“How was it he put his hand in? What for?” Come along, uncle, do be kind and pull his hand out!” “In the count’s copse Danilka stuck his hand into a hole in a tree, and he can’t get it out. “What sort of accident? Ough, what thunder! Holy, holy, holy. “Brother Danilka has had an accident! Come along!”

“Uncle Terenty,” says Fyokia, with a sob, tugging at the lapel of the cobbler’s coat. “Ah! servant of God, Fyokia,” he says, lisping tenderly, “where have you come from?” Terenty bends down to Fyokla, and his grim, drunken face is overspread with a smile, such as come into people’s faces when they look at something little, foolish, and absurd, but warmly loved. “Uncle Terenty!” the white-headed beggar-girl addresses him. On his long crane-like legs he sways in the wind like a starling-cote. The beggar-girl runs behind the huts to the kitchen-gardens and there finds Terenty the tall old man with a thin, pock-marked face, very long legs, and bare feet, dressed in a woman’s tattered jacket, is standing near the vegetable plots, looking with drowsy, drunken eyes at the dark storm-cloud. “At the kitchen-gardens,” answers Silanty. He is coming along, staggering from the wind. At last she meets Silanty Silitch, the sacristan, Terenty’s bosom friend. They are all preoccupied with the approaching storm and take refuge in their huts. “Uncle, where is Terenty?” she asks every one she meets. Her eyes are wide-open, her lips are trembling. The white-haired, barefoot child is pale. In a minute there will be a spurt of May rain and a real storm will begin.įyokla, a little beggar-girl of six, is running through the village, looking for Terenty the cobbler. A warm wind frolics over the grass, bends the trees, and stirs up the dust. Red zigzags of lightning gleam here and there across it. BETWEEN eight and nine o’clock in the morning.Ī dark leaden-coloured mass is creeping over the sky towards the sun.

The innkeepers solarmovie