"Make all the row you want," she thought malignantly.
It seemed to her that it was only his rage; he must have guessed that they had fooled him and was angry. He wouldn't go out of his mind—a fool has no mind to go out of. And even if he did—well, madness cheers the stupid!
"Do you know, Ardalyon Borisitch," said Khripatch, "you look very unwell?"
"I have a headache," said Peredonov morosely.
"Do you know, my friend," continued the Head-Master in a cautious voice, "I would advise you not to come to the gymnasia at present. You ought to attend to yourself—to give a little attention to your nerves, which are obviously a little unstrung."
"Not come to the gymnasia! Of course," thought Peredonov, "that's the best thing to do. Why didn't I think of it before! I'll look ill, and stay at home and see what will come of it."
"Yes, yes, I'd better not come. I am rather unwell," he said eagerly to Khripatch.
At the same time Khripatch wrote again to the Head Office of the District and awaited from day to day the appointment of the physicians for an examination of Peredonov. But the officials were very leisurely. That was because they were officials.
Peredonov did not go to the gymnasia and awaited something. During the last few days he had clung more and more to Volodin. Directly he opened his eyes in the morning Peredonov thought gloomily of Volodin: where was he now? Was he up to something? Sometimes he had visions of Volodin: clouds floated in the sky like a flock of sheep, and Volodin ran among them, bleating with laughter, with a bowler hat on his head; sometimes he floated by in the smoke issuing from the chimneys, making monstrous grimaces and leaping in the air.