what’s the matter
What’s the name of Biloff village? What’s his last name? It’s Mr. Binnochkin, but he’s not in charge. It’s Sofren
Really?
He regards that village as his own property, and all the farmers around him owe him debts. They all work for him like long-term workers, driving cars for him and doing this for him, which makes people suffer a lot.
His family doesn’t seem to have much land, does it
Not much. He rented 10 acres in Khlynov alone, and also rented 120 acres from us. He also returned that piece of 150 acres. Moreover, he not only manages land, but also sells horses and livestock, tar cheese and marijuana. This guy is clever and clever, and this trick makes him rich. The most hateful thing is that his hands are too hot. It is an animal, not a person. It can be said that a bad dog is really a bad dog.
Then why don’t they sue him?
Alas, the owner doesn’t care about these things. If no one owes rent, what does he care about? After a short silence, he said, Hum, you can sue him and try. Hum, he will try you. It must be enough for you.
I remember what happened in Antip and told him what I saw.
Look, Ambajist said that he would eat him and swallow him up in one gulp. It’s really unfortunate that he will be tortured to death at this moment. It’s really pitiful. Why should he suffer this punishment? He will contradict him with the manager in the village. Obviously, it’s unbearable. What a great thing, but he will severely torture him to Antip, which will kill him. He is just a dog and a bad dog. I dare say that he knows who is good at bullying some old people and some money at home. Some people dare not touch him as a bald ghost, but for Antip, he can bully Antip as much as he wants, and he sent him to the army before his turn. This is a ruthless villain and a bad dog. I’m sorry to say that.
We went hunting.
In Salzburg, Silesia, in July 1947.
lone wolf
First published in the 1848 issue of Modern People’s Magazine.
In the evening, I went home alone in a racing carriage, and it was seven miles away from home. My good horse ran on the dusty road in high spirits. Occasionally, it hit its nose twice and shook its ears. My tired dog never left its rear wheel. It seemed like a storm was coming. The boss was in front. A lavender cloud slowly rose from the back of the forest and galloped over my head. The oncoming was a long gray cloud, firecrackers and willows shook in panic. It sounded sultry and turned into a wet and cold shadow.
I drew a horse and carriage on the reins, crossed the valley, crossed a trunk river covered with willows, climbed the slope and entered the Woods. In front of me, the road wound through the dense hazel trees, and my carriage trudged forward. One hundred-year-old oak tree and one linden tree crossed the deep old rut, and my carriage staggered on the hard roots. Suddenly, the wind roared and the trees roared. Big raindrops pounded the leaves violently, and the light flashed in a thunderstorm and heavy rain.
I managed to get under a clump of old trees to hide from the rain. I bent over and covered my face and waited patiently for the thunderstorm to end. Suddenly, I saw a tall figure in a trance in the flash, and I stared in that direction as if the man appeared from the ground next to my carriage.
Who asked in a loud voice?
Who are you?
I’m here to see Lin.
I gave my name.
Ah, I know. Are you going home
Yes, but look at the storm.
Yes, the voice of the storm replied
A white light guarded the foresters from head to toe, and then there was a thunderbolt, and a thunderstorm poured more violently.
It won’t stop soon, said the forester
What should I do?
Can I show you to my cabin? he said intermittently.
Then I’ll trouble you
Please sit down.
He went to the horse’s head, grabbed the bridle, moved the horse, and our carriage went up. The carriage bumped like a canoe in the sea. I clung to the carriage cushion and called for the dog. My poor mare plodded in the mud, skidded and staggered. The forester swayed from side to side in front of the pole like a ghost. We walked for a long time, and my guide finally came home. He said in a calm voice that the fence door creaked and several puppies screamed together. I looked up and saw it by the light. A small house in the middle of a large courtyard with a fence shines through a small window. The forester pulls the horse to the steps and knocks on the door. When he comes, he comes to talk. Then he walks barefoot. The latch clicks, so a girl of twelve years old in a blouse and waist cloth appears at the door with a light.
Show this gentleman the way. He said to her, I’ll drive your carriage to the shed.
The little girl looked at me and went into the house. I followed her.
The woodsman’s house was black and smoked, short and swinging, with no high bed and no wall. There was a broken fur coat hanging on a long bench, a single-barrel shotgun and a pile of rags piled up in the corner of the house. Two large crock tables were lit and loosened by the fireside, and a cradle was hung at one end of a long pole in the middle of the house. The little girl twisted out the light and sat down on a small stool. She shook the cradle with her right hand and fiddled with it with her left hand. I looked around and felt very uncomfortable. Walking into the farmhouse at night would not be a happy cradle for the baby.
Are you here alone? I asked the little girl
A person, she barely heard the voice say