"
"H'm, an obituary, you say? Twenty lines forty kopecks? I will
do more than that. When he dies I will cut off one of his legs
and send it to you. That will be much more profitable than an
obituary. It will last you for three days. . . His legs are
fat. You devoured him when he was alive. You may as well
continue to do so after he is dead . . ."
The man sniffed strangely and disappeared. The Captain sat down
on the wooden board beside the teacher, felt his forehead and
breast with his hands and called "Philip!"
The sound re-echoed from the dirty walls of the dosshouse and
died away.
"This is absurd, brother," said the Captain, quietly arranging
the teacher's untidy hair with his hand. Then the Captain
listened to his breathing, which was rapid and uneven, and looked
at his sunken grey face. He sighed and looked upon him, knitting
his eyebrows. The lamp was a bad one. . . The light was fitful,
and dark shadows flickered on the dosshouse walls. The Captain
watched them, scratching his beard. Tyapa returned bringing a
vedro of water, and placing it by the teacher's head, he took his
arm as if to raise him up.
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