"I Concede I have had a drop. . . . You should pardon me. I went into a brew shop in transit here, and as it was so hot had two or three jugs. It's hot, my kid."

Old Musatov removed a common cloth from his pocket and wiped his shaven, battered face with it.

"I have come just for a moment, Borenka, my heavenly attendant," he went on, not taking a gander at his child, "about something vital. Reason me, maybe I am obstructing you. Haven't you ten roubles, my dear, you could give me a chance to have till Tuesday? I should have paid for my cabin yesterday, and cash, you see! . . . None! Not to spare my life!"

Youthful Musatov went out without a word, and started whispering the opposite side of the entryway with the proprietor of the late spring manor and his partners who had taken the estate with him. After three minutes he returned, and without a word gave his dad a ten-rouble note. The last push it imprudently into his pocket without taking a gander at it, and stated:

"Merci. Indeed, how are you getting on? It's quite a while since we met."

"Truly, quite a while, not since Easter."

"About six times I have been importance to come to you, yet I've never had time. Initial a certain something, at that point another. . . . It's basically horrendous! I am babbling however. . . . Everything that is hogwash. Don't you trust me, Borenka. I said I would pay you back the ten roubles on Tuesday, don't trust that either. Try not to trust a word I say. I don't have anything to do by any stretch of the imagination, it's basically lethargy, tipsiness, and I am embarrassed to be seen in such garments in the road. You should pardon me, Borenka. Here I have sent the young lady to you three times for cash and kept in touch with you miserable letters. A debt of gratitude is in order for the cash, however don't trust the letters; I was telling lies. I am embarrassed to burglarize you, my blessed messenger; I realize that you can barely bring home the bacon yourself, and feed on grasshoppers, yet my impudence is excessively for me. I am such an example of impudence - fit for a show! . . . You should pardon me, Borenka. I disclose to you reality, since I can't see your heavenly attendant face without feeling."

A moment go peacefully. The old man hurled a profound moan and stated:

"You may treat me to a glass of lager maybe."

His child went out without a word, and again there was a sound of whispering the opposite side of the entryway. At the point when a little later the brew was acquired, the old man appeared to resuscitate at seeing the jugs and unexpectedly changed his tone.

"I was at the races recently, my kid," he started letting him know, expecting a frightened articulation. "We were a gathering of three, and we pooled three roubles on Lively. Also, because of that Spirited, we got thirty-two roubles each for our rouble. I can't get on without the races, my kid. It's a honorable redirection. My virago dependably gives me a dressing over the races, however I go. I cherish it, and that is about it."

Boris, a reasonable haired young fellow with a despairing fixed face, was strolling gradually all over, tuning in peacefully. At the point when the old man ceased to make a sound as if to speak, he went up to him and stated:

"I got myself a couple of boots a few days ago, father, which end up being too tight for me. Won't you take them? I'll give you a chance to have them modest."

"In the event that you like," said the old man with a scowl, "just at the cost you gave for them, with no demeaning."

"Extremely well, I'll let you have them using a credit card."

The child grabbed under the quaint little inn the new boots. The dad removed his awkward, corroded, clearly second-hand boots and started attempting on the new ones.

"A flawless fit," he said. "Right, let me keep them. Also, on Tuesday, when I get my benefits, I'll send you the cash for them. That is not valid, however," he went on, all of a sudden falling into the same mournful tone once more. "What's more, it was a lie about the races, as well, and a lie about the annuity. Furthermore, you are misleading me, Borenka. . . . I feel your liberal class. I see through you! Your boots were too little, on the grounds that your heart is too huge. Ok, Borenka, Borenka! I comprehend everything and feel it!"

"Have you moved into new lodgings?" his child interfered, to change the discussion.

"Truly, my kid. I move each month. My virago can't remain long in a similar place with her temper."

"I went to your lodgings, I intended to request that you remain here with me. In your condition of wellbeing it would benefit you to be in the outside air."

