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Updated: May 18, 2025
From the host's room came the sounds of a child crying, the despairing sobs of a woman, and the hoarse angry shouting of Ferapontov. The cook began running hither and thither in the passage like a frightened hen, just as Alpatych entered. "He's done her to death. Killed the mistress!... Beat her... dragged her about so!..." "What for?" asked Alpatych. "She kept begging to go away. She's a woman!
Alpatych, without answering or looking at his host, sorted his packages and asked how much he owed. "We'll reckon up! Well, have you been to the Governor's?" asked Ferapontov. "What has been decided?" Alpatych replied that the Governor had not told him anything definite. "With our business, how can we get away?" said Ferapontov.
Seventy quarters of grain had also been carted away. The hay and the spring corn, of which Alpatych said there had been a remarkable crop that year, had been commandeered by the troops and mown down while still green. The peasants were ruined; some of them too had gone to Bogucharovo, only a few remained.
"What do you want, my pretty?" said Ilyin with a smile. "The princess ordered me to ask your regiment and your name." "This is Count Rostov, squadron commander, and I am your humble servant." "Co-o-om-pa-ny!" roared the tipsy peasant with a beatific smile as he looked at Ilyin talking to the girl. Following Dunyasha, Alpatych advanced to Rostov, having bared his head while still at a distance.
"The power is in your hands," Dron rejoined sadly. "Eh, Dron, drop it!" Alpatych repeated, withdrawing his hand from his bosom and solemnly pointing to the floor at Dron's feet. "I can see through you and three yards into the ground under you," he continued, gazing at the floor in front of Dron. Dron was disconcerted, glanced furtively at Alpatych and again lowered his eyes.
Alpatych collected his parcels, handed them to the coachman who had come in, and settled up with the innkeeper. The noise of wheels, hoofs, and bells was heard from the gateway as a little trap passed out. It was by now late in the afternoon. Half the street was in shadow, the other half brightly lit by the sun. Alpatych looked out of the window and went to the door.
"I'll give them armed force... I'll 'overresist' them!" uttered Rostov meaninglessly, breathless with irrational animal fury and the need to vent it. Without considering what he would do he moved unconciously with quick, resolute steps toward the crowd. And the nearer he drew to it the more Alpatych felt that this unreasonable action might produce good results.
"You must go away too, take away what you can and tell the serfs to go to the Ryazan estate or to the one near Moscow." Alpatych clung to Prince Andrew's leg and burst into sobs. Gently disengaging himself, the prince spurred his horse and rode down the avenue at a gallop.
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