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Updated: May 16, 2025
So, automatically picking themselves up, those feet started to bear my body in the direction of a spot on the sandy bank where the winter-stripped branches of a willow tree were writhing, and whither there were betaking themselves also Boev, the old soldier, Budirin, and the brothers Diatlov.
All of which inspired Mokei Budirin, a grey-headed muzhik of a cast of countenance canine in the prominence of his jaws and the recession of his forehead, and taciturn withal, though not otherwise remarkable, to give slow, nasal utterance to his favourite formula. "That is true enough," he said.
The police have been sent for." And this led Boev to exclaim to Ossip: "Why pretend like that?" "Pretend? "Yes you." "What do you mean?" "I mean that it was you who egged us on to cross the river." "You say that it was I?" "I do." "Indeed?" "Aye," put in Budirin quietly, but incisively. And him the Morduine supported by saying in a sullen undertone: "It was you, mate. By God it was.
Indeed, it is no more than the truth that I'm going to tell you. Very well! Cackle away, and be damned!" Here everyone without exception dropped his work to shout with merriment and clap his hands: with the result that, doffing his cap, and thereby disclosing a silvered, symmetrically shaped head with one bald spot amid its one dark portion, Ossip was forced to shout severely: "Hi, you Budirin!
Yes, before my mind's eye there arose men drowned and devoured by crayfish, men with crumbling skulls and swollen features, and glassy, bulging eyes and puffy hands and outstretched fingers and palms of which the skin had rotted off with the damp. The first to fall in was Mokei Budirin.
And, doffing his cap, a gesture which he never failed to execute when he had something particularly important to say, he added humbly and sonorously as he glanced at the grey firmament: "In the sight of the Lord our ways are the ways of thieves, and such as will never gain of Him salvation." "And that is true enough," responded Mokei Budirin after the fashion of a clarionet.
For never could anything be spoken of that was grim or marvellous or lewd or malicious, but Budirin at once re-echoed softly, but in a tone of unshakable conviction: "That is true enough." Thereafter he would tap me on the breast with his hard and ponderous fist.
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