Poor Sushilov! He wept when I gave him my old prison clothes, shirts, under-fetters, and some money. “It’s not that, not that!” he said, trying hard to control the trembling of his lips. “But to lose you, Alexander Petrovich? How can I go on here without you?!” I said good-bye for the last time to Akim Akimych as well. “It will be your turn soon!” I said to him. “I’ll be here a long time, a long time yet, sir,” he murmured, shaking my hand. I threw myself on his neck and we kissed.
Poor Sushilov indeed ((((
