"What are you howling for?"
"Fool!" said Tyapa's hoarse voice "When a man is dying one must
be quiet . . . so that he may have peace."
Silence reigned once more. The cloudy sky threatened thunder,
and the earth was covered with the thick darkness of an autumn
night.
"Let us go on drinking!" proposed Kuvalda, filling up the
glasses.
"I will go and see if he wants anything," said Tyapa.
"He wants a coffin!" jeered the Captain.
"Don't speak about that," begged Abyedok in a low voice.
Meteor rose and followed Tyapa. The Deacon tried to get up, but
fell and swore loudly.
When Tyapa had gone the Captain touched Martyanoff's shoulder and
said in low tones:
"Well, Martyanoff . . . You must feel it more than the others.
You were . . . But let that go to the Devil . . . Don't you pity
Philip?"
"No," said the ex-jailer, quietly, "I do not feel things of this
sort, brother . . . I have learned better . . . this life is
disgusting after all. I speak seriously when I say that I should
like to kill someone."
"Do you?" said the Captain, indistinctly. "Well . . . let's have
another drink .
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