looked long and in silence at the old man.

"Timoféi!" he said at last.

Timoféi gave a start.

"What do you wish?"

"Hast thou a spade?"

"I can get one.... But what do you want with a spade, Mikhaílo
Andréitch?"

"I want to dig a grave for myself here, Timoféi; and lie down here
forever between my parents. For this is the only spot which is left to
me in the world. Fetch the spade!"

"I obey," said Timoféi; and went off and brought it.

And Mísha immediately began to dig up the earth, while Timoféi stood by
with his chin propped on his hand, repeating: "That's the only thing
left for thee and me, master!"

And Mísha dug and dug, inquiring from time to time: "Life isn't worth
living, is it, Timoféi?"

"It is not, dear little father."

The hole had already grown fairly deep. People saw Mísha's work and ran
to report about it to the speculator-owner. At first the speculator flew