A Russian Proprietor, and Other StoriesTolstoy, Leo, graf
General
A Russian Proprietor, and Other Stories
Tolstoy, Leo, graf
Russia -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Tolstoy, Leo, graf, 1828-1910 -- Translations into English
Ilyin looked at Lukhnof. Lukhnof, returning his gaze, went on calmly with
his story of the robbers who dressed themselves up like devils. "Will you
start the bank?" asked the uhlan.
"Isn't it rather early?"
"Byélof!" cried the uhlan, reddening for some reason or other; "bring me
something to eat.... I haven't had any dinner to-day, gentlemen. Bring some
champagne, and distribute the cards."
A this moment, the count and Zavalshevsky entered. It proved that Turbin
and Ilyin were in the same division. They immediately struck up an
acquaintance, drank a glass of champagne, clinking their glasses together,
and in five minutes were calling each other "thou."
It was evident that Ilyin made a very pleasant impression on the count. The
count smiled whenever he looked at him, and was amused at his freshness.
"What a fine young uhlan!" he said, "what a mustache! what a splendid
mustache!"
Ilyin's upper lip bore the first down of a mustache, that was as yet almost
white.
"You were preparing to play, were you not?" asked the count. "Well, I
should like to win from you, Ilyin. I think that you must be a master," he
added smiling.
"Yes, we were just starting in," replied Lukhnof, opening a pack of
cards.... "Aren't you going to join us, count?"
"No, I won't to-night. If I did there wouldn't be any thing left of any of
you! When I take a hand I always break the bank. But I haven't any money
just now. I lost at Volotchok, at the station-house. It was by some sort of
infantry-man who wore rings; what a cheat he was! and he cleaned me out
completely."
"Were you long there at the station?" asked Ilyin.
"I staid there twenty-two hours. I shall not forget that station, curse it!
and the superintendent won't forget it either."
"Why?"
"I got there, you see; the superintendent comes out, rascally face, the
liar! 'There are no horses,' said he. Well, now I must tell you, I have
made a rule in such cases: when there are no horses, I keep on my shuba,
and go straight to the superintendent's room,--not the waiting-room, mind
you, but the superintendent's own room,--and I have all the windows and
doors opened, as though it were stifling. Well, that's what I did here.
Cold! you remember how cold it has been this last month; twenty degrees
below. The superintendent began to remonstrate. I knock his teeth in for
him. There was some old woman there; and some young girls and
peasant-women[62] set up a piping, were going to seize their pots and fly
to the village.... I go to the door, and say, 'Let me have horses, and I'll
go away: if you don't, I won't let you out, I'll freeze you all to death.'"
[Footnote 62: _babas._]
"What an admirable way!" said the puffy proprietor, bursting out into a
laugh. "That's the way one would freeze out cockroaches."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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