You'll die and know all, or cease asking.

" But dying was also dreadful.

The Torzhok peddler woman, in a whining voice, went on offering her wares, especially a pair of goatskin slippers.

" I have hundreds of rubles I don't know what to do with, and she stands in her tattered cloak looking timidly at me," he thought.

" And what does she want the money for? As if that money could add a hair's breadth to happiness or peace of mind.