United States or Kazakhstan ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"They don't take any notice of that," Malahin goes on, "and charge me and my son the third-class fare, too, forty-two roubles, for going in the van with the bullocks. This is my son Yakov. I have two more at home, but they have gone in for study. Well and apart from that it is my opinion that the railways have ruined the cattle trade. In old days when they drove them in herds it was better."
This was the waiter, Sergey Nikanoritch, who was standing in the doorway with the reckoning beads in his hands, very pale, looking with horror at what was happening in the kitchen. Only when he turned and went quickly into the passage and from there outside, Yakov grasped who it was and followed him. Wiping his hands on the snow as he went, he reflected.
"Untie me." "It's all right! You can lie that way as well." "Call up my godfather." But Yakov Tarasovich came up at this moment. He came up, stopped near Foma, sternly surveyed with his eyes the outstretched figure of his godson, and heaved a deep sigh. "Well, Foma," he began. "Order them to unbind me," entreated Foma, softly, in a mournful voice. "So you can be turbulent again?
Then he began to weep. And because of this Yakov was not often asked to play in the orchestra; he was only sent for in case of extreme necessity in the absence of one of the Jews. Yakov was never in a good temper, as he was continually having to put up with terrible losses.
The shrill, jarring shout of Mayakin called forth a deafening, triumphant roar from the merchants. All these big, fleshy bodies, aroused by wine and by the old man's words, stirred and uttered from their chests such a unanimous, massive shout that everything around them seemed to tremble and to quake. "Yakov! you are the trumpet of the Lord!" cried Zubov, holding out his goblet toward Mayakin.
"Eh, children, you are wounds to the heart you are not its joy," complained Yakov Tarasovich in a ringing voice, and he evidently invested a great deal in these words, for immediately after he had pronounced them he became radiant, more courageous, and he said briskly, addressing himself to his daughter: "Well, have you melted with joy?
"Well, that's not at all clerical!" thought Kunin, shrugging his shoulders contemptuously. "What is it, priestly greed or childishness?" After giving his visitor another glass of tea and seeing him to the entry, Kunin lay down on the sofa and abandoned himself to the unpleasant feeling induced in him by the visit of Father Yakov. "What a strange wild creature!" he thought.
The teacher, who was drawing absently with his fingers on the table, said, "Do you see, Yakov, why this did not please me? . . . Let us go into the matter thoroughly, and understand what you are really doing, and what the result may be. Your wife is pregnant. You struck her last night on her sides and breast. That means that you beat not only her but the child too.
"Get out of my sight!" roared Yakov, and rushed at him with his fists. "One can't live for you scabby Jews!"
"To speak the truth, that's not given to everyone!" said Yakov Tarasovich, sternly and instructively, lifting his hand upward. "It is not the heart that grasps truth; it is the mind; do you understand that? And as to your feeling, that's nonsense! A cow also feels when they twist her tail. But you must understand, understand everything! Understand also your enemy.
Word Of The Day