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Updated: May 18, 2025
You are of the earth I will not part you from the earth. You are from me, you are mine, you are I; come to me. Wake!" He waited confidently. He knew that when the sleeper had awakened in his grave they would come to him the wise, innocent ones and would tell him. Kirsha walked into the room quietly. He walked up to his father and asked: "Are you looking at the cemetery?"
Rameyev made haste to return his visit: he went together with Piotr. Piotr did not wish to go to Trirodov's, but could not make up his mind to refuse. He kept frowning on the way, but once in Trirodov's house he tried to be courteous. This he did constrainedly. Misha soon made friends with Kirsha and with some of the boys.
"No," whispered Kirsha, as he breathed in the fresh aroma of the dew and the light mist. The light of the moon was seductive with mystery. She smiled with her lifeless, tranquil face, and appeared to be saying: "What was will be again. What was will happen more than once." The night was peaceful and clear.
His dark, closely grown eyebrows and black wavy hair, unspoiled by headgear, gave him the wild look of a wood-sprite. "Dear boy, where do you come from?" asked Elisaveta. Kirsha eyed the sisters with an attentive, direct, and innocent gaze. He said: "I am Kirsha Trirodov. Follow this path, and you'll find yourselves where you want to go. I'll go ahead of you." He turned and walked on.
Kirsha waited in the garden and he seemed earthly and dark among the white, quiet children. They walked quickly upon the Navii path like gliding, nocturnal shadows, one after another, the whole ten of them, with Grisha leading. The dew fell upon their naked feet, and the ground under their feet was soft, warm, and sad. Egorka awoke in his grave. It was dark and somewhat stuffy.
Quietly, ever so quietly, half questioning, half relating, Kirsha persisted: "The dead will walk on the Navii footpath, the dead will speak Navii words." And again, as though submitting to a strange will, not his own, Trirodov replied: "The dead have already risen, they are already walking upon the Navii footpath, towards the Navii town, they are already speaking Navii words about Navii affairs."
I can only remember that I used to get frightened and that I cried." All looked in astonishment at Kirsha, exchanged glances and smiled. "You must have, seen it in a dream, Kirsha," said Trirodov quietly. Then, turning to the older people: "Boys of his age love fantastic tales. Even we love Utopia and read Wells.
They walked a long time Trirodov and Kirsha, and some distance behind them the quiet Grisha followed. At last there appeared, quite near, peering through the mist, the low white cemetery wall. Another road cut across theirs. Quite narrow, its worn cobblestones gleamed dimly in the moonlight. The road of the living and the road of the dead crossed each other at the entrance of the cemetery.
In the course of a few days Shabalov sent the announcement that the examination in Trirodov's school was appointed to be held on May 30, at ten o'clock in the morning, on the premises. This meddling on the part of the educational police annoyed Trirodov, but he had to submit to it. Kirsha was acquainted with many boys in town. Some of them were pupils of the gymnasia, some of the town school.
"How do you know?" asked Trirodov. Kirsha shrugged his shoulders and said obstinately: "Why are they here? What are they to us?" Trirodov turned away, then rose abruptly, went to the window, and looked gloomily into the garden. Clearly something was agitating his consciousness, something that needed deciding.
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