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"What devil brought them here?" thought he, while Tikhon was

putting the nightshirt over his dried-up old body and gray-haired

chest. "I never invited them. They came to disturb my life-and

there is not much of it left."

"Devil take 'em!" he muttered, while his head was still covered

by the shirt.

Tikhon knew his master's habit of sometimes thinking aloud, and

therefore met with unaltered looks the angrily inquisitive

expression of the face that emerged from the shirt.

"Gone to bed?" asked the prince.

Tikhon, like all good valets, instinctively knew the direction of

his master's thoughts. He guessed that the question referred to

Prince Vasili and his son.

"They have gone to bed and put out their lights, your

excellency."

"No good... no good..." said the prince rapidly, and thrusting

his feet into his slippers and his arms into the sleeves of his

dressing gown, he went to the couch on which he slept.