He reached home late, and stood thoughtfully before the door, hesitating to ring. The windows were dark already. Evidently his landlord had gone early to rest. He disliked to disturb Tatiana Vlassyevna so late, for she always saw to the door herself; but he had to get in. He pulled the bell gently. The door opened almost immediately, and the slender form of Tatiana appeared, dressed in white. "Shut the door quickly," she said, in a strange voice. "It is cold; I've hardly anything on. My husband's not at home." "I'm so sorry to be late," murmured Ilya. "Yes, you are late. Where have you been?" Ilya closed the door and turned round to answer, and suddenly felt her close to him; she did not move, but nestled closer; he could not give way, the door was at his back. Then suddenly she laughed--a soft, trembling laugh. Lunev put his hands tenderly on her shoulders; he shook with excitement and longing to embrace her. Then all at once she straightened herself, laid her slender warm arms round his neck, and said in a ringing voice: "Why do you wander abroad in the night? Why? You can be happy nearer home--for a long time you might have been--my dearest, my beautiful, strong boy!" As if in a dream, Ilya felt for her lips and swayed beneath the convulsive embrace of the slender body; she clung to his breast like a cat, and kissed him again and again. He caught her in his strong arms and bore her away, carrying his burden as easily as though he trod on air. In the morning Ilya woke with trouble in his heart. "How can I look Kirik in the face?" he thought, and shame was added to the anxiety that the thought of the inspector aroused in him. "If only I had quarrelled with him, or didn't like him. But to injure him, and so deeply, without any cause----" he thought with fear in his heart, and a feeling of disgust arose in him for Tatiana. He felt that Kirik was certain to find out his wife's unfaithfulness, and he could not imagine what would happen. "How she fell on me, as if she were starving!" he thought, in restless, painful doubt; and yet felt, too, a pleasing sense of gratified vanity. This was no "tradesman's darling," as he used to call Olympiada in his thoughts, but a woman, respected by all the world--an educated, pretty married woman. "There must be something special about me," his vanity whispered to him. "It's too bad--too bad! But I'm not made of stone, and I couldn't turn her away." He was young in fact, and his fancy was full of the woman's caresses. Besides his practical mind saw involuntarily several advantages that might arise from this new relationship. But close on the heels of these ideas, like a dark cloud, came other gloomy thoughts. "Now I'm in a corner again. Did I want it? I respected her! I never had an evil thought about her; and now it's happened like this."