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Updated: May 15, 2025
"There, they are tolling for the mass," said Ignat, listening to the echo of the bell-metal. "Can you tell the bells by their sounds?" "No," answered Foma. "Just listen. This one now do you hear? the bass this is from the Nikola Church. It was presented by Peter Mitrich Vyagin and this, the hoarse one this is at the church of Praskeva Pyatnitza."
The old man's words seemed to fall on him from afar; they were blended with the clatter of the dishes, with the scraping of the lackey's feet along the floor, with some one's drunken shouting. Not far from them sat four merchants at a table and argued loudly: "Two and a quarter and thank God!" "Luka Mitrich! How can I?" "Give him two and a half!" "That's right!
The dogs became silent. A man appeared on the step with a lantern. "Who is there?" he asked quietly. "It is I," said Ivanov. "You, Sergius Mitrich?... Aha! But Arina is still at church ... went off there ... busy with her nonsense." The watchman paused. "Shall I go in and turn off the light? The express will soon be passing. Will you come in? Arina will be back before long. The wife's at home."
On hearing this the regimental commander hung his head, silently shrugged his shoulders, and spread out his arms with a choleric gesture. "A fine mess we've made of it!" he remarked. "There now! Didn't I tell you, Michael Mitrich, that if it was said 'on the march' it meant in greatcoats?" said he reproachfully to the battalion commander. "Oh, my God!" he added, stepping resolutely forward.
"It's all right! You can talk of this later," said the old man, scanning his daughter with his eyes. "Lubova, you can make your arrangements here, while we finish our little conversation. Well then, African Mitrich, explain yourself." "You will pardon me, Lubov Yakovlevna, won't you?" asked Smolin, gently. "Pray do not stand upon ceremony," said Lubov.
Ivanov the forester came out on to the door-step which had already dried, and lighted a cigarette; it burned but slowly in the moist atmosphere of the deepening twilight. "It will be hot, Mitrich, thank God!" remarked the watchman, Ignat, as he passed by with some buckets.... "Snipe will be about to-morrow, and we will have to hunt right into Easter."
However far he has walked, whatever strange, unknown, and dangerous places he reaches, just as a sailor is always surrounded by the same decks, masts, and rigging of his ship, so the soldier always has around him the same comrades, the same ranks, the same sergeant major Ivan Mitrich, the same company dog Jack, and the same commanders.
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