There was a requiem service in the morning and the evening. The funeral took place the next day, and after it the guests and the priests ate a great deal, and with such greed that one might have thought that they had not tasted food for a long time. Lipa waited at table, and the priest, lifting his fork on which there was a salted mushroom, said to her:

“Don’t grieve for the babe. For of such is the kingdom of heaven.”

And only when they had all separated Lipa realized fully that there was no Nikifor and never would be, she realized it and broke into sobs. And she did not know what room to go into to sob, for she felt that now that her child was dead there was no place for her in the house, that she had no reason to be here, that she was in the way; and the others felt it, too.

“Now what are you bellowing for?” Aksinya shouted, suddenly appearing in the doorway; in honour of the funeral she was dressed all in new clothes and had powdered her face. “Shut up!”

Lipa tried to stop but could not, and sobbed louder than ever.

“Do you hear?” shouted Aksinya, and she stamped her foot in violent anger. “Who is it I am speaking to? Go out of the yard and don’t set foot here again, you convict’s wife. Get away.”

“There, there, there,” the old man put in fussily. “Aksinya, don’t make such an outcry, my girl.⁠ ⁠… She is crying, it is only natural⁠ ⁠… her child is dead.⁠ ⁠…”

“ ‘It’s only natural,’ ” Aksinya mimicked him. “Let her stay the night here, and don’t let me see a trace of her here tomorrow! ‘It’s only natural!’⁠ ⁠…” she mimicked him again, and, laughing, she went into the shop.

Early the next morning Lipa went off to her mother at Torguevo.