The deathlike pallor, and a sort of slight convulsion about the lips, had not left Rogojin’s face. Though he welcomed his guest, he was still obviously much disturbed. As he invited the prince to sit down near the table, the latter happened to turn towards him, and was startled by the strange expression on his face. A painful recollection flashed into his mind. He stood for a time, looking straight at Rogojin, whose eyes seemed to blaze like fire. At last Rogojin smiled, though he still looked agitated and shaken. “What are you staring at me like that for?” he muttered. “Sit down.” The prince took a chair. “Parfen,” he said, “tell me honestly, did you know that I was coming to Petersburg or no?” “Oh, I supposed you were coming,” the other replied, smiling sarcastically, “and I was right in my supposition, you see; but how was I to know that you would come _today?_” A certain strangeness and impatience in his manner impressed the prince very forcibly. “And if you had known that I was coming today, why be so irritated about it?” he asked, in quiet surprise. “Why did you ask me?” “Because when I jumped out of the train this morning, two eyes glared at me just as yours did a moment since.” “Ha! and whose eyes may they have been?” said Rogojin, suspiciously. It seemed to the prince that he was trembling. “I don’t know; I thought it was a hallucination. I often have hallucinations nowadays. I feel just as I did five years ago when my fits were about to come on.” “Well, perhaps it was a hallucination, I don’t know,” said Parfen. He tried to give the prince an affectionate smile, and it seemed to the latter as though in this smile of his something had broken, and that he could not mend it, try as he would. “Shall you go abroad again then?” he asked, and suddenly added, “Do you remember how we came up in the train from Pskoff together? You and your cloak and leggings, eh?” And Rogojin burst out laughing, this time with unconcealed malice, as though he were glad that he had been able to find an opportunity for giving vent to it. “Have you quite taken up your quarters here?” asked the prince “Yes, I’m at home. Where else should I go to?” “We haven’t met for some time. Meanwhile I have heard things about you which I should not have believed to be possible.” “What of that? People will say anything,” said Rogojin drily. “At all events, you’ve disbanded your troop—and you are living in your own house instead of being fast and loose about the place; that’s all very good. Is this house all yours, or joint property?” “It is my mother’s. You get to her apartments by that passage.” “Where’s your brother?” “In the other wing.” “Is he married?” “Widower. Why do you want to know all this?” The prince looked at him, but said nothing. He had suddenly relapsed into musing, and had probably not heard the question at all. Rogojin did not insist upon an answer, and there was silence for a few moments.