but soon he noticed in the sick man other things foreign to him before. A certain marvellous indifference approaching apathy broke through his words. He began to look at the world again, but in a manner entirely different from that in which he had looked at it earlier. He seemed to be capable of no vivacious feeling. It was disagreeable to look at him; these changes had touched not merely his moral side, he had changed physically also. His hair had grown thin, his face was white and emaciated, his eyes had a sleepy look, he had lost his former brightness. Lying whole days without movement, he looked for hours together at one point in the ceiling, or slept. The presence of any one did not seem to concern him.
All this alarmed Augustinovich, especially when he considered that in spite of the speedy return of physical strength these symptoms, if they yielded, yielded very slowly. He sighed when he remembered the former Yosef, and he labored to rouse the present one, but the labor was difficult.
A certain time Augustinovich, sitting by the bed of the sick man, read aloud to him. Yosef was lying on his back; according to habit he was looking at the ceiling. Evidently he was thinking of something else, or was thinking of
