InatownofthesteppeswhereIfoundlifeexceedinglydull，thebestandthebrightestspotwasthecemetery。OftendidIusetowalkthere，andonceithappenedthatIfellasleeponsomethick，rich，sweet-smellinggrassinacradle-likehollowbetweentwotombs。
FromthatsleepIwasawakenedwiththesoundofblowsbeingstruckagainstthegroundnearmyhead。Theconcussionofthemjarredmenotalittle，astheearthquiveredandtinkledlikeabell。Raisingmyselftoasittingposture，Ifoundsleepstillsoheavyuponmethatatfirstmyeyesremainedblindedwithunfathomabledarkness，andcouldnotdiscernwhatthematterwas。TheonlythingthatIcouldseeamidthegoldenglareoftheJunesunlightwasawaveringblurwhichatintervalsseemedtoadheretoagreycross，andtomakeitgiveforthasuccessionofsoftcreaks。
Presently，however——againstmywish，indeed——thatwaveringblurresolveditselfintoalittle，elderlyman。Sharp-featured，withathick，silverytuftofhairbeneathhisunderlip，andabushywhitemoustachecurledinmilitaryfashion，onhisupper，hewasusingthecrossasameansofsupportas，withhisdisengagedhandoutstretched，andsawingtheair，hedughisfootrepeatedlyintotheground，and，ashedidso，bestoweduponmesundrydry，covertglancesfromthedepthsofapairofdarkeyes。
“Whathaveyougotthere？“Iinquired。
“Asnake，“herepliedinaneducatedbassvoice，andwitharuggedforefingerhepointeddownwards；whereuponIperceivedthatwrigglingonthepathathisfeetandconvulsivelywhiskingitstail，therewasanechidna。
“Oh，itisonlyagrassworm，“Isaidvexedly。
Theoldmanpushedawaythedull，iridescent，rope-likethingwiththetoeofhisboot，raisedastrawhatinsalute，andstrodefirmlyonwards。
“Ithankyou，“Icalledout；whereupon，herepliedwithoutlookingbehindhim:
“IfthethingreallyWASagrassworm，ofcoursetherewasnodanger。“
Thenhedisappearedamongthetombstones。
Lookingatthesky，Iperceivedthetimetobeaboutfiveo’clock。
Thesteppewindwassighingoverthetombs，andcausinglongstemsofgrasstorocktoandfro，andfreightingtheheatedairwiththesilkenrustlingofbirchesandlimesandothertrees，andleadingonetodetectamidthehummingofsummeranoteofquietgriefeminentlycalculatedtoevokelofty，directthoughtsconcerninglifeandone’sfellow-men。
Veilingwithgreenery，greyandwhitetombstoneswornwiththesnowsofwinter，crossesstreakedwithmarksofrain，andthewallwithwhichthegraveyardwasencircled，therankvegetationservedtoalsoconcealthepropinquityofaslovenly，clamoroustownwhichlaycoatedwithrich，sootygrimeamidanatmosphereofdustandsmells。
AsIsetoffforarambleamongthetombsandtangledgrass，I
coulddiscernthroughopeningsinthecurtainofverdureabelfry’sgildedcrosswhichreareditselfsolemnlyovercrossesandmemorials。Atthefootofthosememorialsthesacramentalvestmentofthecemeterywasstuddedwithakaleidoscopicsheenofflowersoverwhichbeesandwaspsweresohoveringandhummingthatthegrass’ssad，prayerfulmurmurseemedchargedwithasongoflifewhichyetdidnothinderreflectionsondeath。Flutteringabovemeonnoiselesswingwerebirdstheflightofwhichsometimesmademestart，andstandwonderingwhethertheobjectbeforemygazewasreallyabirdornot:andeverywheretheshimmerofgildedsunlightwassettingtheclose-packedgraveyardinaquiverwhichmadethemoundsofitstombsreminiscentofaseawhen，afterastorm，thewindhasfallen，andallthegreenlevelisanexpanseofsmooth，foamlessbillows。
