FullReads

The fish-hawker and the porter went out. The coachman and Alyoshka went out too, so as not to be left in the coach-house.

“The man was living and is dead!” said the coachman, looking towards the windows where shadows were still flitting to and fro. “Only this morning he was walking about the yard, and now he is lying dead.”

“The time will come and we shall die too,” said the porter, walking away with the fish -hawker, and at once they both vanished from sight in the darkness.

The coachman, and Alyoshka after him, somewhat timidly went up to the lighted windows. A very pale lady with large tear stained eyes, and a fine-looking gray headed man were moving two card-tables into the middle of the room, probably with the intention of laying the dead man upon them, and on the green cloth of the table numbers could still be seen written in chalk. The cook who had run about the yard wailing in the morning was now standing on a chair, stretching up to try and cover the looking glass with a towel.

“Grandfather what are they doing?” asked Alyoshka in a whisper.

“They are just going to lay him on the tables,” answered his grandfather. “Let us go, child, it is bedtime.”

The coachman and Alyoshka went back to the coach-house. They said their prayers, and took off their boots. Stepan lay down in a corner on the floor, Alyoshka in a sledge. The doors of the coach house were shut, there was a horrible stench from the extinguished lantern. A little later Alyoshka sat up and looked about him; through the crack of the door he could still see a light from those lighted windows.

“Grandfather, I am frightened!” he said.

“Come, go to sleep, go to sleep! . . .”

“I tell you I am frightened!”

“What are you frightened of? What a baby!”

They were silent.

Alyoshka suddenly jumped out of the sledge and, loudly weeping, ran to his grandfather.

“What is it? What’s the matter?” cried the coachman in a fright, getting up also.

“He’s howling!”

“Who is howling?”

“I am frightened, grandfather, do you hear?”

The coachman listened.

“It’s their crying,” he said. “Come! there, little silly! They are sad, so they are crying.”

“I want to go home, . . .” his grandson went on sobbing and trembling all over. “Grandfather, let us go back to the village, to mammy; come, grandfather dear, God will give you the heavenly kingdom for it. . . .”

“What a silly, ah! Come, be quiet, be quiet! Be quiet, I will light the lantern, . . . silly!”

The coachman fumbled for the matches and lighted the lantern. But the light did not comfort Alyoshka.

“Grandfather Stepan, let’s go to the village!” he besought him, weeping. “I am frightened here; oh, oh, how frightened I am! And why did you bring me from the village, accursed man?”

“Who’s an accursed man? You mustn’t use such disrespectable words to your lawful grandfather. I shall whip you.”

“Do whip me, grandfather, do; beat me like Sidor’s goat, but only take me to mammy, for God’s mercy! . . .”

“Come, come, grandson, come!” the coachman said kindly. “It’s all right, don’t be frightened. . . .I am frightened myself. . . . Say your prayers!”

The door creaked and the porter’s head appeared. “Aren’t you asleep, Stepan?” he asked. “I shan’t get any sleep all night,” he said, coming in. “I shall be opening and shutting the gates all night. . . . What are you crying for, Alyoshka?”

“He is frightened,” the coachman answered for his grandson.

Again there was the sound of a wailing voice in the air. The porter said:

“They are crying. The mother can’t believe her eyes. . . . It’s dreadful how upset she is.”

“And is the father there?”

“Yes. . . . The father is all right. He sits in the corner and says nothing. They have taken the children to relations. . . . Well, Stepan, shall we have a game of trumps?”