A Russian Proprietor, and Other Stories

Part 6, Chapter 6
Life was made utterly wretched for them. Their clogs were not taken off even at night, and they were not let out at all. Unbaked dough was thrown down to them as though they were dogs, and water was let down in a jug. In the pit it was damp and suffocating. Kostuilin became ill, and swelled up, and had rheumatism all over his body, and he groaned or slept all the time. Even Zhilin lost his spirits; he sees that they are in desperate straits. And he does not know how to get out. He had begun to make an excavation, but there was nowhere to hide the earth; Abdul discovered it, and threatened to kill him. He was squatting down one time in the pit, and thinking about life and liberty, and he grew sad. Suddenly a cake fell directly into his lap, then another, and some cherries followed. He looked up, and there was Dina. She peered down at him, laughed, and then ran away. And Zhilin began to conjecture, "Couldn't Dina hel... (From : Gutenberg.org.)

Part 6, Chapter 5
Zhilin crept down into his hole, and widened it so that Kostuilin also could get through, and then they sat and waited till all should be quiet in the aul. As soon as the people were quiet in the aul, Zhilin crept under the wall, and came out on the other side. He whispers to Kostuilin, "Crawl under." Kostuilin also crept under, but in doing so he hit a stone with his leg, and it made a noise. Now, the master had a brindled dog as a watch,—a most ferocious animal; they called him Ulyashin. Zhilin had been in the habit of feeding him. Ulyashin heard the noise, and began to bark and jump about, and the other dogs joined in. Zhilin gave a little whistle, threw him a piece of cake. Ulyashin recognized him, began to wag his tail, and ceased barking. Abdul had heard the disturbance, and cried from within the hut:— "Háït! háït! Ulyashin." But Zhilin scratched the dog behind the ears... (From : Gutenberg.org.)

Part 6, Chapter 4
At the end of a month, over the grave of the dead a stone chapel was erected. Over the driver's there was as yet no stone, and only the fresh green grass sprouted over the mound that served as the sole record of the past existence of a man. "It will be a sin and a shame, Seryóha," said the cook at the station-house one day, "if you don't buy a gravestone for Khveódor. You kept saying, 'It's winter, winter,' but now why don't you keep your word? I heard it all. He has already come back once to ask why you don't do it; if you don't buy him one, he will come again, he will choke you." "Well, now, have I denied it?" urged Seryóha. "I am going to buy him a stone, as I said I would. I can get one for a ruble and a half. I have not forgotten about it; I'll have to get it. As soon as I happen to be in town, then I'll buy him one." "You ought at least to put up a cross, that's what you ought to do," said an old driver. "It isn't right at all. Yo... (From : Gutenberg.org.)

Part 6, Chapter 3
Spring had come. Along the wet streets of the city swift streamlets ran purling between bits of ice; bright were the colors of people's dresses and the tones of their voices, as they hurried along. In the walled gardens, the buds on the trees were bourgeoning, and the fresh breeze swayed their branches with a soft gentle murmur. Everywhere transparent drops were forming and falling.... The sparrows chattered incoherently, and fluttered about on their little wings. On the sunny side, on the walls, houses, and trees, all was full of life and brilliancy. The sky, and the earth, and the heart of man overflowed with youth and joy. In front of a great seignorial mansion, in one of the principal streets, fresh straw was laid; in the house lay that same invalid whom we saw hastening abroad. Near the closed doors of the house stood the sick lady's husband, and a lady well along in years. On a sofa sat the confessor, with cast-down eyes, holding something wra... (From : Gutenberg.org.)

Part 6, Chapter 2
The coach was ready, but the driver loitered. He had gone into the driver's cottage, where it was warm, close, dark, and suffocating; smelling of human occupation, of cooking bread, of cabbage, and of sheep-skin garments. Several drivers were in the room; the cook was engaged near the oven, on top of which lay a sick man wrapped up in pelts. "Uncle Khveódor! hey! Uncle Khveódor," called a young man, the driver, in a tulup, and with his knout in his belt, coming into the room, and addressing the sick man. "What do you want, rattlepate? What are you calling to Fyédka for?" demanded one of the drivers. "There's your carriage waiting for you." "I want to borrow his boots. Mine are worn out," replied the young fellow, tossing back his curls and straightening his mittens in his belt. "Why? is he asleep? Say, Uncle Khveódor!" he insisted, going to the oven. "What is it?" a weak voice w... (From : Gutenberg.org.)

Ilyin, the cornet of uhlans, had not long been awake. The evening before, he had sat down at the gambling-table at eight o'clock, and lost for fifteen consecutive hours, till eleven o'clock that day. He had lost a great amount, but exactly how much he did not know, because he had had three thousand rubles of his money, and fifteen thousand belonging to the treasury, which he had long ago mixed up with his own, and he did not dare to settle his accounts lest his anticipations that he had made too great inroads on the public money should be confirmed. He went to sleep about noon, and slept that heavy, dreamless sleep, peculiar to very young men who have been losing heavily. Waking at six, about the time that Count Turbin had arrived at the ho... (From : Gutenberg.org.)

"I wanted to ask you something about my sons, your excellency," said the old man, either pretending not to notice, or really not noticing, the prince's angry face. "What?" "Well, we are well provided with horses, praise the Lord! and that's our trade, and so we don't have to work on your land." "What do you mean?" "If you would only be kind enough to let my sons have leave of absence, then Ilyushka and Ignát would take three troïkas, and go out teaming for all summer. Maybe they'd earn something." "Where would they go?" "Just as it happened," replied Ilyushka, who at this moment, having put the horses under the shed, joined his father. "The Kadminski boys went with eight horses to Romen. Not only earned their own living, they sa... (From : Gutenberg.org.)

Two Hussars
1856. Jomini, aye, Jomini, But not a single word of vodka. D. Davuidof. At the very beginning of this century, when there were no railways, no macadamized roads, no gas or stearine candles, no low and springy sofas, no unvarnished furniture, no disillusioned young men with eye-glasses, no women philosophers of liberal tendencies, no dear Camilles, such as our time has produced in abundance; in those naïve days when travelers made the journey from Moscow to Petersburg by stage or carriage, and took with them a whole kitchen of domestic preparations, and traveled for a week, night and day, over soft roads, muddy or dusty as the case might be, pinned their faith to Pozharsky cutlets, Valdaï bluebells, and pretzels; when during the lo... (From : Gutenberg.org.)

A score of years have passed. Much water has run since then, many men have died, many children have been born, many have grown up and become old; still more thoughts have been born and perished. Much that was beautiful and much that was ugly in the past have disappeared; much that is beautiful in the new has been brought forth, and still more that is incomplete and abortive of the new has appeared in God's world. Count Feódor Turbin was long ago killed in a duel with some foreigner whom he struck on the street with his long whip. His son, who was as like him as two drops of water, had already reached the age of two or three and twenty, and was a lovely fellow, already serving in the cavalry. Morally the young Count Turbin was entirel... (From : Gutenberg.org.)

"There's one other thing I wished to speak to you about," said Nekhliudof. "Why don't you haul out your manure?" "What manure, sir, your excellency? There isn't any to haul out. What cattle have I got? One mare and colt; and last autumn I sold my heifer to the porter,—that's all the cattle I've got." "I know you haven't much, but why did you sell your heifer?" asked the bárin in amazement. "What have I got to feed her on?" "Didn't you have some straw for feeding the cow? The others did." "The others have their fields manured, but my land's all clay. I can't do any thing with it." "Why don't you dress it, then, so it won't be clay? Then the land would give you grain, and you'd have something to feed to your stock." "But I haven'... (From : Gutenberg.org.)