“Though I might, perhaps, just out of curiosity . . .” he was musing, half an hour later.  “I might go and look from a distance what sort of a creature she is. . . .  It would be interesting to have a look at her!  It would be fun, and that’s all!  After all, why shouldn’t I have a little fun since such a chance has turned up?”

Pavel Ivanitch got up from his bed and began dressing.  “What are you getting yourself up so smartly for?” his wife asked, noticing that he was putting on a clean shirt and a fashionable tie.

“Oh, nothing. . . .  I must have a walk. . . .  My head aches. . . .  Hm.”

Pavel Ivanitch dressed in his best, and waiting till eight o’clock, went out of the house.  When the figures of gaily dressed summer visitors of both sexes began passing before his eyes against the bright green background, his heart throbbed.

“Which of them is it? . . .” he wondered, advancing irresolutely.  “Come, what am I afraid of?  Why, I am not going to the rendezvous!  What . . . a fool!  Go forward boldly!  And what if I go into the arbour?  Well, well . . . there is no reason I should.”

Pavel Ivanitch’s heart beat still more violently. . . .  Involuntarily, with no desire to do so, he suddenly pictured to himself the half-darkness of the arbour. . . .  A graceful fair girl with a little blue hat and a turn-up nose rose before his imagination.  He saw her, abashed by her love and trembling all over, timidly approach him, breathing excitedly, and . . . suddenly clasping him in her arms.

“If I weren’t married it would be all right . . .” he mused, driving sinful ideas out of his head.  “Though . . . for once in my life, it would do no harm to have the experience, or else one will die without knowing what. . . .  And my wife, what will it matter to her?  Thank God, for eight years I’ve never moved one step away from her. . . .  Eight years of irreproachable duty!  Enough of her. . . .  It’s positively vexatious. . . .  I’m ready to go to spite her!”

Trembling all over and holding his breath, Pavel Ivanitch went up to the arbour, wreathed with ivy and wild vine, and peeped into it . . . .  A smell of dampness and mildew reached him. . . .

“I believe there’s nobody . . .” he thought, going into the arbour, and at once saw a human silhouette in the corner.

The silhouette was that of a man. . . .  Looking more closely, Pavel Ivanitch recognised his wife’s brother, Mitya, a student, who was staying with them at the villa.

“Oh, it’s you . . .” he growled discontentedly, as he took off his hat and sat down.

“Yes, it’s I” . . . answered Mitya.

Two minutes passed in silence.

“Excuse me, Pavel Ivanitch,” began Mitya:  “but might I ask you to leave me alone?? . . .  I am thinking over the dissertation for my degree and . . . and the presence of anybody else prevents my thinking.”

“You had better go somewhere in a dark avenue. . .”  Pavel Ivanitch observed mildly.  “It’s easier to think in the open air, and, besides, . . . er . . .  I should like to have a little sleep here on this seat. . .  It’s not so hot here. . . .”