watchmen did so.  The stone with the inscription on it is there to this day, but he himself, the General’s son, is outside the cemetery....  O Lord, forgive us our transgressions!” sighed the fish-hawker.  “There is only one day in the year when one may pray for such people:  the Saturday before Trinity....  You mustn’t give alms to beggars for their sake, it is a sin, but you may feed the birds for the rest of their souls.  The General’s lady used to go out to the crossroads every three days to feed the birds.  Once at the cross-roads a black dog suddenly appeared; it ran up to the bread, and was such a... we all know what that dog was.  The General’s lady was like a half-crazy creature for five days afterwards, she neither ate nor drank....  All at once she fell on her knees in the garden, and prayed and prayed....  Well, good-by, friends, the blessing of God and the Heavenly Mother be with you.  Let us go, Mihailo, you’ll open the gate for me.”

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.