16th February, 1882. The funeral will take place on Friday, at one o'clock in the afternoon."

Iván Ilyitch had been the colleague of the gentlemen there assembled, and all liked him. He had been ill for several weeks, and it was said that his case was incurable. His place was kept vacant for him; but it had been decided, that, in case of his death, Aleksyéef might be assigned to his place, while either Vinnikof or Shtabel would take Aleksyéef's place. And so, on hearing of Iván Ilyitch's death, the first thought of each of the gentlemen gathered in the cabinet was in regard to the changes and promotions which might be brought about, among the members of the council and their acquaintances, in consequence of this death.

66

Now, surely, I shall get either Shtabel's or Vinnikof's place," was Feódor Vasilyévitch's thought. "It has been promised me for a long time; and this promotion will mean an increase in my salary of eight hundred rubles, not to mention allowances."

"I must propose right away to have my brother-inlaw transferred from Kaluga," thought Piotr Ivánovitch. 66 My wife will be very glad. Now it will be impossible for her to say that I have never done any thing for her relations.”

wouldn't get up

"It is too bad."

That is to say,

"I have been thinking that he again," said Piotr Ivánovitch aloud. "But what was the matter with him?" "The doctors could not determine. they determined it, but each in his own way. When I saw him the last time, it seemed to me that he was getting better. But I haven't been to see him since the Christmas holidays. I kept meaning to go."

"Did he have any property?"

"His wife had a little, I think. But a mere pittance.”

"Well, we must go to see her. They live a frightful distance off."

"That is, from you. Every thing is far from you!" "Now, see here! He can't forgive me because I live on the other side of the river," said Piotr Ivánovitch to Shebek, with a smile. And then they talked about the long distances in cities, till the recess was

over.

Over and above the considerations caused by the death of this man, in regard to the mutations and possible changes in the court that might result from it, the very fact of the death of an intimate friend aroused in all who knew about it, as is ordinarily the case, a feeling of pleasure that "it is he, and not I, who am dead."

Each one said to himself, or felt, "Well, he is dead, and I am not." The intimate acquaintances, the socalled friends, of Iván Ilyitch involuntarily had these thoughts, and, also, that now it was incumbent upon them to fulfil the very melancholy duty of etiquette, in going to the funeral, and paying a visit of condolence to the widow.

Feódor Vasilyévitch and Piotr Ivánovitch had been more intimate with him than the others.

Piotr Ivánovitch had been his fellow in the lawschool, and considered that he was under obligations to Iván Ilyitch.

Having, at dinner-time, informed his wife of Iván Ilyitch's death, and his reflections as to the possibility of his brother-in-law's transfer into their circle, Piotr Ivánovitch, not stopping to rest, put on his dress-coat, and drove off to Iván Ilyitch's.

At the door of Iván Ilyitch's residence stood a carriage and two izvoshchiks. At the foot of the stairs in the hallway by the hat-rack, pushed back against

the wall, was the brocaded coffin-cover, with tassels full of purified powered camphor. Two ladies in black were taking off their shubkas. One whom he knew was Iván Ilyitch's sister: the other lady he did not know. Piotr Ivánovitch's colleague, Schwartz, was just coming down-stairs; and, as he recognized the newcomer, he stopped on the upper step, and winked at him as much as to say, "Iván Ilyitch was a bad manager: you and I understand a thing or two."

Schwartz's face, with its English side-whiskers, and his spare figure under his dress-coat, had, as always, an elegant solemnity; and this solemnity, which was forever contradicted by Schwartz's jovial nature, here had a peculiar piquancy, so Piotr Ivánovitch thought.

Piotr Ivánovitch gave precedence to the ladies, and slowly followed them up-stairs. Schwartz did not make any move to descend, but waited at the landing. Piotr Ivánovitch understood his motive. Without doubt, he wanted to make an appointment for playing cards that evening. The ladies mounted the stairs to the widow's room; and Schwartz, with lips gravely compressed and firm, and with mischievous eyes, indicated to Piotr Ivánovitch, by the motion of his brows, the room at the right, where the dead man was.

Piotr Ivánovitch entered, having that feeling of uncertainty, ever present under such circumstances, as to what would be the proper thing to do. But he knew that the sign of the cross never came amiss. As to whether he ought to make a salutation or not, he was not quite sure; and he therefore took a middle course. As he went into the room, he began to cross himself, and, at the same time, he made an almost imperceptible inclination. As far as he was permitted by the motion of his hands and head, he took in the appear

ance of the room.

ews,

Two young men, apparently neph

one, a gymnazist, were just leaving the room, making the sign of the cross. An old woman was standing motionless; and a lady, with strangely arched eyebrows, was saying something to her in a whisper. A hearty-looking, energetic sacristan1in a frock was reading something with an expression that forbade all objection. The dining-room muzhík, Gerásim, was sprinkling something on the floor, passing slowly in front of Piotr Ivánovitch. As he noticed this, Piotr Ivánovitch immediately became cognizant of a slight odor of decomposition.

Piotr Ivánovitch, at his last call upon Iván Ilyitch, had seen this muzhík in the library. He was performing the duties of nurse, and Iván Ilyitch was extremely fond of him.

Piotr Ivánovitch kept crossing himself, and bowing impartially toward the corpse, the sacristan, and the ikons that stood on a table in the corner. Then, when it seemed to him that he had made too many signs of the cross with his hand, he stopped short, and began to gaze at the corpse.

The dead man lay in the drapery of the coffin, as dead men always lie, a perfectly lifeless weight, absolutely unconscious, with stiffened limbs, with head forever at rest on the pillow; and, like every corpse, his brow was like yellow wax, with spots on the sunken temples, and his nose so prominent as almost to press down upon the upper lip.

He had greatly changed, and was far more emaciated than when Piotr Ivánovitch had last seen him; but, as in the case of all the dead, his face was more beautiful, especially more dignified, than it had been when he was

1 Diatchók.

alive. On his face was an expression signifying that what he was required to do, that he had done, and had Idone it in due form. Besides this, there was in his expression a reproach or warning to the living. This warning seemed ill-judged to Piotr Ivánovitch, or at least was not applicable to him. There was something displeasing in it; and therefore Piotr Ivánovitch. again crossed himself hastily, and, it seemed to him, too hastily, in an absurdly indecorous manner, turned around, and left the room.

Schwartz was waiting for him in the next chamber, standing with legs wide apart, and with both hands behind his back twirling his tall hat. Piotr Ivánovitch was cheered by the first glance at Schwartz's jovial, tidy, elegant figure. Piotr Ivánovitch comprehended that Schwartz was superior to these things, and did not give way to these harassing impressions. His appearance alone said, The incident of Iván Ilyitch's funeral should never serve as a sufficient reason for breaking into the order of exercises of the session; that is to say, nothing should hinder them that very evening from undoing and shuffling a pack of cards while the servant was putting down four fresh candles: as a general rule, there is no occasion to presuppose that this incident should prevent them from having a good time that evening, as well as any other. He even said this in a whisper to Piotr Ivánovitch, and proposed that they meet for a game at Feódor Vasilyévitch's. But it will be seen that it was not Piotr Ivánovitch's fate to play cards till late that evening.

Praskovia Feodorovna, a short woman, and stout in spite of all her efforts to the contrary, for her figure grew constantly wider and wider from her shoulders down, dressed in fuli mourning, with lace on her head,