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- Стр. 1036/1273
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He
seated
himself
more
comfortably
and
coughed
,
evidently
preparing
to
tell
a
long
story
.
"
Well
,
my
dear
fellow
,
I
was
still
living
at
home
,
"
he
began
.
"
We
had
a
well-to-do
homestead
,
plenty
of
land
,
we
peasants
lived
well
and
our
house
was
one
to
thank
God
for
.
When
Father
and
we
went
out
mowing
there
were
seven
of
us
.
We
lived
well
.
We
were
real
peasants
.
It
so
happened
...
"
And
Platón
Karatáev
told
a
long
story
of
how
he
had
gone
into
someone
's
copse
to
take
wood
,
how
he
had
been
caught
by
the
keeper
,
had
been
tried
,
flogged
,
and
sent
to
serve
as
a
soldier
.
"
Well
,
lad
,
"
and
a
smile
changed
the
tone
of
his
voice
,
"
we
thought
it
was
a
misfortune
but
it
turned
out
a
blessing
!
If
it
had
not
been
for
my
sin
,
my
brother
would
have
had
to
go
as
a
soldier
.
But
he
,
my
younger
brother
,
had
five
little
ones
,
while
I
,
you
see
,
only
left
a
wife
behind
.
We
had
a
little
girl
,
but
God
took
her
before
I
went
as
a
soldier
.
I
come
home
on
leave
and
I
'll
tell
you
how
it
was
,
I
look
and
see
that
they
are
living
better
than
before
.
The
yard
full
of
cattle
,
the
women
at
home
,
two
brothers
away
earning
wages
,
and
only
Michael
the
youngest
,
at
home
.
Father
,
he
says
,
'
All
my
children
are
the
same
to
me
:
it
hurts
the
same
whichever
finger
gets
bitten
.
But
if
Platón
had
n't
been
shaved
for
a
soldier
,
Michael
would
have
had
to
go
.
'
called
us
all
to
him
and
,
will
you
believe
it
,
placed
us
in
front
of
the
icons
.
'
Michael
,
'
he
says
,
'
come
here
and
bow
down
to
his
feet
;
and
you
,
young
woman
,
you
bow
down
too
;
and
you
,
grandchildren
,
also
bow
down
before
him
!
Do
you
understand
?
'
he
says
.
That
's
how
it
is
,
dear
fellow
.
Fate
looks
for
a
head
.
But
we
are
always
judging
,
'
that
's
not
well
--
that
's
not
right
!
'
Our
luck
is
like
water
in
a
dragnet
:
you
pull
at
it
and
it
bulges
,
but
when
you
've
drawn
it
out
it
's
empty
!
That
's
how
it
is
.
"
And
Platón
shifted
his
seat
on
the
straw
.
After
a
short
silence
he
rose
.
"
Well
,
I
think
you
must
be
sleepy
,
"
said
he
,
and
began
rapidly
crossing
himself
and
repeating
:
"
Lord
Jesus
Christ
,
holy
Saint
Nicholas
,
Frola
and
Lavra
!
Lord
Jesus
Christ
,
holy
Saint
Nicholas
,
Frola
and
Lavra
!
Lord
Jesus
Christ
,
have
mercy
on
us
and
save
us
!
"
he
concluded
,
then
bowed
to
the
ground
,
got
up
,
sighed
,
and
sat
down
again
on
his
heap
of
straw
.
"
That
's
the
way
.
Lay
me
down
like
a
stone
,
O
God
,
and
raise
me
up
like
a
loaf
,
"
he
muttered
as
he
lay
down
,
pulling
his
coat
over
him
.
"
What
prayer
was
that
you
were
saying
?
"
asked
Pierre