"No," said the old man, with a flood of his hand, "the lady wouldn't let me, and I shouldn't want to myself. A hundred times you have endeavored to drag me out of the pit, and I have attempted myself, however nothing happened to it. Surrender it. I should stick in my dingy opening. This moment, here I am sitting, taking a gander at your holy messenger confront, yet something is attracting me home to my gap. Such is my destiny. You can't attract a compost scarab to a rose. Be that as it may, it's opportunity I was going, my kid. It's getting dull."

"Hold up a moment at that point, I'll accompany you. I need to get down to business to-day myself."

Both put on their jackets and went out. At the point when a short time subsequently they were driving in a taxi, it was at that point dim, and lights started to sparkle in the windows.

"I've looted you, Borenka!" the dad murmured. "Poor kids, poor kids! It must be a horrible inconvenience to have such a dad! Borenka, my holy messenger, I can't lie when I see your face. You should pardon me. . . . What my debasement has gone to, my God. Here I have recently been burglarizing you, and put you to disgrace with my plastered state; I am looting your siblings, as well, and put them to disgrace, and you ought to have seen me yesterday! I won't disguise it, Borenka. A few neighbors, a pathetic group, came to see my virago; I got alcoholic, as well, with them, and I denounced you poor kids for all I was worth. I mishandled you, and grumbled that you had deserted me. I needed to contact the plastered hussies' hearts, and posture as a miserable dad. It's my way, you know, when I need to screen my indecencies I toss all the fault on my guiltless kids. I can't tell lies and conceal things from you, Borenka. I came to consider you to be glad as a peacock, however when I saw your delicacy and kind heart, my tongue clave to the top of my mouth, and it annoy my still, small voice totally."

"Quiet, father, how about we discuss something different."

"Mother of God, what kids I have," the old man went on, not paying attention to his child. "What riches God has offered on me. Such kids should not to have had an odd one out like me for a dad, however a genuine man with soul and feeling! I am not deserving of you!"

The old man removed his top with a catch at the best and crossed himself a few times.

"Much obliged be to Thee, O Master!" he said with a murmur, looking from side to side as if looking for an ikon. "Noteworthy, outstanding youngsters! I have three children, and they are on the whole like one. Calm, consistent, dedicated, and what brains! Cabman, what brains! Grigory alone has brains enough for ten. He communicates in French, he communicates in German, and talks superior to any of your legal advisors - one is never tired of tuning in. My kids, my youngsters, I can hardly imagine how you are mine! I can't trust it! You are a saint, my Borenka, I am destroying you, and I will continue demolishing you. . . . You provide for me perpetually, however you know your cash is discarded. A few days ago I sent you a desolate letter, I depicted how sick I was, however you know I was lying, I needed the cash for rum. What's more, you provide for me since you are hesitant to twisted me by can't. I know all that, and feel it. Grisha's a saint, as well. On Thursday I went to his office, intoxicated, unsanitary, worn out, smelling of vodka like a basement . . . I went straight up, such a figure, I hassled him with dreadful talk, while his associates and bosses and applicants were remaining round. I have disfavored him forever. What's more, he wasn't the slightest confounded, just turned somewhat pale, yet grinned and came up to me as if there were nothing the issue, even acquainted me with his associates. At that point he took me the distance home, and not an expression of blame. I victimize him more terrible than you. Take your sibling Sasha presently, he's a saint as well! He wedded, as you probably are aware, a colonel's girl of a noble circle, and got an endowment with her. . . . You would figure he would have nothing to do with me. No, sibling, after his wedding he accompanied his young spouse and paid me the principal visit . . . in my opening. . . . Upon my spirit!"

The old man gave a cry and afterward started chuckling.

"Also, right then and there, it just so happens, we were eating ground radish with kvass and browning fish, and there was a stink enough in the level to make the demon debilitated. I was resting - I'd had a drop - my virago skiped out at the youngsters with her face ruby, . . . It was a disrespect actually. Be that as it may, Sasha rose better than everything."

"Truly, our Sasha is a decent individual," said Boris.

