“Yes, one is afraid,” continued the first speaker, he of the familiar voice. “One is afraid of the unknown, that’s what it is. Whatever we may say about the soul going to the sky⁠ ⁠… we know there is no sky but only an atmosphere.”

The manly voice again interrupted the artillery officer.

“Well, stand us some of your herb vodka, Túshin,” it said.

“Why,” thought Prince Andréy, “that’s the captain who stood up in the sutler’s hut without his boots.” He recognized the agreeable, philosophizing voice with pleasure.

“Some herb vodka? Certainly!” said Túshin. “But still, to conceive a future life⁠ ⁠…”