Reminiscences of Anton Chekhov - LightNovelsOnl.com
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Then he added gravely:
"Yes, I shall only be read for another seven years; and I shall live for less--perhaps for six. But don't go and tell that to the newspaper reporters."
He was wrong there: he did not live for six years....
He died peacefully without suffering in the stillness and beauty of a summer's dawn which he had always loved. When he was dead a look of happiness came upon his face, and it looked like the face of a very young man. There came to my mind the words of Leconte de Lisle:
Moi, je l'envie, au fond du tombeau calme et noir D'etre affranchi de vivre et de ne plus savoir La honte de penser et l'horreur d'etre un homme!
