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"Yes, it is very likely that I shall be killed tomorrow," he

thought. And suddenly, at this thought of death, a whole series

of most distant, most intimate, memories rose in his imagination:

he remembered his last parting from his father and his wife; he

remembered the days when he first loved her. He thought of her

pregnancy and felt sorry for her and for himself, and in a

nervously emotional and softened mood he went out of the hut in

which he was billeted with Nesvitski and began to walk up and

down before it.