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Chapter 3

           Pressinghislipstogetherhemadethateffortforthetwenty-thousandthtimeandlaydown.Buthardlyhadhedonesobeforehefeltthebedrockingbackwardsandforwardsbeneathhimasifitwerebreathingheavilyandjolting.Thishappenedtohimalmosteverynight.Heopenedhiseyesastheywereclosing.

           “Nopeace,damnthem!”hemuttered,angryheknewnotwithwhom.“Ahyes,therewassomethingelseimportant,veryimportant,thatIwaskeepingtillIshouldbeinbed.Thebolts?No,Itoldhimaboutthem.No,itwassomething,somethinginthedrawingroom.PrincessMarytalkedsomenonsense.Dessalles,thatfool,saidsomething.Somethinginmypocket—can’tremember....”

           “Tíkhon,whatdidwetalkaboutatdinner?”

           “AboutPrinceMichael...”

           “Bequiet,quiet!”Theprinceslappedhishandonthetable.“Yes,Iknow,PrinceAndrew’sletter!PrincessMaryreadit.DessallessaidsomethingaboutVítebsk.NowI’llreadit.”

           Hehadthelettertakenfromhispocketandthetable—onwhichstoodaglassoflemonadeandaspiralwaxcandle—movedclosetothebed,andputtingonhisspectacleshebeganreading.Onlynowinthestillnessofthenight,readingitbythefaintlightunderthegreenshade,didhegraspitsmeaningforamoment.

           “TheFrenchatVítebsk,infourdays’marchtheymaybeatSmolénsk;perhapsarealreadythere!Tíkhon!”Tíkhonjumpedup.“No,no,Idon’twantanything!”heshouted.

           Heputtheletterunderthecandlestickandclosedhiseyes

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