“Turning upon my father I cursed him. But he merely laughed, and, lighting a fresh cigarette, affected to treat my angry passion with utter indifference. “With my pocket-knife I severed the cords that bound my hapless wife to the reeking frame, and, lifting her off, held her in my arms. “I kissed her ashen, blood-smeared face, and eagerly placed my hand upon her breast. “There was no movement. She was dead! “When I withdrew my hand the little blue malachite heart fell to the ground. It had been broken in half by the pressure of the body against the frame. “Lifting my face to heaven, I swore that the murder of the woman I loved should be avenged. “But my father only laughed sarcastically. ‘Bah! you’re but a lad,’ he said contemptuously, as he turned away. ‘And, after all, death under the knout is preferable to work in the mines.’” Vassilii was silent and thoughtful. Then, with a muttered imprecation, he ground his teeth, and his lean hands clenched tightly. Several minutes passed before he resumed. “Yes, my father caused my wife to be murdered. The wretched peasants, who were compelled by their master to witness his brutality, were ripe for revolt, this inhuman act having aroused their fiercest indignation and hatred. “Insane with grief, I wandered alone in the forest, but on the night of the second day, when I sought food and shelter at old Savischnoff’s _isba_, I was surprised to find a dozen determined-looking men assembled there. Without hesitation they boldly informed me that it was their intention to proceed to the _Barin’s_ house and avenge Natiónka’s death. Heedless of consequences I assumed the leadership of the band. In the dead of night we broke into the house, and three of us crept stealthily upstairs to where the Count lay sleeping. When I struck a match he sprang up in alarm, but I clutched him tightly by the throat. “Recognising me, and noticing the long keen knife in my hand, he gasped—— “‘Mercy, Vassilii! Surely you would not kill me?’ “‘What mercy did you extend to her?’ I cried. ‘Why, none. You murdered her.’ At that moment I seemed possessed of fiendish strength, and in my mad demoniacal grasp he was absolutely powerless. “Laughing at his entreaties, I raised the weapon and plunged it deep into his heart. “Then, appalled by my horrible crime, I stole out of the room and left the house with the murderous band; not, however, before they had set fire to the place in order to destroy the evidence of the murder.