way, pray, this way,' the steward repeated again, 'pray come into the
garden: look what fine apples you have!' The apples certainly were fine,
red, and round; but as soon as Aratov looked at them, they withered and
fell ... 'Evil is coming,' he thought. 'And here is the lake,' lisped the
steward, 'isn't it blue and smooth? And here's a little boat of gold ...
will you get into it?... it floats of itself.' 'I won't get into it,'
thought Aratov, 'evil is coming!' and for all that he got into the boat. At
the bottom lay huddled up a little creature like a monkey; it was holding
in its paws a glass full of a dark liquid. 'Pray don't be uneasy,' the
steward shouted from the bank ... 'It's of no consequence! It's death!
Good luck to you!' The boat darted swiftly along ... but all of a sudden
a hurricane came swooping down on it, not like the hurricane of the
night before, soft and noiseless--no; a black, awful, howling hurricane!
Everything was confusion. And in the midst of the whirling darkness Aratov
saw Clara in a stage-dress; she was lifting a glass to her lips, listening
to shouts of 'Bravo! bravo!' in the distance, and some coarse voice shouted
in Aratov's ear: 'Ah! did you think it would all end in a farce? No; it's a
tragedy! a tragedy!'

Trembling all over, Aratov awoke. In the room it was not dark.... A faint
light streamed in from somewhere, and showed every thing in the gloom and
stillness. Aratov did not ask himself whence this light came.... He felt
one thing only: Clara was there, in that room ... he felt her presence ...
he was again and for ever in her power!

The cry broke from his lips, 'Clara, are you here?'

'Yes!' sounded distinctly in the midst of the lighted, still room.

Aratov inaudibly repeated his question....