e of the erstwhile turbulent denizens of the suburb
were whispering softly together as, with an absence of all noise, they
took turns to raise themselves on tiptoe, and, craning their necks, to
peer into one of the black window-spaces. Yes, like bees on the step of
a hive did they look, and on the great majority of faces, and in the
great majority of eyes, there was quivering an air of tense, nervous
expectancy.

Only Vologonov was nudging Felitzata, and saying to her in a loud,
authoritative tone:

"Very ready are you to weep, but I should like first to hear the exact
circumstances of the lad's death."

Thus invited, the woman wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her bodice,
licked her lips, heaved a prolonged sigh, and fell to regarding
Antipa's red, hardbitten face with the cheerful, unabashed glance of a
person who is under the influence of liquor. From under her white
head-band there had fallen over her temples and her right cheek a few
wisps of golden hair; and indeed, as she drew herself up, and tossed
her head and bosom, and smoothed out and stretched the creases in her
bodice, she looked less than her years. Everyone now fell to eyeing her
in an attentive silence, though not, it would seem, without a touch of
envy.

Abruptly, sternly, the old man inquired:

"Did the lad ever complain of ill-health?"

"No, never," Felitzata replied. "Never once did he speak of it--never
once."

"And he had not been beaten?"

"Oh, how can you ask me such a thing, and especially seeing that,
that--?"

"I did not say beaten by YOU."

"Well, I cannot answer for anyone else, but at least had he no mark on
his body, seeing that when I lifted the smock I could find nothing save
for scratches on legs and back."

Her tone now had in it a new ring, a ring of increased assurance, and
when she had finished she closed her bright eyes languidly before
heaving a soft, as it were, voluptuous, and, withal, very audible sigh.

Someone here murmured:

"She DID use to beat him."

"What?"

"At all events she used to lose her temper with him."

This led to the putting of a further dozen or so of leading questions;
whereafter Antipa, for a while, preserved a suggestive silence, and the
crowd too remained silent, as though it had suddenly been lulled to
slumber. Only at long last, and with a clearing of his throat, did
Antipa say:

"Friends, we must suppose that God, of His infinite Mercy, has
vouchsafed to us here a special visit