Pavel sighed, his lips twitched and his eyes looked strangely dull. He hung his head as though guilty, and repeated hoarsely: "Changed? Oh yes." "What's the matter?" asked Lunev sympathetically. "Matter? You can guess, surely." Pavel glanced at Ilya's face, and then let his head fall again. "Not Vyera?" "Who else?" answered Pavel gloomily. Ilya shook his head, was silent a moment, then said bitterly: "It's our fate, who knows when my turn'll come?" Pavel smiled sadly, then came closer and looking confidingly in Ilya's face, he said: "I thought you'd be disgusted with me. I was walking here and all at once I saw you. I was ashamed and turned my face away as I passed you." "That was a very clever thing to do," said Ilya, reproachfully. "How's one to know how people take a thing like that? To tell the truth, it's beastly. Ah, brother! two weeks have I been here. The torture, the dreariness! You go about, and lie in bed and think, think! The nights are awful. Like lying on red-hot coals. The time draws out, like a hair in the milk. It's like being drawn down into a swamp, and you're alone and can't call for help." Pavel spoke almost in a whisper. A shudder passed over his face, as if from cold, and his hands grasped convulsively at the collar of his dressing-gown. He shook his head, and said, still half-aloud: "Once fate starts against you to mock you, it goes like a hammer on your heart." "Where is Vyera?" asked Ilya, thoughtfully. "The devil knows!" said Pavel, with a bitter smile. "Doesn't she come to see you?" "Once. But I sent her packing. I can't bear the sight of her, the little beast!" cried Pavel angrily. Ilya looked reproachfully at his altered face, and said: "Nonsense! If you want justice, then be just! Why, is it her fault? Think a minute." "Then, whose fault is it?" cried Pavel, passionately, but in a low voice. "Whose? Tell me. Often I lie awake all night, and think how it is I have made such a mess of my life. It's just through loving Vyera. She took the place of mother and sister and wife and friends. I loved her. I can't say in words how much, nor even write it on the skies in writing of stars." His eyes grew red, and two big tears rolled down his face. He wiped them away with his sleeve, and went on, in a low voice: "She lay in my way like a stone that I have stumbled over." "That is not right," said Lunev, who felt clearly that he pitied Vyera even more than his friend. "What way do you speak of? You had no way. All that's just talk. You have longed for the mead, and praised it, that it was strong; now it has made you drunk, you blame it for getting into your head. And how about her? Isn't she ill too?" "Yes," said Pavel, then suddenly continued, his voice trembling with emotion, "Do you think I'm not sorry for her?" "Of course. How can you help it?"