Untitled >> Anarchism >> A Russian Proprietor, and Other Stories

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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.)

Blasts from the Past


Anna Fedorovna, while the count was in the library, went to her brother, and, for the very reason of her conviction that she ought to pretend to feel very little interest in the count, she began to question him. "Who is this hussar that has been dancing with me? Tell me, brother." The cavalryman explained, to the best of his ability, what a great man this hussar was, and in addition he told his sister that the count had stopped there simply because his money had been stolen on the route: he himself had loaned him a hundred rubles, but that was not enough. Couldn't his sister let him have two hundred more? Zavalshevsky asked her not to say any thing about this to any one, and, above all, not to the count. Anna Fedorovna promised to send the ... (From : Gutenberg.org.)


In the small room occupied by Nekhliudof stood an old leather sofa decorated with copper nails, a few chairs of the same description, an old-fashioned inlaid extension-table with scallops and brass mountings, and strewn with papers, and an old-fashioned English grand with narrow keys, broken and twisted. Between the windows hung a large mirror with an old carved frame gilded. On the floor, near the table, lay packages of papers, books, and accounts. This room, on the whole, had a characterless and disorderly appearance; and this lively disorder presented a sharp contrast with the affectedly aristocratic arrangement of the other rooms of the great mansion. When Nekhliudof reached his room, he flung his hat angrily on the table, and sat down ... (From : Gutenberg.org.)


As soon as he got into the house, the old man bowed once more; then using his coat-tail to dust the bench in the front of the room, he smiled, and said,— "What do you want of us, your excellency?" The hut was bright and roomy, with a chimney; and it had a loft and berths. The fresh aspen-wood beams, between which could be seen the moss, scarcely faded, were as yet not turned dark. The new benches and the loft were not polished smooth, and the floor was not worn. One young peasant woman, rather lean, with a serious oval face, was sitting on a berth, and using her foot to rock a hanging cradle that was suspended from the ceiling by a long hook. This was Ilya's wife. In the cradle lay at full length a suckling child, scarcely breathing, ... (From : Gutenberg.org.)


"Well, now, aren't you ashamed?" exclaimed Polózof, when the two officers had reached the privacy of their chamber. "I tried to lose, and I kept nudging you under the table. Now aren't you really ashamed? The poor old lady was quite beside herself." The count burst into a terrible fit of laughter. "A most amusing dame! How abused she felt!" And again he began to laugh so heartily that even Johann, who was standing in front of him, cast down his eyes to conceal a smile. "And here is the son of an old family friend! Ha, ha, ha!" continued the count in a gale of laughter. "No, indeed, it is not right. I felt really sorry for her," said the cornet. "What rubbish! How young you are! What! did you think that I was going to lose? Why should... (From : Gutenberg.org.)


"Have the horses put in!" cried the count, as he entered the sitting-room of the hotel with all his friends including the gypsies. "Sashka,—not the gypsy Sashka, but mine,—tell the superintendent that if the horses are poor I will flog him. Now give us some tea. Zavalshevsky, make some tea; I am going to Ilyin's; I want to find how things have gone with him," added Turbin; and he went out into the corridor, and directed his steps to the uhlan's room. Ilyin was just through playing, and, having lost all his money down to his last kopeck, had thrown himself face down on the worn-out haircloth sofa, and was picking the hairs out one by one, sticking them in his mouth, biting them into two, and spitting them out again. Two tallow ca... (From : Gutenberg.org.)

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