Now he is calm when people make a noise around him, talk and shout, he listens and waits, but if only there is a moment's silence, he catches hold of his head, rushes up to the wall or against the furniture, and falls down in a fit resembling epilepsy. He has many relations, and they take turns and surround him with sound, but there remain the nights, long solitary nights--but here his father, a grey-haired old man, slightly wandering in his mind too, helped. He hung the walls of his son's room with loudly ticking clocks, that constantly struck the hour at different times, and at present he is arranging a wheel, resembling an incessantly-going rattle. None of them lose hope that he will recover, as he is only twenty-seven, and their house is even gay. He is dressed very cleanly--not in his uniform--great care is taken of his appearance and he is even handsome with his white hair, young, thoughtful face and well-bred, slow, tired movements. When I was told all, I went up and kissed his hand, his white languid hand, which will never more be lifted for a blow--and this did not seem to surprise anybody very much. Only his young sister smiled at me with her eyes, and afterwards showed me such attention that it seemed as if I were her betrothed and she loved me more than anybody in the world. She showed me such attention that I very nearly told her about my dark empty rooms, in which I am worse than alone--miserable heart, that never loses hope.... And she managed that we remained alone. "How pale you are and what dark rings you have under your eyes," she said kindly. "Are you ill? Are you grieving for your brother?" "I am grieving for everybody. And I do not feel well." "I know why you kissed my brother's hand. They did not understand. Because he is mad, yes?" "Yes, because he is mad." She grew thoughtful and looked very much like her brother, only younger. "And will you," she stopped and blushed, but did not lower her eyes, "will you let me kiss your hand?" I kneeled before her and said: "Bless me." She paled slightly, drew back and whispered with her lips,-- "I do not believe." "And I also." For an instant her hand touched my head, and the instant was gone. "Do you know," she said, "I am leaving for the war." "Go? But you will not be able to bear it." "I do not know. But they need help, the same as you or my brother. It is not their fault. Will you remember me?" "Yes. And you?" "And I will remember you too. Good-bye!" "Good-bye for ever!" And I grew calm and felt happier, as if I had passed through the most terrible that there is in death and madness. And yesterday, for the first time, I entered my house calmly without any fear, and opened my brother's study and sat for a long time at his table. And when in the night I suddenly awoke as if from a push, and heard the scraping of the dry pen upon the paper, I was not frightened, but thought to myself almost with a smile,--