He fell into a doze that evening as he sat reading before a lamp. Tamar appeared to him—the gentle, white Tamar—and sat down beside him. Her face was strangely like Lesha’s face. She looked steadily and persistently, and awaited something. It tormented Saksaoolov to see her bright, pleading eyes, and not to know what she wanted. He rose quickly and went to the armchair where he thought he saw Tamar sitting. He stopped before her and asked loudly and with emotion:
“What do you wish? Tell me.”
But she was no longer there.
“It was only a dream,” thought Saksaoolov sadly.
V
The next day, as he was leaving the academy exhibition, Saksaoolov met the Gorodischevs. He told the girl about Lesha.
“Poor boy,” said Valeria Mikhailovna quietly. “His stepmother is trying to get rid of him.”
“That’s yet to be proved,” said Saksaoolov.
He felt annoyed that every one, including Fedota and Valeria, should look so tragically upon a simple incident.
“That’s quite evident,” said Valeria Mikhailovna warmly. “There’s no father, and only a stepmother to whom he is simply a burden. No good will come of it—the boy will have a sad end.”