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One trifling circumstance upset his calculations, before he had

even left the staircase. When he reached the landlady's kitchen,

the door of which was open as usual, he glanced cautiously in to

see whether, in Nastasya's absence, the landlady herself was

there, or if not, whether the door to her own room was closed, so

that she might not peep out when he went in for the axe. But what

was his amazement when he suddenly saw that Nastasya was not only

at home in the kitchen, but was occupied there, taking linen out

of a basket and hanging it on a line. Seeing him, she left off

hanging the clothes, turned to him and stared at him all the time

he was passing. He turned away his eyes, and walked past as

though he noticed nothing. But it was the end of everything; he

had not the axe! He was overwhelmed.

"What made me think," he reflected, as he went under the gateway,

"what made me think that she would be sure not to be at home at

that moment! Why, why, why did I assume this so certainly?"