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I answered my question well, for I had just read it up; and the professor, kindly informing me that I had done even better than was required, placed me fifth. All went well until my examination in Latin. So far, a gymnasium student stood first on the list, Semenoff second, and myself third.
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After all that he had told him, such mirth seemed strange. "Was it all put on?" he thought, as he furtively glanced at Semenoff. He shrank from such an explanation. From both carriages there was a lively interchange of wit and raillery. Novikoff jumped down and ran races through the grass with Lida.
Semenoff remained motionless, breathing just as before. "He is unconscious, is he?" asked the priest gently, without addressing anyone in particular. "Yes," replied Novikoff, hastily. Sanine murmured something unintelligible.
Yourii made no answer. He felt confused and hurt. "You, for instance," continued Semenoff, "you think that it's very important, all this that goes on at the University, and what Bebel says. But what I think is that, if you knew for certain, as I do, that you were going to die you would not care in the least what Bebel or Nietzsche or Tolstoi or anybody else said." Semenoff was silent.
When Semenoff saw the blood, and felt the awful void around him and within him; when they lifted him up, carried him away, laid him down, and did all for him that throughout his life he had been in the habit of doing, then he knew that he was going to die, and wondered why he felt not the least fear of death.
"Yourii doesn't like talking nonsense," said Semenoff. "He requires...." "A serious subject, is that it?" exclaimed Lida, interrupting. "Look! there is a serious subject!" said Sarudine, pointing to the shore. Where the bank was steep, between the gnarled roots of a rugged oak one could see a narrow aperture, dark and mysterious, which was partially hidden by weeds and grasses.
And again he waved his stick and again the sinister shadow imitated his gesture. This time Semenoff also noticed it. "Do you see?" said he bitterly. "There, behind me, stands Death, watching my every movement. What's Bebel to me? Just a babbler, who babbles about this. And then some other fool will babble about that. It is all the same to me! If I don't die to-day, I shall die to-morrow."
Only Semenoff and the first gymnasium student had, as usual, gone up quietly, and returned to their seats with five marks credited to their names. Already I felt a prescience of disaster when Ikonin and myself found ourselves summoned to the little table at which the terrible professor sat in solitary grandeur.
"Did you read Bebel's last speech?" he asked. "Yes, I did," replied Semenoff. "Well, what do you say?" Semenoff irritably flourished his stick, which had a crooked handle. His shadow similarly waved a long black arm which made Yourii think of the black wings of some infuriated bird of prey. "What do I say?" he blurted out. "I say that I am going to die."
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