Thepeasantshadlongagogrownusedtothesightofthebridge，anditwasdifficulttoimaginetheriveratthatplacewithoutabridge。Theheapofrubbleleftfromthebuildingofithadlongbeenovergrownwithgrass，thenavvieswereforgotten，andinsteadofthestrainsofthe“Dubinushka“thattheyusedtosing，thepeasantsheardalmosteveryhourthesoundsofapassingtrain。
TheNewVillahaslongagobeensold；nowitbelongstoagovernmentclerkwhocomesherefromthetownfortheholidayswithhisfamily，drinksteaontheterrace，andthengoesbacktothetownagain。Hewearsacockadeonhiscap；hetalksandclearshisthroatasthoughhewereaveryimportantofficial，thoughheisonlyoftherankofacollegiatesecretary，andwhenthepeasantsbowhemakesnoresponse。
InObrutchanovoeveryonehasgrownolder；Kozovisdead。InRodion’shutthereareevenmorechildren。Volodkahasgrownalongredbeard。Theyarestillaspoorasever。
IntheearlyspringtheObrutchanovopeasantsweresawingwoodnearthestation。Andafterworktheyweregoinghome；theywalkedwithouthasteoneaftertheother。Broadsawscurvedovertheirshoulders；thesunwasreflectedinthem。Thenightingalesweresinginginthebushesonthebank，larksweretrillingintheheavens。ItwasquietattheNewVilla；therewasnotasoulthere，andonlygoldenpigeons——goldenbecausethesunlightwasstreaminguponthem——wereflyingoverthehouse。Allofthem——
Rodion，thetwoLytchkovs，andVolodka——thoughtofthewhitehorses，thelittleponies，thefireworks，theboatwiththelanterns；theyrememberedhowtheengineer’swife，sobeautifulandsograndlydressed，hadcomeintothevillageandtalkedtotheminsuchafriendlyway。Anditseemedasthoughallthathadneverbeen；itwaslikeadreamorafairy-tale。
Theytrudgedalong，tiredout，andmusedastheywent。Intheirvillage，theymused，thepeopleweregood，quiet，sensible，fearingGod，andElenaIvanovna，too，wasquiet，kind，andgentle；itmadeonesadtolookather，butwhyhadtheynotgotontogether？Whyhadtheypartedlikeenemies？Howwasitthatsomemisthadshroudedfromtheireyeswhatmatteredmost，andhadletthemseenothingbutdamagedonebycattle，bridles，pincers，andallthosetrivialthingswhichnow，astheyrememberedthem，seemedsononsensical？Howwasitthatwiththenewownertheylivedinpeace，andyethadbeenonbadtermswiththeengineer？
AndnotknowingwhatanswertomaketothesequestionstheywereallsilentexceptVolodka，whomutteredsomething。
“Whatisit？“Rodionasked。
“Welivedwithoutabridge“saidVolodkagloomily。“Welivedwithoutabridge，anddidnotaskforoneandwedon’twantit。“
Nooneansweredhimandtheywalkedoninsilencewithdroopingheads。
DREAMS
Twopeasantconstables——oneastubby，black-beardedindividualwithsuchexceptionallyshortlegsthatifyoulookedathimfrombehinditseemedasthoughhislegsbeganmuchlowerdownthaninotherpeople；theother，long，thin，andstraightasastick，withascantybeardofdarkreddishcolour——wereescortingtothedistricttownatrampwhorefusedtorememberhisname。Thefirstwaddledalong，lookingfromsidetoside，chewingnowastraw，nowhisownsleeve，slappinghimselfonthehaunchesandhumming，andaltogetherhadacarelessandfrivolousair；theother，inspiteofhisleanfaceandnarrowshoulders，lookedsolid，grave，andsubstantial；inthelinesandexpressionofhiswholefigurehewaslikethepriestsamongtheOldBelievers，orthewarriorswhoarepaintedonold-fashionedikons。“ForhiswisdomGodhadaddedtohisforehead“——thatis，hewasbald——
