"Have they been beating him?" asked Abyedok, with great interest. The Captain gave no answer. He was drinking vodki at the moment. "They must have known we had something in which to commemorate him after his death!" continued Abyedok, lighting a cigarette. Someone laughed, someone sighed. Generally speaking, the conversation of Abyedok and the Captain did not interest them, and they hated having to think at all. They had always felt the teacher to be an uncommon man, but now many of them were drunk and the others sad and silent. Only the Deacon suddenly drew himself up straight and howled wildly: "And may the righteous r--e--s--t!" "You idiot!" hissed Abyedok. "What are you howling for?" "Fool!" said Tyapa's hoarse voice "When a man is dying one must be quiet ... so that he may have peace." Silence reigned once more. The cloudy sky threatened thunder, and the earth was covered with the thick darkness of an autumn night. "Let us go on drinking!" proposed Kuvalda, filling up the glasses. "I will go and see if he wants anything," said Tyapa. "He wants a coffin!" jeered the Captain. "Don't speak about that," begged Abyedok in a low voice. Meteor rose and followed Tyapa. The Deacon tried to get up, but fell and swore loudly. When Tyapa had gone the Captain touched Martyanoff's shoulder and said in low tones: "Well, Martyanoff ... You must feel it more than the others. You were ... But let that go to the Devil ... Don't you pity Philip?" "No," said the ex-jailer, quietly, "I do not feel things of this sort, brother ... I have learned better ... this life is disgusting after all. I speak seriously when I say that I should like to kill someone." "Do you?" said the Captain, indistinctly. "Well ... let's have another drink ... It's not a long job ours, a little drink and then ..." The others began to wake up, and Simtsoff shouted in a blissful voice: "Brothers! One of you pour out a glass for the old man!" They poured out a glass and gave it to him. Having drunk it he tumbled down again, knocking against another man as he fell. Two or three minutes' silence ensued, dark as the autumn night. "What do you say?" "I say that he was a good man ... a quiet and good man," whispered a low voice. "Yes, and he had money, too ... and he never refused it to a friend ..." Again silence ensued. "He is dying!" said Tyapa, hoarsely, from behind the Captain's head. Aristid Fomich got up, and went with firm steps into the dosshouse. "Don't go!" Tyapa stopped him. "Don't go! You are drunk! It is not right." The Captain stopped and thought. "And what is right on this earth? Go to the Devil!" And he pushed Tyapa aside.