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Updated: June 23, 2025
Here the whole party was assembled on the Sunday afternoon following Paul's visit to the village kabak, and to them came an unexpected guest. The door was thrown open, and Claude de Chauxville, pale, but self-possessed and quiet, came into the room. The perfect ease of his manner bespoke a practised familiarity with the position difficult.
Paul paused, and suited his pace to the shorter legs of his companion. "Starosta!" he said. "Is that you?" "Yes, Excellency. I saw you go into the kabak, so I waited outside and watched. I did not dare to go inside. They will not allow me there. They are afraid that I should give information." "How long have these meetings been going on?"
She fought with what arms she wielded best the lightest, the quickest, the most baffling. "As you will," said Steinmetz. A Russian village kabak, with a smoking lamp, of which the chimney is broken. The greasy curtains drawn across the small windows exclude the faintest possibility of a draught. The moujik does not like a draught; in fact, he hates the fresh air of heaven.
"What are you doing here?" "Watching you," answered Karl Steinmetz, in his mild way. "It is no longer safe for either of us to go about alone. It was mere foolery your going to that kabak." Of all the rooms in the great castle Etta liked the morning-room best. Persons of a troubled mind usually love to look upon a wide prospect.
"The Moscow doctor" the peasants would say in the kabak over their vodka and their tea "the Moscow doctor comes in and kicks our beds out of the door. He comes in and throws our furniture into the street But afterward he gives us new beds and new furniture." It was a joke that always obtained in the kabak. It flavored the vodka, and with that fiery poison served to raise a laugh.
"If you had as much brains as Marfa Poosadnitza, for instance. Eh, Lubov? Then I'd laugh at everybody, and at Foma. Come now, don't cry!" She wiped her eyes and asked: "What about Foma?" "He's rebellious. Ha! ha! he says: 'Take away my property, give me freedom! He wants to save his soul in the kabak. That's what entered Foma's head." "Well, what is this?" asked Lubov, irresolutely.
Witness the cigarette-smoking countries. Moreover, this same poor man is not a pleasant companion. He smokes a poor cigarette. There is also the smell of vodka, which bottled curse is standing in tumblers all down the long table. The news has spread in Osterno that vodka is to be had for the asking at the kabak, where there is a meeting. Needless to say, the meeting is a large one.
It is the tchinovniks who make the taxes and live on them." "Ah, you are very eloquent, little father. If you talk like this in the kabak no wonder you have a bad throat. There, I can do no more for you. You must wash more and drink less. You might try a little work perhaps; it stimulates the appetite. And with a throat like that I should not talk so much if I were you. Next!"
An instance of this fact occurred during my sojourn at Ivanofka. The question under discussion was whether a kabak, or gin-shop, should be established in the village. A trader from the district town desired to establish one, and offered to pay to the Commune a yearly sum for the necessary permission.
Foolishness and thirst are often found in the same head a cranium which, by the way, is exceptionally liable to be turned by knowledge or drink. If the drink at the kabak of Osterno was dangerous, the knowledge was no less so. "I tell you, little fathers," an orator was shouting, "that the day of the capitalist has gone.
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