Page 603 - the-idiot

one I should die on the spot—though I don’t believe in
ghosts. And yet NOW, when the idea struck me that this
was a ghost and not Rogojin at all, I was not in the least
alarmed. Nay—the thought actually irritated me. Strangely
enough, the decision of the question as to whether this were
a ghost or Rogojin did not, for some reason or other, inter-
est me nearly so much as it ought to have done;—I think
I began to muse about something altogether different. For
instance, I began to wonder why Rogojin, who had been in
dressing—gown and slippers when I saw him at home, had
now put on a dress-coat and white waistcoat and tie? I also
thought to myself, I remember—‘if this is a ghost, and I am
not afraid of it, why don’t I approach it and verify my sus-
picions? Perhaps I am afraid—‘ And no sooner did this last
idea enter my head than an icy blast blew over me; I felt a
chill down my backbone and my knees shook.
‘At this very moment, as though divining my thoughts,
Rogojin raised his head from his arm and began to part his
lips as though he were going to laugh—but he continued to
stare at me as persistently as before.
‘I felt so furious with him at this moment that I longed to
rush at him; but as I had sworn that he should speak first, I
continued to lie still—and the more willingly, as I was still
by no means satisfied as to whether it really was Rogojin or
not.
‘I cannot remember how long this lasted; I cannot recol-
lect, either, whether consciousness forsook me at intervals,
or not. But at last Rogojin rose, staring at me as intently as
ever, but not smiling any longer,—and walking very softly,

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