. . .
When I came to my senses, I found myself in a sea of howls, groans,
and cries, which seemed to be issuing from the very depths of the
earth. For a moment I thought I was in purgatory, among the sinners
who undergo punishment. But pretty soon I recognized everything. I
turned my head, and saw Zagrubsky lying near me, wounded and
groaning. He looked at me, and there was love and hatred mixed in
that look. "Zhid," said he, with his last breath, and gave up the
ghost.
Rest in peace, thou beloved enemy of mine!
From behind I heard someone groaning and moaning; but the voice
sounded full and strong. I turned my head in the direction of the
voice, and I saw that Serge Ivanovich was lying on his side and
moaning. He looked around, stood up for a while, and lay down
again. This manoeuvre he repeated several times in succession. You
see, the rascal was scheming to his own advantage. He knew very
well that in the end he would have to fall down and groan for good.
So he thought it was much cheaper and wiser to do it of his own free
will, than to wait for something to throw him down.
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