It was like a knocking on a
barrel--boom, boom, boom! The sleepy cook ran barefooted, plashing
through the puddles, to open the gate.
"Open the gate, please," said some one in a hollow bass voice. "I have
a telegram for you."
Olenka had received telegrams from her husband before; but this time,
somehow, she was numbed with terror. She opened the telegram with
trembling hands and read:
"Ivan Petrovich died suddenly to-day. Awaiting propt orders for
wuneral Tuesday."
That was the way the telegram was written--"wuneral"--and another
unintelligible word--"propt." The telegram was signed by the manager
of the opera company.
"My dearest!" Olenka burst out sobbing. "Vanichka, my dearest, my
sweetheart. Why did I ever meet you? Why did I ever get to know you
and love you? To whom have you abandoned your poor Olenka, your poor,
unhappy Olenka?"
Kukin was buried on Tuesday in the Vagankov Cemetery in Moscow. Olenka
returned home on Wednesday; and as soon as she entered her house she
threw herself on her bed and broke into such loud sobbing that she
could be heard in the street and in the neighbouring yards.
"The darling!" said the neighbours, crossing themselves.
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