Chapter 6 - Page 2

Albert?" asked Delesov.

Albert made an affirmative gesture with his head and, after a frightened look at Delesov, lowered his eyes. Delesov felt uncomfortable.

"I spoke to the director of the theatre about you today," he said, also lowering his eyes. "He will be very glad to receive you if you will let him hear you." "Thank you, I cannot play!" muttered Albert under his breath, and went into his room, shutting the door behind him very softly.

A few minutes later the door-knob was turned just as gently, and he came out of the room with the violin. With a rapid and hostile glance at Delesov he placed the violin on a chair and disappeared again.

Delesov shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

"What more am I to do? In what am I to blame?" he thought.

* * * * * * *

"Well, how is the musician?" was his first question when he returned home late that evening.

"Bad!" said Zakhar, briefly and clearly. "He has been sighing and coughing and says nothing, except that he started begging for vodka four or five times. At last I gave him one glass - or else we might finish him off, sir. Just like the clerk ... "

"Has he not played the violin?"

"Didn't even touch it. I took it to him a couple of times, but he just took it up gently and brought it out again," Zakhar answered with a smile. "So your orders are not to give him any drink?"

"No, we'll wait another day and see what happens. And what's he doing now?" "He has locked himself up in the drawing-room."

Delesov went into his study and chose several French books and a German Bible. "Put these books in his room tomorrow, and see that you don't let him out," he said to Zakhar.

Next morning Zakhar informed his master that the musician had not slept all night: he had paced up and down the rooms, and had been into the pantry, trying to open the cupboard and the door, but he (Zakhar) had taken care to lock everything up. He said that while he pretended to be asleep he had heard Albert in the dark muttering something to himself and waving his arms about.

Albert grew gloomier and more taciturn every day. He seemed to be afraid of Delesov, and when their eyes met his face expressed sickly fear. He did not touch the books or the violin, and did not reply to questions put to him. On the third day of the musician's stay Delesov returned home late, tired and upset. He had been driving about all day attending to a matter that had promised to be very simple and easy but, as often happens, in spite of strenuous efforts he had been quite unable to advance a single step with it. Besides that he had called in at his club and had lost at whist. He was in bad spirits.

"Well, let him go his way!" he said to Zakhar, who told him of