United States or Bulgaria ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Egorka walked up to it and read the inscription: "Boy Giorgiy Antipov." Then the year, month, and date of his death. He was faintly astonished, but an ominous indifference already made captive his soul. Some one touched his shoulder and asked something. Egorka was silent. He looked as if he did not understand. "Come to me," said Trirodov quietly to him.
He was a fine man, but with marked simplicity, not to put a fine point on it in his glance and his manners. Raisky wondered jealously whether he was Vera's hero. Why not? Women like these tall men with open faces and highly developed muscular strength. But Vera "And you, Borushka," cried Tatiana Markovna suddenly, clapping her hands. "Look at your clothes. Egorka and the rest of you!
"You have brought Vera up in the right way," said Raisky. "Let Egorka and Marina read your allegory together, and the household will be impeccable." Vikentev called Marfinka into the garden, Raisky went to his room, and Tatiana Markovna sat for a long time on the divan, absorbed in thought.
Egorka had a splendid time with the quiet children. He did not notice how a whole week had passed by from Friday to Friday. And suddenly he began to long for his mother. He heard her calling him at night, and as he woke in agitation he called: "Mamma, where are you?" There was stillness and silence all around him it was an altogether unknown world. Egorka began to cry.
Egorka was already losing his consciousness. When the boys first looked at him he was lying on his side. He stirred faintly. He breathed in the air as if with short, broken sighs. He shivered. He turned over on his back. The fresh air blew into his face like a young rapture of deliverance. There was a sudden instant of joy and it went out like a flame. Why indeed, should he rejoice?
His throat, as if clutched by some one's fingers, shivered convulsively. His eyes dilated widely, and the flaming darkness of the nailed-up coffin swept before them. As he tossed about in the tight coffin, tormented by his dread, Egorka moaned, and whispered in a dull voice: "Three house-sprites, three wood-sprites, three fallen sprites!" The gate to the burial-ground was open.
"I am going into the garden for a moment to fetch the fugitive," said Paulina Karpovna. "God be with you, Paulina Karpovna," said Tatiana Markovna. "Don't put your nose outside in the darkness, or at any rate take Egorka with you to carry a lantern." "No, I will go alone. It is not necessary for anyone to disturb us."
The quiet children came to comfort him. They said to him: "There's nothing to cry about. You will return to your mother. And she will be glad, and she will caress you." "She may whip me," said Egorka, sobbing. The quiet children smiled and said: "Fathers and mothers whip their children." "They like to do it." "It seems wicked to beat any one." "But they really mean well."
Egorka was buried. His mother wept long over his grave in long-drawn-out wails, then went home. She was convinced that her boy would be far better off there than upon the earth, and was consoled. But such truly Russian people as Kerbakh, Ostrov, and others would not be consoled. They let loose evil rumours. The report spread: "The Jews have tortured a Christian boy.
The time lingered on, running and consuming itself, wreathed in a circle of delicious moments, and it seemed to Egorka that he had come into some fabulous land.
Word Of The Day