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Updated: May 18, 2025
There, in the dark halls of his house, proud plans were being made. What a beautiful environment of naked beauty! There were the children happy and beautiful in the wood. There were the quiet children in his house radiant and lovable and touched with such sadness. There was the strange Kirsha. Portraits of his first wife naked and beautiful. Elisaveta's blue eyes gleamed dreamily.
Don't be afraid, Kirsha. You had better go to sleep, my boy, it is time." As if he had not heard his father, Kirsha went on: "The dead will soon rise from their graves." "The dead are already rising from their graves," replied Trirodov. A strange feeling of astonishment stirred within him, why did he speak of this? Or was it due to the urgency of the questioner's desire?
Elisaveta rose and looked around her: a light green Grecian tunic draped her tired body within its broad folds. Elisaveta thought: "How shall I manage to walk so far?" And as if in answer to her question, she suddenly caught sight of a light trap under the trees. Some one said: "Kirsha will drive you home." In her strange dress Elisaveta returned home. She sat silently in the trap.
Kirsha was also acquainted with some of the students who attended the girls' gymnasia. He told his father a great deal about the affairs and ways of these institutions. His information contained much that was singular and unexpected. The personality of the Headmaster of the National Schools, Doulebov, particularly interested Trirodov of late.
"As soon as they let me in to the upper chambers, I will at once fall at the feet of the Virgin Mary until you are forgiven." "Yes, do me this great favour." Kirsha stood pale. His eyes sparkled. He trembled from head to foot and kept on repeating: "Mamma, come to me! Mamma, come to me!" A radiant apparition suddenly appeared in the throng, and Kirsha throbbed with joy.
He then took Kirsha by the hand, drew him close, and looked attentively at him, with a slight stir in his eyes; then said quietly: "You've been asking questions of those quiet boys again." Kirsha grew red, but stood erect and calm, Trirodov continued to reproach him: "How often have I told you that this is wicked. It is bad for you and for them." "It's all the same to them," said Kirsha quietly.
At that moment, when the sisters were taking leave of the children in the wood, Kirsha felt especially perturbed. In the far corner of the garden he saw a boy in white dress; he ran up to him. They spoke long and quietly. Then Kirsha ran to his father. Giorgiy Sergeyevitch Trirodov was all alone at home. He was lying on the sofa, reading a book by Wilde. Trirodov was forty years old.
At the foot of the mound was a rusty door which looked as if it were meant to hide some treasure. Kirsha felt in his pocket, took out a key, and opened the door. It creaked unpleasantly and breathed out cold, dampness, and fear. A long dark passage became discernible. Kirsha pressed a spot near the door.
She was sitting on the bench near the small gate and was mumbling something slowly and indistinctly. Evidently no one was there to listen to her. Perhaps the old woman was talking to herself. Old Elikonida was first engaged to nurse Kirsha; now she carried out the duties of a housekeeper. She had always been austere and never wasted a word in speaking with people.
Trirodov laid his hand silently on the boy's head. Kirsha said: "There is a boy in one of the graves who is not dead." "How do you know?" asked Trirodov. But he knew what Kirsha's answer would be. Kirsha said: "Grisha told me that Egorka was not quite dead. He is asleep; but he will awake!" "Yes," said Trirodov. "And will he come to you?" asked Kirsha. "Yes," was the answer.
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