move, to grow less, to disappear ... and in its place, in the doorway
appeared a woman's figure. Aratov looked intently at it ... Clara! And this
time she was looking straight at him, coming towards him.... On her head
was a wreath of red roses.... He was all in agitation, he sat up....

Before him stood his aunt in a nightcap adorned with a broad red ribbon,
and in a white dressing-jacket.

'Platosha!' he said with an effort. 'Is that you?'

'Yes, it's I,' answered Platonida Ivanovna ... 'I, Yasha darling, yes.'

'What have you come for?'

'You waked me up. At first you kept moaning as it were ... and then you
cried out all of a sudden, "Save me! help me! "'

'I cried out?'

'Yes, and such a hoarse cry, "Save me!" I thought, Mercy on us! He's never
ill, is he? And I came in. Are you quite well?'

'Perfectly well.'

'Well, you must have had a bad dream then. Would you like me to burn a
little incense?'

Aratov once more stared intently at his aunt, and laughed aloud.... The
figure of the good old lady in her nightcap and dressing-jacket, with her
long face and scared expression, was certainly very comic. All the