Suddenly it seemed to Vladímir Sergyéitch as though something white had flashed along the ground.... He gazed more intently, laughed, shrugged his shoulders, and exclaiming in an undertone: “That’s what imagination will do!” got into bed.
He fell asleep very soon; but he was not fated to pass a quiet night on this occasion either. He was awakened by a running to and fro, which arose in the house.... He raised his head from the pillow.... Agitated voices, exclamations, hurried footsteps were audible, doors were banging; now the sound of women weeping rang out, shouts were set up in the garden, other cries farther off responded.... The uproar in the house increased, and became more noisy with every moment.... “Fire!” flashed through Vladímir Sergyéitch’s mind. In alarm he sprang from his bed, and rushed to the window; but there was no redness in the sky; only, in the garden, points of flame were moving briskly along the paths,—caused by people running about with lanterns. Vladímir Sergyéitch went quickly to the door, opened it, and ran directly into Iván Ílitch. Pale, dishevelled, half-clothed, the latter was dashing onward, without himself knowing whither.
“What is it? What has happened?”—inquired Vladímir Sergyéitch, excitedly, seizing him by the arm.
“She has disappeared; she has thrown herself into the water,”—replied Iván Ílitch, in a choking voice.
“Who has thrown herself into the water? Who has disappeared?”
“Márya Pávlovna! Who else could it be but Márya Pávlovna? She has perished, the darling! Help! Good heavens, let us run as fast as we can! Be quick, my dear people!”
And Iván Ílitch rushed down the stairs.
Vladímir Sergyéitch put on his shoes somehow, threw his cloak over his shoulders, and ran after him.
In the house he no longer encountered any one, all had hastened out into the garden; only the little girls, Ipátoff’s daughters, met him in the corridor, near the anteroom; deadly pale with terror, they stood there in their little white petticoats, with clasped hands and bare feet, beside a night-lamp set on the floor. Through the drawing-room, past an overturned table, flew Vladímir Sergyéitch to the terrace. Through the grove, in the direction of the dam, light and shadows were flashing....
“Go for boat-hooks! Go for boat-hooks as quickly as possible!”—Ipátoff’s voice could be heard shouting.