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Updated: May 5, 2025
"No, I never met Mikhail Shchurov. Well, pardon me for Christ's sake!" and rising from the lounge, the pilgrim bowed to Foma and went toward the door. "But wait awhile, sit down, let's talk a little!" exclaimed Foma, rushing at him uneasily. The pilgrim looked at him searchingly and sank down on the lounge.
She seemed to be getting ready to cry, but conquered herself, and cleared her throat. "The late Mikhaíl Andréitch, before his death," she went on, "bade me go to you. 'Be sure to go, he said. In the packet was a small silver cup with the monogram of Mikhaíl's mother.
"Mikhail Ivanovich also always used to say, 'That's it! like an ax blow." "Nilovna, you're evidently tired. Permit me I " The peasant pulled his feet uneasily. "That'll do;" said the mother, rising. "Well, Ignaty, now wash yourself." The young man arose, shifted his feet about, and stepped firmly on the floor. "They seem like new feet. Thank you! Many, many thanks!"
Both the mother and Rybin spoke slowly, as if testing every word before uttering it. "There's little joy for me in this, mother," said Rybin. "I have lived here of late, and gobbled up a deal of stuff. Yes; I understand some, too! And now I feel as if I were burying a child." "You'll perish, Mikhail Ivanych!" said the mother, shaking her head sadly.
The two months of his absence seemed very long to the children, though they heard from him constantly; and there were great rejoicings when he returned with the news that their affairs had at last been satisfactorily settled. Mikhail Paulovitch had withdrawn his claim, and the great house was their own again. All the peasants of the neighbourhood came in a body to congratulate them.
Tolstoi was born as late as 1828, Turgenieff in 1818 and Pushkin, the half-negro poet-humorist, was born in 1799. Contemporary with these writers was Mikhail Ivanovitch Glinka the first of the great modern composers of Russia. Still later we come to Wassili Vereschagin, the best known of the Russian painters, who was not born until 1842.
The Polish intruders and pretenders were driven out, and then a great National Assembly gathered at Moscow to elect a Tsar. The name of Romanoff was unstained by crime, and was by maternal ancestry allied to the royal race of Rurik. The newly awakened patriotism turned instinctively toward that, as the highest expression of their hopes; and Mikhail Romanoff, a youth of 16, was elected Tsar.
"Mísha! Mikhaíl Andréevitch!" I was beginning ... "is it you?" "Call me 'thou' and 'Mísha," he interrupted me. "'Tis I ... 'tis I, in person.... I have come to Moscow ... to take a look at people ... and to show myself. So I have dropped in on you. What do you think of my trotters?... Hey?" Again he laughed loudly.
The mother, without considering, walked down the steps, but immediately returned, since on the ground she couldn't see Mikhail, hidden by the close-packed crowd. Something indistinctly joyous trembled in her bosom and warmed it. "Peasants! Keep your eyes open for those writings; read them.
Do you mean it was the same woman who buried him?" "The same," said Jeremy huskily, "only in a different world. There are other worlds, you know. But it is very true. He came as one of the kings. And the woman now has a beautiful child. She knows.... So we shan't be very sad about Mikhail. I think he also to-day is following that star, and will be at Bethlehem to-night."
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