I could not even understand my wrath.…
The Count's “secret” could not have enraged me so greatly. I had nothing to do with the Count, nor with the marriage, which he had concealed from me.
It only remains to explain the condition of my soul at that time by fatigue and nervous derangement. That is the only explanation I can find.
When Polycarp left the room I covered myself up to the head and wanted to sleep. It was dark and quiet. The parrot moved about restlessly in its cage, and the regular ticking of the hanging clock in Polycarp's room could be heard through the wall. Peace and quiet reigned everywhere else. Physical and moral exhaustion overpowered me, and I began to doze.… I felt that a certain weight gradually fell from me, and hateful images melted into mist.… I remember I even began to dream. I dreamed that on a bright winter morning I was walking in the Nevsky of Petersburg, and, having nothing to do, looked into the shop windows. My heart was light and gay.… I had not to hurry anywhere. I had nothing to do, I was absolutely free. The consciousness that I was far from my village, far from the Count's estate and from the cold and sullen lake, made me feel all the more peaceful and gay. I stopped before one of the largest windows and began to examine ladies' hats. The hats were familiar to me.… I had seen Olga in one of them, Nadia in another; a third I had seen on the day of the shooting party on the fair-haired head of that Zosia, who had arrived so unexpectedly.… Familiar faces smiled at me under the hats.… When I wanted to say something to them they all three blended together into one large red face. This face moved its eyes angrily and stuck out its tongue.… Somebody pressed my neck from behind.…
“The husband killed his wife!” the red face shouted.
I shuddered, cried out, and jumped out of my bed as if I had been stung. I had terrible palpitations of the heart, a cold sweat came out on my brow.
“The husband killed his wife!” the parrot repeated again. “Give me some sugar! How stupid you are! Fool!”
“It was only the parrot,” I said to calm myself as I got into bed again. “Thank God!”
I heard a monotonous murmur.… It was the rain pattering on the roof.… The clouds I had seen when walking on the banks of the lake had now covered the whole sky. There were slight flashes of lightning that lighted up the portrait of the late Pospelov.… The thunder rumbled just over my bed.…
“The last thunderstorm of this summer,” I thought.