large/11252/taras_bulba_1703_librivox_64kb_mp3/tarasbulba_26_gogol_64kb_31
large/11252/taras_bulba_1703_librivox_64kb_mp3/tarasbulba_26_gogol_64kb
English
11252
But in the centre are some little sheds where a packet of round cakes, a stout woman in a red dress, a bar of soap, some pounds of bitter almonds, some lead, some cotton, and two shopmen playing at "svaika," a game resembling quoits, are always to be seen. BUT IN THE CENTRE ARE SOME LITTLE SHEDS WHERE A PACKET OF ROUND CAKES A STOUT WOMAN IN A RED DRESS A BAR OF SOAP SOME POUNDS OF BITTER ALMONDS SOME LEAD SOME COTTON AND TWO SHOPMEN PLAYING AT SPYKER A GAME RESEMBLING QUOITS ARE ALWAYS TO BE SEEN
rave faces, they utter such grunts that travellers only think of pressing their horses to get away from them as soon as possible. Sometimes some country gentleman of the neighbourhood, the owner of a dozen serfs, passes in a vehicle which is a kind of compromise between a carriage and a cart, surrounded by sacks of flour, and whipping up his bay mare with her colt trotting by her side. The aspect of the marketplace is mournful enough. The tailor’s house sticks out very stupidly, not squarely to the front but sideways. Facing it is a brick house with two windows, unfinished for fifteen years past, and further on a large wooden market-stall standing by itself and painted mud-colour. This stall, which was to serve as a model, was built by the chief of police in the time of his youth, before he got into the habit of falling asleep directly after dinner, and of drinking a kind of decoction of dried goose-berries every evening. All around the rest of the market-place are nothing but palings. YING TO ALL THEIR GRAVE FACES THEY UTTER SUCH GRUNTS THAT TRAVELLERS ONLY THINK OF PRESSING THEIR HORSES TO GET AWAY FROM THEM AS SOON AS POSSIBLE SOMETIMES SOME COUNTRY GENTLEMAN OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD THE OWNER OF A DOZEN SERFS PASSES IN A VEHICLE WHICH IS A KIND OF COMPROMISE BETWEEN A CARRIAGE AND A CART SURROUNDED BY SACKS OF FLOUR AND WHIPPING UP HIS BAY MARE WITH HER COLT TROTTING BY HER SIDE THE ASPECT OF THE MARKET PLACE IS MOURNFUL ENOUGH THE TAILOR'S HOUSE STICKS OUT VERY STUPIDLY NOT SQUARELY TO THE FRONT BUT SIDEWAYS FACING IT IS A BRICK HOUSE WITH TWO WINDOWS UNFINISHED FOR FIFTEEN YEARS PAST AND FURTHER ON A LARGE WOODEN MARKET STALL STANDING BY ITSELF AND PAINTED MUD COLOUR THIS STALL WHICH WAS TO SERVE AS A MODEL WAS BUILT BY THE CHIEF OF POLICE IN THE TIME OF HIS YOUTH BEFORE HE GOT INTO THE HABIT OF FALLING ASLEEP DIRECTLY AFTER DINNER AND OF DRINKING A KIND OF DECOCTION OF DRIED GOOSEBERRIES EVERY EVENING ALL AROUND THE REST OF THE MARKET PLACE ARE NOTHING BUT PALINGS
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