Yet there was a ray of light and hope in his darkness. He jumped up and ran back to the room—to her, to her, his queen for ever! Was not one moment of her love worth all the rest of life, even in the agonies of disgrace? This wild question clutched at his heart. “To her, to her alone, to see her, to hear her, to think of nothing, to forget everything, if only for that night, for an hour, for a moment!” Just as he turned from the balcony into the passage, he came upon the landlord, Trifon Borissovitch. He thought he looked gloomy and worried, and fancied he had come to find him.
“What is it, Trifon Borissovitch? are you looking for me?”
“No, sir.” The landlord seemed disconcerted. “Why should I be looking for you? Where have you been?”
“Why do you look so glum? You’re not angry, are you?
