United States or Uganda ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
In the midst of these open, heat-swept spaces, Trirodov, drawn at this moment into the crowded town life, was addressing his companion in dull, everyday words: "They searched many houses early this morning. They found a great deal of literature at Stchemilov's. He's been arrested." He also repeated the rumour of whippings at the police-station. Elisaveta was silent.
"Not an infinite amount, but certainly enough to go round and plenty for every one," was Stchemilov's calm reply. "Ten or, say, a hundred acres per soul? Is that what you mean?" continued Piotr in loud derision. "You've got that idea into the heads of the muzhiks, and now they're in revolt." Stchemilov again whistled, and said with contemptuous calm: "Fiddlesticks!
It was almost taken from me. Our suburbanites have their own conceptions of the divine rights of ownership." Piotr boiled over with vexation the very sight of this young blouse-wearer irritated him beyond bounds; he thought Stchemilov's manners and speech arrogant. Piotr said sharply: "As far as I understand your notion of things, it is not rights that are holy, but brute force."
Stchemilov's loud voice rang out: "Comrades, attention. I propose comrade Abram as chairman." "Agreed, agreed," came suppressed voices from every side. Comrade Abram took his place on a high stump of a hewn-down tree. The speeches began. Elisaveta was nervous until it came her turn to speak. She was troubled with pain and fear because she knew that Trirodov would hear her.
Stchemilov's house, a cabin in the middle of a vegetable garden, stood on a steep bank of the river, just along the edge of the town. No one had yet arrived at the house. Elisaveta picked up a periodical which lay on the table and asked: "Tell me, comrade, how do you like these verses?" Stchemilov looked at the periodical, open at a page which contained Trirodov's verses.
Word Of The Day