on't let him. It's bad for him."

The mother nodded. The physician hurried off with short steps. Yegor
threw back his head, closed his eyes and sank into a torpor, motionless
save for the twitching of his fingers. The white walls of the little
room seemed to radiate a dry coldness and a pale, faceless sadness.
Through the large window peered the tufted tops of the lime trees, amid
whose dark, dusty foliage yellow stains were blazing, the cold touches
of approaching autumn.

"Death is coming to me slowly, reluctantly," said Yegor without moving
and without opening his eyes. "He seems to be a little sorry for me.
I was such a fine, sociable chap."

"You'd better keep quiet, Yegor Ivanovich!" the mother bade, quietly
stroking his hand.

"Wait, granny, I'll be silent soon."

Losing breath every once in a while, enunciating the words with a
mighty effort, he continued his talk, interrupted by long spells of
faintness.

"It's splendid to have you with me. It's pleasant to see your face,
granny, and your eyes so alert, and your naivete. 'How will it end?' I
ask myself. It's sad to think that the prison, exile, and all sorts of
vile outrages await you as everybody else. Are you afraid of prison?"

"No," answered the mother softly.

"But after all the prison is a mean place. It's the prison that
knocked me up. To tell you the truth, I don't want to die."

"Maybe you won't die yet," the mother was about to say, but a look at
his face froze the words on her lips.

"If I hadn't gotten sick I could have worked yet, not badly; but if you
can't work there's nothing to live for, and it's stupid to live."

"That's true, but it's no consolation." Andrey's words flashed into
the mother's mind, and she heaved a deep sigh. She was greatly
fatigued by the day, and hungry. The monotonous, humid, hoarse whisper
of the sick man filled the room and crept helplessly along the smooth,
cold, shining walls. At the windows the dark tops of the lime trees
trembled quietly. It was growing dusk, and Yegor's face on the pillow
turned dark.

"How bad I feel," he said. He closed his eyes and became silent. The
mother listened to his breathing, looked around, and sat for a few
minutes motionless, seized by a cold sensation of sadness. Finally she
dozed off.

The muffled sound of a door being carefully shut awakened her, and she
saw the kind, open eyes of Yegor.

"I fell asleep; excuse me," she said quietly.

"And you excu