they were about to die in an indiscriminate slaughter without the heart being stopped for a little.  Ermolai’s words had turned these amiable loafers into waxen statues, but, little by little, their hearts commenced to beat again and each suggested some way of preventing the disaster — all of them sufficiently incoherent — while Matrena Petrovna invoked the Virgin and at the same time helped Feodor Feodorovitch adjust his sword and buckle his belt; for the general wished to die in uniform.

Athanase Georgevitch, his eyes sticking out of his head and his body bent as though he feared the Nihlists just below him might perceive his tall form — through the floor, no doubt — proposed that they should throw themselves out of the window, even at the cost of broken legs.  The saddened Councilor of Empire declared that project simply idiotic, for as they fell they would be absolutely at the disposal of the Nihilists, who would be attracted by the noise and would make a handful of dust of them with a single gesture through the window.  Thaddeus Tchitchnikoff, who couldn’t think of anything at all, blamed Koupriane and the rest of the police for not having devised something.  Why hadn’t they already got rid of these Nihilists?  After the frightened silence they had kept at first, now they all spoke at once, in low voices, hoarse and rapid, with shortened breath, making wild movements of the arms and head, and walked here and there in the chamber quite without motive, but very softly on tiptoe, going to the windows, returning, listening at the doors, peering through the key-holes, exchanging absurd suggestions, full of the wildest imaginings.  “If we should ... if ... if,” - everybody speaking and everybody making signs for the others to be quiet.  “Lower!  If they hear us, we are lost.”  And Koupriane, who did not come, and his police, who themselves had brought two assassins into the house, and were not able now to make them leave without having everybody jump!  They were certainly lost.  There was nothing left but to say their prayers.  They turned to the general and Matrena Petrovna, who were wrapped in a close embrace.  Feodor had taken the poor disheveled head of the good Matrena between his hands and pressed it upon his shoulders as he embraced her.  He said, “Rest quietly against my heart, Matrena Petrovna.  Nothing can happen to us except what God wills.”

At that sight and that remark the others grew ashamed of their confusion.  The harmony of that couple embracing in the presence of death restored them to themselves, to their courage, and their “Nitchevo.”  Athanase Georgevitch, Ivan Petrovitch and Thaddeus Tchitchnikoff repeated after Matrena Petrovna, “As God wills.”  And then they said “Nitchevo!  Nitchevo!* We will all die with you, Feodor Feodorovitch.”  And they all kissed one another and clasped one another in their arms, their eyes dim with love one for another, as at the end of a great banquet when they had eaten and drunk heavily in honor of one another. ___________________________________________________________________