Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 12, 2025
It was Agafya laughing. "And the train?" I thought. "The train has come in long ago." Waiting a little longer, I went back to the shanty. Savka was sitting motionless, his legs crossed like a Turk, and was softly, scarcely audibly humming a song consisting of words of one syllable something like: "Out on you, fie on you... I and you."
At ten o'clock in the morning Liputin's servant Agafya, an easy-mannered, lively, rosy-cheeked peasant woman of thirty, made her appearance at Stavrogin's house, with a message for Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch. She insisted on seeing "his honour himself." He had a very bad headache, but he went out. Varvara Petrovna succeeded in being present when the message was given. Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch smiled.
At first she walked fairly boldly, but soon terror and excitement got the upper hand; she turned round fearfully, stopped and took breath. "Yes, you are frightened!" Savka laughed mournfully, looking at the bright green streak left by Agafya in the dewy grass. "She doesn't want to go! Her husband's been standing waiting for her for a good hour.... Did you see him?"
At last it struck eleven and he made up his mind, once for all, that if that “damned” Agafya did not come back within ten minutes he should go out without waiting for her, making “the kids” promise, of course, to be brave when he was away, not to be naughty, not to cry from fright.
Then we heard the whistle, the train crossed the bridge with a hollow rumble... another minute and all was still. "I'll wait one minute more," said Agafya, sitting down resolutely. "So be it, I'll wait." At last Savka appeared in the darkness. He walked noiselessly on the crumbling earth of the kitchen gardens and hummed something softly to himself.
Agafya kept her eyes fixed on the copse for a long time and moved her hands impatiently. "Why, where can he be?" she said, laughing nervously. "Where has the devil carried him? I am going! I really must be going." Meanwhile the noise was growing more and more distinct. By now one could distinguish the rumble of the wheels from the heavy gasps of the engine.
Our horses were brought round, we got on, and rode first to "the other house," or to the kennels to get the dogs. Agafya Mikhailovna would be anxiously waiting us on the steps. Despite the coldness of the morning, she would be bareheaded and lightly clad, with her black jacket open, showing her withered, old bosom. She carried the dog-collars in her lean, knotted hands.
In the darkness there was a muffled thud of timid footsteps, and the silhouette of a woman appeared out of the copse. I recognized her, although it was dark it was Agafya. She came up to us diffidently and stopped, breathing hard. She was breathless, probably not so much from walking as from fear and the unpleasant sensation everyone experiences in wading across a river at night.
It was pale and puckered up with a look of fastidious pity such as one sees in the faces of people watching tortured animals. "What's fun for the cat is tears for the mouse..." he muttered. Agafya suddenly jumped up, shook her head, and with a bold step went towards her husband. She had evidently plucked up her courage and made up her mind.
I shall have to go away directly." "Savka," I shouted. "Savka." I was not answered even by an echo. Agafya moved uneasily and sat down again. "It's time I was going," she said in an agitated voice. "The train will be here directly! I know when the trains come in." The poor woman was not mistaken. Before a quarter of an hour had passed a sound was heard in the distance.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking