The little, old man was looking
curiously
at me with his one eye.
Pushkin - Daughter of the Commandant
Against the
wall hung, framed and glazed, an officer's commission. Around this were
arranged some bark pictures,[30] representing the "Taking of Kustrin"
and of "Otchakof,"[31] "The Choice of the Betrothed," and the "Burial of
the Cat by the Mice. " Near the window sat an old woman wrapped in a
shawl, her head tied up in a handkerchief. She was busy winding thread,
which a little, old, one-eyed man in an officer's uniform was holding on
his outstretched hands.
"What do you want, my little father? " she said to me, continuing her
employment.
I answered that I had been ordered to join the service here, and that,
therefore, I had hastened to report myself to the Commandant. With these
words I turned towards the little, old, one-eyed man, whom I had taken
for the Commandant. But the good lady interrupted the speech with which
I had prepared myself.
"Ivan Kouzmitch[32] is not at home," said she. "He is gone to see Father
Garassim. But it's all the same, I am his wife. Be so good as to love us
and take us into favour. [33] Sit down, my little father. "
She called a servant, and bid her tell the "_ouriadnik_"[34] to come.
The little, old man was looking curiously at me with his one eye.
"Might I presume to ask you," said he to me, "in what regiment you have
deigned to serve? "
I satisfied his curiosity.
"And might I ask you," continued he, "why you have condescended to
exchange from the Guard into our garrison? "
I replied that it was by order of the authorities.
"Probably for conduct unbecoming an officer of the Guard? " rejoined my
indefatigable questioner.
"Will you be good enough to stop talking nonsense? " the wife of the
Commandant now said to him. "You can see very well that this young man
is tired with his journey. He has something else to do than to answer
your questions. Hold your hands better. And you, my little father," she
continued, turning to me, "do not bemoan yourself too much because you
have been shoved into our little hole of a place; you are not the first,
and you will not be the last. One may suffer, but one gets accustomed to
it. For instance, Chvabrine, Alexey Ivanytch,[35] was transferred to us
four years ago on account of a murder. Heaven knows what ill-luck befel
him.
wall hung, framed and glazed, an officer's commission. Around this were
arranged some bark pictures,[30] representing the "Taking of Kustrin"
and of "Otchakof,"[31] "The Choice of the Betrothed," and the "Burial of
the Cat by the Mice. " Near the window sat an old woman wrapped in a
shawl, her head tied up in a handkerchief. She was busy winding thread,
which a little, old, one-eyed man in an officer's uniform was holding on
his outstretched hands.
"What do you want, my little father? " she said to me, continuing her
employment.
I answered that I had been ordered to join the service here, and that,
therefore, I had hastened to report myself to the Commandant. With these
words I turned towards the little, old, one-eyed man, whom I had taken
for the Commandant. But the good lady interrupted the speech with which
I had prepared myself.
"Ivan Kouzmitch[32] is not at home," said she. "He is gone to see Father
Garassim. But it's all the same, I am his wife. Be so good as to love us
and take us into favour. [33] Sit down, my little father. "
She called a servant, and bid her tell the "_ouriadnik_"[34] to come.
The little, old man was looking curiously at me with his one eye.
"Might I presume to ask you," said he to me, "in what regiment you have
deigned to serve? "
I satisfied his curiosity.
"And might I ask you," continued he, "why you have condescended to
exchange from the Guard into our garrison? "
I replied that it was by order of the authorities.
"Probably for conduct unbecoming an officer of the Guard? " rejoined my
indefatigable questioner.
"Will you be good enough to stop talking nonsense? " the wife of the
Commandant now said to him. "You can see very well that this young man
is tired with his journey. He has something else to do than to answer
your questions. Hold your hands better. And you, my little father," she
continued, turning to me, "do not bemoan yourself too much because you
have been shoved into our little hole of a place; you are not the first,
and you will not be the last. One may suffer, but one gets accustomed to
it. For instance, Chvabrine, Alexey Ivanytch,[35] was transferred to us
four years ago on account of a murder. Heaven knows what ill-luck befel
him.
