There was noanswer. It was really rather mysterious, and it seemed to me that Stroeve,standing just behind, was trembling in his shoes. For a moment I hesitated tostrike a light. I dimly perceived a bed in the corner, and I wondered whetherthe light would disclose lying on it a dead body.

"Haven'tyou got a match, you fool?"

Strickland'svoice, coming out of the darkness, harshly, made me start.

Stroeve criedout.

"Oh, myGod, I thought you were dead. "

I struck amatch, and looked about for a candle. I had a rapid glimpse of a tinyapartment, half room, half studio, in which was nothing but a bed, canvaseswith their faces to the wall, an easel, a table, and a chair. There was nocarpet on the floor. There was no fire-place. On the table, crowded withpaints, palette-knives, and litter of all kinds, was the end of a candle. I litit. Strickland was lying in the bed, uncomfortably because it was too small forhim, and he had put all his clothes over him for warmth. It was obvious at aglance that he was in a high fever. Stroeve, his voice cracking with emotion,went up to him.

"Oh, mypoor friend, what is the matter with you? I had no idea you were ill. Whydidn't you let me know? You must know I'd have done anything in the world foryou. Were you thinking of what I said? I didn't mean it. I was wrong. It wasstupid of me to take offence. "

"Go tohell, " said Strickland.

没有回答。一切都实在令人感到神秘，施特略夫紧靠着我后面站着，我好象觉得他正在索索发抖。我犹豫了一会，是不是要划一根火柴。朦胧中我看到墙角有一张床，我不知道亮光会不会使我看到床上躺着一具尸体。

“你没有火柴吗，你这笨蛋？”

从黑暗里传来思特里克兰德的呵斥的声音，把我吓了一跳。

施特略夫惊叫起来。

“哎呀，上帝，我还以为你死了呢。”

我划了一根火柴，四处看了看有没有蜡烛。匆猝间我看到的是一间很小的屋子，半做住房，半做画室，屋子里只有一张床，面对墙放着的是一些画幅，一个画架，一张桌子和一把椅子。地板上光秃秃的没有地毯。室内没有火炉。桌子上乱堆着颜料瓶、调色刀和杂七杂八的东西，在这一堆凌乱的物品中间我找到半截蜡烛头。我把它点上。思特里克兰德正在床上躺着，他躺得很不舒服，因为这张床对他说来显然太小了。为了取暖，他的衣服都在身上盖着。一眼就能看出来，他正在发高烧。施特略夫走到床前，因为感情激动连嗓子都哑了。

“啊，可怜的朋友，你怎么啦？我一点也不知道你生病了。为什么你不告诉我一声？你知道为了你我什么事都会做的。你还计较我说的话吗？我不是那个意思。我错了。我生了你的气太不应该了。”

“见鬼去吧！”思特里克兰德说。