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Updated: May 14, 2025
And Rybin, who at first seemed such a staid, wise man, now aroused in her a blind hostility. "Heretic! Sedition-maker!" she thought, listening to his even voice flowing resonantly from his deep chest. He, too, had come he was indispensable. He spoke confidently and composedly: "The holy place must not be empty.
Sizov waved his cap in the air, shrugged his shoulders, and dropped his head. "I am asking you a question!" continued the manager. Pavel moved alongside of him and said in a low voice, pointing to Sizov and Rybin: "We three are authorized by all the comrades to ask you to revoke your order about the kopeck discount." "Why?" asked the manager, without looking at Pavel.
Two other men came in from the porch: the old smelter Tveryakov and his lodger, the stoker Rybin, a staid, dark-colored peasant. He said in a thick, loud voice: "Good evening, Nilovna." She dressed herself, all the while speaking to herself in a low voice, so as to give herself courage: "What sort of a thing is this? They come at night. People are asleep and they come "
"Here I am!" he said, raising his head and smiling. He wore a short fur overcoat, all stained with tar, a pair of dark mittens stuck from his belt, and his head was covered with a shaggy fur cap. "Are you well? Have they let you out of prison, Pavel? So, how are you, Nilovna?" "Why, you? How glad I am to see you!" Slowly removing his overclothes, Rybin said: "Yes, I've turned muzhik again.
The mother recalled Rybin his blood, his face, his burning eyes, his words.
All the rest Godun took on himself. Rybin will have to go through only one ward of the city. Vyesovshchikov will meet him on the street, all disguised, of course. He'll throw an overcoat over him, give him a hat, and show him the way. I'll wait for him, change his clothes and lead him off." "Not bad! And who's this Godun?" "You've seen him! You gave talks to the locksmiths in his place."
They were all yelling and debating hotly with one another. "You cannot get them to strike!" said Rybin, coming up to Pavel. "Greedy as these people are for a penny, they are too cowardly. You may, perhaps, induce about three hundred of them to follow you, no more. It's a heap of dung you won't lift with one toss of the pitchfork, I tell you!" Pavel was silent.
Pavel laughed and said: "I feel bad I didn't argue with him." "We'll have a chance to argue with him still," the Little Russian rejoined. "You keep on playing your flute; whoever has gay feet, if they haven't grown into the ground, will dance to your tune. Rybin would probably have said that we don't feel the ground under us, and need not, either. Therefore it's our business to shake it.
He knit his eyebrows, and kept his eyes turned away from Rybin. "They'll change him, and he'll become just like all the other soldiers." "No, hardly," Rybin answered meditatively. "But, of course, it's better to run away from the army. Russia is large. Where will you find the fellow? He gets himself a passport, and goes from village to village."
But in the churches, where poverty came to him for consolation, she saw him nailed to the cross with insolent gold, she saw silks and satins flaunting in the fact of want. The words of Rybin occurred to her: "They have mutilated even our God for us, they have turned everything in their hands against us. In the churches they set up a scarecrow before us.
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