All-Knowing— can it be that Thou wouldst repulse her— the pitiful rebel, the involuntary libertine; a child that had uttered blasphemies against Thy radiant, holy name?
Thou— Benevolence, Thou— our Consolation!
A dull, restrained wailing, suddenly passing into a scream, resounded in the chapel.
“Oh, Jennechka!”
This was Little White Manka, standing on her knees and stuffing her mouth with her handkerchief, beating about in tears.
And the remaining mates, following her, also got down upon their knees; and the chapel was filled with sighs, stifled lamentations and sobbings …
“Thou alone art deathless, Who hast created and made man; out of the dust of the earth were we made, and unto the same dust shall we return; as Thou hast ordained me, creating me and saying unto me, dust thou art and unto dust shalt thou return.”
Tamara was standing motionless and with an austere face that seemed turned to stone.
The light of the candle in thin gold spirals shone in her bronze-chestnut hair; while she could not tear her eyes away from the lines of Jennka’s moist, yellow forehead and the tip of her nose, which were visible to Tamara from her place.
“Dust thou art and unto dust shalt thou return … ” she was mentally repeating the words of the canticles. “Could it be that that would be all; only earth alone and nothing more?
And which is better: nothing, or even anything at all— even the most execrable — but merely to be existing?”
And the choir, as though affirming her thoughts, as though taking away from her the last consolation, was uttering forlornly:
“And all mankind may go… ”
They sang Eternal Memory through, blew out the candles, and the little blue streams spread in the air, blue from frankincense.
The priest read through the farewell prayer; and afterwards, in the general silence, scooped up some sand with the little shovel handed to him by the psalmist, and cast it cross-wise upon the corpse, on top of the gauze.
And at this he was uttering great words, filled with the austere, sad inevitability of a mysterious universal law:
“The world is the Lord’s, and its fulfillment the universe, and all that dwelleth therein.”
The girls escorted their dead mate to the very cemetery.
The road thither intersected the very entrance to Yamskaya Street.
It would have been possible to turn to the left through it, and that would have been almost half as short; but dead people were not usually carried through Yamskaya.
Nevertheless, out of almost all the doors their inmates poured out towards the cross roads, in whatever they had on: in slippers upon bare feet, in night gowns, with kerchiefs upon their heads; they crossed themselves, sighed, wiped their eyes with their handkerchiefs and the edges of their jackets.
The weather cleared up … The cold sun shone brightly from a cold sky of radiant blue enamel; the last grass showed its green, the withered leaves on the trees glowed, showing their pink and gold … And in the crystal clear, cold air solemnly, and mournfully reverberated the sonorous sounds:
“Holy God, Holy Almighty, Holy Everliving, have mercy upon us!”
And with what flaming thirst for life, not to be satiated by aught; with what longing for the momentary— transient like unto a dream— joy and beauty of being; with what horror before the eternal silence of death, sounded the ancient refrain of John Damascene!
Then a brief requiem at the grave, the dull thud of the earth against the lid of the coffin … a small fresh hillock …
“And here’s the end!” said Tamara to her comrades, when they were left alone. “Oh, well, girls— an hour earlier, an hour later! … I’m sorry for Jennka! … Horribly sorry! … We won’t ever find such another.
And yet, my children, it’s far better for her in her pit than for us in ours … Well, let’s cross ourselves for the last time—and home! … ”
And when they all were already nearing their house, Tamara suddenly uttered pensively the strange, ominous words:
“And we won’t be long together without her: soon we will be scattered, by the wind far and wide.
Life is good! … Look: there’s the sun, the blue sky … How pure the air is … Cobwebs are floating— it’s Indian summer … How good it is in this world! … Only we alone— we wenches— are wayside rubbish.”
The girls started off on their journey.
But suddenly from somewhere on the side, from behind a monument, a tall sturdy student detached himself.
He caught up with Liubka and softly touched her sleeve.
She turned around and beheld Soloviev.
Her face instantaneously turned pale, her eyes opened wide and her lips began to tremble.
“Go away!” she said quietly, with infinite hatred.
“Liuba … Liubochka … ” Soloviev began to mumble. “I searched … searched for you … I … Honest to God, I’m not like that one … like Lichonin … I’m in earnest … even right now, even to-day.
“Go away!” still more quietly pronounced Liubka.
“I’m serious … I’m serious … I’m not trifling, I want to marry… ”
“Oh, you creature!” suddenly squealed out Liubka, and quickly, hard, peasant-like, hit Soloviev on the cheek with her palm.
Soloviev stood a little while, slightly swaying.
His eyes were like those of a martyr … The mouth half-open, with mournful creases at the sides.
“Go away!
Go away!
I can’t bear to look at all of you!” Liubka was screaming with rage. “Hangmen, swine!”
Soloviev unexpectedly covered his face with his palms and went back, without knowing his way, with uncertain steps, like one drunk.
Chapter 9
And in reality, the words of Tamara proved to be prophetic: since the funeral of Jennie not more than two weeks had passed, but during this brief space of time so many events burst over the house of Emma Edwardovna as do not befall sometimes even in half a decade.
On the very next day they had to send off to a charitable institution— into a lunatic asylum— the unfortunate Pashka, who had fallen completely into feeble-mindedness.
The doctors said that there was no hope of her ever improving.