United States or Bouvet Island ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
The horse shook its head, moved its shoulder-blades, and limped to the gate; the dog followed him. Both of them went out into the street, and, after walking some twenty paces, stopped at the fence. "I'll give it you!" Zotov threatened them. When he had driven out his dependents he felt calmer, and began sweeping the yard.
Lyska came up timidly, wriggling in a frightened way, as though her paws were not touching the earth but a hot stove, and the whole of her wretched figure was expressive of abjectness. Zotov pretended not to notice her, but when she faintly wagged her tail, and, wriggling as before, licked his golosh, he stamped his foot angrily. "Be off! The plague take you!" he cried. "Con-found-ed bea-east!"
I am stingy and ill-tempered. . . . It's nasty living with me, so you try living with other people . . . . Yes. . . ." After enjoying the crushed expression of his dependents, and grumbling to his heart's content, Zotov went out of the yard, and, assuming a ferocious air, shouted: "Well, why are you standing there? Whom are you waiting for?
When I get there, I shall say: Take my house, but keep me and treat me with respect. It's your duty! If you don't care to, then there is neither my house, nor my blessing for you! Good-bye, Ivanitch!" Zotov drank another glass, and, inspired by the new idea, hurried home.
It was dark in his room, but the little lamp before the ikon was no longer burning. Zotov raised the curtain and looked out of the window. The clouds that shrouded the sky were beginning to show white here and there, and the air was becoming transparent, so it must have been nearly five, not more. Zotov cleared his throat, coughed, and shrinking from the cold, got out of bed.
Meanwhile the sun began to break through the morning mist; its slanting rays gilded over the autumn frost. There was a sound of steps and voices. Zotov put back the broom in its place, and went out of the yard to see his crony and neighbour, Mark Ivanitch, who kept a little general shop.
If Zotov had not had these habits he would not have known how to occupy his old age. The little samovar slowly began to get hot, and all at once, unexpectedly, broke into a tremulous bass hum. "Oh, you've started humming!" grumbled Zotov. "Hum away then, and bad luck to you!"
I have a great-niece. . . ." And Zotov began telling at great length of his great-niece Glasha, daughter of his niece Katerina, who lived somewhere on a farm. "She is bound to keep me!" he said. "My house will be left to her, so let her keep me; I'll go to her. It's Glasha, you know . . . Katya's daughter; and Katya, you know, was my brother Panteley's stepdaughter. . . . You understand?
Word Of The Day