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Updated: June 13, 2025
Abyedok, knowing the Captain's weak point, and fond of making other people angry, cunningly adds: "Yes, since the nobility began to make acquaintance with hunger, men have disappeared from the world ..." "You are right, you son of a spider and a toad. Yes, from the time that the noblemen fell, there have been no men. There are only merchants, and I hate them."
I might have had something to wear had he left my society at least for a little while." "You are bitter . . ." said Abyedok, and coughed. The Captain, with his feeling of superiority to the others, never talked with his mouth full. Having drunk twice, the company began to grow merry; the food was grateful to them.
They had always felt the teacher to be an uncommon man, but now many of them were drunk and the others sad and silent. Only the Deacon suddenly drew himself up straight and howled wildly: "And may the righteous r e s t!" "You idiot!" hissed Abyedok. "What are you howling for?" "Fool!" said Tyapa's hoarse voice "When a man is dying one must be quiet ... so that he may have peace."
"He was the best among you ... the cleverest, the most respectable... I mourn for him." "Re-s-t with the Saints... Sing, you crooked hunchback!" roared the Deacon, digging his friend in the ribs. "Be quiet!" shouted Abyedok, jumping vengefully to his feet. "I will give him one on the head," proposed Martyanoff, raising his head from the ground. "You are not asleep?"
"I feel inclined to commit a murder," declared Martyanoff, laughing his dull laugh. "Upon whom?" asked Abyedok, edging away from him. "It's all the same to me ... Petunikoff ... Egorka ... or even you!" "And why?" inquired Kuvalda. "I want to go to Siberia ... I have had enough of this vile life ... one learns how to live there!"
He was drinking vodki at the moment. "They must have known we had something in which to commemorate him after his death!" continued Abyedok, lighting a cigarette. Someone laughed, someone sighed. Generally speaking, the conversation of Abyedok and the Captain did not interest them, and they hated having to think at all.
He did not even once look in their direction. "The young spider has himself well in hand," remarked Abyedok, watching young Petunikoff's every movement and action. Having taken all the measurements he desired, Ivan Andreyevitch knit his brows, got into the cart, and drove away. His son went with a firm step into Vaviloff's eating-house, and disappeared behind the door. "Ho, ho!
It often happened, that having said something absolutely impossible and without proof, he kept on repeating it, beginning in a childish, capricious tone, and gradually raising his voice to a mad shriek. The Deacon stood up for his friend. "No; he did not poison her. He had no reason to do so." "But I say that he poisoned her!" swore Abyedok.
Petunikoff put out his trembling hand toward his mite, and protecting his head from Kuvalda's fist with the other hand, said: 101 CREATURES THAT ONCE WERE MEN "You are my witnesses, Sir Inspector, and you good people!" "We are not good people, merchant!" said the voice of Abyedok, trembling with anger.
"He was the best among you . . . the cleverest, the most respectable. I mourn for him." "R-e-s-t with the Saints . . . Sing, you crooked hunchback!" roared the Deacon, digging his friend in the ribs. "Be quiet!" shouted Abyedok, jumping vengefully to his feet. "I will give him one on the head," proposed Martyanoff, raising his head from the ground. "You are not asleep?"
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