I shall work as you worked--unassailed by doubt--all my
life--good-by!"
The dry, sharp groans shook her body, and gasping for breath she
laid her head on the bed at Yegor's feet. The mother wept silent
tears which seared her cheeks. For some reason she tried to restrain
them. She wanted to fondle Liudmila, and wanted to speak about
Yegor with words of love and grief. She looked through her tears
at his swollen face, at his eyes calmly covered by his drooping
eyelids as in sleep, and at his dark lips set in a light, serene
smile. It was quiet, and a bleak brightness pervaded the room.
Ivan Danilovich entered, as always, with short, hasty steps. He
suddenly stopped in the middle of the room, and thrust his hands
into his pockets with a quick gesture.
"Did it happen long ago?" His voice was loud and nervous.
Neither woman replied. He quietly swung about, and wiping his
forehead went to Yegor, pressed his hand, and stepped to one side.
"It's not strange--with his heart. It might have happened six months ago."
His voice, high-pitched and jarringly loud for the occasion,
suddenly broke off. Leaning his back against the wall, he twisted
his beard with nimble fingers, and winking his eyes, rapidly looked
at the group by the bed.
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