Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: July 4, 2025
With a brown, three-cornered hat on his brown hair, which was plaited in a pig-tail, attired in a yellowish nankin long coat, girt much below the waist by a strip of blue stuff, the servant of the altar had come out into his back-garden, and, catching sight of Panteley Eremyitch, he thought it his duty to pay his respects to him, and to take the opportunity of doing so to ask him a question about something.
'Sergay Bobrov; he was a capital fellow; he took me under his wing as an ignoramus from the wilds. And Panteley Gornostaev is dead. All dead, all! 'Have you been living all the time in Moscow? You haven't been away to the country? 'To the country!... My country place is sold. 'Sold? 'By auction.... There! what a pity you didn't buy it. 'What are you going to live on, Piotr Petrovitch?
"They say they did not find much money afterwards." "No," Panteley confirmed; "they only found a hundred roubles." "And three of them died afterwards, for the merchant had cut them badly with the scythe, too. They died from loss of blood. One had his hand cut off, so that they say he ran three miles without his hand, and they found him on a mound close to Kurikovo.
"That was Panteley from Makarov's estate," said the old man. "He gets a hundred and fifty a year and provisions found, too. He is a man of education...." The sheep, waking up there were about three thousand of them began without zest to while away the time, nipping at the low, half-trampled grass.
Then he took a step towards the fire, smiled still more radiantly and said: "Bread and salt, friends!" "You are very welcome!" Panteley answered for them all. The stranger put down by the fire what he was carrying in his arms it was a dead bustard and greeted them once more. They all went up to the bustard and began examining it. "A fine big bird; what did you kill it with?" asked Dymov.
Evidently he was afraid of no one, would stick at nothing, and most likely was not in the least interested in Yegorushka's opinion of him. . . . Yegorushka meanwhile hated his flaxen head, his clear face, and his strength with his whole heart, listened with fear and loathing to his laughter, and kept thinking what word of abuse he could pay him out with. Panteley, too, went up to the pail.
Knowing by experience how such conversations usually ended, Panteley and Vassya intervened and tried to persuade Dymov not to quarrel about nothing. "A church-singer!" The bully would not desist, but laughed contemptuously. "Anyone can sing like that sit in the church porch and sing 'Give me alms, for Christ's sake! Ugh! you are a nice fellow!" Emelyan did not speak.
Tchertop-hanov sat facing the window while he told his story, and smoked a pipe with a long tube while Perfishka stood in the doorway, his hands behind his back, and, respectfully contemplating the back of his master's head, heard him relate how, after many fruitless efforts and idle expeditions, Panteley Eremyitch had at last come to the fair at Romyon by himself, without the Jew Leyba, who, through weakness of character, had not persevered, but had deserted him; how, on the fifth day, when he was on the point of leaving, he walked for the last time along the rows of carts, and all at once he saw between three other horses fastened to the railings he saw Malek-Adel!
"You won't catch anything here," Panteley shouted from the bank. "You are only frightening the fish, you stupids! Go more to the left! It's shallower there!" Once a big fish gleamed above the net; they all drew a breath, and Dymov struck the place where it had vanished with his fist, and his face expressed vexation. "Ugh!" cried Panteley, and he stamped his foot. "You've let the perch slip!
Of Russian writers he respected Derzhavin, but liked Marlinsky, and called Ammalat-Bek the best of the pack.... A few days after my first meeting with the two friends, I set off for the village of Bezsonovo to see Panteley Eremyitch.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking