“Come, Vasya, let me hold you,” said Werner, about to take him by the arm. But Vasily drew back his arm again and cried more loudly than before: “Ai!” “Vasya, it is I, Werner.” “I know. Don’t touch me. I’ll go myself.” And continuing to tremble he entered the car himself and seated himself in a corner. Bending over to Musya, Werner asked her softly, pointing with his eyes at Vasily: “How about him?” “Bad,” answered Musya, also in a soft voice. “He is dead already. Werner, tell me, is there such a thing as death?” “I don’t know, Musya, but I think that there is no such thing,” replied Werner seriously and thoughtfully. “That’s what I have thought. But he? I was tortured with him in the carriage—it was like riding with a corpse.” “I don’t know, Musya. Perhaps there is such a thing as death for some people. Meanwhile, perhaps, but later there will be no death. For me death also existed before, but now it exists no longer.” Musya’s somewhat paled cheeks flushed as she asked: “It did exist, Werner? It did?” “It did. But not now any longer. Just the same as with you.” A noise was heard in the doorway of the car. Mishka Tsiganok entered, stamping noisily with his heels, breathing loudly and spitting. He cast a swift glance and stopped obdurately. “No room here, gendarme!” he shouted to the tired gendarme who looked at him angrily. “You make it so that I am comfortable here, otherwise I won’t go—hang me here on the lamp-post. What a carriage they gave me, dogs! Is that a carriage? It’s the devil’s belly, not a carriage!” But suddenly he bent down his head, stretched out his neck and thus went forward to the others. Out of the disheveled frame of hair and beard his black eyes looked wildly and sharply with an almost insane expression. “Ah, gentlemen!” he drawled out. “So that’s what it is. Hello, master!” He thrust his hand to Werner and sat down opposite him. And bending closely over to him, he winked one eye and quickly passed his hand over his throat. “You, too? What?” “Yes!” smiled Werner. “Are all of us to be hanged?” “All.” “Oho!” Tsiganok grinned, showing his teeth, and quickly felt everybody with his eyes, stopping for an instant longer on Musya and Yanson. Then he winked again to Werner. “The Minister?” “Yes, the Minister. And you?” “I am here for something else, master. People like me don’t deal with ministers. I am a murderer, master, that’s what I am. An ordinary murderer. Never mind, master, move away a little, I haven’t come into your company of my own will. There will be room enough for all of us in the other world.” He surveyed them all with one swift, suspicious, wild glance from under his disheveled hair. But all looked at him silently and seriously, even with apparent interest. He grinned, showing his teeth, and quickly clapped Werner on the knee several times. “That’s the way, master! How does the song run? ‘Don’t rustle, O green little mother forest....’”