On hearing these tidings many of our number silently resolved, without any discussion or consultation, to follow the example of the women. They got poison from outside, and determined to take it after roll-call one evening. No one asked now who was going to join in the act, but each man who had made up his mind to it possessed himself of a portion of the opium that lay on the table in every room. Bobohov, during these days, had appeared calm, serious, and taciturn as ever, behaving as though nothing unusual lay before him. Kalyùshny, too, seemed long ago to have taken an unalterable decision. This decision had brought them together, and the two were now close friends. Seventeen men—seventeen out of the nine-and-thirty that made up our number—had resolved to put an end to their lives. On the appointed day, after the evening rounds, singing was heard in the “Yakutsk room,” where were Bobohov and Kalyùshny and the greater number of the others who had also determined to die, though there were some in every room—two in ours. This singing was the signal to them all. Those who were to die then took leave of their comrades and swallowed the poison. Shortly after, they began to feel ill, with headache and great weariness, and they lay down on their beds to sleep, not expecting to wake again. I had taken no poison, but when this general suicide began it seemed as though it would be easier to kill oneself than to witness the deed. How strong and deep was the impression made on me may be gathered from the fact that late in the night I began to suffer from severe headache and general uneasiness, and the doctor said afterwards that I had exhibited all the symptoms of poisoning. However, our comrades had not effected their purpose. The opium was bad—either old or adulterated—and was not deadly; the unhappy men awoke next morning in great pain and distress. But the frustration of their design did not in most cases weaken their resolution. Three only abandoned the attempt; the others determined to take a more potent drug—morphia. Next evening the farewell scenes were repeated. The nerves of the survivors were still further tortured; our position was indeed cruel. The morphia also proved bad; most of those who had swallowed it were very ill, but eventually recovered. Bobohov and Kalyùshny, however, having each taken a treble dose, speedily became unconscious. In the night Bobohov awakened yet once again. He heard Kalyùshny’s throat rattle, and tried to rouse him, embracing him, covering his face with kisses. When he saw that his friend would never wake more, he seized a whole handful of opium, swallowed it, and lying down beside Kalyùshny, closed his eyes for ever.