hand, and, still with the same ecstatic expression of face, said: 'Why,
Platosha, what is the matter with you?'

'What is the matter with you, Yasha darling?'

'With me? I am happy ... happy, Platosha ... that's what's the matter with
me. And now I want to lie down, to sleep....' He tried to get up, but felt
such a sense of weakness in his legs, and in his whole body, that he could
not, without the help of his aunt and the servant, undress and get into
bed. But he fell asleep very quickly, still with the same look of blissful
triumph on his face. Only his face was very pale.


XVIII

When Platonida Ivanovna came in to him next morning, he was still in the
same position ... but the weakness had not passed off, and he actually
preferred to remain in bed. Platonida Ivanovna did not like the pallor of
his face at all. 'Lord, have mercy on us! what is it?' she thought; 'not a
drop of blood in his face, refuses broth, lies there and smiles, and keeps
declaring he's perfectly well!' He refused breakfast too. 'What is the
matter with you, Yasha?' she questioned him; 'do you mean to lie in bed all
day?' 'And what if I did?' Aratov answered gently. This very gentleness
again Platonida Ivanovna did not like at all. Aratov had the air of a
man who has discovered a great, very delightful secret, and is jealously
guarding it and keeping it to himself. He was looking forward to the night,
not impatiently, but with curiosity. 'What next?' he was asking himself;
'what will happen?' Astonishment, incredulity, he had ceased to feel; he
did not doubt that he was in communication with Clara, that they loved one
another ... that, too, he had no doubt about. Only ... what could come of