The next day exactly at eleven o'clock I was at the place. Fine hail was
falling from the low-hanging sky, there was a slight frost, a thaw was
close at hand, but there were cutting, disagreeable gusts of wind
flitting across in the air.... It was the most thoroughly Lenten,
cold-catching weather. I found Mr. Ratsch on the steps of his house. In
a black frock-coat adorned with crape, with no hat on his head, he
fussed about, waved his arms, smote himself on the thighs, shouted up to
the house, and then down into the street, in the direction of the
funeral car with a white catafalque, already standing there with two
hired carriages. Near it four garrison soldiers, with mourning capes
over their old coats, and mourning hats pulled over their screwed-up
eyes, were pensively scratching in the crumbling snow with the long
stems of their unlighted torches. The grey shock of hair positively
stood up straight above the red face of Mr. Ratsch, and his voice, that
brazen voice, was cracking from the strain he was putting on it. 'Where
are the pine branches? pine branches! this way! the branches of pine!'
he yelled. 'They'll be bearing out the coffin directly! The pine! Hand
over those pine branches! Look alive!' he cried once more, and dashed
into the house. It appeared that in spite of my punctuality, I was late:
Mr. Ratsch had thought fit to hurry things forward. The service in the
house was already over; the priests--of whom one wore a calotte, and the
other, rather younger, had most carefully combed and oiled his
hair--appeared with all their retinue on the steps. The coffin too
appeared soon after, carried by a coachman, two door-keepers, and a
water-carrier. Mr. Ratsch walked behind, with the tips of his fingers on
the coffin lid, continually repeating, 'Easy, easy!' Behind him waddled
Eleonora Karpovna in a black dress, also adorned with crape, surrounded
by her whole family; after all of them, Viktor stepped out in a new
uniform with a sword with crape round the handle. The coffin-bearers,
grumbling and altercating among themselves, laid the coffin on the
hearse; the garrison soldiers lighted their torches, which at once began
crackling and smoking; a stray old woman, who had joined herself on to
the party, raised a wail; the deacons began to chant, the fine snow
suddenly fell faster and whirled round like 'white flies.' Mr. Ratsch
bawled, 'In God's name! start!' and the procession started. Besides Mr.
Ratsch's family, there were in all five men accompanying the hearse: a
retired and extremely shabby officer of roads and highways, with a faded
Stanislas ribbon--not improbably hired--on his neck; the police
superintendent's assistant, a diminutive man with a meek face and greedy
eyes; a little old man in a fustian smock; an extremely fat fishmonger
in a tradesman's bluejacket, smelling strongly of his calling, and I.
The absence of the female sex (for one could hardly count as such two
aunts of Eleonora Karpovna, sisters of the sausagemaker, and a hunchback
old maiden lady with blue spectacles on her blue nose), the absence of
girl friends and acquaintances struck me at first; but on thinking it
over I realised that Susanna, with her character, her education, her
memories, could not have made friends in the circle in which she was
living. In the church there were a good many people assembled, more
outsiders than acquaintances, as one could see by the expression of
their faces. The service did not last long. What surprised me was that
Mr. Ratsch crossed himself with great fervour, quite as though he were
of the orthodox faith, and even chimed in with the deacons in the
responses, though only with the notes not with the words. When at last
it came to taking leave of the dead, I bowed low, but did not give the
last kiss. Mr. Ratsch, on the contrary, went through this terrible
ordeal with the utmost composure, and with a deferential inclination of
his person invited the officer of the Stanislas ribbon to the coffin, as
though offering him entertainment, and picking his children up under the
arms swung them up in turn and held them up to the body. Eleonora
Karpovna, on taking farewell of Susanna, suddenly broke into a roar that
filled the church; but she was soon soothed and continually asked in an
exasperated whisper, 'But where's my reticule?' Viktor held himself
aloof, and seemed to be trying by his whole demeanour to convey that he
was out of sympathy with all such customs and was only performing a
social duty. The person who showed the most sympathy was the little old
man in the smock, who had been, fifteen years before, a land surveyor in
the Tambov province, and had not seen Ratsch since then. He did not know
Susanna at all, but had drunk a couple of glasses of spirits at the
sideboard before starting. My aunt had also come to the church. She had
somehow or other found out that the deceased woman was the very lady who
had paid me a visit, and had been thrown into a state of indescribable
agitation! She could not bring herself to suspect me of any sort of
misconduct, but neither could she explain such a strange chain of
circumstances.... Not improbably she imagined that Susanna had been led
by love for me to commit suicide, and attired in her darkest garments,
with an aching heart and tears, she prayed on her knees for the peace of
the soul of the departed, and put a rouble candle before the picture of
the Consolation of Sorrow.... 'Amishka' had come with her too, and she
too prayed, but was for the most part gazing at me, horror-stricken....
That elderly spinster, alas! did not regard me with indifference. On
leaving the church, my aunt distributed all her money, more than ten
roubles, among the poor.
At last the farewell was over. They began closing the coffin. During the
whole service I had not courage to look straight at the poor girl's
distorted face; but every time that my eyes passed by it--'he did not
come, he did not come,' it seemed to me that it wanted to say. They were
just going to lower the lid upon the coffin. I could not restrain
myself: I turned a rapid glance on to the dead woman. 'Why did you do
it?' I was unconsciously asking.... 'He did not come!' I fancied for the
last time.... The hammer was knocking in the nails, and all was over.