"Well, I'll come," I said, shaking my head at the book-seller, who was anxious that I should buy the latest works of Mrs. Elinor Glyn and Miss Ethel Dell. I had in fact reflected that a short excursion into other worlds would be good for me. During these weeks I had been living in the very heart of the Markovitches, and it would be healthy to escape for a moment. But I was not to escape. I met Bohun at the top of the English Prospect, and we decided to walk. Rozanov lived in the street behind the Kazan Cathedral. I did not know very much about him except that he was a very wealthy merchant, who had made his money by selling cheap sweets to the peasant. He lived, I knew, an immoral and self-indulgent life, and his hobby was the quite indiscriminate collection of modern Russian paintings, his walls being plastered with innumerable works by Benois, Somoff, Dobeijinsky, Yakofflyeff, and Lançeray. He had also two Serovs, a fine Vrubel, and several Ryepins. He had also a fine private collection of indecent drawings. "I really don't know what on earth we're going to this man for," I said discontentedly. "I was weak this afternoon." "No, you weren't," said Bohun. "And I'll tell you frankly that I'm jolly glad not to be having a meal at home to-night. Do you know, I don't believe I can stick that flat much longer!" "Why, are things worse?" I asked. "It's getting so jolly creepy," Bohun said. "Everything goes on normally enough outwardly, but I suppose there's been some tremendous row. Of course I don't knew any-thing about that. After what you told me the other night though, I seem to see everything twice its natural size." "What do you mean?" I asked him. "You know when something queer's going on inside a house you seem to notice the furniture of the rooms much more than you ordinarily do. I remember once a fellow's piano making me quite sick whenever I looked at it. I didn't know why; I don't know why now, but the funny thing is that another man who knew him once said exactly the same thing to me about it. He felt it too. Of course we're none of us quite normal just now. The whole town seems to be turning upside down. I'm always imagining there are animals in the canals; and don't you notice what lots of queer fellows there are in the Nevski now, and Chinese and Japs--all sorts of wild men. And last night I had a dream that all the lumps of ice in the Nevski turned into griffins and went marching through the Red Square eating every one up on their way...." Bohun laughed. "That's because _I'd_ eaten something of course--too much _paskha_ probably.