Chapter 41 Chapter 17 Poison (2)

He untied the silk thread and poured out the contents of the small purse.Those were three green capsules filled with fine green powder. "Is this what he gave you?" She nodded. "She should have put one on her neck, but she didn't." She said as she expertly coiled the silk around her neck.Looking at it this way, the wallet hanging on her chest looks like a medal. "If she did, they wouldn't have caught her." "So you're going to give her one." "She wants to keep her vows. She will do anything for Sergei Gennadevich." "Perhaps. At least, that's what Sergei Gennadevich said. That being said, if you don't give her the poison, it might be easier for her not to fulfill the order to Sergei Gennadevich. Oath, isn't it? Sergei Gennadevich himself is having a hard time keeping that oath."

She sniffled.He understood what that meant.She is now cornered by him.She didn't like it, but he went on talking. "Don't you think Sergei Gennadevich took death so lightly? Do you remember the beggar who was killed? Sergei Gennadevich killed him. Either He had someone else kill him. The man he had got obeyed his orders, just like you obeyed his orders." She sniffed again. "Why, why did he kill him?" "In order to give a message to the world, I think it goes like this—he, Sergei Gennadevich Nechayev, is a man who cannot be fooled. Or, it is he who will test the Whether the man who goes to kill will obey him. I don't know. I can't see his heart, and I don't want to see his heart again."

Matrona thought for a moment. "I don't like that guy," she said finally. "He smells like fish." She answered him frankly.His eyes were fixed on her without blinking. "But you like Sergei Gennadevich." "yes." The question he wanted to ask but failed to ask was: Do you love him?Did you do anything for him too?Matrona saw through his mind and gave him the answer right away.That leaves him with only one question left to ask: "Do you like him more than Pavel?" She hesitated.He could see her weighing.The two people she likes are like two apples, one in her left hand and one in her right hand. "No," she said finally, in a tone he could only call elegant, "my favorite person is still Pavel."

"Because they're so different, right, the two of them are like chalk and cheese." "Chalk and cheese?" She thought it was funny. "Just an analogy. Like a horse and a wolf, like a stag and a wolf." She wondered about these fresh metaphors. "Both of them like to joke—like to joke," she retorted him, the words popping out of her mouth. He shook his head. "No, you're mistaken. Sergey Gennadevich is not at all joking. Of course, he has a spirit in him, but that's not a joke." He leaned closer to her, brushing the hair around her face. He brushed aside and touched her cheek. "Listen, Matryosha. You can't hide these things from your mother." He pointed to the instrument of murder. "I'll throw it away for you, like the clothes. No matter what Nechayev says, you can't keep these things. It's too dangerous. Do you understand?"

Her mouth was open and the corners were quivering.About to cry, he thought to himself.But he was wrong, Matrona looked up, and he immediately felt a stubborn mocking look over him.She broke away from his hand and shook her hair. "No!" he said.There was a mocking defiant smile on the corner of her mouth.But soon she was back to herself, the confused and shy little child. He couldn't bear the fact that what he had just seen had actually happened.What he saw just now did not come from the world he knew, but from another existence. This is like the feeling when he had an epileptic seizure for the first time, when his eyes were pulled away for the first time and he was asked when and where the seizure occurred.In fact, he must have wondered if seizures were still the right word, if he hadn't had the word seizures all along—everything that had happened under the name of seizures in the last twenty years, Neither could have predicted what happened today.The spasms and shakes of the body were but a long prelude to the spasms of the mind.

innocent death.He has never felt so lonely in his life, like a traveler walking on the vast plain.Clouds loom overhead, and thunder and lightning strike on the horizon; darkness upon darkness, layer upon layer of darkness.There is no place of refuge.If he had ever had a destination, he had long since lost it.The longer the cloud builds up, the thicker it becomes.Let it all be smashed!He prayed: What's the use of delaying? six o'clock.The streets are still bustling.He hurried out the door with the package.Walking along Grokhovvaya Street to the Fontanka Canal, he squeezed his way into the crowd on the bridge.When he reached the middle of the bridge, he stopped, leaned over the railing and looked down.

The river is still frozen in this season, and there is only a winding channel in the middle of the river.What a mess on the channels of the canals under the ice!When spring comes and the river thaws, people can fish up all kinds of hidden evidence here: knives, axes, bloody coats, and worse.Killing is easy, but dealing with relics is difficult.that is the truth.Burial rites and funeral chants guide not souls, but intractable corpses, praying that they rest in peace and never return to the world. Therefore, he cautiously, as if he was stabbing his own wound, accepted Pavel again in his heart.Under the snow and dirt of Elagin Island, Pavel lay under the blanket.He is not at rest.His body persisted stubbornly.His body tensed against the cold, against eternity.He is waiting for the day of resurrection, the day when the tomb will be cracked and the coffin will be opened wide.Pavel's teeth chattered, doing what the bare skull could do, enduring what he had to.Only when the sun shines on him again will he be able to relax his tense limbs.poor child!

A young couple stopped beside him.The man's arm rests on the woman's shoulder.He walked around them slowly.Beneath the bridge, black water flowed slowly, splashing against an old crate covered in stubble.He rolled the canvas wrap around the railing of the bridge and tied it with rope.One of the girls glanced at him, then looked away.At that moment, he gently pushed the package forward. The package landed on the ice, just off the edge of the waterway.It lay there, drawing everyone's attention. He could hardly believe what had happened.He pushed it straight into the water, but he pushed it in the wrong place!Is this parallax teasing him?Don't some objects fall vertically?

"Now you're in trouble!" said a voice from the left, making his heart skip a beat.It was a man in a worker's hat, not young, with a gray beard, who was blinking at him vigorously at this moment.What a vicious face! "You'll be miserable for at least a week or two, and I dare say, what do you want to do now?" It's time for an attack, he thought to himself.My head will be full.He saw himself trembling and foaming at the mouth.A group of people surrounded there.For everyone to see freshness, Gray Beard pointed to the place where the pistol lay on the ice.A burst of seizures, like the lightning from the sky to the sinners in the world.However, the lightning did not come to him. "None of your business!" he muttered, and ran away.