During an interval in the Melvinski trial in the large
building of the Law Courts the members and public prosecutor met in
Ivan Egorovich Shebek's private room, where the conversation turned
on the celebrated Krasovski case. Fedor Vasilievich warmly
maintained that it was not subject to their jurisdiction, Ivan
Egorovich maintained the contrary, while Peter Ivanovich, not
having entered into the discussion at the start, took no part in it
but looked through the *Gazette* which had just been handed in.
"Gentlemen," he said, "Ivan Ilych has died!"
"You don't say so!"
"Here, read it yourself," replied Peter Ivanovich, handing
Fedor Vasilievich the paper still damp from the press. Surrounded
by a black border were the words: "Praskovya Fedorovna Golovina,
with profound sorrow, informs relatives and friends of the demise
of her beloved husband Ivan Ilych Golovin, Member of the Court of
Justice, which occurred on February the 4th of this year 1882. the
funeral will take place on Friday at one o'clock in the afternoon."
Ivan Ilych had been a colleague of the gentlemen present and
was liked by them all. He had been ill for some weeks with an
illness said to be incurable. His post had been kept open for him,
but there had been conjectures that in case of his death Alexeev
might receive his appointment, and that either Vinnikov or Shtabel
would succeed Alexeev. So on receiving the news of Ivan Ilych's
death the first thought of each of the gentlemen in that private
room was of the changes and promotions it might occasion among
themselves or their acquaintances.
"I shall be sure to get Shtabel's place or Vinnikov's,"
thought Fedor Vasilievich. "I was promised that long ago, and the
promotion means an extra eight hundred rubles a year for me besides
the allowance."
"Now I must apply for my brother-in-law's transfer from
Kaluga," thought Peter Ivanovich. "My wife will be very glad, and
then she won't be able to say that I never do anything for her
relations."
"I thought he would never leave his bed again," said Peter
Ivanovich aloud. "It's very sad."
"But what really was the matter with him?"
"The doctors couldn't say -- at least they could, but each of
them said something different. When last I saw him I though he was
getting better."
"And I haven't been to see him since the holidays. I always
meant to go."
"Had he any property?"
"I think his wife had a little -- but something quiet
trifling."
"We shall have to go to see her, but they live so terribly far
away."
"Far away from you, you mean. Everything's far away from your
place."
"You see, he never can forgive my living on the other side of
the river," said Peter Ivanovich, smiling at Shebek. Then, still
talking of the distances between different parts of the city, they
returned to the Court.
Besides considerations as to the possible transfers and
promotions likely to result from Ivan Ilych's death, the mere fact
of the death of a near acquaintance aroused, as usual, in all who
heard of it the complacent feeling that, "it is he who is dead and
not I."