The dull green time-stained panes of the windows look upon each
other with the cowardly glances of cheats. Through the street and
towards the adjacent mountain, runs the sinuous path, winding
through the deep ditches filled with rain-water. Here and there
are piled heaps of dust and other rubbish--either refuse or else
put there purposely to keep the rain-water from flooding the
houses. On the top of the mountain, among green gardens with
dense foliage, beautiful stone houses lie hidden; the belfries of
the churches rise proudly towards the sky, and their gilded
crosses shine beneath the rays of the sun. During the rainy
weather the neighbouring town pours its water into this main
road, which, at other times, is full of its dust, and all these
miserable houses seem, as it were, thrown by some powerful hand
into that heap of dust, rubbish, and rain-water. They cling to
the ground beneath the high mountain, exposed to the sun,
surrounded by decaying refuse, and their sodden appearance
impresses one with the same feeling as would the half-rotten
trunk of an old tree.
At the end of the main street, as if thrown out of the town,
stood a two-storied house, which had been rented from Petunikoff,
a merchant and resident of the town.
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