When Romashov reached Nikoläiev's house about five o'clock, he noticed with surprise that his happy humour of the morning and confidence that the day would be a success had given place to an inexplicable, painful nervousness. He felt assured that this nervousness had not come over him all at once, but had begun much earlier in the day, though he did not know when. It was likewise clear to him that this feeling of nervousness had gradually and imperceptibly crept over him. What did it mean? But such incidents were not new to him; even from his early childhood he had experienced them, and he knew, too, that he would not regain his mental balance until he had discovered the cause of the disturbance. He remembered, for instance, how he had worried himself for a whole day, and that it was not till evening that he called to mind that, in the forenoon, when passing a railway crossing, he had been startled and alarmed by a train rushing past, and this had disturbed his balance. Directly, however, the cause was discovered he at once became happy and light-hearted. The question now was to review in inverted order the events and experiences of the day. Svidierski's millinery shop and its perfumes; the hire and payment of Leib, the best cab-driver in the town; the visit to the post-office to set his watch correctly; the lovely morning; Stepan? No, impossible. In Romashov's pocket lay a rouble laid by for him. But what could it be then? In the street, opposite to the Nikoläievs', stood three two-horse carriages, and two soldiers held by the reins a couple of saddle-horses--the one, Olisár's, a dark-brown old gelding, newly purchased from a cavalry officer; the other Biek-Agamalov's chestnut mare, with fierce bright eyes. "I know! The letter!" flashed through Romashov's brain. That strange expression "in spite of that"--what could it mean? That Nikoläiev was angry or jealous? Perhaps mischief had been made. Nikoläiev's manner had certainly been rather cold lately. "Drive on!" he shouted to the driver. At that moment, though he had neither seen nor heard anything, he knew that the door of the house had opened, he knew it by the sweet and stormy beating of his heart. "Romochka! where are you going?" he heard Alexandra Petrovna's clear, happy voice behind him. Romashov, by a strong pull, drew the driver, who was sitting opposite him, back by the girdle, and jumped out of the fly. Shurochka stood in the open door as if she were framed in a dark room. She wore a smooth white dress with red flowers in the sash. The same sort of red flowers were twined in her hair. How wonderful! Romashov felt instantly and infallibly that this was _she_, but, nevertheless, did not recognize her. To him it was a new revelation, radiant and in festal array.