nothing, for after a certain time annoyance was expressed on his face. Augustinovich stopped reading.
"Dost wish to sleep?"
"No, but the book wearies me."
Augustinovich was reading "Dame aux Camélias."
"Still, there is life and truth here."
"Yes, but there is not judgment to the value of a copper."
"Still, the book raises the question of such women!"
"But whom do such women concern?"
"They once concerned thee."
Yosef said nothing; on his face a slight thoughtfulness was evident.
After a time he asked,—
"What is happening with Helena? Has she been here?"
Augustinovich was confused.
"She has been here, she has been here."
"Well, and now?"
"That is—yes—she is sick, very sick."
Yosef's face continued indifferent.
"What is the matter with her?" asked he, leisurely.
"With her?—She—Well, I will tell thee the truth, only be not frightened."
