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"And this mysticism that they tell us about in England. Are you mystical, Rat? Have you a beautiful soul?" He sniffed and blew his nose with his hand. "I don't know what you're talking about, Barin I suppose you haven't a rouble or two on you?" "No, I haven't," I answered. He looked up and down the bridge as though he were wondering whether an attack on me was worth while.
He swore vigorously to himself under his beard, and the flakes fell from him in a shower. After a while the door of the house opened; some one appeared on the steps and a voice called out: "Bobo, eh Bobo! Is that you, are you ready? Heavens, what a night!" "All ready, Monsieur Velasco, all ready." "The boxes on?" "Yes, Bárin." "You took my valise, did you?" "Yes, Bárin."
As a matter of fact, their appellations had been given them merely to spur them to greater activity, for, in general, the barin was no lover of abuse, but, rather, a kind-hearted man who, like most Russians, could not get on without a sharp word or two. That is to say, he needed them for his tongue as he need a glass of vodka for his digestion. What else could you expect?
There'll be pay later, and then I will return it to you." "There's nothing for you to-night," I said. He laughed. "You're a fine man, Barin. A foreigner is fine that's where the poor Russian is unhappy. I love you, Barin, and I will look after you, and if, as you say, there isn't any money here, one must pray to God and he will show one the way." "What's this work you're going to do?" I asked him.
Yet the rye on the peasants' land had formed into ear, and the oats had begun to shoot their grain, and the millet had filled before, on the manorial lands, the corn had so much as grown to stalk, or the ears had sprouted in embryo. In short, gradually the barin realised that, in spite of favours conferred, the peasants were playing the rogue with him.
The children, Volodia and his wife, Var-Vara, and Adam; all stood round eagerly as André Olsheffsky superintended the forcing open of the precious box. "It's my belief the papers will be a pulp," whispered Volodia. "We must be ready to stand by the Barin when he finds out the disappointment." But the papers were not hurt.
There are nine hundred souls in Osterno; are you going to bow down before one man? All men are equal moujik and bárin, krestyanin and prince.
He got up on to his seat, his broad back was bent over his horses. "Well, and how have things been, Nikolai, busy?" "Nikak nyet not at all. Very quiet." "No wounded?" "Nothing at all, Barin, for two weeks now." "Have you liked that?" "Tak totchno. Certainly yes." "No, but have you?" "Tak totchno, Barin."
"No, you are wrong, barin," put in the person referred to, turning his head with a sidelong glance. "After we get down the next hill we shall need but to keep bending round it. That is all." "Yes, and I suppose you'll tell me that sivnkha is the only thing that has passed your lips? Well, the view at least is beautiful.
"I have told you before," replied the barin, "that I do not care to play the huckster. I am not one of those landowners whom fellows of your sort visit on the very day that the interest on a mortgage is due. Ah, I know your fraternity thoroughly, and know that you keep lists of all who have mortgages to repay. But what is there so clever about that?
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