motioning with his head towards the curtain.
“Yes, it was I,” whispered Rogojin, looking down.
Neither spoke for five minutes.
“Because, you know,” Rogojin recommenced, as though continuing a former sentence, “if you were ill now, or had a fit, or screamed, or anything, they might hear it in the yard, or even in the street, and guess that someone was passing the night in the house. They would all come and knock and want to come in, because they know I am not at home. I didn’t light a candle for the same reason. When I am not here—for two or three days at a time, now and then—no one comes in to tidy the house or anything; those are my orders. So that I want them to not know we are spending the night here—”
“Wait,” interrupted the prince. “I asked both
