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From time to time the driver glanced up at the door of the house and then back at the carriage, shaking his head and muttering fiercely: "Stand still, you sons of the devil, stand still! You prance and shy as if Satan himself had stuck a dart in you! Hey, there! Back, back, you limb! Will the Bárin never come?"
The light died out of the boy's face: "Bárin," he said humbly, "In Moscow you will teach me to play like yourself. I am nothing but an ignorant bradjaga as you see." Suddenly he put his hand to his mouth and began to cough: "The dust!" he said, "It has gone to my throat all at once. Eh what? Excuse me a moment, Bárin." Kaya's yellow curls were close to his ear and she whispered something.
"They've all forgotten you, Barin," he added maliciously, knowing that that would hurt me. It was strange how deeply I cared. Here was I who, only a short while before, had declared myself done with the world for ever, and now I was almost crying because no one had been to see me! Indeed, I believe in my weakness and distress I actually did cry. No one at all?
It was like the wail of a soul in inferno; a shriek like a devil laughing. "Ha-ha!" cried Velasco. "Now I understand! That is what you were after, Bárin?" Petrokoff eyed him sharply.
"Oh no, Barin.... Why? You have so many things. Surely you will not object. Perhaps I will bring it and perhaps not." "You must certainly bring it," I would say. "We will see," he would say, smiling at me in the friendliest fashion. He was the only absolutely happy Russian I have ever known. He had no passages of despair. He had been in prison, he would be in prison again.
He wishes to examine your instrument." The gentleman nodded brusquely and stretched out a fat hand. He was short and quite bald, and he stuttered as he spoke. "Quite a d-decent fiddle for a gypsey," he said, "Let me s-see it!" Velasco bowed with his hand on his heart: "It is mine," he said in a humble voice, "A thousand pardons, Bárin! Impossible!"
The children were sitting on the stove, some little pigs grunted in a corner. There was a strong smell of burning wood. "You won't care to eat with us now after the Barin's meal," nagged the old woman. "You are a Barin yourself now. Ha, ha!" Ivan remained silent, sitting down on a bench beneath the Ikon. "So you mix with rascals now," she persisted, "yes, that is what they are, Ivan Koloturov.
"Ah, Polly, you know little of the plans the deep plans an' plots that he's surrounded by. We know ourselves that there's not such a plotter in existence as he is, barin' them that's plottin' aginst him. Lord bless us! but it's a quare world here is both parties schamin' an' plottin' away all bent on risin' themselves higher in it by pride and dishonesty.
"Isn't it a beauty a sturgeon fresh run from the river?" exclaimed the stout barin. "And now let us be off home. Coachman, you can take the lower road through the kitchen garden. Run, you lout of a Thoma Bolshoy, and open the gate for him. He will guide you to the house, and I myself shall be along presently."
If that should not be done, I, I I will give you the best flogging that ever you had in your life." Truly Chichikov was almost beside himself with fury. Turning towards the door, as though for the purpose of going and carrying out his orders, Selifan halted and added: "That skewbald, barin you might think it well to sell him, seeing that he is nothing but a rascal?
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