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DIAMONDS TO SIT ON
to, or perhaps you thought they’d stay in the drawing room waiting for you to come and fetch them ? ’ The old woman did not reply. ‘ Who’d believe that any one could be such a fool as to hide seventy thousand roubles’ worth of diamonds in a chair ! In a chair ! And God knows who is sitting on it. Now, at this very minute ! ’ A sob came from the bed and the old woman fell over to one side. She tried to clutch Hippolyte with her hand, but it feU heavily back on to the blanket. Hippolyte was terrified and ran ofi to their neigh bour. ‘ I think she’s dying,’ he said. The neighbour crossed herself in a business-like way, and she and her husband hurried into the house, while Hippolyte, feeling quite dazed, staggered into the town garden. God knows what passed in his mind. He could hear gipsy choruses and weird music ; he could see Moscow in the winter, fine horses, and all sorts of fantastic pictures. He slackened his pace and stumbled against Bezenchuk, who was lying fast asleep in the middle of the path. The undertaker woke up with a start, sneezed, and jumped to his feet. ‘ Don’t worry, Mr. Vorobianinov,’ he said, as if he were continuing their earlier conversation ; * the coffin will be a good one.’ ‘ She’s dead,’ said Hippolyte. ‘ God rest her soul! So she’s dead. Well, well, elderly ladies must die, you know. Your old lady was little and good, and, as we say, she’s presented her soul to God.’ ‘ What do you mean ? We say. Who says ? ’ ‘ Why, we undertakers. When a good little body like that dies we always say, “ Ah ! well, she’s gone to face God.” Of course when it’s an ordinary fellow, a porter or some one like that, then we say, “ Ah, well, he’s stretched his legs out for the last time.” ’
