"Why was he born? Not twenty-two years have passed over his head and he is dying."
Once, on a moonlight night he awoke, and gazing with wide-open, terrified eyes said:
"Listen!"
Davidov was croaking in the loft, saying quickly and clearly:
"Give it to me—give—"
Then he began to hiccup.
"He is dying, by God he is; you see!" said Pavl agitatedly.
I had been carrying snow from the yard into the fields all day, and I was very sleepy, but Pavl begged me:
"Don't go to sleep, please; for Christ's sake don't go to sleep!"
And suddenly getting on to his knees, he cried frenziedly: