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Part II | Fyodor Dostoevsky | |
Chapter VI |
Page 3 of 7 |
"Why, there must have been water at the bottom a foot deep. You can't dig a dry grave in Volkovo Cemetery." "Why?" "Why? Why, the place is waterlogged. It's a regular marsh. So they bury them in water. I've seen it myself ... many times." (I had never seen it once, indeed I had never been in Volkovo, and had only heard stories of it.) "Do you mean to say, you don't mind how you die?" "But why should I die?" she answered, as though defending herself. "Why, some day you will die, and you will die just the same as that dead woman. She was ... a girl like you. She died of consumption." "A wench would have died in hospital ..." (She knows all about it already: she said "wench," not "girl.") "She was in debt to her madam," I retorted, more and more provoked by the discussion; "and went on earning money for her up to the end, though she was in consumption. Some sledge-drivers standing by were talking about her to some soldiers and telling them so. No doubt they knew her. They were laughing. They were going to meet in a pot-house to drink to her memory." A great deal of this was my invention. Silence followed, profound silence. She did not stir. "And is it better to die in a hospital?" "Isn't it just the same? Besides, why should I die?" she added irritably. "If not now, a little later." "Why a little later?" "Why, indeed? Now you are young, pretty, fresh, you fetch a high price. But after another year of this life you will be very different--you will go off." "In a year?" |
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Notes from the Underground Fyodor Dostoevsky |
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