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Elisaveta and Trirodov walked with the crowd behind the coffin. They spoke of that which enraptures those who seek rapture and frightens those who seek repose. Poignant were Elisaveta's impressions as she stepped upon the sharp cobblestones of the dusty, littered pavement. The road was long. The austere harmony was kept up for some time. At last the cemetery was reached.
They put the paste on while still walking. They always took a look round first to see that no one was in sight. Then they would pause and quickly stick the bill on the fence. They would go on farther.... The effort had been successful. Elisaveta did not think where she was going; she had walked quite far out of her way, to a place that she had not been to before.
"What sort of book ought we to read?" asked Elisaveta. She gave a light, forced smile. The ragged one sat down on a near-by stump, and answered in no undue haste: "I am not thinking of you alone, honourable folk, but of all those who parade in fancy gaiters and in velvet dresses, and look scornfully at our brothers." "What book?" again asked Elisaveta.
And beyond the wall Elisaveta already caught a glimpse of a flat, endless field of snow, and of a whole row of gallows that stretched into the invisible distance. They were approaching these nearer and nearer to meet their fate. She could not remember how it happened, but she also walked with them. A soldier strode in front of her and in front of the soldier was a boy.
Ostrov bowed to them with derisive politeness and said: "May I ask you something, fair ladies?" Elisaveta surveyed him calmly and said without haste: "What is it?" Elena was silent with fear. "Are you taking a walk?" asked Ostrov. "Yes," answered Elisaveta briefly. "Mr. Trirodov's house is somewhere hereabouts, unless I'm mistaken," said Ostrov, half questioningly.
The sisters tried to draw her into conversation; they wanted to ask her things, about the ways of the house, the habits of Trirodov they were such inquisitive girls! Elena asked many questions, although Elisaveta tried to restrain her; but they found out nothing. The old woman looked past the sisters and mumbled in answer to all questions: "I know what I know. I have seen what I have seen."
Elisaveta asked: "How is one to kill a beast who has grown iron and steel nails, and who has built his lair in the town? It is he who does the killing, and there's no end in sight to his ferocity." Nadezhda knitted her eyebrows, pressed her hands, and stubbornly repeated: "We shall kill him, we shall kill him." The sisters stayed to lunch.
He knew that Elisaveta did not even suspect his love, and that she looked at him as at an infant. Sometimes in his helplessness he hated her. He said to Piotr: "I shouldn't walk about with a long face if I were you. She is not worthy of your love. She puts on airs. Elena is much better. Elena is a dear, while the other fancies all sorts of things." Piotr walked away from him in silence.
As they strolled along the high bank of the river, under the broad shadows of the mighty black poplars and strange black maples, and listened to the loud, cheerful twitter of the birds that came to the bushes, Elisaveta said: "The sensation of existence and of the fullness and joy of life is delicious.
On the other side of the bridge a low hedge stretched right and left, and in this hedge, quite facing the bridge, a small gate was visible. The sisters crossed the bridge, holding on to its slender hand-rail of birch. They tried the gate it was closed. They looked at one another. Elisaveta, growing red with vexation, said: "We'll have to go back again."
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