re you from a
distance... For you--you are made of this stuff--you are a bird of
prey, a spoliator... Perhaps not with such a broad sweep--but you will
cast them down under your feet."

"No," faintly smiled Jennka. "I thought of this before ... But
something of the utmost importance has burned out within me. There are
no forces within me, there is no will within me, no desires ... I am
somehow all empty inside, rotted ... Well, now, you know, there's a
mushroom like that--white, round,--you squeeze it, and snuff pours out
of it. And the same way with me. This life has eaten out everything
within me save malice. And I am flabby, and my malice is flabby ...
I'll see some little boy again, will have pity on him, will be
punishing myself again ... No, it's better ... better so! ..."

She became silent. And Platonov did not know what to say. It became
oppressive and awkward for both. Finally, Jennka got up, and, without
looking at Platonov, extended her cold, feeble hand to him.

"Good-bye, Sergei Ivanovich! Excuse me, that I took up your time ...
Oh, well, I can see myself that you'd help me, if you only could ...
But, evidently, there's nothing to be done here ... Good-bye!"

"Only don't do anything foolish, Jennechka! I implore you! ..."

"Oh, that's all right!" said she and made a tired gesture with her hand.

Having come out of the square, they parted; but, having gone a few
steps, Jennka suddenly called after him:

"Sergei Ivanovich, oh Sergei Ivanovich! ..."

He stopped, turned around, walked back to her.

"Roly-Poly croaked last evening in our drawing room. He jumped and he
jumped, and then suddenly plumped down ... Oh, well, it's an easy death
at least! And also I forgot to ask you, Sergei Ivanovich ... This is
the last, now ... Is there a God or no?"

Platonov knit his eyebrows.

"What answer can I make? I don't know. I think that there is, but not
such as we imagine Him. He is more wise, more just..."

"And future life? There, after death? Is there, now, as they tell us, a
paradise or hell? Is that the truth? Or is there just nothing at all? A
barren void? A sleep without a dream? A dark basement?"

Platonov kept silent, trying not to look at Jennka. He felt oppressed
and frightened.

"I don't know," said he, finally, with an effort. "I don't want to lie
to you."

Jennka sighed, and smiled with a pitiful, twisted smile.

"Well, thanks, my dear. And thanks for even that much ... I wish you
happi