"Where is Rayisa?" he asked in a loud whisper. "Where did she go? Has she been gone long? You don't know? You fool!" Dorimedont left the room hastily, then thrust his head through the door, and asked sternly: "What was she doing?" "Nothing." "Was she drinking?" "Yes." "The pig!" The spy pulled his ear, and disappeared. "Why did he speak in a whisper?" Yevsey wondered. The light in the lamp flickered and went out. The spy uttered an oath, then began to strike matches, which flared up, frightening the darkness, and went out. Finally a pale ray from the room reached Yevsey's bed. It quivered timidly, and seemed to seek something in the narrow ante-room. Dorimedont entered again. One of his eyes was closed from the swelling, the other, light and restless, quickly looked about the walls, and halted at Yevsey's face. "Didn't Rayisa say anything to you?" "No." "Such a stupid woman!" Yevsey felt awkward to be lying down in the presence of the spy, and he raised himself. "Stay where you are! Stay where you are!" said Dorimedont hastily, and sat down on the bed at Yevsey's feet. "If you were a year older," he began in an unusually kind, quiet, and thoughtful tone, "I would get you into the Department of Safety as a political agent. It's a very good position. The salary is not large, but if you are successful, you get rewarded. And it's a free life. You can go wherever you want, have a good time, yes, indeed. Rayisa is a beautiful woman, isn't she?" "Yes, beautiful," agreed Yevsey. "Yes, ahem," said the spy, with a sigh and a strange smile. He kept stroking the bandage on his head with his left hand, and pinching his ear. "Woman you can never have enough of--the mother of temptation and sin.--Where did she go? What do you think?" "I don't know," answered Yevsey quietly, beginning to be afraid of something. "Of course. She has no paramour. No men came to her. Do you know what, Yevsey? Don't be in a hurry with women. You have time enough for that. They cost dear, brother. Here am I, who have made thousands and thousands of rubles, and what's become of them?" Heavy, cumbersome, bound with rags, he shook before Yevsey's eyes, and seemed ready to fall to pieces. His dull voice sounded uneasy. His left hand constantly felt of his head and his breast. "Ah, I got mixed up with them a great deal!" he said peering suspiciously around the dark corners of the room. "It's troublesome, but you can't get along without them. Nothing better in the world. Some say cards are better, but card-players can't get along without women either. Nor does hunting make you proof against women. Nothing does." In the morning Klimkov saw the spy sleeping on the sofa with his clothes on. The room was filled with smoke and the smell of kerosene from the lamp, which had not been extinguished. Dorimedont was snoring, his large mouth wide open, his sound hand dangling over the floor. He was repulsive and pitiful.