“Good-bye, Sergei Ivanovich! Excuse me, that I took up your time ... Oh, well, I can see myself that you’d help me, if you only could ... But, evidently, there’s nothing to be done here ... Good-bye!”
“Only don’t do anything foolish, Jennechka! I implore you! ...”
“Oh, that’s all right!” said she and made a tired gesture with her hand.
Having come out of the square, they parted; but, having gone a few steps, Jennka suddenly called after him:
“Sergei Ivanovich, oh Sergei Ivanovich! ...”
He stopped, turned around, walked back to her.
“Roly-Poly croaked last evening in our drawing room. He jumped and he jumped, and then suddenly plumped down ... Oh, well, it’s an easy death at least! And also I forgot to ask you, Sergei Ivanovich ... This is the last, now ... Is there a God or no?”
Platonov knit his eyebrows.
“What answer can I make? I don’t know. I think that there is, but not such as we imagine Him. He is more wise, more just...”
“And future life? There, after death? Is there, now, as they tell us, a paradise or hell? Is that the truth? Or is there just nothing at all? A barren void? A sleep without a dream? A dark basement?”