“It’s not worth while going to bed at all. You’ll only oversleep yourself,” said Yakov, a bright youth who occupied a space behind a wooden partition.

“Why not have a little sleep?” retorted Emelian. “We’ll start at dawn. Everyone says that’s the thing to do.”

“Well, if we are going to bed, it’s time we went.”

“But, Emelian, mind you call us if we don’t wake up in time.”

Emelian promised he would, and, taking a reel of silk from a drawer in the table, drew the lamp nearer, and began to sew a missing button on his summer overcoat. When he had finished this job he laid out his best clothes and cleaned his boots, and, after saying several prayers⁠—“Our Father,” “Hail Mary,” etc. , the meaning of which he had never fathomed, and had not even been interested in⁠—he took off his boots, and lay down on the crumpled, creaking bed.