Varvara Petrovna took him home more dead than alive.

_"On m'a traite comme un vieux bonnet de coton,"_ he babbled senselessly.

She was looking after him all night, giving him laurel-drops and repeating to him till daybreak, "You will still be of use; you will still make your mark; you will be appreciated ...

in another place." Early next morning five literary men called on Varvara Petrovna, three of them complete strangers, whom she had never set eyes on before.

With a stern air they informed her that they had looked into the question of her magazine, and had brought her their decision on the subject.