Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 31, 2025
No, Nikolay Matveyich, bravery is a good thing even though it be without reason." "Vasily, you are talking nonsense!" said Yozhov, stretching his hand toward him. "Ah, of course!" assented Vasily. "How am I to sip cabbage soup with a bast shoe? And yet I am not blind. I can see. There is plenty of brains, but no good comes of it.
He died after a short but very painful agony. Yozhov was for some reason or other banished from the town soon after the occurrence on the steamer. A great commercial house sprang up in the town under the firm-name of "Taras Mayakin & African Smolin." Nothing had been heard of Foma during these three years.
"There are two," Foma smiled, recalling Yozhov. "One of them is so bold terrible!" "Whose is he?" "A guard's son." "Mm! Bold did you say?" "Dreadfully bold!" "Well, let him be! And the other?" "The other one is red-headed. Smolin." "Ah! Evidently Mitry Ivanovitch's son. Stick to him, he's good company. Mitry is a clever peasant. If the son takes after his father it is all right.
For it was he himself who had been shouting. "Oh devil!" whispered Yozhov, and gnashed his teeth. Foma quietly lifted his head from the pillow. Yozhov deeply and noisily sighing, again stretched out his hand toward the bottle. Then Foma said to him softly: "Let's go to some hotel. It isn't late yet." Yozhov looked at him, and, rubbing his head with his hands, began to laugh strangely.
Yozhov staggered about in the room like a drunken man, seized with madness, and the paper under his feet was rustling, tearing, flying in scraps. He gnashed his teeth, shook his head, his hands waved in the air like broken wings of a bird, and altogether it seemed as though he were being boiled in a kettle of hot water.
Yozhov walked up to the table on which stood a boiling samovar, silently poured out two glasses of tea as strong as tar, and said to Foma: "Come and drink tea. And tell me about yourself." "I have nothing to tell you. I have not seen anything in life. Mine is an empty life! You had better tell me about yourself. I am sure you know more than I do, at any rate."
"Clever!" he exclaimed, catching some separate phrase. "That's cleverly aimed!" Every now and again there flashed before him the familiar names of merchants and well-known citizens, whom Yozhov had stung, now stoutly and sharply, now respectfully and with a fine needle-like sting.
Apart from them all, on the brink of a small ravine, lay three young fellows, and before them stood Yozhov, who spoke in a ringing voice: "You bear the sacred banner of labour. And I, like yourselves, am a private soldier in the same army. We all serve Her Majesty, the Press. And we must live in firm, solid friendship." "That's true, Nikolay Matveyich!" some one's thick voice interrupted him.
This meeting with Yozhov gave rise in him to a tranquil and kind feeling; it called forth recollections of his childhood, and these flashed now in his memory, flashed like modest little lights, timidly shining at him from the distance of the past.
What's the matter with you?" cried Yozhov, pushing him away, amazed and shifted from his position by Foma's unexpected outburst and strange words. "Oh, brother!" said Foma, lowering his voice, which thus sounded deeper, more persuasive. "Oh, living soul, why do you sink to ruin?" "Who? I? I sink? You lie!" "My dear boy! You will not say anything to anybody! There is no one to speak to!
Word Of The Day
Others Looking