"Drive the idea out of your head and swallow some comforting cordial. And now go and look after our confidants."
Ivan was still a little pale, and it seemed to him as if the master's face also was of an odd yellow colour.
"How yellow the sky is!" said he, looking up, "not a speck of blue anywhere. And what a long black cloud is rising up from the horizon—just like a large black bird."
"Gape not at the sky, Ivan, but make haste and have everything ready against the night."
"You can look right into the sun, there's not a bit of light in it when it goes down," murmured he—and his head felt strangely dizzy.
"What have you got to do with the sky, or the sun, or the clouds?" inquired the master sarcastically.
"Nothing, I suppose, nor with what is beyond them either. Good night, my master," he cried after a pause, and turned truculently away.
"A happy and peaceful good night!" said the other with an ironical smile.
"Pleasant dreams."
"And a joyful awakening."