service in thechurch and prayed very devoutly; Trankvillitatin actually sang in thechoir.
Beside the grave Raissa suddenly broke into sobs and sank forward onthe ground; but she soon recovered herself. Her little deaf and dumbsister stared at everyone and everything with big, bright, ratherwild-looking eyes; from time to time she huddled up to Raissa, butthere was no sign of terror about her. The day after the funeral UncleYegor, who, judging from appearances, had not come back from Siberiawith empty hands (he paid for the funeral and liberally rewardedDavid's rescuer) but who told us nothing of his doings there or of hisplans for the future, Uncle Yegor suddenly informed my father that hedid not intend to remain in Ryazan, but was going to Moscow with hisson. My father, from a feeling of propriety, expressed regret and eventried--very faintly it is true--to induce my uncle to alter hisdecision, but at the bottom of his heart, I think he was really muchrelieved.
The presence of his brother with whom he had very little in common,who did not even condescend to reproach him, whose feeling for him wasmore one of simple disgust than disdain--oppressed him ... and partingwith David could not have caused him much regret. I, of course, wasutterly crushed by the separation; I was utterly desolate at first andlost all support in life and all interest in it.
And so my uncle went away and took with him not only David but, to thegreat astonishment and even indignation of our whole street, Raissaand her little sister, too.... When she heard of this, my auntpromptly called him a Turk, and called him a Turk to the end of herdays.
And I was left alone, alone ... but this story is not about me.
XXV
So this is the end of my tale of the watch. What more have I to tellyou? Five years after David was married to his Black-lip, and in 1812,as a lieutenant of artillery, he died a glorious death on thebattlefield of Borodino in defence of the Shevardinsky redoubt.
Much water has flowed by since then and I have had many watches; Ihave even attained the dignity of a real repeater with a second handand the days of the week on it. But in a secret drawer of my writingtable there is preserved an old-fashioned silver watch with a rose onthe face; I bought it from a Jewish pedlar, struck by its likeness tothe watch which was once presented to me by my godfather. From time totime, when I am alone and expect no one, I take it out of the drawerand looking at it remember my young days and the companion of thosedays that have fled never to return.
Paris.--1875.
Knock, Knock, Knock and Other Stories Page 35
