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Updated: May 11, 2025
"The time will come and we shall die too," said the porter, walking away with the fish-hawker, and at once they both vanished from sight in the darkness. The coachman, and Alyoshka after him, somewhat timidly went up to the lighted windows.
Let us go, Mihailo, you'll open the gate for me." The fish-hawker and the porter went out. The coachman and Alyoshka went out too, so as not to be left in the coach-house. "The man was living and is dead!" said the coachman, looking towards the windows where shadows were still flitting to and fro. "Only this morning he was walking about the yard, and now he is lying dead."
His wife and children were not at home. They had gone out for a walk. So when I had gone with the letter, he put a bullet into his forehead from a revolver. When I came back his cook was wailing for the whole yard to hear." "It's a great sin," said the fish-hawker in a husky voice, and he shook his head, "a great sin!"
"The kingdom of heaven and eternal peace to him!" whispered the coachman, and he crossed himself. Looking at him, Alyoshka crossed himself too. "You can't pray for such as him," said the fish-hawker. "Why not?" "It's a sin." "That's true," the porter assented. "Now his soul has gone straight to hell, to the devil...."
When he came back a little later, Alyoshka was already a prince, the fish-hawker a soldier, and the coachman a peasant. "It's a nasty business," said the porter, sitting down to the cards again. "I have just let the doctors out. They have not extracted it." "How could they? Just think, they would have to pick open the brains. If there is a bullet in the head, of what use are doctors?"
Povey, I'm going to get married mysen." "Indeed!" murmured Constance, with the perfunctoriness of habit in replying to these tidings. "Oh! but I am, mum," Maggie insisted. "It's all settled. Mr. Hollins, mum." "Not Hollins, the fish-hawker!" "Yes, mum. I seem to fancy him. You don't remember as him and me was engaged in '48. He was my first, like.
The stone with the inscription on it is there to this day, but he himself, the General's son, is outside the cemetery.... O Lord, forgive us our transgressions!" sighed the fish-hawker.
"It's a sin," repeated the fish-hawker; "such as he have no funeral, no requiem, but are buried like carrion with no respect." The old man put on his cap and got up. "It was the same thing at our lady's," he said, pulling his cap on further. "We were serfs in those days; the younger son of our mistress, the General's lady, shot himself through the mouth with a pistol, from too much learning, too.
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