this was the death of his bosom friend tihon ivanovitch nedopyuskin. his health had begun to fail two years before his death: he began to suffer from asthma, and was constantly dropping asleep, and on waking up could not at once come to himself; the district doctor maintained that this was the result of 'something rather like fits.' during the three days which preceded masha's departure, those three days when 'her heart was heavy,' nedopyuskin had been away at his own place at bezselendyevka: he had been laid up with a severe cold. masha's conduct was consequently even more unexpected for him; it made almost a deeper impression on him than on tchertop-hanov himself. with his natural sweetness and diffidence, he gave utterance to nothing but the tenderest sympathy with his friend, and the most painful perplexity... but it crushed and made havoc of everything in him. 'she has torn the heart out of me,' he would murmur to himself, as he sat on his favourite checked sofa and twisted his fingers. even when tchertop-hanov had got over it, he, nedopyuskin, did not recover, and still felt that 'there was a void within him.' 'here,' he would say, pointing to the middle of his breast above his stomach. in that way he lingered on till the winter. when the frosts came, his asthma got better, but he was visited by, not 'something rather like a fit' this time, but a real unmistakable fit. he did not lose his memory at once; he still knew tchertop-hanov and his friend's cry of despair, 'how can you desert me, tisha, without my consent, just as masha did?' he even responded with faltering, uncertain tongue, 'o--p--a--ey--e--e--yitch, i will o--bey you.'

this did not, however, prevent him from dying the same day, without waiting for the district doctor, who (on seeing the hardly cold body) found nothing left for him to do, but with a melancholy recognition of the instability of all things mortal, to ask for 'a drop of vodka and a snack of fish.' as might have been anticipated, tihon ivanitch had bequeathed his property to his revered patron and generous protector, panteley eremyitch tchertop-hanov; but it was of no great benefit to the revered patron, as it was shortly after sold by public auction, partly in order to cover the expense of a sepulchral monument, a statue, which tchertop-hanov (and one can see his father's craze coming out in him here) had thought fit to put up over the ashes of his friend. this statue, which was to have represented an angel praying, was ordered by him from moscow; but the agent recommended to him, conceiving that connoisseurs in sculpture were not often to be met with in the provinces, sent him, instead of an angel, a goddess flora, which had for many years adorned one of those neglected gardens near moscow, laid out in the days of catherine. he had an excellent reason for doing so, since this statue, though highly artistic, in the rococo style, with plump little arms, tossing curls, a wreath of roses round the bare bosom, and a serpentine figure, was obtained by him, the agent, for nothing. and so to this day the mythological goddess stands, with one foot elegantly lifted, above the tomb of tihon ivanovitch, and with a genuinely pompadour simper, gazes at the calves and sheep, those invariable visitors of our village graveyards, as they stray about her.