And a stillness followed.... The card-players had been playing for two hours with enthusiasm and loud abuse of one another, but the motion of the ship overcame them, too; they threw aside the cards and lay down. Again Gusev saw the big pond, the brick building, the village.... Again the sledge was coming along, again Vanka was laughing and Akulka, silly little thing, threw open her fur coat and stuck her feet out, as much as to say: “Look, good people, my snowboots are not like Vanka’s, they are new ones.” “Five years old, and she has no sense yet,” Gusev muttered in delirium. “Instead of kicking your legs you had better come and get your soldier uncle a drink. I will give you something nice.” Then Andron with a flintlock gun on his shoulder was carrying a hare he had killed, and he was followed by the decrepit old Jew Isaitchik, who offers to barter the hare for a piece of soap; then the black calf in the shed, then Domna sewing at a shirt and crying about something, and then again the bull’s head without eyes, black smoke.... Overhead someone gave a loud shout, several sailors ran by, they seemed to be dragging something bulky over the deck, something fell with a crash. Again they ran by.... Had something gone wrong? Gusev raised his head, listened, and saw that the two soldiers and the sailor were playing cards again; Pavel Ivanitch was sitting up moving his lips. It was stifling, one hadn’t strength to breathe, one was thirsty, the water was warm, disgusting. The ship heaved as much as ever. Suddenly something strange happened to one of the soldiers playing cards.... He called hearts diamonds, got muddled in his score, and dropped his cards, then with a frightened, foolish smile looked round at all of them. “I shan’t be a minute, mates, I’ll...” he said, and lay down on the floor. Everybody was amazed. They called to him, he did not answer. “Stephan, maybe you are feeling bad, eh?” the soldier with his arm in a sling asked him. “Perhaps we had better bring the priest, eh?” “Have a drink of water, Stepan...” said the sailor. “Here, lad, drink.” “Why are you knocking the jug against his teeth?” said Gusev angrily. “Don’t you see, turnip head?” “What?” “What?” Gusev repeated, mimicking him. “There is no breath in him, he is dead! That’s what! What nonsensical people, Lord have mercy on us...!” III The ship was not rocking and Pavel Ivanitch was more cheerful. He was no longer ill-humoured. His face had a boastful, defiant, mocking expression. He looked as though he wanted to say: “Yes, in a minute I will tell you something that will make you split your sides with laughing.” The little round window was open and a soft breeze was blowing on Pavel Ivanitch. There was a sound of voices, of the plash of oars in the water.... Just under the little window someone began droning in a high, unpleasant voice: no doubt it was a Chinaman singing.