Beyondthewallofthecemeterythebluevoidofthefirmamentwaspiercedwithsmokychimneysofoil-millsandsoapfactories，theroofsofwhichshoweduplikeparticolouredstainsagainstthedarkerragsandtattersofotherbuildings；whileblinkinginthesunlightIcoulddiscernclatter-emitting，windowswhichlookedtomelikewatchfuleyes。Onlyonthenearersideofthewallwasasparsestripofturfdottedoverwithragged，withered，tremulousstems，andbeyondthis，again，laythesiteofaburntbuildingwhichconstitutedablackpatchofearth-heaps，brokenstoves，dullgreyashes，andcoaldust。Toheavengapedtheblack，noisomemouthsofburning-pitswhereinthemoreeconomicalcitizenswereaccustomednightlytogetridofthecontentsoftheirdustbins。Amongthetallstemsofsteppegrasswavedlarge，glossyleavesofergot；inthesunlightsplintersofbrokenglasssparkledasthoughtheywerelaughing；and，fromtwospotsinthedarkbrownplotwhichformedasemicirclearoundthecemetery，thereprojected，liketeeth，twobuildingsthenewyellowpaintofwhichneverthelessmadethemlookmeanandpettyamidthetangleofrubbish，pigweed，groundsel，anddock。
Indolentlyroaminghitherandthither，afewspeckledhensresembledfemalepedlars，andsomepompousredcockerelsatroupeoffiremen；intheorificesoftheburning-pitsanumberofmournful-eyed，homelessdogswerelyingsheltered；amongtheshootsofthesteppescrubsomeleancatswerestalkingsparrows；andabandofchildrenwhowereplayinghide-and-seekamongtheorificesabove-mentionedpresented，apitifulsightastheywentskippingoverthefilthyearth，disappearinginthecrevicesamongthepilesofheaped-updirt。
Beyondthesiteoftheburnt-outbuildingtherestretchedaseriesofmean，close-packedhutswhich，crammedexclusivelywithneedyfolk，stoodstaring，withtheirdim，humbleeyesofwindows，atthecrumblingbricksofthecemeterywall，andthedensemassoftreeswhichthatwallenclosed。Here，inonesuchhut，hadImyselfalodginginadiminutiveattic，whichnotonlysmeltoflamp-oil，butstoodinapositiontohavewaftedtoittheleastgasporejaculationonthepartofmylandlord，IrakleiVirubov，aclerkinthelocaltreasury。Inshort，I
couldneverglanceoutofthewindowatthecemeteryontheothersideofthestripofdead，burnt，pollutedearthwithoutreflectingthat，bycomparison，thatcemeterywasaplaceofsheerbeauty，aplaceofceaselessattraction。
Andever，thatday，asthoughhehadbeenfollowingme，couldtherebesightedamongthetombsthedarkfigureoftheoldmanwhohadsoabruptlyawakenedmefromslumber；andsincehisstrawhatreflectedthesunlightasbrilliantlyasthediskofasunflowerasitmeanderedhitherandthither，I，inmyturn，foundmyselffollowinghim，thoughthinking，allthewhile，ofIrakleiVirubov。OnlyaweekwasitsinceIraklei’swife，athin，shrewish，long-nosedwomanwithgreenandcatlikeeyes，hadsetforthonapilgrimagetoKiev，andIrakleihadhastenedtoimportintothehutastout，squint-eyeddamselwhomhehadintroducedtomeashis“niecebymarriage。“
“ShewasbaptisedEvdokia，“hehadsaidontheoccasionreferredto。“Usually，however，IcallherDikanka。Praybefriendlywithher，butremember，also，thatsheisnotapersonwithwhomtotakeliberties。“
Large，round-shouldered，andclean-shavenlikeachef，Virubovwasforeverhitchingupbreecheswhichhadslippedfromastomachruinedwithsurfeitsofwatermelon。Andalwayswerehisfatlipspartedasthoughathirst，andperpetuallyhadheinhiscolourlesseyesanexpressionofinsatiablehunger。
OneeveningIoverheardadialoguetothefollowingeffect。
“Dikanka，praycomeandscratchmyback。Yes，betweentheshoulder-blades。O-o-oh，thatisit。Myword，howstrongyouare！“
