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Updated: May 13, 2025
Insarov waked late with a dull pain in his head, and a feeling, as he expressed it, of disgusting weakness all over. He got up however. 'Renditch has not come? was his first question. 'Not yet, answered Elena, and she handed him the latest number of the Osservatore Triestino, in which there was much upon the war, the Slav Provinces, and the Principalities.
They have long been expecting him; they rested their hopes on him. 'They rested their hopes on him, Elena repeated mechanically. 'When will you bury him? asked Renditch. Elena not at once replied, 'To-morrow. 'To-morrow? I will stop; I should like to throw a handful of earth into his grave. And you will want help. But it would have been better for him to lie in Slavonic earth.
Elena did not know that every man's happiness is built on the unhappiness of another, that even his advantage, his comfort, like a statue needs a pedestal, the disadvantage, the discomfort of others. 'Renditch! muttered Insarov in his sleep. Elena went up to him on tiptoe, bent over him, and wiped the perspiration from his face. He tossed a little on his pillow, and was still again.
'Renditch promised to arrange everything for us within a week, he said, 'we can rely on him, I think.... Did you hear, Elena, he added with sudden animation, 'they say the poor Dalmatian fishermen have sacrificed their dredging weights you know the leads they weigh their nets with for letting them down to the bottom to make bullets!
The next day, in the same room, Renditch was standing at the window; before him, wrapped in a shawl, sat Elena. In the next room, Insarov lay in his coffin. Elena's face was both scared and lifeless; two lines could be seen on her forehead between her eyebrows; they gave a strained expression to her fixed eyes. In the window lay an open letter from Anna Vassilyevna.
Elena glanced at his sharp profile, at his emaciated hands, and felt a sudden pang of terror. 'Dmitri, she began. He started. 'Eh? Has Renditch come? 'Not yet but what do you think you are in a fever, you are really not quite well, shouldn't we send for a doctor? 'That wretched gossip has frightened you. There's no necessity. I will rest a little, and it will pass off.
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