The hospital was outside the town. In the courtyard, and at some distance from the other buildings, stood a small shed—the mortuary.
In this mortuary lay Bałdyga's body.
When the doors were opened, we entered, and the scene within made a painful impression on the few of us present. We were about ten people, possibly a few more, and we all involuntarily looked at one another: we were standing opposite a cold and bare reality, not veiled by any vestige of pretence....
In the shed,—which possessed neither table nor stool, nothing but walls white with hoarfrost and a floor covered with snow,—lay a large bearded corpse, equally white, and tied up in some kind of sheet or shirt. This was Bałdyga.
The body, which was completely frozen, had been brought near the light to the door, where the coffin was standing ready.
Never shall I forget Bałdyga's face as I saw it then with the light full upon it, and washed by the snow. There was something strange and indescribably sad in the rough, strongly marked countenance; the large pupils and projecting eyeballs seemed to look far away into the distance towards the stern frosty sky.
'That man,—he was a good sort,' one of those present said to me, noticing the impression which the sight of Bałdyga made on me. 'He was always steady and industrious; people who were hard up used to go to him and he would help them. But there never was anyone so obstinate as Kurp: he believed to the last that he would go back to the Narev.[11] Yet before the end came it was plain that he knew he would never get there.'
Meanwhile the petrified body had been laid in the coffin, and placed upon the small one-horse Yakut sledge.
Then the tailor's wife—a person versed in religious practices,—undertook the office of priest for such time as we could give her, and began to sing 'Ave Maria,' while we joined in with voices broken with emotion. After this we proceeded to the cemetery.
We walked quickly; the frost was invigorating, and made us hasten our steps. At last we reached the cemetery. We each threw a handful of frozen earth on to the coffin.... A few deft strokes of the spade ... and in a moment only a small freshly turned mound of earth remained to bear witness to Bałdyga's yet recent existence in this world. This witness would not last long, however,—scarcely a few months. The spring would come, and, thawed by the sun, the mound on the grave would sink and become even with the rest of the ground, and grass and weeds would grow upon it. After a year or two the witnesses of the funeral would die, or be dispersed throughout the wide world, and if even the mother who bore him were to search for him, she would no longer find a trace on the earth. But, indeed, none would seek for the dead man, nor even a dog ask for him.