Then Yevsey turned his head, and regarded the little body of his master with indifferent eyes. Flat and dry it lay upon the sofa as if glued there. He looked at the corpse, then at Rayisa, and breathed a sigh of relief. In the corner near the bed the clock on the wall softly and irresolutely struck one and two. The woman started at each stroke. The last time she went up to the clock, and stopped the halting pendulum with an uncertain hand. Then she seated herself on the bed, putting her elbows on her knees and pressing her head in her hands. Her hair falling down, covered her face and hands as with a dense dark veil. Scarcely touching the floor with his toes, so as not to break the stern silence, Yevsey went over to Rayisa, and stationed himself at her side, dully looking at her white round shoulder. The woman's posture roused the desire to say something soothing to her. "That's what he deserved," he uttered in a low grave voice. The stillness round about was startled, but instantly settled down again, listening, expecting. "Open the window," said Rayisa sternly. But when Yevsey walked away from her, she stopped him with a low question, "Are you afraid?" "No." "Why not? You are a timid boy." "When you are around, I'm not afraid." "Are you sorry for him?" "No." "Open the window." The cold night air streamed into the room, and blew out the lamplight. The shadows quickly flickered on the wall and disappeared. The woman tossed her hair back and straightened herself to look at Yevsey with her large eyes. "Why am I going to ruin?" she asked in perplexity. "It has been this way all my life. From one pit to another, each deeper than the one before." Yevsey again stationed himself beside her; they were silent for a long time. Finally she put her soft, but cool hand around his waist, and pressing him to her asked softly: "Listen, will you tell?" "No," he answered, closing his eyes. "You won't tell? To nobody? Never?" the woman asked in a mournful tone. "Never!" he repeated quietly but firmly. "Don't tell. I'll be helpful to you," she urged him, kindly stroking his cheek. She rose, looked around, and spoke to him in a businesslike way: "Dress yourself. It's cold. And the room must be put in order a little. Go, get dressed." When Yevsey returned he saw the master's body completely covered with a blanket. Rayisa remained as she had been, half dressed with bare shoulders. This touched him. They set the room to rights, working without haste and looking at each other now and then silently and gravely. The boy felt that this silent nocturnal activity in the close room bound him more firmly to the woman, who was just as solitary as himself, and like him, knew terror. He tried to remain as near her as possible, and avoided looking at the master's body. It began to dawn. Rayisa listened to the sound of the waking house and city. She sighed, and beckoned to Yevsey.