Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
The lamp was a bad one . . . The light was fitful, and dark shadows flickered on the dosshouse walls. The Captain watched them, scratching his beard. Tyapa returned, bringing a vedro of water, and placing it beside the teacher's head, he took his arm as if to raise him up. "The water is not necessary," and the Captain shook his head. "But we must try to revive him," said the old rag-collector.
The Doctor, a young man with eye-glasses, looked at him curiously, the Coroner with an attention that boded him no good, Petunikoff with triumph, while the Inspector could hardly restrain himself from throwing himself upon him. The dark figure of Martyanoff appeared at the door of the dosshouse.
They never beat him, for instance, on these occasions when the conversation ended in a free fight. He had the right to bring women into the dosshouse; a privilege accorded to no one else, as the Captain had previously warned them. "No bringing of women to my house," he had said. "Women, merchants and philosophers, these are the three causes of my ruin. I will horsewhip anyone bringing in women.
You are playing tricks ..." "Well ... It is no business of yours." "Look out! I shall tell ..." again threatened Tyapa. Aristid Fomich looked at him sullenly and said nothing. Again they sat there in that silence which, in the presence of the dead, is so full of mystery. "Listen ... They are coming!" Tyapa got up and went out of the dosshouse.
"Don't count your chickens before they are hatched . . . my friend," said Aristid Fomich. The Doctor, a young man with eye-glasses, looked at him curiously, the Coroner with an attention that boded him no good, Petunikoff with triumph, while the Inspector could hardly restrain himself from throwing himself upon him. The dark figure of Martyanoff appeared at the door of the dosshouse.
There was also a foolish young man called Kuvalda Meteor. One night he came to sleep in the dosshouse, and had remained ever since among these men, much to their astonishment. At first they did not take much notice of him.
All things are relative in this world, and a man cannot sink into any condition so bad that it could not be worse. One day, towards the end of September, Captain Aristid Kuvalda was sitting, as was his custom, on the bench near the door of the dosshouse, looking at the stone building built by the merchant Petunikoff close to Vaviloff's eatinghouse, and thinking deeply.
For a fortnight the inhabitants of the dosshouse awaited the further development of events, but Petunikoff never once visited the building. It was known that he was not in town and that the copy of the petition had not yet been handed to him. Kuvalda raged at the delays of the civil court.
"I say that he was a good man . . . a quiet and good man," whispered a low voice. "Yes, and he had money, too . . . and he never refused it to a friend. . . ." Again silence ensued. "He is dying!" said Tyapa, hoarsely, from behind the Captain's head. Aristid Fomich got up, and went with firm steps into the dosshouse. "Don't go!" Tyapa stopped him. "Don't go! You are drunk! It is not right."
"Aha!" shouted the Captain, gleefully. All those who were in the dosshouse at the moment came out to look at them and expressed themselves loudly and freely in reference to the matter. "What does the habit of thieving mean?
Word Of The Day