The latter stroked his moustache condescendingly and replied:
"Well, we live in Russia, and we are used to all kinds of things."
"But then I am a deceased person and suddenly I change my attire?"
"It is the fashion of the times. And in what way are you a deceased person? Only externally! As far as the general run of people goes it would be better if God made them all like you. At the present time living people don't look half so natural."
"Don't I look rather yellowish?"
"Quite in the spirit of the epoch, as you should be. It is Russia—everyone here suffers from one ill or another."
It is well known that barbers are flatterers of the first order and the most obliging people on earth.
He bade him good-bye, and ran to overtake the coffin, moved by a keen desire to show for the last time his reverence for literature. He caught up with the procession and the number of those who accompanied the coffin became ten. The respect for the writer increased correspondingly. Passers-by exclaimed, astonished:
"Just look! A writer's funeral! Oh! Oh!"
And people who knew what was taking place thought, with a sort of pride, as they went about their business: