Vaska Character Analysis

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Vaska Character Analysis



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So, such are the things, Pan Konnick, and you are also heartlessly mocking over those who have long gone into another world?! Pan Konnick, persist in your delusions?! After all, only those few victims of shipwrecks, whom these sea animals really saved, pushed to the saving coast, tell us that "dolphins save people" them with seals, sharks or dolphins from another flock ", stupidly hammered-stammered in the water with their jabs to death, or pushed-dragged the helpless from the saving coast into the unknown sea expanses, they will not be able to tell about this and only random ones who are shy of their unwitting evidence of the revealed cruel reality, eyewitnesses of such "dolphins' failure"!

And yes, what kind of "communities" are there in the farms, Pan Konnick??! Alas, the Soviet government knew how to create "enemies" both inside and outside the country , right "out of the blue", literally "sucking out of the finger", spawned enemies for itself and all of us practically for nothing! And then she "heroically fought" with all these "enemies" According to the same "American principle" - "Do you have something to take?!

Then we are coming to you! About "rotting grain buried in kurkuli" I have already described this story, but probably not in VO My grandfather, after the first "counter-revolutionary release", found himself at home for a while. And then an "authorized" comes to the local "asset" from the city, they say, "You are fighting badly with the kulaks, we are going through the village, I will show you how it should be! Well, this "active rabble" - "authorized" and three "activists" with special "grain" pins-probes, leaving our house, grabbed my grandfather's owner to the "witnesses" and on the way two more rural men turned up. In the first "suspicious" hut, which the "activists" planned to "check", lived a peasant family with five children and an old grandmother-mother of the hostess.

The "ombudsman" sat down at the table "to write", and the owner and the "attesting witnesses" were taken by the "activists" to drive them around the yard and garden, where they poked them in all directions, not letting in "no klaptik". They knocked on the walls the floors in our huts, before the s, and some of them up to the 80s, were earthen-earthen, "topping up" was called, in the summer, in the heat, it is good-cool to sleep on such a floor, before the revolution and after, in our labor "Kurkul" families and slept, "pokot on refilling", only the parents on a wooden bed and the smallest, in a swinging "cradle" suspended from a steel ring on a "bantyn" - a longitudinal beam of the ceiling , climbed into the cellar, into the old dog They did not find anything under it, in the attic and in the pantry, only the bed of the recumbent old woman and the casing on the stove, on which the frightened children lay, remained "unexplored".

Nothing was found under the grandmother and in her rags. But, here it is, oh miracle - under the casing on the stove, a thin layer of uncoated corn cobs was found - the only supply of grain for the winter feeding of this whole family! The "authorized" commanded my grandfather then not at all his grandfather, but a young man in his prime to collect the cobs in a bag for "confiscation" - my grandfather flatly refused to do this, telling the city "party member" that then this family would be doomed to death!

Then he demanded to do this from two other "attesting witnesses", but they pointed to my grandfather and he, from the ataman family and a dashing horseman, a real Red Army cavalryman, saw this record himself even the weight of the fighter was indicated, probably, so that the corresponding bunk should be submitted? Yes, and the "activists" lost all enthusiasm - that day they did not go anywhere else. So, Konnick, the "very selectively" good Soviet government did not manage to take away the "rotting grain hidden by the curls" and that family, though not all of them, was able to survive!

The parents of those children remained grateful to my grandfather for that stubborn uncompromising attitude for the rest of their lives - then they were close friends with families. I know the fate of one of those surviving "Kurkul" boys he fought and was awarded, out of all his brothers who also fought, he returned alive from the front, worked all his life on a collective farm, and then on a state farm, became seriously ill front wounds and a trench "front "they don't pass in vain, many of our people were taken to the grave in the first post-war years - his eldest son and his daughter-in-law looked after him for a long time - they say" they looked after ", he just barely lived to see his 96th birthday After all, this is the Network-a multi-level intersection of human "virtualities" and a mega-mobile junction of information "realities" that gives you unheard-of opportunities for information mining, self-education and self-development!

There are no such people at all Time is gone. Undecim 4 September Liam 4 September Finally, I read the discussion unleashed by the mention of "Grapes of Wrath", but it is no longer possible to wedge it in. As soon as I appeared on VO, I got involved in it and, in order not to be unfounded, rummaged through the Internet, carefully writing down all the necessary data in my large notebook.

And here they are, this data, in front of me. The phenomenon is officially called the "Great genocide in the United States during the Great Depression. During the Great Depression, 5 million people died of hunger in the United States, according to some sources, 8 million. Through the direct fault of the US government, which is extremely shyly kept silent, it is still bypassed.

People died as 5 million farming families were driven from their lands. So, these banks, owned by large agricultural holdings, took property from every sixth farmer in the United States. Why did they do it? Based on the fact that farmers created an abundance of food in the grocery market, food was cheap, available to everyone. And then greedy agricultural holdings, not interested in the cheapness, therefore, the availability of food, based on their own selfish interests, lobbied in government structures for an action to destroy farms - as much as possible.

The US government, entirely henchmen of big business, agreed! The action received the green light, which led to the genocide. But in order to raise the cost of food, based on the interests of agricultural holdings, they were not allowed to do this! In addition, 6,5 million pigs were killed. Moreover, by order of the government, food warehouses were destroyed - wherever they were found, and regardless of who owned them, large and small. Searching everywhere, the destruction was carried out, mind you, the official authorities - the police! And this happened until the shortage of products became obvious and prices soared to an unacceptable level for the population, but desirable for agricultural holdings. And all this made the government of the "great" Roosevelt, praised and revered by all!

Now about what was offered to the farmers driven from the land. A total of 8,5 million people were involved in "public works". Living in sheds, or near them, if there were not enough places; food - a bowl of chowder a day. At the same time, the work was carried out for the most part where people had categorically refused to work before - near the malaria swamps. As a result, an epidemic of malaria raged among the "beneficent people". Essentially hungry, it means weakened people died en masse from disease. Out of 8,5 million workers, 5 million people died At this time, noisy "hunger marches" were taking place throughout the United States. But the government of the "great" Roosevelt, the henchman of big capital, simply dismissed these marches, the marches were dispersed by the police.

And all this disgrace is presented to us now as a general crisis of overproduction, mixing the crisis of overproduction of things with the crisis of overproduction of food The famine in the United States and the famine in Soviet Russia were of a different nature. The United States lies entirely in the latitudes of favorable agriculture - the whole country is located below the latitude of Sochi!

Russia is almost entirely higher, in the zone of unfavorable agriculture. The famine in the United States was inspired by big business. Famine in Soviet Russia was eliminated by the creation of collective farms of the Stalinist type. The shortage of food in the USSR after the Stalinist period was inspired by Khrushchev, which I described in detail in my other commentary to this article. Never take out a loan secured by housing! In my entrance, a family of police officers lost their apartment despite the presence of a small child and the absence of a second, at least some kind of housing.

Vyacheslav Olegovich, you say that at least 10 thousand rubles were given. This was not given to you. This was given to large trading corporations, which are trying to shove the "progressors" - vice-presidents Belousov and Borisov. By uncontrollably raising food prices, large trading corporations are trying to repeat the situation of famine in the late 80s and early 90s in order to rock the situation in the country with food riots. The struggle of large oligarchs in alliance with officials for absolute power in the country, which brings to naught the frail remnants of sociality, is gaining momentum.

But the "progressors" pulled something up with a victory. Because, like their opponents, they do not see the people as an ally. The further time goes on, the more noticeable is the isolation of the authorities from the people. My grandmother, born in , told a lot about how hicks drunkards and idlers became bosses in the village and mocked not only well-to-do owners, but also those who managed the household wisely and profitably. Vyacheslav Olegovich, my dear, what are you, our precious? No, to somehow soften, gild, so to speak, the pill. Well, you can't be so harsh, right word!

Van 16 4 September All my grandmothers and grandfathers have been in the village all their lives, all were born before And it was always interesting to listen to their stories and stories. And if very briefly - never, not a single bad word I heard from them either about Lenin or about Stalin. Not about collective farms. Yes, there were drawbacks, and the chairmen not all, but some were scolded, but everything was not so gloomy at all.. So I will not argue with Vyacheslav Olegovich he is a historian, he knows better , but I will not agree either. Living history is not only papers, but also the stories of those who directly lived at that time, their thoughts, feelings, memories..

So from the story about this Bykov it is not clear, in a letter about himself Bykov complained about his fate, or knocked on himself? As for collectivization and collective farms, it is impossible to put collective farms of the late Brezhnev era in a row called collective farms with a mess in the village under Khrushchev. I saw it and remember it. I have not seen what happened at the beginning of collectivization under Stalin, therefore I will not talk about this time.

However, I suspect that if then in the cities there were Preobrazhensky, Bormentals, Zinaida Bunins, Daria Ivanovs and Chugunkins, Sharikovs, Shvonders, Vyazemsky, Petrukhins and Zharovkins were found on their necks, then in the village there were rural Sharikovs on the neck of the rural Preobrazhensky and Bormentals, Shvonders, etc. And in the village the dominance of the Sharikovs and Shvonders at the beginning of collectivization could have been total.

Bykov's fellow villagers forced him to write this, he is a scribe who actively writes about sabotage. So I finished it. Didn't fit into the team. VOSH wrote another libel about the Soviet regime. The fact that industrialization was being carried out in the country is not a secret to anyone, and workers were really in the city and were in demand at construction sites. Yes, people moved from village to city. But after reading the article, one gets the impression that without exception all the peasants wanted to leave their homes.

And their favorite pastime was to write denunciations of neighbors and chairmen! But what is surprising is that the village is increasing the output of agricultural products from year to year. About the specialists who were sent to the village, there are zero in the article. About the construction of FAPs, schools, clubs, etc. One negative. The fact that life in the countryside is not easy for anyone is not news, but according to the author, it turns out that it was like that only in the USSR. I have not read it, but I condemn it, yes, Alexander? History is documents. And here they are in front of you. Such as they are. And there is also the Pravda newspaper. From which I also gave photocopies.

So the word lampoon here is at least an ineptitude. This is the history of our country reflected in the documents. And if she is It could not have been otherwise! Go to a nearby neighborhood and, based on the documents obtained there, you can write that all your neighbors are murderers, rapists, thieves, etc. Everyone has freedom of choice, your choice has long been obvious - to write gross about the country that gave you everything. It's good that you don't touch your parents. My choice is to write the truth about the events that took place.

Do not close your eyes like an ostrich, so that they do not happen again. If the country gave me, then a little. Don't shoot the pianist, he plays as best he can And I have never been seen in the harsh minus or obstruction of those groups that have registered on the site, and are not shy about their low-quality comments, decrying everyone and everything. At the same time, without giving at least somehow a reasonable assessment of their doubts.

The people know all these commentators by name. And he tries not to enter into useless discussions with them. What pre-revolutionary class do you come from? I've decided to ignore the articles of this character altogether. For to write comments only to him to drip on karma. So Shpakovsky and his admirers are going to the forest! But there were still chances Squelcher 4 September Vyacheslav Olegovich, you always have interesting material. Historical events and facts are not always convenient from the point of view of propaganda, but nevertheless it is history.

Thanks for another interesting article. I'm glad you liked it. As you can see, the book is "thick", but on my own I would add that it is also multifaceted. Only when I read I was convinced how much I do not know. I am sure that others do not know this either. So let's continue Artyom Karagodin 4 September Thank you, Vyacheslav! It is written in an interesting and objective way or with a desire for it. Indeed, the situation in the countryside was ambiguous at that time. In preparation for war, there was simply no alternative to collectivization. But what did it cost the peasants themselves. Stalin, if I am not mistaken, called this period the most difficult during his reign.

It would be possible to advise everyone interested in the history of our Motherland to read these volumes, since they contain a living history of the country one language of documents and denunciations is worth it! A letter from the peasants of the collective farm to them. Stalin on their situation Report We, collective farmers, red partisans, M. Damn it, it's not time to stop walking with these mocking steps - it's time to quit, we, collective farmers, put a curse instead of a report, we got out of patience, you tortured us, completely ruined us, and with your bureaucratic steps and plans, you did us slaves and you took away from us the freedom we won by blood, we have become worse than our grandfathers were lordly. We have neither clothes nor bread, we work like cattle, hungry, naked, undressed, we ask you whether there will be an end to this?

When we are the masters, this policy is not of the working class, it is our enemies who are building over us - the bourgeoisie and our leaders have fallen under their bait, they ruined all the peasants, strangled all the cattle, destroyed all the villages, starved us, made us like ragged dogs, remember that soon these dogs will have to grab your throat and take revenge on you for our mocking freedom. We, the red partisans, who won the throne for you not so that you would squeeze the last blood out of us, We will not forgive you for our blood - we will take revenge, but our opportunists, local brehals, communists, who forcibly take away the last calves and sheep from our poor people, will get them bitterly.

Our leaders have learned nothing more than loud words: opportunist, yes, socialize, take away, take away, dispossess, remove, and they themselves are gendarmes. They skip our dignity, but they mock us like dogs. We don't need your plans, mocking plans, they ruined us completely, we have enough plans, the plan should be worked out by the collective farmers themselves, but not by the nonsense who publish plans and frighten us collective farmers, approximately bread rotting, hay rotted, cattle tortured, we are tortured, and they send us silage for food, how ashamed of our work, how we are given bread to dogs, there is no goods or shoes , everything that we had in Russia, our government sold abroad to our enemies, replaced it with scrap materials, for unusable iron, tractors that do not work.

It turns out that the enemies have gone around you, all our cattle and our goods have changed They laugh at us, the truth cannot be told, as he said - so an opportunist, a fist, Per exploitation of one farm laborer but it was farm sold out a former Chinese guerrilla who was forced to resort to the exploitation of mercenary forces due to disability both hands are missing. A partisan died on a boom timber rafting of the X [ingano] -Arkharinsky district in private household plots, for the rest of which the other partisans who worked with him asked the directorate of private household plots to leave planks for the coffin.

This request was denied to them, and the corpse of the deceased partisan before preparation for the funeral lay without a coffin and was bitten by rats. Akbulak district. Rather, the war, we, the red partisans, having received rifles, would see with whom to fight and who to protect. We, collective farmers, eat quinoa and eat all sorts of surrogates. At the present time, everyone is against the Soviet government.

The war will begin, all the red partisans, as one, will go against the deceiving Bolsheviks, because we all learned what the power of the Soviets is - in robbery and violence ". Over 6 thousand poods were plundered. Bread was sold Massive theft of bread engulfed many villages. In the villages of Vyazovka and B. Moretz, theft was carried out in whole groups, the stolen bread was sold by them or sheltered. Among the participants in the theft are relatives of dispossessed and former.

Bread was taken away by collective farmers and individual farmers. A group of prosperous 9 people organized and systematically plundered collective farm bread During the search, a ton of stolen bread was discovered. Alexandrovka and began to cut ears and, thus, scored 25 bags of ears In sec. Ears of water in one individual farmer revealed about 20 poods of ears. Pogrom in the plunder of bread was attended by 40 sole farmers and about collective farmers. Theft of bread is carried out mainly by cutting ears from sheaves and threshing them The stolen bread is ground in specially designed hand mills, of which 8 pieces have been seized in recent days.

For the construction of these mills, in some cases, gears from reapers are stolen, incapacitating them. In order to bungle a penny mill, expensive agricultural machines are easily broken. In NVKrae, the kulaks and the well-to-do, with up to — and more poods of grain in stock, hand over only a small amount to state producers, mainly for the purpose of obtaining manufactory. In Siberia, the kulak-prosperous strata of the countryside refrain from surrendering bread to the state, openly declaring their unwillingness to donate bread for a pittance and the need to create insurance reserves, etc. In with. Vorobyevo of the Kolyvansky District Novosibirsk District , the kulaks, having and more poods of grain in stock, did not hand over a single pood to the state producers.

In the same district, in the Birkovsky district, there are 31 kulak farms with from to poods. In the Indersky District, there are 51 kulak farms with to poods. Not a single farm has taken out a single pound so far. The same is observed in a number of villages in Omsk and other regions. Fist s. In Siberia, the kulak-prosperous strata of the village refrain from surrendering bread to the state, openly declaring their unwillingness to surrender bread for a pittance. Why should they hand over bread for next to nothing? Their bread! They want to feed the pigs, they want to surrender to the state. Or for moonshine Why should you take it? So later, the payment for land in the form of taxes to the state is low, as is the purchase price for grain, but after all, it is more expensive at the bazaar, it is better to sell at the bazaar at market prices, and pay at the state Some still understand.

But such is the level of culture of our people, that from rags, but to riches The thoughts of the peasant in the surplus appropriation system. The Bolsheviks gave land, the peasant took this land for free. Then the government asks for some bread, the Red Army will not be able to defend your land without bread, and the state system of taxation has not been created, like the new monetary system. But the peasant, my land and my hut from the edge, I won't give it, I'd rather feed the surplus to the pigs. Well, then get a greedy person a food detachment because of his unwillingness to help the power that gave the land. Konnick 7 September Thank you Before the war, the collective farms lived well, at least where my mother was born.

I will attach one photo, look carefully. At least they dressed as well as the city's. But the war knocked out the best Lipetsk On July 25, several groups of peasants - 10 or more people in each group - went to the nearby crops of the neighboring village. Alexandrovka and began to cut spikes and, thus, they collected 25 bags of ears This is the answer I was waiting for. But what about "Land for the peasants! Or, again, the communists were misunderstood, they were not deceived, but distorted? And from the state, Irina, no matter how much you steal, you cannot return what it has stolen from you. The low retirement age was stolen from us.

Can you return at least a year? And this applies to absolutely any state, any! Apparatus of minority violence against the majority! And where did you get the idea that you selected their type of bread? As far as I understand, grain taxes were withdrawn, no? Or don't you have to pay tax? But why the peasants did not have bread for themselves this year is a separate question. However, it has been chewed several times. Foul skeptic 4 September Sholokhov had an example - they collected more taxes in the region than they harvested During sowing, collective farmers plunder a huge amount of seed grain. They usually steal from seeders, since the seeder has the full opportunity to "save" half a pound and a pound of seed grain on a hectare by moving the lever of the control device for seeding during operation, for example, from 8 pounds to 7, or from 7 to 6.

And since it is absolutely impossible for a foreman or party attached to follow the work of each seeder, theft in a number of collective farms and districts is massive, and often organized, when the foreman acts by agreement with the planters. They stole in the mowing, in the threshing floor, everywhere! And they not only stole, but also worked poorly. It rained for three weeks in August. They have ruined tens of thousands of quintals of grain. On one of these days I rode on horseback through the fields of the Chukarinsky collective farm. It rained in the morning. The sun was warming. The mobs that stained the entire steppe had to be scattered and dried, but the brigades were all not in the field, but in the camps.

I drove up to one camp. Man 50 men and women are lying under the cart, sleeping, singing in an undertone, women are looking for, in a word, they are celebrating. Have you come to the field to look for and lie under the carts? Our bread, as you can see, all abroad will float away. Through that we are lazy and work, we are not in a hurry to dry the heaps Let the little plow podopreet trosh Namely, that much of the blame for the deprivation of the peasants lies with the peasants themselves. Many people will not like it, but it is. And ALL the blame lies with the illiterate government, which does not know how to do anything, does not understand anything in managing the country's economy, in agriculture, and by this has brought hardworking people to eating patali, corpse-eating and cannibalism..

Today is the first weekend after summer, and therefore children no longer come to the dacha on weekends to visit their grandchildren, who live with us in the summer. No need to cry Yaroslavna. You are given 2 examples of "hard work" from the source indicated by you. And the fact that you blame the state for non-fulfillment of contracting agreements makes you related to those peasants - you also do not understand what it is.

And again - a lie. You should at least have looked at the materials before writing crap.. At the same time, the grain procurement plan for and the volume of grain actually collected by the state were significantly less than in the previous and subsequent years of the decade. Grain exports fell from 5,2 million tons in to 1,73 million tons in and 1,68 million tons in For the main grain-producing regions Ukraine and the North Caucasus , quotas for the volume of grain procurement were repeatedly reduced during And pay attention - in subsequent years, when taxes were higher, there was no hunger.

However - as in the previous ones.. Once again, for the alternatively gifted, the reasons for the famine in 32 are by no means that the Bolsheviks had maliciously dumped the oaths under the whisk. They just collected the usual taxes. You should at least look at the materials before writing crap. Once again, for the alternatively gifted. Well, try now, let's say, not to pay taxes for individual entrepreneurs, arguing that you do not have the type of money.

What will happen? So it was then - the food tax was calculated per hectare. He was collected. And there are many reasons why the peasants did not sow beforehand. Including - the presence even then of clever people like you.. And again - try to explain why there was no hunger either before or after? Although taxes on grain were collected even higher? Can you strain the confusion? Well, try now, let's say, not to pay taxes for individual entrepreneurs, motivating that you have no money like that. Can you expand your thought? With numbers? How much was spent in taxes, how much was allegedly forced to sell at a fixed price?

Whom to sell to? How much was left for the peasant? And it reminds you of your spokesperson - like the Bolsheviks confiscated all the grain under a broom, they didn't even leave it for food. Do you seriously take Comrade Stalin for an idiot who only dreamed of starving all the villagers to death? People to eat at least something. Where is the earth then? Before that, they meant bread for the master and nothing, but if they stick it up, dyk a vanka with whips, and a manka with cancer.

And they rejoiced, because the master did not kill, he is kind. I wonder if now someone goes to the fields to steal, even because of hunger, will you also justify them? And the stolen bread will be hidden in pits, where it will be contaminated with fungi, including ergot, if it has not been dried or dried. This is not their bread , even the status of a shareholder of a company does not give an employee the right to steal. The land was public, the work was collective, a tractor was plowed from the MTS, and most importantly, the procurement rates were set without discounts for mass theft, the state took its own, and the collective farmers were all that was left..

Olgovich 7 September You, in polemics, no longer see yourself - hunger began with stealing from ourselves. Agriculture requires money, the peasants do not have it, so most of the marketable grain. Dear opponent, the grain from the pits was burned because it is no longer suitable for food. But they were really not ready for mass theft, there was not enough "bloody gebni" in the village.

And it was disposed of Olgovich 8 September The collective farm enters into an agreement with the state for the supply of products, in return for receiving seed and cash loans, implements, livestock, and the cultivation of the land with a tractor. Capital investments in agriculture for the first five-year period were 12 billion rubles. The residents of Aleksandrovka were robbed by the same peasants, collective farmers from the neighboring village. And this was repeated hundreds of times throughout the country. Oh yes, with the formally the same yield indicators, the volume of procurements increased by 4 times.

Was there really a famine in ? My dear opponent, I repeat once again - this grain has been infected with a fungus, it cannot be eaten. In general, thank you very much for your work, it's hard to imagine better propaganda for the Bolsheviks. Unknown 4 September More than once. Shpakovsky refers to this little book. Berelovich, V. All clear. The main thing is that the documents that were hidden in this archive, but And why do you need money, money? Or do you think that they were all written in France? Then open the Pravda newspaper. There, too, there is a lot of things It is also very interesting and instructive. So don't look for devils in the censer. Do you live in the regional center? Then you should have a regional archive.

For the sake of interest, somehow go there and ask for your local documents on dispossession of kulaks, letters Tell the employees: "I want to write an article" and they will give you. Learn a lot for yourself. Darkness 4 September The first time I put a plus on Olgovich! And Olegovich, as always, made me happy!! Good morning, Unknown. I was going to write to you more than once. Finally, I was finally fed up. You are hiding behind the nickname Annone and you also present yourself instead of a name. Here the positions of the Tatra Irina and Olgovich Andrei are diametrically opposed, but nevertheless, both colleagues cause a respectful attitude towards their opinions. At least they weren't afraid to give their name You are not. How can I respect you? How to trust? How to take your comments "from around the corner"?

Your anonymity causes you to be treated as a pumped-up hack-writer and nothing more. So easily you operate with the "material interest" and "biasedness" of the author that one might suspect that you yourself are sinning heavily. And what exactly are you interested in? Your name and yours are unknown to me, but I do not complex about this. Can you provide personal data? Who are you to introduce them? Human Resources or Investigator? Place of residence? There is no mystery. What interests that? If you are acting as a lawyer for Mr. Shpakovsky, he does not need them. Throw it into a pool of sulfuric acid, it will come out without damage.

I fully introduced myself in the file. Leave the questionnaire for the tax office or your favorite bank. I have to hide. When I registered, I indicated what was required. What other questions? In the file you can write that you are the grandchild of Queen Elizabeth. What a demand then. And the rest of the pretentious attack, you don't even need to answer. The anomaly of humanity - enemies of the USSR and the Soviet people on the territory of the USSR, all years of the Soviet and their anti-Soviet periods for their country and people always have only stupid, evil AGAINST everything Soviet, they have nothing and no one good for their country and people for these year did not appear.

So, and raging against the Soviet collective farms, they offered only the WORST alternatives both in terms of the efficiency of agricultural production and the quality of life of peasants - RI, which did not crawl out of a state of chronic hunger, and most of the peasants never ate enough bread, and the Russian Federation, in which all industries are ditched, and in which if now all imports are removed and only natural products are left, then their favorite "famine" will come, there will be very few products, and they will be very expensive, and in which the quality of life of most peasants has sharply deteriorated, destroyed infrastructure in villages.

Boris55 4 September Ha, and where is your "food security". It is not found either in statistics or in stores, only imports and counterfeits for Soviet products at high prices for the people that have been growing for 30 years. You are proud that you began to produce more wheat than in the RSFSR, but it is not for the people, but in order to sell it for export, and your "kulaks" would be enriched. And I don't need your "political information". HERE, the enemies of the communists openly threaten that AGAIN, as after the October Revolution, they will unleash the Civil War, if someone wants to take Russia away from them, to the responsibility for the capture of which they cowardly whine for 30 years "but we have nothing to do with it, that's all the communists are to blame.

This is what they left from, they came to that. The enemies of the USSR during Perestroika praised the "best, most hard-working" kulaks, shouted that farmers would better feed the country than collective farms, and they themselves came to the conclusion that only large agricultural enterprises are capable of producing agricultural products. And your "Russian" is made on imported equipment, on imported equipment, from imported materials and raw materials, in imported packaging. And your "Russian" is produced on imported equipment, on imported equipment, from imported materials and raw materials, in imported packaging.

So what, you just confirmed what I have already written. The enemies of the communists, who seriously imagined that they were better than the communists and their supporters, and more than they deserved to own the country, were only able to parasitize due to the results of the labor of Soviet communists and their supporters, the massive export of natural resources, and imports, and proceed with maniacal criticism " how badly, ineffectively, the scoops and commies worked. Irina, idrit madrid! How long can you do verbiage? Who are the parasites? I said, and I say again - the Soviet system of farming in the countryside has not stood the test of time.

Behind the decision of the "food program", which began under Brezhnev, lie millions of Soviet rubles, thrown into nowhere. Empty shelves in stores in the 70s and 80s are proof of this. What was the reason that the village in the form of collective farms and state farms could not produce food, at least adequately to the amounts that were spent on equipment, fuels and lubricants and fertilizers? Woodman 4 September I absolutely do not like it, but if we discard Irina's stamps, there is a pearl! Irina, though furious at the "enemies", is rational, like an abacus Tell her that she is.. Meanwhile, under emo pressure. This is a personal predilection, I also like Olgovich for his perseverance and arguments I don't like dusty sacks from gopniks.. Impersonal and of the "intelligent" type What do we do on sofas?

Do not judge, yes Yours faithfully. Wildly wondering, many of the farmers crying for the peasantry who live off the sale of agricultural products? The comment was deleted. The article is quite interesting, but I do not consider it possible to consider it a typical example of the life of the peasants of those years, because the peasantry in its cut was also motley. Based on the memories of her mother, life in the village was neither enthusiastic nor dull to death. In the context of those years, one can simply assume that everything was quite ordinary. So my grandmother worked on a collective farm, and my grandfather worked as an assistant driver. All six children were in business - the subsidiary farm required care. And denunciations are a phenomenon of those years, which perfectly fits into the saying "Let my cow die, if only everyone's dead at my neighbor's.

Vyacheslav Olegovich! Based on your article, one might get the impression that collectivization in agriculture, if it was not an absolute evil, then at least the new government did not become an ally of the rural workers. Collectivization is, as it were, such a cunning move by the authorities, which deliberately created an instrument for fighting themselves in the form of denunciations to the suppression organs. Leading in this way the population, which managed to avoid repression, to an obedient state. And it's all And this is all in isolation from the analysis of why it was so and could not be otherwise.

I just want to remind you that the collectivization of agriculture, conceived by Stalin, was an extreme measure, a forced measure, which ultimately really allowed to solve most of the problems that suddenly faced the leadership of the Soviet Union. After all, the USSR was a state of a new type, which has no precedents in history. There were no teachers. The Soviet Union was forced to learn from the consequences of its decisions. And the practice of the Second World War showed that the decisions were the only correct ones. An extremely petty and vile article. The author collected a bunch of individual cases together and describes that it was so everywhere and with everyone, that this was the main line of the peasant's life.

This is an unambiguous manipulation of facts which, of course, took place , when only the events favorable to the author are selected and a text is written on their basis in order to shit more on the Soviet past. It is not clear why, just a few years later, the same peasants massively defended the country during the Great Patriotic War. From the fact that their lives have become worse?

Or did they see that the Soviet government and the same Stalin whom they hated so much - in the article are trying to make their life better than in the Republic of Ingushetia? While speaking he kept changing his position; now leaning on his right, now on his left hand, now against the back, then on the arms of his chair, now putting the papers straight, now handling his pencil and paper-knife. According to his words, they had the right of interrogating the prisoners through the president, to use paper and pencils, and to examine the articles put in as evidence. Their duty was to judge not falsely, but justly. Their responsibility meant that if the secrecy of their discussion were violated, or communications were established with outsiders, they would be liable to punishment.

Every one listened with an expression of respectful attention. The merchant, diffusing a smell of brandy around him, and restraining loud hiccups, approvingly nodded his head at every sentence. Kartinkin sat down as hurriedly as he had risen, wrapping his cloak round him, and again began moving his lips silently. The president was so used to his task that, in order to get quicker through it all, he did two things at a time.

Botchkova was forty-three years old, and came from the town of Kalomna. She, too, had been in service at the Hotel Mauritania. She did not wait to be told, but sat down as soon as she had replied to the last question. Maslova got up and stood, with her chest expanded, looking at the president with that peculiar expression of readiness in her smiling black eyes. Nekhludoff had put on his pince-nez, looking at the prisoners while they were being questioned. How can it be? The president was going to continue his questions, but the member with the spectacles interrupted him, angrily whispering something.

The president nodded, and turned again to the prisoner. Yes, this was she. He now clearly saw in her face that strange, indescribable individuality which distinguishes every face from all others; something peculiar, all its own, not to be found anywhere else. In spite of the unhealthy pallor and the fulness of the face, it was there, this sweet, peculiar individuality; on those lips, in the slight squint of her eyes, in the voice, particularly in the naive smile, and in the expression of readiness on the face and figure. Then, casting a hurried look round the room, again turned her eyes on the president. There was something so unusual in the expression of her face, so terrible and piteous in the meaning of the words she had uttered, in this smile, and in the furtive glance she had cast round the room, that the president was abashed, and for a few minutes silence reigned in the court.

The prisoner leant back to pick up her skirt in the way a fine lady picks up her train, and sat down, folding her small white hands in the sleeves of her cloak, her eyes fixed on the president. Her face was calm again. The witnesses were called, and some sent away; the doctor who was to act as expert was chosen and called into the court. Then the secretary got up and began reading the indictment. The judges bent now on one, now on the other arm of their chairs, then on the table, then back again, shut and opened their eyes, and whispered to each other. One of the gendarmes several times repressed a yawn. The prisoner Kartinkin never stopped moving his cheeks. Botchkova sat quite still and straight, only now and then scratching her head under the kerchief. Maslova sat immovable, gazing at the reader; only now and then she gave a slight start, as if wishing to reply, blushed, sighed heavily, and changed the position of her hands, looked round, and again fixed her eyes on the reader.

Nekhludoff sat in the front row on his high-backed chair, without removing his pince-nez, and looked at Maslova, while a complicated and fierce struggle was going on in his soul. The indictment ran as follows: On the 17th of January, 18—, in the lodging-house Mauritania, occurred the sudden death of the Second Guild merchant, Therapont Emilianovich Smelkoff, of Kourgan. The local police doctor of the fourth district certified that death was due to rupture of the heart, owing to the excessive use of alcoholic liquids.

The body of the said Smelkoff was interred. After several days had elapsed, the merchant Timokhin, a fellow-townsman and companion of the said Smelkoff, returned from St. Petersburg, and hearing the circumstances that accompanied the death of the latter, notified his suspicions that the death was caused by poison, given with intent to rob the said Smelkoff of his money.

This suspicion was corroborated on inquiry, which proved:. That shortly before his death the said Smelkoff had received the sum of 3, roubles from the bank. When an inventory of the property of the deceased was made, only roubles and 16 copecks were found. In the portmanteau opened by the said Maslova, the said Botchkova and Kartinkin saw packets of rouble bank-notes. The next morning the said Lubka alias Katerina Maslova sold to her mistress, the witness Kitaeva, a brothel-keeper, a diamond ring given to her, as she alleged, by the said Smelkoff.

The housemaid of the lodging-house Mauritania, Euphemia Botchkova, placed to her account in the local Commercial Bank 1, roubles. She gave this further evidence—that when she came to the lodging-house for the second time she did, at the instigation of Simeon Kartinkin, give Smelkoff some kind of powder, which she thought was a narcotic, in a glass of brandy, hoping he would fall asleep and that she would be able to get away from him; and that Smelkoff, having beaten her, himself gave her the ring when she cried and threatened to go away. At this point Maslova gave a start, opened her mouth, and looked at Botchkova. The accused Simeon Kartinkin, when first examined, confessed that he and Botchkova, at the instigation of Maslova, who had come with the key from the brothel, had stolen the money and divided it equally among themselves and Maslova.

When examined the second time he denied having had anything to do with the stealing of the money or giving Maslova the powders, accusing her of having done it alone. In consequence of the foregoing, the peasant of the village Borki, Simeon Kartinkin, 33 years of age, the meschanka Euphemia Botchkova, 43 years of age, and the meschanka Katerina Maslova, 27 years of age, are accused of having on the 17th day of January, —, jointly stolen from the said merchant, Smelkoff, a ring and money, to the value of 2, roubles, and of having given the said merchant, Smelkoff, poison to drink, with intent of depriving him of life, and thereby causing his death. This crime is provided for in clause 1, of the Penal Code, paragraphs 4 and 5.

When the reading of the indictment was over, the president, after having consulted the members, turned to Kartinkin, with an expression that plainly said: Now we shall find out the whole truth down to the minutest detail. Simeon Kartinkin got up, stretched his arms down his sides, and leaning forward with his whole body, continued moving his cheeks inaudibly. Do you plead guilty? The usher again rushed up to Simeon Kartinkin, and stopped him in a tragic whisper. Had I gone in I should have kicked her out. Then, returning to the lodging house Mauritania with Smelkoff, of giving him poison in his drink, and thereby causing his death. Only I believed what they told me, that they were sleeping powders, and that no harm could come of them.

I never thought, and never wished. I only gave them to make him sleep; I never meant and never thought of worse. A free and full confession will be to your advantage. He was there, already very drunk. At this moment the public prosecutor raised himself a little, leaning on one elbow in an awkward manner. The president repeated the question. Maslova stared at the public prosecutor, with a frightened look. Did they meet often? How should I know? But Maslova turned away without distinguishing him from the others, and again fixed her eyes anxiously on the public prosecutor. Very well, I have no more questions to ask.

And the public prosecutor took his elbow off the desk, and began writing something. He was not really noting anything down, but only going over the letters of his notes with a pen, having seen the procureur and leading advocates, after putting a clever question, make a note, with which, later on, to annihilate their adversaries. The president did not continue at once, because he was consulting the member with the spectacles, whether he was agreed that the questions which had all been prepared be forehand and written out should be put.

Hardly had I fallen asleep when one of our girls, Bertha, woke me. So I went. The president was whispering to the member on his left, but, in order to appear as if he had heard, he repeated her last words. Maslova shuddered when the prosecutor addressed her; she did not know why it was, but she felt that he wished her evil. I thought they were harmless, and he gave me the packet. I went in. He was lying behind the partition, and at once called for brandy. Had I known how could I have given them to him? I wanted to go away, and he gave me a knock on the head and broke my comb. Maslova again seemed frightened, and she again looked anxiously from the public prosecutor to the president, and said hurriedly:. Maslova considered for a moment. Very well! And did the prisoner talk to Kartinkin, and, if so, what about?

The communication he had received from the tall, bearded member with the kindly eyes was that the member, having felt a slight stomach derangement, wished to do a little massage and to take some drops. And this was why an interval was made. When the judges had risen, the advocates, the jury, and the witnesses also rose, with the pleasant feeling that part of the business was finished, and began moving in different directions.

Nekhludoff first saw Katusha when he was a student in his third year at the University, and was preparing an essay on land tenure during the summer vacation, which he passed with his aunts. But that year his sister had married, and his mother had gone abroad to a watering-place, and he, having his essay to write, resolved to spend the summer with his aunts. It was very quiet in their secluded estate and there was nothing to distract his mind; his aunts loved their nephew and heir very tenderly, and he, too, was fond of them and of their simple, old-fashioned life. His father had not been rich, but his mother had received 10, acres of land for her dowry. At that time he fully realised all the cruelty and injustice of private property in land, and being one of those to whom a sacrifice to the demands of conscience gives the highest spiritual enjoyment, he decided not to retain property rights, but to give up to the peasant labourers the land he had inherited from his father.

It was on this land question he wrote his essay. He returned while the dew still lay on the grass and the flowers. Sometimes, having finished his coffee, he sat down with his books of reference and his papers to write his essay, but very often, instead of reading or writing, he left home again, and wandered through the fields and the woods. Before dinner he lay down and slept somewhere in the garden. At dinner he amused and entertained his aunts with his bright spirits, then he rode on horseback or went for a row on the river, and in the evening he again worked at his essay, or sat reading or playing patience with his aunts. His joy in life was so great that it agitated him, and kept him awake many a night, especially when it was moonlight, so that instead of sleeping he wandered about in the garden till dawn, alone with his dreams and fancies.

And so, peacefully and happily, he lived through the first month of his stay with his aunts, taking no particular notice of their half-ward, half-servant, the black-eyed, quick-footed Katusha. If a woman figured in his dreams at all it was only as a wife. All the other women, who, according to his ideas he could not marry, were not women for him, but human beings. After tea they all went to play in the meadow in front of the house, where the grass had already been mown. They played at the game of gorelki, and Katusha joined them. Running about and changing partners several times, Nekhludoff caught Katusha, and she became his partner. Nekhludoff ran fast to the right, trying to escape from the artist, but when he looked round he saw the artist running after Katusha, who kept well ahead, her firm young legs moving rapidly.

There was a lilac bush in front of them, and Katusha made a sign with her head to Nekhludoff to join her behind it, for if they once clasped hands again they were safe from their pursuer, that being a rule of the game. He understood the sign, and ran behind the bush, but he did not know that there was a small ditch overgrown with nettles there. He stumbled and fell into the nettles, already wet with dew, stinging his bands, but rose immediately, laughing at his mishap. She drew nearer to him, and he himself, not knowing how it happened, stooped towards her. She did not move away, and he pressed her hand tight and kissed her on the lips. Then, breaking two branches of white lilac from which the blossoms were already falling, she began fanning her hot face with them; then, with her head turned back to him, she walked away, swaying her arms briskly in front of her, and joined the other players.

After this there grew up between Nekhludoff and Katusha those peculiar relations which often exist between a pure young man and girl who are attracted to each other. The whole of life seemed full of gladness. And she felt the same. The mere thought that Katusha existed and for her that Nekhludoff existed had this effect. When he received an unpleasant letter from his mother, or could not get on with his essay, or felt the unreasoning sadness that young people are often subject to, he had only to remember Katusha and that he should see her, and it all vanished. Katusha had much work to do in the house, but she managed to get a little leisure for reading, and Nekhludoff gave her Dostoievsky and Tourgeneff whom he had just read himself to read.

When they were alone it was worse. Their eyes at once began to say something very different and far more important than what their mouths uttered. Their lips puckered, and they felt a kind of dread of something that made them part quickly. His aunt, Mary Ivanovna, was afraid Dmitri would form an intimacy with Katusha; but her fears were groundless, for Nekhludoff, himself hardly conscious of it, loved Katusha, loved her as the pure love, and therein lay his safety—his and hers. He not only did not feel any desire to possess her, but the very thought of it filled him with horror.

The fears of the more poetical Sophia Ivanovna, that Dmitri, with his thoroughgoing, resolute character, having fallen in love with a girl, might make up his mind to marry her, without considering either her birth or her station, had more ground. Had Nekhludoff at that time been conscious of his love for Katusha, and especially if he had been told that he could on no account join his life with that of a girl in her position, it might have easily happened that, with his usual straight-forwardness, he would have come to the conclusion that there could be no possible reason for him not to marry any girl whatever, as long as he loved her. But his aunts did not mention their fears to him; and, when he left, he was still unconscious of his love for Katusha. He was sure that what he felt for Katusha was only one of the manifestations of the joy of life that filled his whole being, and that this sweet, merry little girl shared this joy with him.

Yet, when he was going away, and Katusha stood with his aunts in the porch, and looked after him, her dark, slightly-squinting eyes filled with tears, he felt, after all, that he was leaving something beautiful, precious, something which would never reoccur. And he grew very sad. After that Nekhludoff did not see Katusha for more than three years. When he saw her again he had just been promoted to the rank of officer and was going to join his regiment. On the way he came to spend a few days with his aunts, being now a very different young man from the one who had spent the summer with them three years before. He then had been an honest, unselfish lad, ready to sacrifice himself for any good cause; now he was depraved and selfish, and thought only of his own enjoyment.

Then he had felt the importance of, and had need of intercourse with, nature, and with those who had lived and thought and felt before him—philosophers and poets. What he now considered necessary and important were human institutions and intercourse with his comrades. Then women seemed mysterious and charming—charming by the very mystery that enveloped them; now the purpose of women, all women except those of his own family and the wives of his friends, was a very definite one: women were the best means towards an already experienced enjoyment. Then money was not needed, and he did not require even one-third of what his mother allowed him; but now this allowance of 1, roubles a month did not suffice, and he had already had some unpleasant talks about it with his mother.

Then he had looked on his spirit as the I; now it was his healthy strong animal I that he looked upon as himself. And all this terrible change had come about because he had ceased to believe himself and had taken to believing others. Believing others there was nothing to decide; everything had been decided already, and decided always in favour of the animal I and against the spiritual. Nor was this all. Believing in his own self he was always exposing himself to the censure of those around him; believing others he had their approval. So, when Nekhludoff had talked of the serious matters of life, of God, truth, riches, and poverty, all round him thought it out of place and even rather funny, and his mother and aunts called him, with kindly irony, notre cher philosophe.

But when he read novels, told improper anecdotes, went to see funny vaudevilles in the French theatre and gaily repeated the jokes, everybody admired and encouraged him. When he considered it right to limit his needs, wore an old overcoat, took no wine, everybody thought it strange and looked upon it as a kind of showing off; but when he spent large sums on hunting, or on furnishing a peculiar and luxurious study for himself, everybody admired his taste and gave him expensive presents to encourage his hobby. While he kept pure and meant to remain so till he married his friends prayed for his health, and even his mother was not grieved but rather pleased when she found out that he had become a real man and had gained over some French woman from his friend.

As to the episode with Katusha, the princess could not without horror think that he might possibly have married her. In the same way, when Nekhludoff came of age, and gave the small estate he had inherited from his father to the peasants because he considered the holding of private property in land wrong, this step filled his mother and relations with dismay and served as an excuse for making fun of him to all his relatives.

He was continually told that these peasants, after they had received the land, got no richer, but, on the contrary, poorer, having opened three public-houses and left off doing any work. But when Nekhludoff entered the Guards and spent and gambled away so much with his aristocratic companions that Elena Ivanovna, his mother, had to draw on her capital, she was hardly pained, considering it quite natural and even good that wild oats should be sown at an early age and in good company, as her son was doing.

At first Nekhludoff struggled, but all that he had considered good while he had faith in himself was considered bad by others, and what he had considered evil was looked upon as good by those among whom he lived, and the struggle grew too hard. And at last Nekhludoff gave in, i. At first this giving up of faith in himself was unpleasant, but it did not long continue to be so. At that time he acquired the habit of smoking, and drinking wine, and soon got over this unpleasant feeling and even felt great relief.

Nekhludoff, with his passionate nature, gave himself thoroughly to the new way of life so approved of by all those around, and he entirely stifled the inner voice which demanded something different. This began after he moved to St. Petersburg, and reached its highest point when he entered the army. Military life in general depraves men. It places them in conditions of complete idleness, i. But when, to the usual depraving influence of military service with its honours, uniforms, flags, its permitted violence and murder, there is added the depraving influence of riches and nearness to and intercourse with members of the Imperial family, as is the case in the chosen regiment of the Guards in which all the officers are rich and of good family, then this depraving influence creates in the men who succumb to it a perfect mania of selfishness.