"The most mind blowing individual! You are generally unadulterated gold, you and Grisha and Sasha and Sonya. I stress you, torment you, disfavor you, burglarize you, and for my entire life I have not heard single word of rebuke from you, you have never given me one cross look. It would be all exceptionally well in the event that I had been an average dad to you - yet as it may be! You have had nothing from me except for hurt. I am a terrible, disseminated man. . . . Presently, express gratitude toward God, I am calmer and I have no quality of will, yet in days of yore when you were little I had assurance, will. Whatever I said or did I generally thought it was correct. Some of the time I'd gotten back home from the club during the evening, plastered and testy, and admonish at your poor mother for burning through cash. The entire night I would rail at her, and think it the proper thing as well; you would get up early in the day and go to class, while I'd even now be venting my temper upon her. Sky! I tortured her, poor saint! When you returned from school and I was sleeping you didn't set out to eat till I got up. At supper again there would be an erupt. I daresay you recall. I wish nobody such a dad; God sent me to you for a preliminary. Truly, for a preliminary! Wait, youngsters, to the end! Respect thy father and thy days will be long. Maybe for your honorable lead God will allow you long life. Cabman, stop!"

The old man bounced out of the taxi and kept running into a bar. After 30 minutes he returned, made a sound as if to speak unsteadily, and sat down alongside his child.

"Where's Sonya now?" he inquired. "Still at all inclusive school?"

"No, she cleared out in May, and is living now with Sasha's relative."

"There!" said the old man in astound. "She is a chipper decent young lady! So she is following her sibling's model. . . . Ok, Borenka, she has no mother, nobody to cheer over her! I say, Borenka, does she . . . does she know how I am living? Eh?"

Boris made no answer. Five minutes go in significant quietness. The old man gave a cry, wiped his face with a cloth and stated:

"I adore her, Borenka! She is my solitary little girl, you know, and in one's seniority there is no solace like a little girl. Might I be able to see her, Borenka?"

"Obviously, when you like."

"Truly? What's more, she wouldn't fret?"

"Obviously not, she has been attempting to discover you in order to see you."

"Upon my spirit! What youngsters! Cabman, eh? Organize it, Borenka sweetheart! She is a young woman now, delicatesse, consomm, and the remainder of it refinedly, and I would prefer not to show myself to her in such a wretched state. I'll reveal to you how we'll think up to function it. For three days I will avoid spirits, to get my smudged, intoxicated phiz into better request. At that point I'll come to you, and you will loan me for the time some suit of yours; I'll shave and have my hair style, at that point you go and convey her to your level. Will you?"

"Extremely well."

"Cabman, stop!"

The old man sprang out of the taxi again and kept running into a bar. While Boris was driving with him to his cabin he bounced out twice once more, while his child sat quiet and sat tight calmly for him. At the point when, in the wake of rejecting the taxi, they advanced over a long, squalid yard to the "virago's" lodging, the old man put on an absolutely shamefaced and blameworthy air, and started tentatively making a sound as if to speak and clicking with his lips.

"Borenka," he said in a charming voice, "if my virago starts saying anything, don't take any notice . . . what's more, act to her, you know, approachably. She is unmindful and impudent, yet she's a decent stuff. There is a decent, warm heart thumping in her chest!"

The long yard finished, and Boris wound up in a dull section. The swing entryway squeaked, there was a smell of cooking and a smoking samovar. There was a sound of unforgiving voices. Going through the entry into the kitchen Boris could see only thick smoke, a line with washing on it, and the fireplace of the samovar through a split of which brilliant sparkles were dropping.

"What's more, here is my cell," said the old man, stooping down and going into a little stay with a low-pitched roof, and an environment intolerably smothering from the vicinity of the kitchen.

Here three ladies were sitting at the table amusing themselves. Seeing the guests, they traded looks and left off eating.

"All things considered, did you get it?" one of them, clearly the "virago" herself, asked unexpectedly.

"Indeed, yes," mumbled the old man. "All things considered, Boris, ask take a seat. Everything is plain here, young fellow . . . we live essentially."

He clamored about in a capricious way. He felt embarrassed before his child, and in the meantime clearly he needed to keep up before the ladies his pride as cockerel of the walk, and as a spurned, troubled dad.

"Truly, young fellow, we live essentially with straightforward," he continued murmuring. "We are basic individuals, young fellow. . . . We dislike you, we would prefer not to keep up a show before individuals. No! . . . Will we have a beverage of vodka?"

