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Updated: May 9, 2025
Proud of her resourcefulness she looked askance at Sofya's serious, stern face. "How are you?" said Rybin, smiling grimly. He shook her hand, bowed to Sofya, and continued: "Don't lie. This isn't the city. No need of lies. These are all our own people, good people." Yefim, sitting at the table, looked sharply at the pilgrims, and whispered something to his comrades.
He looked around the room, immediately spied the bookshelf, and walked over to it slowly. "Went straight to them!" Rybin said, winking to Pavel. Yefim started to examine the books, and said: "A whole lot of reading here! But I suppose you haven't much time for it. Down in the village they have more time for reading." "But less desire?" Pavel asked. "Why?
"His guts have burst," as he says; the pain is so violent that he cannot utter a single word, and can only draw in his breath and clack his teeth like the rattling of a drum: "Boo boo boo boo. . . ." Her mother, Pelageya, has run to the master's house to say that Yefim is dying. She has been gone a long time, and ought to be back.
Outside a shack built of poles and branches, at a table formed simply of three unplaned boards laid on a trestle stuck firmly into the ground, sat Rybin, all blackened, his shirt open at his breast, Yefim, and two other young men. They were just dining. Rybin was the first to notice the women. Shading his eyes with his hand, he waited in silence.
Every one, indeed, loved this young man wherever he went, and it was so from his earliest childhood. When he entered the household of his patron and benefactor, Yefim Petrovitch Polenov, he gained the hearts of all the family, so that they looked on him quite as their own child.
He bought her a gold wash basin with my blood." "Man is created in the image of God," said Yefim, smiling. "And that's the use to which they put the image. Fine!" "Well, then don't be silent!" exclaimed Rybin, striking his palm on the table. "Don't suffer it," added Yakob softly. Ignaty laughed.
It was coming along and swinging its tail and moo-oo-oo! but would you believe it, friends, I overtake it, I come up close and it's not a bullock, but Yefim holy, holy, holy! I make the sign of the cross while he stares at me and mutters, showing the whites of his eyes; wasn't I frightened!
"Leave me alone, Yefim!" Yefim heaved a sigh and became silent, while Foma stared at the woman and thought: "I wish they would bring such a woman for sale to me." His heart beat rapidly. Though as yet physically pure, he already knew from conversations the mysteries of intimate relations between men and women.
Yefim joins the carpenters and all three, shoving each other with their knees and their elbows, puffing and swearing at one another, bustle about the same spot. Lubim, the hunchback, gets a mouthful of water, and the air rings with his hard spasmodic coughing. "Where's the shepherd?" comes a shout from the bank. "Yefim! Shepherd! Where are you? The cattle are in the garden!
"What's the trouble? Why so blue?" Rybin asked, tapping his knee. "Nothing." "Are you a workingman, too?" asked Yefim, nodding his head toward the Little Russian. "Yes," Andrey answered. "Why?" "This is the first time he's seen factory workmen," explained Rybin. "He says they're different from others." "How so?" Pavel asked.
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