The day of the funeral arrived. The factories stopped work. There was a clear sky, and under it the turbulent crowd; the light currents of incense streamed in the air, and its sumptuous aroma mingled with the light odour of the smoke that came from the forest cinders. The schoolboys struck and went to the funeral. Some of the schoolgirls came also. The more timid ones remained in school. The children from Trirodov’s colony decided to come. They brought two wreaths with them. The quiet children came also. They kept by themselves and were silent. The entire town police were present at the funeral. Even police from outlying districts were here. As always, petty provocateurs lurked among the crowd. The crowd moved calmly and solemnly. Above it the wreaths swung, the red flowers glimmered vividly, the red ribbons fluttered. The Cossacks rode alongside. There was austerity and suspicion in their looks--they were prepared to suppress any demonstration. The chanting of a prayer could be heard. Each time the subsided chant was renewed, the Cossacks listened with great intentness. No--it was only the prayer again. Elisaveta and Trirodov walked with the crowd behind the coffin. They spoke of that which enraptures those who seek rapture and frightens those who seek repose. Poignant were Elisaveta’s impressions as she stepped upon the sharp cobblestones of the dusty, littered pavement. The road was long. The austere harmony was kept up for some time. At last the cemetery was reached. Some dejected moments were passed in waiting by the church. The last services were pronounced hurriedly. The Cossacks moved about in bustling fashion, and as before formed a circle around the throng. The coffin was carried out of the church. The wreaths swung once more above the crowd, which moved on chanting. Suddenly the women’s lament grew louder--the women’s lament above the grave. The instructor Bodeyev then stood at the head of the coffin. He began in his shrilly-thin, but far-carrying voice: “Comrades, we have gathered to-day at the grave of our brother....” The colonel of the gendarmes went up to him, and said sternly: “It is forbidden. I must ask you to do without speeches or demonstrations.” Bodeyev asked in astonishment: “But why?” “No, I must ask you not to. It is forbidden,” said the colonel dryly. Bodeyev shrugged his shoulders and remarked as he moved away: “I submit to brute strength.” “To the law,” the officer in the blue uniform corrected him sharply. The dead man’s comrades, crowding near the grave, followed one another with handfuls of soil, which they threw on the coffin. The damp, heavy soil struck the coffin with a hollow sound. The grave was being filled up. Every one stood silently, and as silently left the spot. Then suddenly a voice was heard.