. . . Good-night. .
. . To-morrow I shall explain all this to you, and you will
understand that it is not really necessary to deny yourself
anything. . . . But go on sleeping now . . . if you are not
dead."
He went out to his friends, followed by the deep silence, and
informed them:
"Whether he is sleeping or dead, I do not know. . . . I am a
little drunk."
Tyapa bent further forward than usual and crossed himself
respectfully. Martyanoff dropped to the ground and lay there.
Abyedok moved quietly, and said in a low and wicked tone:
"May you all go to the Devil! Dead? What of that? Why should I
care? Why should I speak about it? It will be time enough when
I come to die myself. . . . I am not worse than other people."
"That is true," said the Captain, loudly, and fell to the ground.
"The time will come when we shall all die like others. . . . Ha!
ha! How shall we live? . . . That is nothing. . . . But we
shall die like every one else, and this is the whole end of life,
take my word for it. A man lives only to die, and he dies . . .
and if this be so what does it matter how or where he died or how
he lived? Am I right, Martyanoff? Let us therefore drink .
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