Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 3, 2025
And then she looks again: a woman came along. She stared and stared at her.... Ah, God Almighty! ... it was herself coming along the road; Ulyana herself. 'Could it be herself? asked Fedya. 'Yes, by God, herself. 'Well, but she is not dead yet, you know? 'But the year is not over yet. And only look at her; her life hangs on a thread. All were still again.
We went out. A curly-headed, rosy-cheeked boy of fifteen was sitting in the cart as driver, and with difficulty holding in the well-fed piebald horse. Round the cart stood six young giants, very like one another, and Fedya. 'All of these Hor's sons! said Polutikin. Look out, Vasya, he went on, turning to the coachman; 'drive like the wind; you are driving the master.
'Well, we are listening, said Fedya with a patronising air. 'You know Gavrila, I suppose, the carpenter up in the big village? 'Yes, we know him. 'And do you know why he is so sorrowful always, never speaks? do you know? I'll tell you why he's so sorrowful; he went one day, daddy said, he went, brothers, into the forest nutting.
"And what, your honour, Ivan Ivanitch, do you want with the herb that cleaves all things?" "The tomb weighs on me; it weighs on me, Trofimitch: I want to get away away." 'My word! observed Fedya, 'he didn't enjoy his life enough, I suppose. 'What a marvel! said Kosyta. 'I thought one could only see the departed on All Hallows' day.
They were not angry at Pavel or at Fedya; they did not shout at the young men, as she had expected; they did not abuse them in words, but put all their questions reluctantly, with the air of "What's the use?". It cost them an effort to hear the answers to the end. Apparently they lacked interest because they knew everything beforehand.
Long live the first of May, the holiday of freemen!" The crowd drew closer. Pavel waved the flag. It spread out in the air and sailed forward, sunlit, smiling, red, and glowing. "Let us renounce the old world!" resounded Fedya Mazin's ringing voice; and scores of voices took up the cry. It floated as on a mighty wave. "Let us shake its dust from our feet."
No one would have called Fedya an interesting child; he was rather pale, but stout, clumsily built and awkward a thorough peasant, as Glafira Petrovna said; the pallor would soon have vanished from his cheeks, if he had been allowed oftener to be in the open air.
Such bla . . . such rascals don't deserve dinner!" Fedya, wincing and quivering all over, creeps down from his chair and goes into the corner. "You won't get off with that!" his parent persists. "If nobody else cares to look after your bringing up, so be it; I must begin. . . . I won't let you be naughty and cry at dinner, my lad! Idiot! You must do your duty! Do you understand? Do your duty!
Vyesovshchikov always kept hurrying everybody on somewhere. He and the red-haired youth called Samoylov were the first to begin all disputes. On their side were always Ivan Bukin, with the round head and the white eyebrows and lashes, who looked as if he had been hung out to dry, or washed out with lye; and the curly-headed, lofty-browed Fedya Mazin.
Once grandfather Trofimitch met him. "What," says he, "your honour, Ivan Ivanitch, are you pleased to look for on the ground?" 'He asked him? put in Fedya in amazement. 'Yes, he asked him. 'Well, I call Trofimitch a brave fellow after that.... Well, what did he say? "I am looking for the herb that cleaves all things," says he. But he speaks so thickly, so thickly.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking