"God!" wailed the old man, lolling back on the broad sofa. "God, why hast Thou given over Thy servant into the hands of the wicked? Are my sins more grievous than their sins, O Lord? And can it be that the hour of my death is come?" He lost breath and his throat rattled. "Get away!" he went on in a wheezing voice. "You have poisoned one man--I saved you from hard labor, and now you are poisoning me--ugh, ugh, you lie!" Rayisa slowly moved aside. Yevsey now could see his master's little dry body. His stomach rose and fell, his feet twitched, and his lips twisted spasmodically, as he opened and closed them, greedily gasping for air, and licked them with his thin tongue, at the same time displaying the black hollow of his mouth. His forehead and cheeks glistened with sweat, his little eyes, now looking large and deep, constantly followed Rayisa. "And I have nobody, no one near me on earth, no true friend. Why, O Lord?" The voice of the old man wheezed and broke. "You wanton, swear before the ikon that you are not poisoning me." Rayisa turned to the corner, and crossed herself. "I don't believe you, I don't believe you," he muttered, clutching at the underwear on his breast and at the back of the sofa, and digging his nails into them. "Drink your medicine. It will be better for you," Rayisa suddenly almost shrieked. "It will be better," the old man repeated. "My dear, my only one, I will give you everything, my own Ray--" He stretched his bony arm toward her and beckoned to her to draw near him, shaking his black fingers. "Ah, I am sick of you, you detestable creature," Rayisa cried in a stifled voice; and snatching the pillow from under his head she flung it over the old man's face, threw herself upon it, and held his thin arms, which flashed in the air. "You have made me sick of you," she cried again. "I can't stand you any more. Go to the devil! Go, go!" Yevsey dropped to the floor. He heard the stifled rattle, the low squeak, the hollow blows; he understood that Rayisa was choking and squeezing the old man, and that his master kept beating his feet upon the sofa. He felt neither pity nor fear. He merely desired everything to be accomplished more quickly. So he covered his eyes and ears with his hands. The pain of a blow caused by the opening of the door compelled him to jump to his feet. Before him stood Rayisa arranging her hair, which hung over her shoulders. "Well, did you see it?" she asked gruffly. Her face was red, but now more calm. Her hands did not tremble. "I did," replied Yevsey, nodding his head. He moved closer to Rayisa. "Well, if you want to, you can inform the police." She turned and walked into the room leaving the door open. Yevsey remained at the door, trying not to look at the sofa. "Is he dead, quite dead?" he asked in a whisper. "Yes," answered the woman distinctly.