A peddler trotted across the road clutching his tray, — and we laughed. A ragged Jehu, waving the ends of his lines, in a gallop caught up with our sleigh, — and we laughed. Filípp's whip caught in the runner of the sleigh; he turned around and called out, "The deuce!" and we roared with laughter. Mimi said, with a dissatisfied look, that only stupid people laughed without cause, and Lyúbochka, red with exertion from a subdued laugh, looked at me stealthily. Our eyes met, and we burst into such a Homeric laugh, that tears stood in our eyes, and we were unable to restrain the torrent of laughter which was choking us. No sooner had we quieted down a little, than I looked at Lyúbochka and pronounced the secret word which had been current among us for some time and which invariably produced laughter, and we roared again.
Just as we were reaching home, I opened my mouth to make a face at Lyúbochka, when my eyes were struck by the lid of a black coffin, which was leaning against the wing of the entrance door, and my mouth remained in its contorted position.
"Votre grandmère est morte!" said St. Jérôme with a pale face, coming out to meet us.
During all the time that grandmother's body remained in the house, I experienced the heavy feeling of the terror of death; that is, the dead body vividly and unpleasantly reminded me of the fact that I should die some day, — a feeling which, for some reason, is confounded with grief. I did not regret grandmother, and I doubt if any one sincerely regretted her. Though the house was full of mourning visitors, nobody regretted her death, except one person, whose unbounded grief amazed me inexpressibly. That person was chambermaid Gásha. She went to the garret, locked herself up there, and, without ceasing to weep, cursed herself, tore her hair, would not listen to any consolation, and kept on saying that her own death would
