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Updated: June 29, 2025
No, when a man is not to live on the earth, him the sunshine does not warm like another, and him the bread does not nourish and make strong; it is as though something is drawing him away.... Yes: God rest his soul! 'Have you been settled long amongst us? I asked him after a short pause. Kassyan started. 'No, not long; four years.
Kassyan shuddered. 'Dead? he said, and his head sank dejectedly. 'Yes, he is dead. Why didn't you cure him, eh? You know they say you cure folks; you're a doctor. My coachman was apparently laughing and jeering at the old man. 'And is this your trap, pray? he added, with a shrug of his shoulders in its direction. 'Yes.
Kassyan looked after her, then looked down and smiled to himself. In this prolonged smile, in the few words he had spoken to Annushka, and in the very sound of his voice when he spoke to her, there was an intense, indescribable love and tenderness. He looked again in the direction she had gone, again smiled to himself, and, passing his hand across his face, he nodded his head several times.
He is such a queer fellow; he's cracked, you know, and his nickname is the Flea. I don't know how you managed to make him out.... I tried to say to Erofay that so far Kassyan had seemed to me a very sensible man; but my coachman continued at once in the same voice: 'But you keep a look-out where he is driving you to.
I flung myself down under a high nut-bush, over which a slender young maple gracefully stretched its light branches. Kassyan sat down on the thick trunk of a felled birch-tree. I looked at him. The leaves faintly stirred overhead, and their thin greenish shadows crept softly to and fro over his feeble body, muffled in a dark coat, and over his little face. He did not lift his head.
When the little cart was quite ready, and I, together with my dog, had been installed in the warped wicker body of it, and Kassyan huddled up into a little ball, with still the same dejected expression on his face, had taken his seat in front, Erofay came up to me and whispered with an air of mystery: 'You did well, your honour, to drive with him.
'That? broke in Erofay, and going up to Kassyan's nag, he tapped it disparagingly on the back with the third finger of his right hand. 'See, he added contemptuously, 'it's asleep, the scare-crow! I asked Erofay to harness it as quickly as he could. I wanted to drive myself with Kassyan to the clearing; grouse are fond of such places.
'Good health to you, Erofay, upright man! replied Kassyan in a dejected voice. I at once made known his suggestion to the coachman; Erofay expressed his approval of it and drove into the yard. While he was busy deliberately unharnessing the horses, the old man stood leaning with his shoulders against the gate, and looking disconsolately first at him and then at me.
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