“Time was moving towards night. The sexton Savely Gykin lay in his church gatehouse on a huge bed and did not sleep, although he always had the habit of falling asleep at the same time as the chickens. His red, coarse hair peeked out from one end of the greasy blanket, sewn from multi-colored chintz scraps; from under the other, his large legs, which had not been washed for a long time, stuck out. He listened......"