“Thou art right. But I am unable not to think that while I was walking around and was well in a fashion, I jeered at life; and now—I tell thee as a secret—I want to live longer.”
“Thou wilt live longer.”
“Give use peace. Thy wife was persuading me of that, but now again I do not believe it. And it is painful to me,—I have thrown myself away. But hear why I wanted to speak with thee. I know not whether any account is waiting for me; I say sincerely that I know not, but still I feel a kind of strange alarm, as if I were afraid. And I will tell thee something: during life I did nothing for my fellows, and I was able! I was able! In presence of this thought fear seizes me; I give thee my word! That is an unworthy thing. I did nothing; I ate bread without paying for it, and now—death. If there are any whips beyond, and if they are waiting for me, it is to punish that; and listen, Stas, it is painful to me.”
Here, although he spoke with the careless tone usual to him, his face expressed real dread, his lips grew pale somewhat, and on his forehead drops of sweat appeared.
“But stop!” said Pan Stanislav; “see what comes to his head. Thou art injuring thyself.”
But Bukatski spoke on: “Listen! wait! I have property which is rather considerable; let even that do something for me. I will leave thee a part of it, and do thou use the remainder for something useful. Thou art practical, so is Bigiel. Think of something, thou and he, for I do not believe that I shall have time. Wilt thou do this?”
“That, and thy every wish.”
“I thank thee. How wonderful are fears and reproaches of this kind! And still I cannot escape a feeling of guilt. The conditions are such that I am not right! One should do something honorable even just before death. But it is no joke,—death. If that were something visible, but it is so dark. And one must decay, corrupt, and rot in the dark. Art thou a believer?”
“Yes.”
“But I, neither yes nor no. I amused myself with Nirvana, as with other things. Dost thou know, were it not for the feeling of guilt, I should be more at rest? I had no idea that this would pain me so; I have the impression that I am a bee which has robbed its hive, and that is a low thing. But at least my property will remain after me. This is true, is it not? I have spent a little, but very little, on pictures, which will remain, too; isn’t this true? But now, how I should like to live longer, even a year, even long enough not to die here!”