superior officers had deeply mortified him. But the change that I
fancied I saw in Tyeglev was more like sadness and there was a more
personal note about it.
'It's getting damp, though,' he brought out at last and he shrugged
his shoulders. 'Let us go into the hut--and it's bed-time, too.' He
had the habit of shrugging his shoulders and turning his head from
side to side, putting his right hand to his throat as he did so, as
though his cravat were constricting it. Tyeglev's character was
expressed, so at least it seemed to me, in this uneasy and nervous
movement. He, too, felt constricted in the world.
We went back into the hut, and both lay down on benches, he in the
corner facing the door and I on the opposite side.
VII
Tyeglev was for a long time turning from side to side on his bench and
I could not get to sleep, either. Whether his stories had excited my
nerves or the strange night had fevered my blood--anyway, I could not
go to sleep. All inclination for sleep disappeared at last and I lay
with my eyes open and thought, thought intensely, goodness knows of
what; of most senseless trifles--as always happens when one is
sleepless. Turning from side to side I stretched out my hands.... My
finger hit one of the beams of the wall. It emitted a faint but
resounding, and as it were, prolonged note.... I must have struck a
hollow place.
I tapped again ... this time on purpose. The same sound was repeated.
I knocked again.... All at once Tyeglev raised his head.
'Ridel!' he said, 'do you hear? Someone is knocking under the window.'
I pretended to be asleep. The fancy suddenly took me to play a trick
at the expense of my 'fatal' friend. I could not sleep, anyway.
He let his head sink on the pillow. I waited for a little and again
knocked three times in succession.
Tyeglev sat up again and listened. I tapped again. I was lying facing
him but he could not see my hand.... I put it behind me under the
bedclothes.
'Ridel!' cried Tyeglev.
I did not answer.
'Ridel!' he repeated loudly. 'Ridel!'
'Eh? What is it?' I said as though just waking up.
'Don't you hear, someone keeps knocking under the window, wants to
come in, I suppose.'
'Some passer-by,' I muttered.
'Then we must let him in or find out who it is.'
But I made no answer, pretending to be asleep.
Several minutes passed.... I tapped again. Tyeglev sat up at once and
listened.
'Knock ... knock ... knock! Knock ... knock ... knock!'
Through my half-closed eyelids in the whitish light of the night I
could distinctly see every movement he made. He turned his face first
to the window then to the door. It certainly was difficult to make out
where the sound came from: it seemed to float round the room, to glide
along the walls. I had accidentally hit upon a kind of sounding board.
'Ridel!' cried Tyeglev at last, 'Ridel! Ridel!'
'Why, what is it?' I asked, yawning.
'Do you mean to say you don't hear anything? There is someone
knocking.'
'Well, what if there is?' I answered and again pretended to be asleep
and even snored.
Tyeglev subsided.
'Knock ... knock ... knock!'
'Who is there?' Tyeglev shouted. 'Come in!'
No one answered, of course.
'Knock ... knock ... knock!'
Tyeglev jumped out of bed, opened the window and thrusting out his
head, cried wildly, 'Who is there? Who is knocking?' Then he
opened the door and repeated his question. A horse neighed in the
