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It was impossible to go to his great-niece Glasha, whom he hardly knew, with these creatures; he did not want to go back and shut them up, and, indeed, he could not shut them up, because the gate was no use. "To die of hunger in the shed," thought Zotov. "Hadn't I really better take them to Ignat?" Ignat's hut stood on the town pasture-ground, a hundred paces from the flagstaff.
At the cemetery, when they sang for Ignat's eternal memory, he cried again bitterly and loud. His godfather immediately seized him by the arms and led him away from the grave, speaking to him earnestly: "What a faint-hearted fellow you are! Do I not feel sorry for him? I have known his real value, while you were but his son. And yet, I do not cry.
"Who entered?" asked Anany in a hoarse and angry voice, without lifting his head. "I. How do you do, Anany Savvich?" The old man raised his head slowly and, winking his large eyes, looked at Foma. "Ignat's son, is that right?" "The same." "Well, come over here, sit down by the window. Let me see how you've grown up. Will you not have a glass of tea with me?" "I wouldn't mind."
Surprised at the quickness of his transformation, Foma listened to his words and for some reason or other they reminded him of those clods of earth, which the people threw into Ignat's grave upon his coffin. "On whom am I to make war?" said Foma with a sigh. "I'll teach you that! Did your father tell you that I was a clever old man and that you should mind me?" "He did." "Then do mind me!
We had better send to the church to open the gates of the Lord." Vassushka, one of the hangers-on in his house, entered the room next to Ignat's and began to pray in a loud whisper: "God, our Lord, descend from the skies in Thy benevolence, born of the Holy Virgin. Thou dost divine the helplessness of human creatures. Forgive Thy servant."
But suddenly the old man's face turned very red, his eyes distended and rolled out of their orbits, his mouth opened with fright, and from it issued a strange, hissing sound: "F-F-A-A-ch." Immediately after this Ignat's head fell back on his shoulder, and his heavy body slowly slipped down from the chair to the ground as if the earth had dragged him imperiously unto itself.
He opened his eyes and saw that his father was seated in a chair near his bed, monotonously repeating in a dull voice: "Get up, get up." The sun had just risen, and its light, falling on Ignat's white linen shirt, had not yet lost its rosy tints. "It's early," said Foma, stretching himself. "Well, you'll sleep enough later."
Lydia Constantinovna had arrived with Mintz the day before at dusk; Ivanov was not at home. They had gone for a walk in the evening, returning only at two o'clock when dawn was just about to break, and a cold mist hung over the earth like a soft grey veil. They were met by barking dogs which were quickly silenced by the lash of Ignat's whip.
Ignat's son, like a wolf, showed his teeth, the apples of his eyes became wider, and he roared: "Laugh! I'll show you how to laugh!" Though Yefim lost courage, he nevertheless said with dignity: "Although you, Foma Ignatyich, are the master, yet as I was told, 'Watch, Yefim, and then I am the captain here." "The captain?" cried Foma, shuddering in every limb and turning pale. "And who am I?"
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