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Chapter 11

           

           “Let’sgoin—butyoumustn’t—well—let’sgoin.”

           Heliftedthecurtain,paused—andturnedtotheprince.“Goin,”hesaid,motioninghimtopassbehindthecurtain.Muishkinwentin.

           “It’ssodark,”hesaid.

           “Youcanseequiteenough,”mutteredRogojin.

           “Icanjustseethere’sabed—”

           “Gonearer,”suggestedRogojin,softly.

           Theprincetookastepforward—thenanother—andpaused.Hestoodandstaredforaminuteortwo.

           Neitherofthemenspokeawordwhileatthebedside.Theprince’sheartbeatsoloudthatitsknockingseemedtobedistinctlyaudibleinthedeathlysilence.

           Butnowhiseyeshadbecomesofaraccustomedtothedarknessthathecoulddistinguishthewholeofthebed.Someonewasasleepuponit—inanabsolutelymotionlesssleep.Nottheslightestmovementwasperceptible,notthefaintestbreathingcouldbeheard.Thesleeperwascoveredwithawhitesheet;theoutlineofthelimbswashardlydistinguishable.Hecouldonlyjustmakeoutthatahumanbeinglayoutstretchedthere.

           Allaround,onthebed,onachairbesideit,onthefloor,werescatteredthedifferentportionsofamagnificentwhitesilkdress,bitsoflace,ribbonsandflowers.Onasmalltableatthebedsideglitteredamassofdiamonds,tornoffandthrowndownanyhow.

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