"What has happened?" Annele and the child cried and screamed. And Lenz called out, "Good God! what is it?" They were all stupefied. Lenz tried to open a window, but could not succeed. He groped his way to the next room, but all was dark there too. He stumbled over a chair, and ran back into Annele's room, calling out, "Annele, we are buried alive! buried in the snow!"Neither of them could utter a syllable, but the child screamed loudly, and the poultry in their coops screeched wildly, as if a weasel had come among them; then all was still, as still as death. CHAPTER XXXIII. A FRIEND IN NEED. At this very hour Pilgrim intended to have gone to church; but on the way he turned, and went several times past Petrowitsch's house. At last he stopped at the door, and pulled the bell. Petrowitsch had long since observed him from his window, and when he now rung, Petrowitsch said to himself, "So you are coming to me? You shall not soon forget your reception." Petrowitsch was in very bad humour, as cross as if he had been suffering from the effects of intoxication, and it was very nearly the same. He had been tempted to revel in old remembrances, and to entrust another with his secret life. He was provoked with himself, for not having been able to withstand the temptation of appearing good, in the eyes of one man. He felt ashamed of ever facing the Doctor again in broad daylight. His usual pride, which made him say he was quite indifferent to what the world thought of him, was all gone. Now Pilgrim was come, and on him should be discharged the whole vials of his wrath. He will neither play the guitar, nor sing, nor whistle today. Pilgrim came in, and said, "Good morning, Herr Lenz." "The same to you, Herr Pilgrim." "Herr Lenz, I come to you instead of going to church." "I had no idea I was considered so holy." "Herr Lenz, I come, not because I believe that it will do any good, but still I shall have done my duty." "It would be well if every one did their duty." "You know your nephew Lenz--" "There is no Lenz whom I care about, except the one I see there," said Petrowitsch, looking at his wrinkled face in the glass. "You know, however, that your brother's son is in distress." "No, the distress is in him. This comes of giving way to the impulses of a good heart, and having companions who encourage such weakness; and whatever advice may be in opposition to this, is considered the mere whims of a peevish, withered old man." "You may be right; but wise speeches do no good now. The misery of Lenz is greater than you think." "I never tried to fathom its depth." "In one word, I have the greatest fear that he may make away with himself." "That he did long since. A man who marries so stupidly makes away with his life." "I don't know what more to say. I thought I was prepared for everything; but not for this. You are worse, and yet different, from what I thought."