“Oh! however did this happen, your Excellency? Oh, dear! Oh, dear! What have they been doing to him?” he murmured. “It’s no business of yours!” hissed Tanaroff angrily; glancing round immediately afterwards, in confusion. He went to the window and mechanically took out a cigarette, but uncertain if, while Sarudine lay there, he ought to smoke, he hurriedly thrust his cigarette-case into his pocket. “Shall I fetch the doctor?” asked the orderly, standing at attention, and unabashed by the rude answer that he had received. Tanaroff stretched out his fingers irresolutely. “I don’t know,” he said in an altered voice, as he again looked round. Sarudine had heard these words, and was horrified to think that the doctor would see his battered face. “I don’t want anybody,” he murmured feebly, trying to persuade himself and the others that he was going to die. Cleansed now from blood and dirt, his face was no longer horrible to behold, but called rather for compassion. From mere animal curiosity Tanaroff hastily glanced at him, and then, in a moment, looked elsewhere. Almost imperceptible as this movement had been, Sarudine noticed it with unutterable anguish and despair. He shut his eyes tighter, and exclaimed, in a broken, tearful voice: “Leave me! Leave me! Oh! Oh!” Tanaroff glanced again at him. Suddenly a feeling of irritation and contempt possessed him. “He’s actually going to cry now!” he thought, with a certain malicious satisfaction. Sarudine’s eyes were closed, and he lay quite still. Tanaroff drummed lightly on the window-sill with his fingers, twirled his moustache, looked round first, and then, out of the window, feeling selfishly eager to get away. “I can’t very well, just yet,” he thought. “What a damned bore! Better wait until he goes to sleep.” Another quarter of an hour passed, and Sarudine appeared to be restless. To Tanaroff such suspense was intolerable. At last the sufferer lay motionless. “Aha! he’s asleep,” thought Tanaroff, inwardly pleased. “Yes, I’m sure that he is.” He moved cautiously across the room so that the jingling of his spurs was scarcely audible. Suddenly Sarudine opened his eyes. Tanaroff stood still, but Sarudine had already guessed his intention, and the former knew that he had been detected in the act. Now something strange occurred. Sarudine shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep. Tanaroff tried to persuade himself that this was the case, while yet perfectly well aware that each was watching the other; and so, in an awkward, stooping posture, he crept out of the room on tiptoe, feeling like a convicted traitor. The door closed gently behind him. In such wise were the bonds of friendship that had bound these two men together broken once and for all. They both felt that a gulf now lay between them that could never be bridged; in this world henceforth they could be nothing to each other.