"Five of them. . . . One was drowned . . . the oldest . . . he
was an amusing boy! Two died of diphtheria . . . One of the
daughters married a student and went with him to Siberia. The
other went to the University of St. Petersburg and died there . .
. of consumption they say. Ye--es, there were five of them. . . .
Ecclesiastics are prolific, you know." He began explaining why
this was so, and they laughed till they nearly burst at his
tales. When the laughter stopped, Aleksei Maksimovitch Simtsoff
remembered that he too had once had a daughter.
"Her name was Lidka . . . she was very stout . . ." More than
this he did not seem to remember, for he looked at them all, was
silent and smiled . . . in a guilty way. Those men spoke very
little to each other about their past, and they recalled it very
seldom and then only its general outlines. When they did mention
it, it was in a cynical tone. Probably, this was just as well,
since, in many people, remembrance of the past kills all present
energy and deadens all hope for the future.
* * * * *
On rainy, cold, or dull days in the late autumn, these "creatures
that once were men" gathered in the eatinghouse of Vaviloff.
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