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Updated: June 2, 2025
He eyed him fixedly and recalled where he had met him, whereupon he frowned and asked the sisters: "Who is this?" "A very inquisitive person who somehow has got an idea that we have many interesting things to tell him about Trirodov," said Elisaveta with a smile. Ostrov raised his hat and said: "I've had the honour to see you on the float." "Well, what of it?" asked Piotr sharply.
"There's no getting rid of them." "What a wretched affair!" They all believed this. The disturbing rumour that the Jews had stolen a Christian boy spread about town. Ostrov took a most zealous share in disseminating the rumour. The markets were filled with noisy discussions. The tradesmen and dealers, instigated by Ostrov, bellowed loudly their denunciations. Why did Ostrov do this?
Trirodov pulled a bundle of bank-notes out of a drawer in his writing-table, and said as he gave them to Ostrov: "Please count them. There should be two thousand." Ostrov whistled and said gruffly: "That's too little. I asked for much more." "That's all you'll get," said Trirodov resolutely. "It ought to last you quite a while." "Perhaps you will add a trifle," said Ostrov with a stupid smile.
Matov's widow soon died from a sudden, sharp illness. Her sons remained in the house of Rameyev. He became their guardian. "He's an agitator and a conspirator," said Zherbenev sharply. Ostrov smiled. "All the same, I must stand up for my friend. Pardon me if I ask the question: are these calumnies against my friend actuated by patriotic reasons? Of course, from the most honourable impulses!"
The counteroffensive reached its zenith on May 27, 1915, when Irmanow's Caucasian Corps stormed Sieniava and captured something like 7,000 men, six big guns, and six pieces of field artillery. Von Mackensen resumed the offensive on May 24, by advancing due east of Jaroslav, capturing Drohojow, Ostrov, Vysocko, Makovisko and Vietlin all in one day.
Ostrov said with a scornful smile: "Will you try your chemistry on him, Giorgiy Sergeyevitch? Well, it's all the same to us. A bad man ought to be punished make even a skeleton of him for your use if you like." Trirodov drew a flagon containing a colourless liquid from his pocket. "Now this will put him to sleep," he said.
Trirodov am I right?" "My dear sir, you...." began Kerbakh. The new-comer immediately jumped to his feet and began to apologize profusely. "May I impose upon your good nature to forgive my impertinent curiosity. I am Ostrov, the actor tragedian. You may have heard of me?" "For the first time," said Kerbakh surlily. "I've never heard the name," said Zherbenev.
"What sort of place have you prepared for yourself?" asked Ostrov, smiling malignantly. "Or is it a secret?" "It is the moon," was Trirodov's simple and tranquil answer. Ostrov laughed boisterously. Trirodov added: "Moreover, the moon has been created by me. She is before my window, ready to take me."
Ostrov jumped up in great rage from his place, stamped violently with his feet, and shouted: "You are laughing at me! It is useless. You can't fool me with those stupid fairy-tales of yours. Tell those sweet little stories to the silly little girls of the provinces. I'm an old sparrow. You can't feed me on chaff." Trirodov remained unruffled. "You're fuming all for nothing.
"A vagrant? And what is a vagrant?" asked Ostrov. "What is a vagrant?" repeated Piotr in confusion. "What a question!" "Well, sir, you have permitted yourself to use the word, and I'm rather interested to know in what sense you've used it in its application to me."
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