whichincreasedtheresemblancereferredto。ThefirstwascalledAndreyPtaha，thesecondNikandrSapozhnikov。
Themantheywereescortingdidnotintheleastcorrespondwiththeconceptioneveryonehasofatramp。Hewasafraillittleman，weakandsickly-looking，withsmall，colourless，andextremelyindefinitefeatures。Hiseyebrowswerescanty，hisexpressionmildandsubmissive；hehadscarcelyatraceofamoustache，thoughhewasoverthirty。Hewalkedalongtimidly，bentforward，withhishandsthrustintohissleeves。Thecollarofhisshabbyclothovercoat，whichdidnotlooklikeapeasant’s，wasturneduptotheverybrimofhiscap，sothatonlyhislittlerednoseventuredtopeepoutintothelightofday。Hespokeinaningratiatingtenor，continuallycoughing。Itwasvery，verydifficulttobelievethathewasatrampconcealinghissurname。Hewasmorelikeanunsuccessfulpriest’sson，strickenbyGodandreducedtobeggary；aclerkdischargedfordrunkenness；amerchant’ssonornephewwhohadtriedhisfeeblepowersinatheatricalcareer，andwasnowgoinghometoplaythelastactintheparableoftheprodigalson；perhaps，judgingbythedullpatiencewithwhichhestruggledwiththehopelessautumnmud，hemighthavebeenafanaticalmonk，wanderingfromoneRussianmonasterytoanother，continuallyseeking“apeacefullife，freefromsin，“andnotfindingit。
Thetravellershadbeenalongwhileontheirway，buttheyseemedtobealwaysonthesamesmallpatchofground。Infrontofthemtherestretchedthirtyfeetofmuddyblack-brownmud，behindthemthesame，andwhereveronelookedfurther，animpenetrablewallofwhitefog。Theywentonandon，butthegroundremainedthesame，thewallwasnonearer，andthepatchonwhichtheywalkedseemedstillthesamepatch。Theygotaglimpseofawhite，clumsy-lookingstone，asmallravine，orabundleofhaydroppedbyapasser-by，thebriefglimmerofagreatmuddypuddle，or，suddenly，ashadowwithvagueoutlineswouldcomeintoviewaheadofthem；thenearertheygottoitthesmalleranddarkeritbecame；nearerstill，andtherestoodupbeforethewayfarersaslantingmilestonewiththenumberrubbedoff，orawretchedbirch-treedrenchedandbarelikeawaysidebeggar。Thebirch-treewouldwhispersomethingwithwhatremainedofitsyellowleaves，oneleafwouldbreakoffandfloatlazilytotheground。Andthenagainfog，mud，thebrowngrassattheedgesoftheroad。Onthegrasshungdingy，unfriendlytears。
Theywerenotthetearsofsoftjoysuchastheearthweepsatwelcomingthesummersunandpartingfromit，andsuchasshegivestodrinkatdawntothecorncrakes，quails，andgraceful，long-beakedcrestedsnipes。Thetravellers’feetstuckintheheavy，clingingmud。Everystepcostaneffort。
AndreyPtahawassomewhatexcited。Hekeptlookingroundatthetrampandtryingtounderstandhowalive，sobermancouldfailtorememberhisname。
“YouareanorthodoxChristian，aren’tyou？“heasked。
“Yes，“thetrampansweredmildly。
“H’mthenyou’vebeenchristened？“
“Why，tobesure！I’mnotaTurk。Igotochurchandtothesacrament，anddonoteatmeatwhenitisforbidden。AndI
observemyreligiousdutiespunctually。“
“Well，whatareyoucalled，then？“
“Callmewhatyoulike，goodman。“
