I could not get to sleep for a long time. "Who is she?"--I kept incessantly asking myself:--"a Russian? If a Russian, why does she speak in Italian?.... The Elder declares that she is not young.... But he 's lying.... And who is that happy man?.. Positively, I can comprehend nothing... But what a strange adventure! Is it possible that thus, twice in succession ..... But I will infallibly find out who she is, and why she has come hither."... Agitated by such disordered, fragmentary thoughts as these, I fell asleep late, and saw strange visions.... Now it seems to me that I am wandering in some desert, in the very blaze of noonday--and suddenly, I behold in front of me, a huge spot of shadow running over the red-hot yellow sand... I raise my head--'t is she, my beauty, whisking through the air, all white, with long white wings, and beckoning me to her. I dart after her; but she floats on lightly and swiftly, and I cannot rise from the ground, and stretch out eager hands in vain.... "_Addio!_" she says to me, as she flies away.--"Why hast thou not wings?.. _Addio!_".... And lo, from all sides, "_Addio!_" resounds. Every grain of sand shouts and squeaks at me: "_Addio!_"... then rings out in an intolerable, piercing trill... I brush it aside, as I would a gnat, I seek her with my eyes ... and already she has become a cloud, and is floating upward softly toward the sun; the sun quivers, rocks, laughs, stretches out to meet her long golden threads, and now those threads have enmeshed her, and she melts into them, but I shout at the top of my lungs, like a madman: "That is not the sun, that is not the sun, that is an Italian spider. Who gave it a passport for Russia? I 'll show him up for what he is: I saw him stealing oranges from other people's gardens."... Then it seems to me that I am walking along a narrow mountain path... I hurry onward: I must get somewhere or other as quickly as possible, some unheard-of happiness is awaiting me. Suddenly a vast cliff rears itself up in front of me. I seek a passage; I go to the right, I go to the left--there is no passage! And now behind the cliff a voice suddenly rings out: "_Passa, passa quei colli._"... It is calling me, that voice; it repeats its mournful summons. I fling myself about in anguish, I seek even the smallest cleft.... Alas! the cliff is perpendicular, there is granite everywhere.... "_Passa quei colli_," wails the voice again. My heart aches, and I hurl my breast against the smooth stone; I scratch it with my nails, in my frenzy.... A dark passage suddenly opens before me... Swooning with joy, I dash forward... "Nonsense!" some one cries to me:--"thou shalt not pass through.".. I look: Lukyánitch is standing in front of me and threatening, and brandishing his arms... I hastily fumble in my pockets: I want to bribe him; but there is nothing in my pockets.... "Lukyánitch,"--I say to him,--"let me pass; I will reward thee afterward."