One of the ladies (she was embarrassed to drink before an outsider) hurled a moan and stated:

"All things considered, I'll have another beverage by virtue of the mushrooms. . . . They are such mushrooms, they make you drink regardless of whether you would prefer not to. Ivan Gerasimitch, offer the youthful man of his word, maybe he will have a beverage!"

The last word she articulated in a mincing drawl.

"Have a beverage, young fellow!" said the dad, not taking a gander at his child. "We have no wine or alcohols, my kid, we live clearly."

"He doesn't care for our ways," murmured the "virago." "Don't worry about it, it doesn't mind, he'll have a beverage."

Not to irritate his dad by cannot, Boris took a wineglass and drank peacefully. When they got the samovar, to fulfill the old man, he drank some sickening tea peacefully, with a despairing face. Without a word he tuned in to the virago dropping insights about there being in this world brutal, merciless youngsters who forsake their folks.

"I recognize what you are thinking currently!" said the old man, in the wake of drinking progressively and going into his constant condition of smashed energy. "You think I have given myself a chance to sink into the soil, that I am to be felt sorry for, yet to my reasoning, this basic life is considerably more typical than your life, . . . I needn't bother with anyone, and . . . what's more, I don't plan to eat crow. . . . I can't bear a pitiable kid's taking a gander at me with sympathy."

After tea he cleaned a herring and sprinkled it with onion, with such inclination, that tears of feeling remained in his eyes. He started speaking again about the races and his rewards, about some Panama cap for which he had paid sixteen roubles the day preceding. He told lies with a similar relish with which he ate herring and drank. His child sat on peacefully for 60 minutes, and started to state farewell.

"I don't dare to keep you," the old man stated, haughtily. "You should pardon me, young fellow, for not living as you might want!"

He unsettled up his quills, grunted with nobility, and winked at the ladies.

"Farewell, young fellow," he stated, seeing his child into the passage. "Attendez."

In the passage, where it was dim, he all of a sudden squeezed his face against the young fellow's sleeve and gave a wail.

"I should get a kick out of the chance to view Sonitchka," he whispered. "Orchestrate it, Borenka, my blessed messenger. I'll shave, I'll put on your suit . . . I'll put on a straight face . . . I'll hold my tongue while she is there. Indeed, truly, I will hold my tongue! "

He looked round tentatively towards the entryway, through which the ladies' voices were heard, checked his wails, and said out loud:

"Farewell, young fellow! Attendez."

THERE were hints of happiness in the town, and an ensemble of tune mumbled, stream-like, through its single road. It was the hour when fellows and young ladies, after their hard day's worth of effort, meet in the smooth gloaming to express their emotions in songs which, however happy, are never without a strain of misery. The meditative eventide was groggily grasping the blue paradise, and changing each noticeable question into something unclear, shadowy, and phantom like. The agonizing unhappiness sunk into night, and still the flood of tune streamed on without surcease.

Guitar close by, the oldest child of the town headman takes from his confidants, and makes toward a house that is half covered up by a screen of pink-bloomed cherry-trees. As he strolls, the youthful Cossack strikes a couple of notes on the instrument, and stages a measure to his very own music. When he achieves the house, he stops, and, after a short interruption, contacts his guitar once more, and sings a tune of affection, delicate and low:

"The sun is low, the night is close,

Come, goodness, come to me, sweetheart, dear!"

"No utilization," mumbled the Cossack when he had completed his melody, in the meantime gravitating toward to the window. "My dear is sleeping. Hahn! Hahn! A pet little for Hanna would you say you are sleeping, or don't you get a kick out of the chance to uncover your beautiful face to the cool? Or on the other hand possibly you won't turn out for fear we might be seen together. Be that as it may, there is nothing to fear. The night is warm, and there is no one close. Also, on the off chance that anyone comes, I will shroud you in my arms, and none will see you. What's more, if the breeze blows chilly, I will squeeze you to my heart, warm you with kisses, and put my top on your little feet, my sweetheart. Just pay special mind to one minute: put your give out of the window that I may contact your blushing fingers.

