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Updated: June 4, 2025
The engineer looked at me and went on. "You rely on getting introductions to make a career for yourself with as little trouble as possible. Well, I don't care about introductions. Nobody helped me. Before I had this line, I was an engine-driver. I worked in Belgium as an ordinary lubricator. And what are you doing here, Panteley?" he asked, turning to Radish. "Going out drinking?"
So we had fallen into a nest of robbers. . . . What's to be done? I ran to the merchant, waked him up quietly, and said: 'Don't be frightened, merchant, said I, 'but we are in a bad way. We have fallen into a nest of robbers, I said. He turned pale and asked: 'What are we to do now, Panteley? I have a lot of money that belongs to orphans. As for my life, he said, 'that's in God's hands.
Yefim murdered people with viper's fat. That is such a poison that folks will die from the mere smell of it, let alone the fat." "That's true," Panteley agreed. "The lads wanted to kill him at the time, but the old people would not let them. It would never have done to kill him; he knew the place where the treasure is hidden, and not another soul did know.
Streams of water were flowing along the road and bubbles were dancing. Panteley was walking beside the waggon; his tall hat and his shoulder were covered with a small mat; his figure expressed neither terror nor uneasiness, as though he were deafened by the thunder and blinded by the lightning. "Grandfather, the giants!" Yegorushka shouted to him in tears. But the old man did not hear.
'Quicker, quicker, quicker! Nedopyuskin chimed in, speaking very fast. It was late in the evening when I left Bezsonovo.... It was two years after my visit that Panteley Eremyitch's troubles began his real troubles. Disappointments, disasters, even misfortunes he had had before that time, but he had paid no attention to them, and had risen superior to them in former days.
His eyes, as Yegorushka saw now, were small and dingy looking; his face was grey, sickly and looked somehow dingy too while his chin was red and seemed very much swollen. "Grandfather, what did he kill it for?" he repeated, striding along beside Panteley. "A stupid fellow.
'Oh, how thin and old he's grown in a year; and what a stern, grim face! One would have thought Panteley Eremyitch would have been rejoicing, that he had gained his end; and he was rejoicing, certainly... and yet Perfishka's heart sank: he even felt a sort of dread.
It must have been a holy saint or angel, for there was no one else. . . . When we drove out of the yard there wasn't a soul in the street. . . . It was the Lord's doing." Panteley told other stories, and in all of them "long knives" figured and all alike sounded made up.
She took two steps with the bashful awkwardness of some wild creature, stood still, and looked down. 'Come, let me introduce, said Panteley Eremyitch; 'wife she is not, but she's to be respected as a wife. Masha flushed slightly, and smiled in confusion. I made her a low bow. I thought her very charming.
They said that they found human bones in the cellar afterwards, heaps and heaps of them. . . . Bones! . . . So they robbed people and then buried them, so that there should be no traces. . . . Well, afterwards they were punished at Morshansk." Panteley had finished his story, and he looked round at his listeners. They were gazing at him in silence.
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