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'Let us go to Lgov, Yermolai, whom the reader knows already, said to me one day; 'there we can shoot ducks to our heart's content. Lgov is a large village of the steppes, with a very old stone church with a single cupola, and two mills on the swampy little river Rossota.
Five miles from Lgov, this river becomes a wide swampy pond, overgrown at the edges, and in places also in the centre, with thick reeds. Here, in the creeks or rather pools between the reeds, live and breed a countless multitude of ducks of all possible kinds quackers, half- quackers, pintails, teals, divers, etc.
The sportsman, Vladimir, uttered those words for all the world like a young provincial actor in the role of leading lover. I agreed to his proposition, and before we had reached Lgov I had succeeded in learning his whole history.
Well, we shot a little in the ordinary way; at last we thought we would rest I sat down under a tree; but he began instead to play with his gun, pointing it at me meantime. I asked him to leave off, but in his inexperience he did not attend to my words, the gun went off, and I lost half my chin, and the first finger of my right hand. We reached Lgov.
Lgov was bought by him, by Afanasy Nefeditch, but it came to Sergai Sergiitch by inheritance from him. 'Whom did he buy it from? 'From Tatyana Vassilyevna. 'What Tatyana Vassilyevna was that? 'Why, that died last year in Bolhov ... that is, at Karatchev, an old maid.... She had never married. Don't you know her? We came to her from her father, Vassily Semenitch.
'No, was Yermolai's comment at last, 'it won't do; we must get a boat.... Let us go back to Lgov. We went back.
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