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Updated: May 4, 2025
And I observe my religious duties punctually...." "Well, what are you called, then?" "Call me what you like, good man." Ptaha shrugged his shoulders and slapped himself on the haunches in extreme perplexity. The other constable, Nikandr Sapozhnikov, maintained a staid silence.
The peasants called up a picture of a free life such as they had never lived; whether they vaguely recalled the images of stories heard long ago or whether notions of a free life had been handed down to them with their flesh and blood from far-off free ancestors, God knows! The first to break the silence was Nikandr Sapozhnikov, who had not till then let fall a single word.
"For his wisdom God had added to his forehead" that is, he was bald which increased the resemblance referred to. The first was called Andrey Ptaha, the second Nikandr Sapozhnikov. The man they were escorting did not in the least correspond with the conception everyone has of a tramp. He was a frail little man, weak and sickly-looking, with small, colourless, and extremely indefinite features.
'To Paris, I suppose? queried Bazarov. 'To Paris and to Heidelberg. 'Why to Heidelberg? 'How can you ask? Why, Bunsen's there! To this Bazarov could find no reply. 'Pierre Sapozhnikov ... do you know him? 'No, I don't. 'Not know Pierre Sapozhnikov ... he's always at Lidia Hestatov's. 'I don't know her either. 'Well, it was he undertook to escort me.
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