The Toupee Artist
183
And as he told me this I felt my legs give way.
It was quite true: that innkeeper had cut Arkadie Il'ich's throat . . . and he was buried here . . . in this very grave on which we are sitting. . . . And there he is now beneath us . . . he is lying under this mound. . . You may have wondered why I always come here in our walks. . . I don't want to look there (she pointed to the dark grey ruins), but to sit here near him and . . . and drink a drop for the good of his soul. . . .
