. . That won't be bad! One bottle of vodki
each, and there is plenty of sour cabbage, and three watermelons.
I ask you, what the devil could you want more, my scoundrel
friends? Now, then, let us prepare to devour Egorka Vaviloff,
because all this is his blood and body!"
They spread some old clothes on the ground, setting the
delicacies and the drink on them, and sat around the feast,
solemnly and quietly, but almost unable to control the craving
for drink that shone in their eyes.
The evening began to fall, and its shadows were cast on the human
refuse of the earth in the courtyard of the dosshouse; the last
rays of the sun illumined the roof of the tumble-down building.
The night was cold and silent.
"Let us begin, brothers!" commanded the Captain. "How many cups
have we? Six . . . and there are thirty of us! Aleksei
Maksimovitch, pour it out. Is it ready? Now then, the first
toast. . . Come along!"
They drank and shouted, and began to eat.
"The teacher is not here. . . I have not seen him for three
days. Has anyone seen him?" asked Kuvalda.
"No one."
"It is unlike .
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