I was about to reply, but Tarhov again clutched my hands, and again began talking in a hurried voice. "Though . . . of course . . . I confess you are right, a thousand times right. . . . You are a true friend . . . but now leave me alone, please."

I was puzzled. "Leave you alone?"

"Yes. I must, don't you see, think over all you've just said, thoroughly. . . . I have no doubt you are right . . . but now leave me alone!"

"You're in such a state of excitement. . . ." I was beginning.

"Excitement? I?" Tarhov laughed, but instantly pulled himself up. "Yes, of course I am. How could I help being? You say yourself it's no joking matter. Yes; I must think about it . . . alone." He was still squeezing my hands. "Good-bye, my dear fellow, good-bye!"

"Good-bye," I repeated. "Good-bye, old boy!" As I was going away I flung a last glance at Tarhov. He seemed pleased. At what? At the fact that I, like a true friend and comrade, had pointed out the danger of the way upon which he had set his foot--or that I was going? Ideas of the most diverse kind were floating in my head the whole day till evening--till the very instant when I entered the house occupied by Punin and Baburin, for I went to see them the same day. I am bound to confess that some of Tarhov's phrases had