"No, you're not snoozing!" he includes, enthusiastically, in the wake of sitting tight futile for an answer. "You are snickering at me. All things considered, giggle on the off chance that it satisfies you. Farewell!"

He turns round, tosses back his top, and, still tenderly contacting his guitar, draws a couple of paces away. Nearly at a similar minute the wooden handle of the entryway starts to blend, the entryway opens with a squeak, and a young lady in the spring of seventeen shows up on the limit, and, as yet holding the handle, she glances stealthily around. Her eyes sparkle in the nightfall like little stars, and even the pink flush on her cheeks isn't in secret by the youthful Cossack.

"How eager you are!" she whispers. "You were really getting irate! For what reason did you come when there were such huge numbers of individuals about? I am the majority of a tremble."

"Don't worry about it, my sweetheart; come nearer to me," answered the darling, dismissing his guitar, and taking a seat on the entryway step. "You realize that to be one hour without seeing you is an incredible preliminary for me."

"Do you recognize what I am considering?" interferes with the young lady, taking a gander at him contemplatively. "I am thinking - something reveals to me that later on we will not have the capacity to see one another so regularly. I don't think the general population hereabouts are great individuals. The girls look envious; and with respect to the young fellows - My mom, as well, she has watched me a greater amount generally. I claim I was more joyful among outsiders before I came here." And a shade of trouble made due with a minute on her excellent face.

"Just two brief a very long time in your local town, and you are as of now troubled! Maybe you are becoming weary of it and - of me?"

"Gracious, no; I am not tired of you," she replies, with a grin. "I adore you, you dull browed Cossack! I adore you for your hazel eyes; and when they investigate mine, my spirit replies back, and I feel cheerful and happy. Also, I get a kick out of the chance to hear you play on your guitar, and see you stroll about the road. Goodness, I like it to such an extent!"

"My own Hahn!" shouts the Cossack, in an euphoria, kissing the young lady and attracting her closer to him.

"Pause, Leoko! That is sufficient. Presently, let me know, did you address my dad?"

"Wha-at!" he asks, as though all of a sudden waking from a fantasy. "Address your dad! Indeed, I said that I needed to wed - to have you for my better half. Truly, I addressed him."

The words "I talked" appeared to tumble from his lips reluctantly and unfortunately.

"Well?"

"What would you be able to make of him? The old curmudgeon puts on a show to be hard of hearing. He won't hear, and continues reproving in light of the fact that I run about with the young men. Yet, don't consider it, Hahn. On the expression of a Cossack, I'll twist him to my will before I've done."

"You have just to state a word, Leoko. It will be as you wish. I realize that independent from anyone else. At some other time I ought not have tuned in. Presently, regardless of myself, I couldn't resist doing whatever you ask me."

"Look! look!" she continued, laying her head on his shoulder and raising her eyes to the warm sky. "Look there! Far, far away are gleaming little stars: one, two, three, four, five. Is it not genuine that those are holy messengers, opening the windows of their splendid little homes, and looking down on us? Is it not really, my Leoko? Is it accurate to say that they are not looking on our earth? Imagine a scenario in which men had wings, and could fly up there. However, not one of our trees achieves the sky. All things considered, individuals say there is where grows a tree whose highest branches contact the sky, and that, on Rising Day, God descends by it to earth."

"No, Hahn! God has a stepping stool which extends from Paradise to earth. On Rising Day sacred holy messengers let down this stepping stool, and, when God puts his foot on the primary rung, every single fiendishness soul take to flight and fall quick into damnation. That is the reason, on the Ruler's Day, there are no abhorrent spirits on earth."

"How tenderly mixes the water - simply like an angel in a support!" says Hanna, indicating a pool hard by, begirt with sobbing willows, whose despairing branches hung in the water.

On a hillock almost a pine wood, slept an old wooden house, with shut screens; the rooftop was secured with greenery and weeds, the windows were half covered up with apple-trees, the dim pines hidden it with shadows and gave it an unusual and ghost like look.

