Slowly and solemnly
the priest resumed his chanting. His fat good-tempered face showed
evident sympathy and emotion. A few minutes passed. Suddenly Semenoff
ceased moaning.
"It is all over," murmured the priest.
Then slowly, and with much effort, Semenoff moved his tightly-glued
lips, and his face became contracted as if by a smile, The onlookers
heard his hollow, weird voice that, issuing from the depth of his
chest, sounded as if it came through a coffin-lid.
"Silly old fool!" he said, looking hard at the priest. His whole body
trembled, his eyes rolled madly in their sockets, and he stretched
himself at full length.
They had all heard these words, but no one moved; and for a moment the
sorrowful expression vanished from the priest's fat, moist face. He
looked about him anxiously, but encountered no one's glance. Only
Sanine smiled.
Semenoff again moved his lips, yet no sound escaped from them, while
one side drooped of his thin, fair moustache. Once more he stretched
his limbs, and became longer and more terrible. There was no sound, nor
the slightest movement whatever.
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