mother's portrait stirred up memories of his father ... of his father, whom
he had seen dying in this very room, in this bed. 'What do you think of all
this, father?' he mentally addressed himself to him. 'You understand all
this; you too believed in Schiller's world of spirits. Give me advice!'

'Father would have advised me to give up all this idiocy,' Aratov said
aloud, and he took up a book. He could not, however, read for long, and
feeling a sort of heaviness all over, he went to bed earlier than usual, in
the full conviction that he would fall asleep at once.

And so it happened ... but his hopes of a quiet night were not realised.


XVII

It had not struck midnight, when he had an extraordinary and terrifying
dream.

He dreamed that he was in a rich manor-house of which he was the owner. He
had lately bought both the house and the estate attached to it. And he kept
thinking, 'It's nice, very nice now, but evil is coming!' Beside him moved
to and fro a little tiny man, his steward; he kept laughing, bowing, and
trying to show Aratov how admirably everything was arranged in his house
and his estate. 'This way, pray, this way, pray,' he kept repeating,
chuckling at every word; 'kindly look how prosperous everything is with
you! Look at the horses ... what splendid horses!' And Aratov saw a row
of immense horses. They were standing in their stalls with their backs to
him; their manes and tails were magnificent ... but as soon as Aratov went
near, the horses' heads turned towards him, and they showed their teeth
viciously. 'It's very nice,' Aratov thought! 'but evil is coming!' 'This