“Oh, by-the-by, I'll also take this opportunity of sending some money,” Pavel Ivanovich said hastily. “Do you know, gentlemen, it's quite incredible! For fifteen rouble you can get five things carriage free! A telescope, a chronometer, a calendar, and something more.… Maxim Fedorovich, kindly let me have a sheet of paper and an envelope!”
Screw sent off his fifteen roubles, I received my newspaper and a letter, and we left the post office.
We went towards the church. Screwy paced after me, as pale and dismal as an autumn day. The conversation in which he had tried to show himself to be “objective” had excited him quite beyond all expectation.
All the church bells were being rung. An apparently endless crowd was slowly descending the steps that led from the church porch.
Ancient banners and a dark cross were held high above the crowd, at the head of the procession. The sun played gaily on the vestments of the priests, and the icon of the Holy Virgin emitted blinding rays.…
“Ah, there are our people!” the doctor said, pointing to the beau-monde of our district which had separated itself from the crowd and was standing aside.
“Your people, but not mine,” I said.
“That's all the same.… Let us join them.…”
I approached my acquaintances and bowed. The Justice of the Peace, Kalinin, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a grey beard and crawfish-like eyes, was standing in front of all the others, whispering something in his daughter's ear. Trying to appear as if he had not noticed me, he made not the slightest movement in answer to my general salute that had been made in his direction.
“Good-bye, my angel,” he said in a lachrymose voice as he kissed his daughter on the forehead. “Drive home alone. I shall be back by evening. My visits will take but little time.”