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Don't you despise me? You had better not do it. I shan't be angry at you." Musya was silent, and in the faint light of dawn her face was pale and enigmatic. Then suddenly she walked over to Tsiganok quickly, and, throwing her arms about his neck, kissed him firmly upon his lips.
And all seventeen days passed as though they were one day they were bound up in one inextinguishable thought of escape, of freedom, of life. The restlessness of Tsiganok, which was now repressed by the walls and the bars and the dead window through which nothing could be seen, turned all its fury upon himself and burned his soul like coals scattered upon boards.
After that, into that chaos of bright, yet incomplete images which oppressed Tsiganok by their impetuosity, a new image came how good it would be to become a hangman in a red shirt. He pictured to himself vividly a square crowded with people, a high scaffold, and he, Tsiganok, in a red shirt walking about upon the scaffold with an ax.
Tsiganok kissed firmly, so that they felt his teeth; Yanson softly, drowsily, with his mouth half open and it seemed that he did not understand what he was doing. When Sergey Golovin and Kashirin had gone a few steps, Kashirin suddenly stopped and said loudly and distinctly: "Good-by, comrades." "Good-by, comrade," they shouted in answer. They went off. It grew quiet.
But with her it is just as if just as if I were with an infant, understand? Do you understand me?" "I do. Go. Come, let me kiss you once more, Musechka." "Kiss! Kiss each other!" urged Tsiganok. "That's a woman's job! You must bid each other a hearty good-by!" Musya and Tsiganok moved forward. Musya walked cautiously, slipping, and by force of habit raising her skirts slightly.
But the rope is still more horrible when it forms the noose around the necks of weak and ignorant people. And however strange it may appear, I look with a lesser grief and suffering upon the execution of the revolutionists, such as Werner and Musya, than upon the strangling of ignorant murderers, miserable in mind and heart, like Yanson and Tsiganok." Spoken like Dostoevski!
But as soon as he arose, he immediately commenced to walk, to plan, to grope about. His hands were always dry and hot, but his heart at times would suddenly grow cold, as if a cake of unmelting ice had been placed upon his chest, sending a slight, dry shiver through his whole body. At such times, Tsiganok, always dark in complexion, would turn black, assuming the shade of bluish cast-iron.
He looked askance at the floor and said gruffly: "Look! How dirty he has made it!" Tsiganok retorted quickly: "You've made the whole world dirty, you fat-face, and yet I haven't said anything to you. What brings you here?" The warden, speaking as gruffly as before, asked him whether he would act as executioner. Tsiganok burst out laughing, showing his teeth. "You can't find any one else?
With his nostrils expanded, like those of a horse, Tsiganok smelt the air for hours long it seemed to him that he could smell the odor of hemp, of the smoke of fire the colorless and biting smell of burning.
"No, with music," snarled the warden. "Well, what a fool! Of course it can be done with music. This way!" and he began to sing, with a bold and daring swing. "You have lost your wits, my friend," said the warden. "What do you say? Speak sensibly." Tsiganok grinned. "How eager you are! Come another time and I'll tell you."
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