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Updated: June 22, 2025
They laid her down on her back. When the priest and the doctor, Sergey Borisovitch, arrived, the servants crossed themselves devoutly and prayed for her. "What a sad business!" said the doctor thoughtfully, coming out into the drawing-room. "Why, she was still young not yet forty." They heard the loud sobbing of the little girls.
Pacomius Borisovitch again interrupted. "We are only getting twenty rubles for the job. The whole gang will pledge their words of honor to that. Do you think we would lie to you and stain the honor of the gang for twenty measly rubles?" "That is business. That was well said. I love a good speech, and am always ready to respect it," remarked Sergei Antonitch approvingly.
"Health to you, eaglets! honorable men of Vilna! What are you up to? What are you busy at?" cried the newcomer, swiftly approaching the table and taking the chair that Pacomius Borisovitch had just been knocked out of. "What is all this?" he continued, with one hand seizing the vial of colorless liquid and with the other the photograph of the college assessor's widow.
The red-nosed man approached Bodlevski: "We must get acquainted with each other," he said amiably. "I have the honor to present myself!" and he bowed low; "Former District Secretary Pacomius Borisovitch Prakkin. Let me request you first of all to order some vodka; my hand shakes, you know," he added apologetically. "I don't want it so much for myself as for my hand to steady it."
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