He listened, nodding, but I think he understood nothing. We stood on the threshold.

“ Cher ”⁠—he stretched out his arm to the lamp before the icon⁠—“ cher , I have never believed in this, but⁠ ⁠… so be it, so be it!” He crossed himself. “ Allons! ”

“Well, that’s better so,” I thought as I went out on to the steps with him. “The fresh air will do him good on the way, and we shall calm down, turn back, and go home to bed.⁠ ⁠…”

But I reckoned without my host. On the way an adventure occurred which agitated Stepan Trofimovitch even more, and finally determined him to go on⁠ ⁠… so that I should never have expected of our friend so much spirit as he suddenly displayed that morning. Poor friend, kindhearted friend!