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Updated: June 16, 2025
Crush it! Now, once more! Try!" "Well, Ignat," asked his friend Mayakin, coming up to him, "the ice is crushing about ten thousand out of your purse, eh?" "That's nothing! I'll make another hundred. But look how the Volga is working! Eh? Fine? She can split the whole world, like curd, with a knife. Look, look! There you have my 'Boyarinya! She floated but once.
The chambermaid appeared and said to him with alarm: "Ignat Matveyich, Natalya Fominichna is calling you. She is feeling bad." "Why bad? It'll pass!" he roared, his eyes flashing cheerfully. "Tell her I'll be there immediately! Tell her she's a fine fellow! I'll just get a present for her and I'll come! Hold on! Prepare something to eat for the priest. Send somebody after Mayakin!"
Foma cast down his eyes and was silent, standing before his father. "See, you are shamed! Yozhishka must have incited you to this! I'll give it to him when he comes, or I'll make an end of your friendship altogether." "I did it myself," said Foma, firmly. "From bad to worse!" exclaimed Ignat. "But why did you do it?" "Because." "Because!" mocked the father.
They laughed at him and sometimes gave him twenty kopeiks, sometimes gave him nothing, but it sometimes happened that they threw him a ten-rouble bill and even more. "You abominable fellow," cried Ignat to him one day. "Say, who are you?" The priest was frightened by the call, and bowing low to Ignat, was silent. "Who? Speak!" roared Ignat.
Slowly, but in time, she eluded the blow; then she seized his hand, pushed it away from her, and said in the same tone: "Don't you dare to touch me. I will not allow you to come near me!" Her eyes became smaller and their sharp, metallic glitter sobered Ignat.
"I haven't got a rouble. I swear to you, Semyon Mitritch, as God sees me: you give me the gun and I will go to-day with Ignashka and bring it you back again. I'll bring it back, strike me dead. May I have happiness neither in this world nor the next, if I don't." "Semyon Mitritch, do give it," Ignat Ryabov says in his bass, and his voice betrays a passionate desire to get what he asks for.
He felt sad and ashamed; he passed the afternoon in walking, and, coming home, he was met by his father's stern question: "Foma! Did you go to Chumakov's garden?" "Yes, I did," said the boy, calmly, looking into his father's eyes. Evidently Ignat did not expect such an answer and he was silent for awhile, stroking his beard. "Fool! Why did you do it? Have you not enough of your own apples?"
Ignat had given the money, and already the newspapers lauded him for his generosity. Foma had seen the woman more than once on the streets; she was short; he knew that she was considered as one of the most beautiful women in the city, and that bad rumours were afoot as to her behaviour. "Is that all?" exclaimed Foma, when his godfather concluded the story. "And I thought God knows what!" "You?
But when he got out at his own station, when he saw his one-eyed coachman, Ignat, with the collar of his coat turned up; when, in the dim light reflected by the station fires, he saw his own sledge, his own horses with their tails tied up, in their harness trimmed with rings and tassels; when the coachman Ignat, as he put in his luggage, told him the village news, that the contractor had arrived, and that Pava had calved, he felt that little by little the confusion was clearing up, and the shame and self-dissatisfaction were passing away.
Indeed, it is high time to prepare myself for death; to cast everything aside; to fast, and see to it that people bear me good-will." "They will!" said Foma with confidence. "If there were but a reason why they should." "And the lodging-house?" Ignat looked at his son and began to laugh. "Yakov has had time to tell it to you already! The old miser. He must have abused me?" "A little." Foma smiled.
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