WhereatDikankahadlaughedshrilly。AndonlywhenIhadmovedmychair，andthrowndownmybook，hadthelaughterandunctuouswhisperingdiedaway，andgivenplacetoawhisperof:
“HolyFatherNicholas，prayforusuntoGod！Isthesupperkvasready，Dikanka？“
Andsoftlythepairhaddepartedtothekitchen——theretogruntandsquealoncemorelikeacoupleofpigs……
Theoldmanwiththegreymoustachesteppedovertheturfwiththeelasticstrideofyouth，untilatlengthhehaltedbeforealargemonumentindrabgranite，andstoodreadingtheinscriptionthereon。FeaturednotaltogetherinaccordancewiththeRussiantype，hehadonadark-bluejacket，aturned-downcollar，andablackstockfinishedoffwithalargebow——thelattercontrastingagreeablywiththethick，silvery，asitweremolten，chin-tuft。Also，fromthecentreofafiercemoustachethereprojectedalongandgristlynose，whileoverthegreyskinofhischeeksthererananetworkofsmallredveins。Intheactofraisinghishandtohishatpresumablyforthepurposeofsalutingthedead，he，afterconningthedarklettersoftheinscriptiononthetomb，turnedasidelongeyeuponmyself；andsinceIfoundthefactembarrassing，Ifrowned，andpassedonward，full，still，ofthoughtsofthestreetwhereIwasresidingandwhereIdesiredtofathomthemeanexistenceekedoutbyVirubovandhis“niece。“
Asusual，thetombswerealsobeingpatrolledbyPimesha，otherwisePimenKrozootov，abibulous，broken-downex-merchantwhousedtospendhistimeinstumblingandfallingaboutthegravesinsearchofthesupposedresting-placeofhiswife。Bentofbody，Pimeshahadasmall，bird-likefaceover-grownwithgreydown，theeyesofasickrabbit，and，ingeneral，theappearanceofhavingundergoneachewingbyasetofsharpteeth。Forthepastthreeyearshehadthusbeenroamingthecemetery，thoughhislegsweretooweaktosupporthisundersized，shatteredbody；andwheneverhecaughthisfoothefell，andforlongcouldnotrise，butlaygaspingandfumblingamongthegrass，androotingitup，andsniffingwithanoseassharpandredasthoughtheskinhadbeenflayedfromit。True，hiswifehadbeenburiedatNovotchevkassk，athousandverstsaway，butPimenrefusedtocreditthefact，andalways，onbeingtoldit，stutteredwithmuchblinkingofhiswet，fadedeyes:
“Natasha？Natashaishere。“
Also，thereusedtovisitthespot，well-nighdaily，aMadameChristoforov，atalloldladywho，wearingblackspectaclesandaplaingrey，shroudlikedressthatwastrimmedwithblackvelvet，neverfailedtohaveastickbetweenherabnormallylongfingers。Wizenedofface，withcheekshangingdownlikebags，andaknotofgrey，rather，grey-green，haircombedoverhertemplesfromunderalacescarf，andalmostconcealingherears，thisladypursuedherwaywithdeliberation，andentireassurance，andyieldedthepathtonoonewhomshemightencounter。Ihaveanideathattherelayburiedthereasonwhohadbeenkilledinaroisterers’brawl。
Anotherhabitualvisitorwasthin-legged，short-sightedAulicCouncillorPraotzev，ex-schoolmaster。Withabookstuffedintothepocketofhiscanvaspea-jacket，awhiteumbrellagraspedinhisredhand，andasmileextendingtoearsassharpandpointedasarabbit’s，hecould，anySundayafterdinner，beseenskippingfromtombtotomb，withhisumbrellabrandishedlikeawhiteflagsolicitingtermsofpeacewithdeath。
And，onreturninghomebeforethebellrangforVespers，hewouldfindthatacrowdofboyshadcollectedoutsidehisgardenwall；whereupon，dancingabouthimlikepuppiesaroundastork，theywouldfalltoshoutinginvariousmerrykeys:
“TheCouncillor，theCouncillor！WhowasitthatfellinlovewithMadameSukhinikh，andthenfellintothepond？“