kindled strangely—I began to expect, if not a story, at least some word of approval, of sympathy. . .
'But I, sir, must be going to die soon,' he said in an undertone.
I was utterly nonplussed.
'Why, Vassily Fomitch,' I brought out at last, 'what makes you . . . suppose that?'
The brigadier suddenly flung his arms violently up and down.
'Because, sir . . . I, as maybe you know . . . often in my dreams see Agrippina Ivanovna—Heaven's peace be with her!—and never can I catch her; I am always running after her—but cannot catch her. But last night—I dreamed—she was standing, as it were, before me, half-turned away, and laughing. . . . I ran up to her at once and caught her . . . and she seemed to turn round quite and said to me: "Well, Vassinka, now you have caught me."'
'What do you conclude from that, Vassily Fomitch?'
'Why, sir, I conclude: it has come, that we shall be together. And glory to God for it, I tell you; glory be to God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost (the brigadier fell into a chant): as it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, Amen!'
The brigadier began crossing himself. I could get nothing more out of him, so I went away.
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