cold Vasily Andreich—he was at first astonished that even in that other world the muzhiks should make such a racket. When, then, he was at last made to understand that he was still in this world, he was rather angry than pleased at it, especially when he felt that the toes on both his feet were frost-bitten.
Nikita lay in the hospital for two months. Three of his fingers were amputated, the rest were restored to life, so that he could still work; and for twelve years longer he lived, at first among working people, and afterwards, in his old age, as a watchman. Only this very year he died at home, just as he had wished to die, beneath the holy images, with a lighted wax taper in his hands. Before his death he asked pardon of his old woman, and forgave her her trespasses; and he died sincerely glad that by his death he was relieving his son and daughter-in-law of the burden of finding him his daily bread, and that he was now really passing from a life that had always been so troublesome to him, to that other life which every year and every hour had been growing more and more intelligible to him and more tempting. Was it better or worse with him, when he awoke again after thus really dying at last? Was he disillusioned, or did he really find there all that he anticipated? We shall all of us, my readers, know for ourselves very, very soon.
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