And now he stood there, and looked and watched, to see whether he could hear any voice, and he heard many. There was a subdued hum of voices, perhaps there was a dinner party or some sort of entertainment, and numerous pleasure seekers with her. He heard conversation and laughter, he saw lights, he heard the singing of divers voices, then he heard Krista also sing, and here he began to parley with himself. He would have gladly posted himself at the very window, if need be, if order to gain a clear view of everything; but it was impossible. So he drew on his imagination for what he could not see.
A gas lamp was glaring near the window, and when the lamplighter came with a ladder to put out the lamp, he longed to ask to be allowed to mount the ladder himself. Hecould then have peered into the interior of the house and have seen whom she conversed with, and with whom she sang and laughed. But he felt himself frozen to the spot where he stood and could not stir.
Then he asked himself what he wanted there exactly, and whether he was in his right place there. It is hard to say, it is hard to answer. Rather let us philosophise on the very substance of sprit: we shall more easily answer the question what man is, than I can say whether Venik was here in his right place or not. He was, and he was not. Instinct prompted him to fly hence, and yet held him here so that he could not stir.
