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Updated: June 9, 2025
The oldest two sons, Moissey and Sasha, spoke English with a Russian accent from which the English of all the other children was absolutely free. Mrs. Tevkin's Russian sounded more Russian than her husband's. Emil, Elsie, and Gracie did not speak Russian at all Barring Mrs. Tevkin, each adult in the family worshiped at the shrine of some "ism."
She essayed to defend her position, contending that the methods of the Russian Government rendered terrorism not only justifiable, but inevitable "The question is not whether it is justifiable, but whether there is any sense to it," Moissey replied, sneeringly. "Revolutions are not made by plotting or bomb-throwing. They must take the form of an uprising by the masses."
Cheprakov, who bought it from the engineer after haggling him into a twenty-per-cent reduction in the price. Moissey walks about in a bowler hat; he often drives into town in a trap and stops outside the bank. People say he has already bought an estate on a mortgage, and is always inquiring at the bank about Dubechnia, which he also intends to buy.
We learned from Stiepan that Moissey had been Mrs. Cheprakov's lover. I noticed that when people went to her for money they used to apply to Moissey first, and once I saw a peasant, a charcoal-burner, black all over, grovel at his feet.
So when he learned that Anna was collecting funds for the man who had been smuggled out of jail in a barrel, and that I had given her a check for him, he flared up and called her "busybody." "You had better mind your own affairs, Moissey," she retorted, coloring
"He's her pet." "Don't mind what she says, Mr. Levinsky," her mother exhorted me. "She just loves to tease me." "Mother is right," Elsie interposed. "Moissey is not her pet. lf somebody is, it's I, isn't it, ma?" Anna smiled good-naturedly "Gracie is my pet," Mrs. Tevkin rejoined "Gracie and Moissey, both," Tevkin amended. "Moissey is her first-born, don't you know.
He had a pale, high forehead and a thick, upright grove of very soft, brown hair which I pictured as billowing in a breeze like a field of rye. "Just the kind of son for a poet to have," I thought There was another son, Moissey. He was married and I did not see him that evening. His mother was continually referring to him "I can see that you miss him," I said "I should say so," Anna broke in.
That was the Story of the Deliverance, in the ancient Hebrew text, accompanied by an English translation Moissey, the uncompromising atheist and Internationalist, was demonstratively absent, much to the distress of his mother and resentment of his father. His Biblical-looking wife was at the table. So were Elsie and Emil.
The new-comer was the founder of a party of terrorists and had organized a plot which had resulted in the killing of an uncle of the Czar and of a prime minister. Now, Moissey, in his rabid, uncompromising way, sympathized with another party of Russian revolutionists, with one that was bitterly opposed to the theories and methods of the terrorists.
In the middle of the yard stood the engineer in a leather coat with a hood. He was shouting: "Where's the furniture? There was some good Empire furniture, pictures, vases. There's nothing left! Damn it, I bought the place with the furniture!" Near him stood Moissey, Mrs.
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