Treading almost as if he were dancing, grandfather made his appearance, and cautiously touched the closed eyes of the child with his fingers.
Grandmother asked him angrily:
"What do you mean by touching him with unwashen hands?"
He muttered:
"There you are! He gets born, lives, and eats, and all for nothing."
"You are half asleep," grandmother cut him short.
He looked at her vacantly, and went out in the yard, saying:
"I am not going to give him a funeral; you can do what you like about it."
"Phoo! you miserable creature!"
I went out, and did not return until it was close upon evening. They buried Kolia on the morning of the following day, and during the mass I sat by the reopened grave with my dog and Yaz's father. He had dug the grave cheaply, and kept praising himself for it before my face.