"I recall just as it were a fantasy," went on Hanna, keeping her eyes on Leoko, "that long, long prior, when I was, almost no and lived with mother, I used to hear unpleasant tales about that house. I am certain, Leoko, you thoroughly understand it."

"God be with it, my dear! Try not to mind what old ladies and morons say. You would just be scared and would not rest in the event that I let you know."

"Goodness, no; go on and let me know, similar to a dear decent kid!" she stated, tossing her arms round his neck, and squeezing her cheek to his. "You don't love me; I know you don't: you just imagine. You have another sweetheart; I am certain you have. You should educate me regarding the old house. I will not be perplexed, and I will rest all the same. Be that as it may, on the off chance that you don't let me know, I will not rest a bit; I will think, thoroughly considering all the night. Do let me know, Leoko!"

"I will think soon that what individuals say is valid: each lady is controlled by her own unconventional demon of interest. Indeed, tune in. Long, long prior there lived in that house an old man, who had a just little girl. She was nice looking; her face was as white as snow - simply like yours. Her dad was a widower, watchful for a second spouse. 'Will you keep on adoring me as you do now when you wed once more, father?' she would ask him. And after that he would state: 'I will, my little girl; I will love you more fervently than any other time in recent memory, and continue giving you studs and adornments as I have constantly done.'

"The old man wedded and brought home his young spouse. She was a fine lady, that spouse of his, with a sprouting red-and-white composition and huge bruised eyes; however she cast such a shrewd look at her progression little girl that the young lady screeched in lethal dread, yet not a word did the progression mother address her throughout the day. At the point when night came and the dad and his significant other resigned, the young lady secured herself up her very own room, and, feeling pitiful, bowed her head and fell a-sobbing. A short time subsequent to, happening to glance around, she saw a furious looking dark feline crawling toward her. Its hide was every one of the a-fire, and its paws struck on the floor like iron. In her fear the young lady hopped on a seat; the feline took after her. She sprang into bed; the feline sprang after her, and, flying at her throat, started to gag her. Tearing the animal away, with a cry she flung it on the ground; yet the following minute it was again creeping toward her, its savage eyes consuming with seethe. Rendered urgent by fear, the young lady grabbed her dad's sword, which held tight the divider, and with a solitary stroke remove the feline's left paw; whereupon the feline promptly vanished.

"All the next day and the following day, the youthful spouse kept her room. When she turned out on the third day, her left hand was bound, and she conveyed the arm in a sling. At that point the poor young lady realized that her mom was a witch, and that she had removed her hand. On the fourth day the old man requested his little girl to cut wood, draw water, and clean the floors, as though she was a modest worker or a typical laborer. On the fifth he pursued her from the house, without giving her either shoes for her feet or bread of cash for an adventure. The poor young lady could bear it never again, and, covering her face with her hands, she sobbed intense tears.

"'You have destroyed your little girl, my dad!' she cried. 'The witch has thrown her spell over you, and destroyed your spirit. May God excuse you! With respect to me, He has not willed that I ought to stay any longer on the planet.'

"Also, look!" went on Leoko, indicating the house. "Do you see that high bank? All things considered, from that bank she dedicated herself completely to the pool, and from that point forward she has a place no more with the world. That, Hahn, is the thing that the old people say; yet they say such a large number of things! The present proprietor needs to offer the house, and they discuss transforming it into a bottling works. Be that as it may, I think I hear voices. The fellows and young ladies are getting back home. Goodbye, sweetheart; don't consider that old lady's story. I set out say it is all drivel."

And afterward, in the wake of grasping and kissing her, he left.

"Goodbye, Leoko!" addressed Hanna, whose look was as yet settled on the dim pine wood.

As she looked, an extraordinary blazing ball climbed gradually from the shadows, and appeared to fill the earth with a triumphant magnificence. The pool was illuminated with a shower of sparkles, and the pine wood on the slope started to emerge from the foundation of dim green.

At the point when the merrymakers had passed, and their voices had kicked the bucket out yonder, every solid was quieted, night secured the earth with a mantle of quietness, and Hanna, after a last, insightful look toward the path taken by her sweetheart, moved once again into the house, and shut and shot the entryway.

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