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Updated: May 15, 2025
I have a great-niece. . . ." And Zotov began telling at great length of his great-niece Glasha, daughter of his niece Katerina, who lived somewhere on a farm. "She is bound to keep me!" he said. "My house will be left to her, so let her keep me; I'll go to her. It's Glasha, you know . . . Katya's daughter; and Katya, you know, was my brother Panteley's stepdaughter. . . . You understand?
It was impossible to go to his great-niece Glasha, whom he hardly knew, with these creatures; he did not want to go back and shut them up, and, indeed, he could not shut them up, because the gate was no use. "To die of hunger in the shed," thought Zotov. "Hadn't I really better take them to Ignat?" Ignat's hut stood on the town pasture-ground, a hundred paces from the flagstaff.
So he creaked on for two years more, and at length one day in the beginning of the month of May, he died. He had been carried out to the balcony, and planed there in the sun. "Glasha! Glashka! broth, broth, you old idi ," lisped his stammering tongue; and then, without completing the last word, it became silent forever.
Thus he lingered on for two years and died on the first day of May, when he had been brought out on to the balcony into the sun. "Glasha, Glashka! soup, soup, old foo " his halting tongue muttered and before he had articulated the last word, it was silent for ever.
Even after we had returned home they would give me no rest, but would go on talking about her all night, and calling her their Glasha, and declaring themselves to be in love with "the canary-bird of their hearts." My defenseless self, too, they would plague about the woman, for I was as young as they. What a figure I must have cut with them on the fourth tier of the gallery!
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