THE DEATH OF MADAM PETUKHOV
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Rather staggered by such a queer classification, Hippolyte asked : ‘ And what will they say when ^'°‘Wlirn I die? Oh! I’m nobody. When I die they’ll simply wag their heads and say, “ So Bezenchuk’s gone and snuffed it, eh ? ” ’ Then he continued more seriously : ‘ Now what about that coffin, Mr. Vorobianinov ? You didn’t really mean you wanted one without tassels and brocade, did you ? ’ But Hippolyte was again deep m thought and did not reply. Bezenchuk followed him, counting some thing on his fingers and muttering as usual. By now Hippolyte had made up his mind. ‘ I’ll go,’ he said. ‘ I’ll jolly well go and find them.’ And in his dreams about diamonds his mother-in-law seemed to him to be much nicer than she had ever been before. ‘ Oh ! go to the devil! he shouted at Bezenchuk. ‘ Make the best coffin you’ve ever made in your life. Tassels and fringes and anything else you like ! ’
