“‘What, Emelian?’
“‘What if my cloak should be carried over to the old clothes market, would they give much for it, Astafi Ivanich?’
“‘Well,’ I said, ‘I do not know for certain, but three rubles they would probably give for it, Emelian.’ I said it only to comfort the simple-minded creature; in reality they would have laughed in my face for even thinking to sell such a miserable, ragged thing.
“‘And I thought that they might give a little more, Astafi Ivanich. It is made of cloth, so how is it that they would not wish to pay more than three rubles for it?’
“‘Well, Emelian, if you wish to sell it, then of course you may ask more for it at first.’
“Emelian was silent for a moment, then he once more called to me.
“‘Astafi Ivanich!’
“‘What is it, Emelian?’
“‘You will sell the cloak after I am no more; no need of burying me in it, I can well get along without it; it is worth something, and may come handy to you.’
“Here I felt such a painful gripping at my heart as I can not even express, sir. I saw that the sadness of approaching death had already come upon the man. Again we were silent for some time. About an hour passed in this way. I looked at him again and saw that he was still gazing at me, and when his eyes met mine he immediately lowered his.