Ptahashruggedhisshouldersandslappedhimselfonthehaunchesinextremeperplexity。Theotherconstable，NikandrSapozhnikov，maintainedastaidsilence。HewasnotsonaiveasPtaha，andapparentlyknewverywellthereasonswhichmightinduceanorthodoxChristiantoconcealhisnamefromotherpeople。Hisexpressivefacewascoldandstern。Hewalkedapartanddidnotcondescendtoidlechatterwithhiscompanions，but，asitwere，triedtoshoweveryone，eventhefog，hissedatenessanddiscretion。
“Godknowswhattomakeofyou，“Ptahapersistedinaddressingthetramp。“Peasantyouarenot，andgentlemanyouarenot，butsomesortofathingbetween。TheotherdayIwaswashingasieveinthepondandcaughtareptile——see，aslongasafinger，withgillsandatail。ThefirstminuteIthoughtitwasafish，thenIlooked——and，blowit！ifithadn’tpaws。Itwasnotafish，itwasaviper，andthedeuceonlyknowswhatitwas。
Sothat’slikeyou。What’syourcalling？“
“Iamapeasantandofpeasantfamily，“sighedthetramp。“Mymammawasahouseserf。Idon’tlooklikeapeasant，that’strue，forsuchhasbeenmylot，goodman。Mymammawasanursewiththegentry，andhadeverycomfort，andasIwasofherfleshandblood，Ilivedwithherinthemaster’shouse。Shepettedandspoiledme，anddidherbesttotakemeoutofmyhumbleclassandmakeagentlemanofme。Isleptinabed，everydayIatearealdinner，Iworebreechesandshoeslikeagentleman’schild。
WhatmymammaateIwasfedon，too；theygaveherstuffsasapresent，andshedressedmeupinthem。Welivedwell！I
atesomanysweetsandcakesinmychildishyearsthatiftheycouldbesoldnowitwouldbeenoughtobuyagoodhorse。Mammataughtmetoreadandwrite，sheinstilledthefearofGodinmefrommyearliestyears，andshesotrainedmethatnowIcan’tbringmyselftoutteranunrefinedpeasantword。AndIdon’tdrinkvodka，mylad，andamneatinmydress，andknowhowtobehavewithdecorumingoodsociety。Ifsheisstillliving，Godgiveherhealth；andifsheisdead，then，OLord，givehersoulpeaceinThyKingdom，whereinthejustareatrest。“
Thetrampbaredhisheadwiththescantyhairstandinguplikeabrushonit，turnedhiseyesupwardandcrossedhimselftwice。
“Granther，OLord，averdantandpeacefulresting-place，“hesaidinadrawlingvoice，morelikeanoldwoman’sthanaman’s。
“TeachThyservantXeniaThyjustifications，OLord！IfithadnotbeenformybelovedmammaIshouldhavebeenapeasantwithnosortofunderstanding！Now，youngman，askmeaboutanythingandIunderstanditall:theholyScripturesandprofanewritings，andeveryprayerandcatechism。IliveaccordingtotheScriptures。Idon’tinjureanyone，Ikeepmyfleshinpurityandcontinence，Iobservethefasts，Ieatatfittingtimes。Anothermanwilltakenopleasureinanythingbutvodkaandlewdtalk，butwhenIhavetimeIsitinacornerandreadabook。IreadandIweepandweep。“
“Whatdoyouweepfor？“
“TheywritesopatheticallylForsomebooksonegivesbutafive-kopeckpiece，andyetoneweepsandsighsexceedinglyoverit。“
“Isyourfatherdead？“askedPtaha。
“Idon’tknow，goodman。Idon’tknowmyparent；itisnouseconcealingit。IjudgethatIwasmamma’sillegitimateson。Mymammalivedallherlifewiththegentry，anddidnotwanttomarryasimplepeasant。“
“Andsoshefellintothemaster’shands，“laughedPtaha。
“Shedidtransgress，that’strue。Shewaspious，God-fearing，butshedidnotkeephermaidenpurity。Itisasin，ofcourse，agreatsin，there’snodoubtaboutit，buttomakeupforitthereis，maybe，noblebloodinme。MaybeIamonlyapeasantbyclass，butinnatureanoblegentleman。“