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Outside the town they overtook another carriage containing Lialia, Yourii, Riasantzeff, Novikoff, Ivanoff and Semenoff. They were cramped and uncomfortable, yet all were merry and in high spirits. Only Yourii, after last night's talk, was puzzled by Semenoff's behaviour. He could not understand how the latter could laugh and joke like the others.
Next, the money paid, and the information acquired that splendid pipes and tobacco were to be obtained in an adjacent emporium, I bowed to the two shopmen politely, and issued into the street with the picture under my arm. On coming out of the shop, I had just entered the drozhki when I caught sight of Semenoff, who was walking hurriedly along the pavement with his head bent down.
They felt scared, and anxiously hastened towards a dark little window. An old, grey-haired peasant, with a long white beard and wearing a large apron came clattering along the passage in his heavy top-boots to meet them. "Who is it that you wish to see?" he asked, stopping short. "A student has been brought here Semenoff to-day!" stammered Dubova.
This brought him to think of the simple joy of living, the charm of beautiful women, of moonlight, of nightingales, a theme upon which he had mournfully reflected on the day following his last sad talk with Semenoff.
Semenoff again moved his lips, yet no sound escaped from them, while one side drooped of his thin, fair moustache. Once more he stretched his limbs, and became longer and more terrible. There was no sound, nor the slightest movement whatever. Nobody wept now.
That is absurd and revolting, and therefore terrible and incomprehensible!" With all his might Yourii strove to form a conception of this state which no man finds it possible to support, yet which every man supports, just as Semenoff had done. "He did not die of fear, either," thought Yourii, smiling at the strangeness of such a reflection.
Such a state of mind was appalling, yet it did not last long; and, as the days went by, as Semenoff approached death, the more remote and vague and incomprehensible did it seem to him. Everything around him, sounds, colours, and emotions, now once more regained their former value for him.
"No, he was laughing at us all, with our priest, and our chanting, and tears. How was it that Semenoff could laugh, knowing that in a few moments all would be at an end? Was he a hero? No; it was not a question of heroism. Then death is not as terrible as I thought." While he was musing thus Ivanoff suddenly hailed him in a loud voice. "Ah! it's you! Where are you going?" asked Yourii, shuddering.
Soon the atmosphere of the little room grew hot and oppressive. Peter Ilitsch lighted a cigarette, and the air was filled with the bluish fumes of bad tobacco. The drink and the smoke and the heat made Yourii feel dizzy. Again he thought of Semenoff. "There's something dreadful about death," he said. "Why?" asked Peter Ilitsch. "Death? Ho! ho!! It's absolutely necessary. Death?
He was covered with yellow clay, and Sina's shoulder bore traces of this, for she had rubbed against the side of the cavern. "Well?" asked Semenoff languidly. "It was quite interesting in there," said Yourii half apologetically. "Only the passage does not lead very far. It has been filled up. We saw some rotten planks lying about." "Did you hear us fire?" asked Sina, and her eyes sparkled.
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