eared the mud. The candles seemed strangely unpleasant in that gloomy,
or rather sickly, light. The dim vestibule was melancholy; the long
windows, with their circular panes, were bedewed with tears of rain. I
retired into the vestibule, and addressing a respectable old man,
with greyish hair, said, "May I inquire if Ivan Nikiforovitch is still
living?"

At that moment the lamp before the holy picture burned up more brightly
and the light fell directly upon the face of my companion. What was my
surprise, on looking more closely, to behold features with which I was
acquainted! It was Ivan Nikiforovitch himself! But how he had changed!

"Are you well, Ivan Nikiforovitch? How old you have grown!"

"Yes, I have grown old. I have just come from Poltava to-day," answered
Ivan Nikiforovitch.

"You don't say so! you have been to Poltava in such bad weather?"

"What was to be done? that lawsuit--"

At this I sighed involuntarily.

Ivan Nikiforovitch observed my sigh, and said, "Do not be troubled: I
have reliable information that the case will be decided next week, and
in my favour."

I shrugged my shoulders, and went to seek news of Ivan Ivanovitch.

"Ivan Ivanovitch is here," some one said to me, "in the choir."

I saw a gaunt form. Was that Ivan Ivanovitch? His face was covered with
wrinkles, his hair was perfectly white; but the pelisse was the same as
ever. After the first greetings were over, Ivan Ivanovitch, turning to
me with a joyful smile which always became his funnel-shaped face, said,
"Have you been told the good news?"

"What news?" I inquired.

"My case is to be decided to-morrow without fail: the court has
announced it decisively."

I sighed more deeply than before, made haste to take my leave, for I was
bound on very important business, and seated myself in my kibitka.

The lean nags known in Mirgorod as post-horses started, producing with
their hoofs, which were buried in a grey mass of mud, a sound very
displeasing to the ear. The rain poured in torrents upon the Jew seated
on the box, covered with a rug. The dampness penetrated through and
through me. The gloomy barrier with a sentry-box, in which an old
soldier was repairing his weapons, was passed slowly. Again the same
fields, in some places black where they had been dug up, in others of
a greenish hue; wet daws and crows; monotonous rain; a tearful sky,
without one gleam of light!... It is gloomy in this world, gentlemen!

THE MYST