Doctor Zhivago [antikvár]

PART ONE chapter i THE FIVE O'CLOCK EXPRESS On they went, singing "Eternal Memory," and whenever they stopped, the sound of their feet, the horses and the gusts of wind seemed to carry on their singing. Passers-by made way for the procession, counted the wreaths and crossed themselves. Some joined in out of curiosity and asked : "Who is being buried?"—"Zhivago," they were told.—"Oh, I see. That explains it."—"It isn't him. It's his wife."—'"Well, it comes to the same thing. May she rest in peace. It's a fine funeral." The last moments flashed past, counted, irrevocable. "The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof, the earth and all that dwell thereint." The priest scattered earth in the form of a cross over the body of Marya Nikolayevna. They sang "The souls of the just/' Then a fearful bustle began. The coffin was closed, nailed and lowered into the ground. Clods of earth drummed on the lid like rain as the grave was filled hurriedly by four spades. A mound grew up on it and a ten-year-old boy climbed on top. Only the numb and unfeeling condition which comes over people at the end of a big funeral could account for some of the mourners' thinking that he wished to make an address over his mother's grave. He raised his head and, from his vantage point, absently surveyed the bare autumn landscape and the doines of the monastery. His snub-nosed face was contorted. He stretched out his neck. If a wolf cub had done this it would have been obvious that it was about to howl. The boy covered his face with his hands and burst into sobs. The wind bearing down 11 f .1' ' il :«.,',, ¦ . ••1 : ¦ I '