The drum beat and all went out to work, and I remained at home. Sushilov had got up almost before anyone that morning and was doing his utmost to get tea ready for me before he went. Poor Sushilov! He cried when I gave him my convict clothes, my shirts, my fetter-wrappers and some money. “It’s not that that I want, not that,” he said, with difficulty controlling his trembling lips. “It’s dreadful losing you, Alexandr Petrovitch! What shall I do here without you?”

I said goodbye for the last time to Akim Akimitch, too.

“You’ll be going soon, too,” I said to him.

“I’ve long, very long to be here still,” he muttered as he pressed my hand. I threw myself on his neck and we kissed.