“What did he die of?” “Of grief, I take it.” Efimushka’s companion glanced at him askance and smiled. “You see, my dear fellow, this is how it happened. He taught--seven years at a stretch he taught. Well, he began to cough. He coughed and he coughed, and then got to grieving.... Well, you know how it is--grief drove him to drink. And Father Alexei did not like him; and when he started drinking, Father Alexei sent a report to town--told this and that: the teacher is drinking, and that sort of thing. It’s a scandal, to be sure. And the people in town sent back an answer and a woman teacher. She was tall, bony, big-nosed. Well, Pavel Mikhalich saw how things stood. He felt hurt. ‘Here,’ thought he,’ I have taught and taught ... and now you---- ’ ... From the school he went straight to the hospital, and within five days gave up his soul to God.... That’s all.” For a time they went on in silence. They were approaching the wood, which with every step loomed larger and larger and was turning from blue to green. “Shall we go by the wood?” asked Efimushka’s fellow traveller. “We will only catch the edge of it, for a half-verst or so. But what are you up to? I shall keep my eye on you, my good man.” And Efimushka, shaking his head, laughed. “What ails you?” the prisoner asked. “Oh, nothing! But you are a funny one! ‘Shall we go by the wood?’ says he. You are a simpleton, dear fellow; another wouldn’t have asked this question--that is, if he were any smarter. He would have made straight for the wood, and----” “Well?” “Oh, nothing! I see through you, brother. Your game is like a very thin reed! I should advise you to drop this idea about the wood! Do you think you can get around me? I can handle three like you; as for you, I can manage you with my left hand. Do you understand?” “Understand you? You’re a fool!” said the prisoner simply but with emphasis. “Ah, I hit the mark that time!” said Efimushka triumphantly. “Blockhead! What mark did you hit?” asked the prisoner, with a wry smile. “About the wood. I understand, I do. You were thinking that when we reached the wood you would knock me down--yes, knock me down--and then make a break for the fields or for the woods. Now, isn’t that so?” “You’re a fool,” said the apprehended man, shrugging his shoulders. “Where could I go?” “Well, where you wish--that’s your affair.” “But where?” Efimushka’s companion was either angry or else he really wished to know from his escort precisely in what direction he could run. “I told you, where you wished,” replied Efimushka calmly. “There’s nowhere where I could run, nowhere,” said his companion quietly. “W-well!” the escort pronounced incredulously, and waved his hand. “There’s always some place where one could run to. The world is large. There will be always enough room in it for one man.” “Tell me, then: do you really want me to run away?” the prisoner, smiling, ventured to ask.