"Now then! My friend, drink to the health of your corpses."
Everybody laughed except the undertaker, who felt himself affronted and frowned. No one noticed this; and the guests went on drinking till the bells began to ring for evening service, when they all rose from the table.
The party had broken up late and most of the guests were very hilarious. The stout baker, with the bookbinder, whose face looked as if it were bound in red morocco, led Yurko by the arms to his sentry box, thus putting in practice the proverb, "One good turns deserves another."
The undertaker went home drunk and angry.
"How, indeed," he exclaimed aloud. "Is my trade worse than any other? Is an undertaker own brother to the executioner? What have the infidels to laugh at? Is an undertaker a hypocritical buffoon? I should have liked to invite them to a housewarming; to give them a grand spread. But no; that shall not be! I will ask my customers instead; my orthodox corpses."
"What!" exclaimed the servant, who at that moment was taking off the undertaker's boots. "What is that, sir, you are saying? Make the sign of the cross! Invite corpses to your housewarming! How awful!"
"I will certainly invite them," persisted Adrian, "and not later than for to-morrow. Honour me, my benefactors, with your company to-morrow evening at a feast; I will offer you what God has given me."
With these words the undertaker retired to bed, and was soon snoring.
It was still dark when Adrian awoke. The shopkeeper, Triuhina, had died in the night, and her steward had sent a special messenger on horseback to inform Adrian of the fact. The undertaker gave him a grivenik vodka with; dressed hurriedly, took an isvoshchik, and drove off to Rasgulai. At the gate of the dead woman's house the police were already standing, and dealers in mourning goods were hovering around, like ravens who have scented a corpse. The defunct was lying in state on the table, yellow like wax, but not yet disfigured by decomposition. Hear her, in a crowd, were relations, friends, and domestics. All the windows were open; wax tapers were burning; and the clergy were reading prayers. Adrian went up to the nephew, a young shopman in a fashionable surtout, and informed him that the coffin, tapers, pall, and the funeral paraphernalia in general would promptly arrive. The heir thanked him in an absent manner, saying that he would not bargain about the price, but leave it all to his conscience. The undertaker, as usual, vowed that his charges should be moderate, exchanged significant glances with the steward, and left to make the necessary preparations.