erry water. When they
brought it, he said in a distinct voice,--"_Call my wife; let her feed
me._" She came, sank down on her knees by the head of the bed, and
carried to his lips one, and afterwards another spoonful of the
cloud-berries, and then pressed her cheek against his; Pushkin stroked
her on the head, and said, "_There, there, never mind; thank God, all is
well; go._" The tranquil expression of his face, and the firmness of his
voice, deceived the poor wife; she left the room almost radiant with
joy. "You see," she said to Dr Spasskii, "he will live; he will not
die." But at this moment the last process of vitality had already begun.
I stood together with Count Vielhorskii at the head of the bed; by the
side stood Turgenieff. Dahl whispered to me, "He is going." But his
thoughts were clear. It was only at intervals that a half-dosing
forgetfulness overshadowed them; once he gave his hand to Dahl, and
pressing it, said: "_Now, lift me up--come--but higher, higher ... now,
come along!_" But awaking, he said, "_I was dreaming, and I fancied that
I was climbing with you up along these books and shelves! so high ...
and my head began to turn._" After pausing a little, he again, without
unclosing his eyes, began to feel for Dahl's hand, and pulling it, said:
"_Now, let us go then, if you wish; but together._" Dahl, at his
request, took him under the arms, and raised him higher; and suddenly,
as if awaking, he quickly opened his eyes, his face lighted up, and he
said, "_Life is finished!_" Dahl, who had not distinctly heard the
words, answered, "Yes, it is finished; we have turned you round." "_Life
is finished!_" he repeated, distinctly and positively. "_I can't
breathe, I am stifling!_" were his last words. I never once removed my
eyes from him, and I remarked at this moment, that the movement of the
breast, hitherto calm, became interrupted. It soon ceased altogether. I
looked attentively; I waited for the last sigh, but I could not remark
it. The stillness which reigned over his whole appearance appeared to me
to be tranquillity; but he was now no more. We all kept silence around
him. In a couple of minutes I asked, "How is he?" "He is dead!" answered
Dahl. So calmly, so tranquilly had his soul departed. We long stood
around him in silence, without stirring, not daring to disturb the
mysteries of death, which were completed before us in all their touching
holiness. When all had left the room, I sate down before him,