From that day Father Ignatius ceased to speak with his daughter, but she seemed not to notice it. As before she lay in her room, or walked about, continually wiping her eyes with the palms of her hands as if they contained some irritating foreign substance. And crushed be- I ween these two silent people, the jolly, fun-loving wife of the priest quailed and seemed lost, not knowing what to say or do.
Occasionally Vera took a stroll. A week following the interview she went out in the evening, as was her habit. She was not seen alive again, ns on this evening she threw herself under the train, which cut her in two.
Father Ignatius himself directed the funeral. His wife was not present in church, as at the news of Veras death she was prostrated by a stroke. She lost control of her feet, hands and tongue, and she lay motionless in the semi-darkened room when the church bells rang out.
Farewell
She heard I lie people, as they issued out of church and passed the house, intone I lie chants, and she made an effort to raise her hand, and to make a sign of the cross, but her hand refused to obey; she wished to say: farewell, Vera!” but the tongue lay in her mouth huge and heavy. And her attitude was so calm, that it gave one an impression of restiveness or sleep. Only her eyes remained open.
At the funeral, in church, were many people who knew Father Ignatius, and many strangers, and all bewailed Veras terrible death, and tried to find in the movements and voice of Father Ignatius tokens of a deep sorrow. They did not love Father Ignatius because of his severity and proud manners, his scorn of sinners, for his unforgiving spirit, his envy and covetousness, his habit of utilizing every opportunity to extort money from his parishioners.
They all wished to see him suffer, to see his spirit broken, to see him conscious in his two-fold guilt for the death of his daughter as a cruel father and a bad priest incapable of preserving his own flesh from sin. They cast searching glances at him, and he, feeling these glances directed toward his back, made efforts to hold erect its broad and strong expanse, and his thoughts were not concerning his dead daughter, but concerning his own dignity.
“A hardened priest!” said, with a shake of his head, Karzenoff, a carpenter, to whom Father Ignatius owed five rubles for frames.
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