Read "A Night" by Vsevolod Garshin online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
"A bell! " he repeated. Why a bell? . Was it a service? Prayers. church. suffocating heat. Wax candles. The decrepit priest, Father Michael, performing the service in a plaintive, cracked voice, and the deacon with his bass. A longing to sleep. Dawn just breaking through the window. His father standing next him with bowed head, making hurried little crosses. Behind them, in the crowd of muzhiks and babas, constant prostrations. How long ago it all was! . So long ago that it was hard to believe it had ever happened, that he had himself once seen it, and had not read of it somewhere, or heard of it from somebody. No, no, it all happened, and it was better then. Yes, not only better but well. If only it was like that now, there would be no need to leave by aid of a revolver.
"Finish it! " something whispered to him. He glanced at the revolver, and stretched out his hand towards it, but immediately drew it back.