And this mania of selfishness attacked Nekhludoff from the moment he entered the army and began living in the way his companions lived. He had no occupation whatever except to dress in a uniform, splendidly made and well brushed by other people, and, with arms also made and cleaned and handed to him by others, ride to reviews on a fine horse which had been bred, broken in and fed by others. There, with other men like himself, he had to wave a sword, shoot off guns, and teach others to do the same. He had no other work, and the highly-placed persons, young and old, the Tsar and those near him, not only sanctioned his occupation but praised and thanked him for it.

This kind of life acts on military men even more depravingly than on others, because if any other than a military man lead such a life he cannot help being ashamed of it in the depth of his heart. A military man is, on the contrary, proud of a life of this kind especially at war time, and Nekhludoff had entered the army just after war with the Turks had been declared. And the state he lived in was that of a chronic mania of selfishness. Nekhludoff went to visit his aunts because their estate lay near the road he had to travel in order to join his regiment, which had gone forward, because they had very warmly asked him to come, and especially because he wanted to see Katusha.

Perhaps in his heart he had already formed those evil designs against Katusha which his now uncontrolled animal self suggested to him, but he did not acknowledge this as his intention, but only wished to go back to the spot where he had been so happy, to see his rather funny, but dear, kind-hearted old aunts, who always, without his noticing it, surrounded him with an atmosphere of love and admiration, and to see sweet Katusha, of whom he had retained so pleasant a memory.

He arrived at the end of March, on Good Friday, after the thaw had set in. It was pouring with rain so that he had not a dry thread on him and was feeling very cold, but yet vigorous and full of spirits, as always at that time. He expected she would come out when she heard the sledge bells but she did not. Two bare-footed women with pails and tucked-up skirts, who had evidently been scrubbing the floors, came out of the side door. She was not at the front door either, and only Tikhon, the man-servant, with his apron on, evidently also busy cleaning, came out into the front porch. His aunt Sophia Ivanovna alone met him in the ante-room; she had a silk dress on and a cap on her head.

Both aunts had been to church and had received communion. Dear me, you have got moustaches! Get him some coffee; be quick. Nekhludoff, followed by Tikhon, went gaily to his old room to change his things. He felt inclined to ask Tikhon about Katusha; how she was, what she was doing, was she not going to be married? All were alive except Polkan, who had gone mad the summer before. When he had taken off all his wet things and just begun to dress again, Nekhludoff heard quick, familiar footsteps and a knock at the door.

Nekhludoff knew the steps and also the knock. No one but she walked and knocked like that. The slightly squinting naive black eyes looked up in the same old way. Now as then, she had on a white apron. She brought him from his aunts a piece of scented soap, with the wrapper just taken off, and two towels—one a long Russian embroidered one, the other a bath towel. The unused soap with the stamped inscription, the towels, and her own self, all were equally clean, fresh, undefiled and pleasant. The irrepressible smile of joy at the sight of him made the sweet, firm lips pucker up as of old. How do you do? She only smiled in answer to these words, and went out. The aunts, who had always loved Nekhludoff, welcomed him this time more warmly than ever. Dmitri was going to the war, where he might be wounded or killed, and this touched the old aunts.

Now, just as then, he could not see her white apron without getting excited; he could not listen to her steps, her voice, her laugh, without a feeling of joy; he could not look at her eyes, black as sloes, without a feeling of tenderness, especially when she smiled; and, above all, he could not notice without agitation how she blushed when they met. He felt he was in love, but not as before, when this love was a kind of mystery to him and he would not own, even to himself, that he loved, and when he was persuaded that one could love only once; now he knew he was in love and was glad of it, and knew dimly what this love consisted of and what it might lead to, though he sought to conceal it even from himself.

In Nekhludoff, as in every man, there were two beings: one the spiritual, seeking only that kind of happiness for him self which should tend towards the happiness of all; the other, the animal man, seeking only his own happiness, and ready to sacrifice to it the happiness of the rest of the world. At this period of his mania of self-love brought on by life in Petersburg and in the army, this animal man ruled supreme and completely crushed the spiritual man in him. But when he saw Katusha and experienced the same feelings as he had had three years before, the spiritual man in him raised its head once more and began to assert its rights. And up to Easter, during two whole days, an unconscious, ceaseless inner struggle went on in him.

He knew in the depths of his soul that he ought to go away, that there was no real reason for staying on with his aunts, knew that no good could come of it; and yet it was so pleasant, so delightful, that he did not honestly acknowledge the facts to himself and stayed on. Nekhludoff attended the mass with his aunts and the servants, and kept looking at Katusha, who was near the door and brought in the censers for the priests.

Then having given the priests and his aunts the Easter kiss, though it was not midnight and therefore not Easter yet, he was already going to bed when he heard the old servant Matrona Pavlovna preparing to go to the church to get the koulitch and paski [Easter cakes] blest after the midnight service. For Nekhludoff this early mass remained for ever after one of the brightest and most vivid memories of his life. When he rode out of the darkness, broken only here and there by patches of white snow, into the churchyard illuminated by a row of lamps around the church, the service had already begun.

On the right stood the peasants; the old men in home-spun coats, and clean white linen bands [long strips of linen are worn by the peasants instead of stockings] wrapped round their legs, the young men in new cloth coats, bright-coloured belts round their waists, and top-boots. On the left stood the women, with red silk kerchiefs on their heads, black velveteen sleeveless jackets, bright red shirt-sleeves, gay-coloured green, blue, and red skirts, and thick leather boots. The old women, dressed more quietly, stood behind them, with white kerchiefs, homespun coats, old-fashioned skirts of dark home-spun material, and shoes on their feet. Gaily-dressed children, their hair well oiled, went in and out among them. The men, making the sign of the cross, bowed down and raised their heads again, shaking back their hair.

The women, especially the old ones, fixed their eyes on an icon surrounded with candies and made the sign of the cross, firmly pressing their folded fingers to the kerchief on their foreheads, to their shoulders, and their stomachs, and, whispering something, stooped or knelt down. The children, imitating the grown-up people, prayed earnestly when they knew that they were being observed. The gilt case containing the icon glittered, illuminated on all sides by tall candles ornamented with golden spirals.

Nekhludoff passed up to the front. Nekhludoff knew that she felt his presence without looking at him. He noticed this as he passed her, walking up to the altar. The black eyes, laughing and full of joy, gazed naively up and remained fixed on Nekhludoff. At this moment the clerk was going out with a copper coffee-pot [coffee-pots are often used for holding holy water in Russia] of holy water in his hand, and, not noticing Katusha, brushed her with his surplice.

Evidently he brushed against Katusha through wishing to pass Nekhludoff at a respectful distance, and Nekhludoff was surprised that he, the clerk, did not understand that everything here, yes, and in all the world, only existed for Katusha, and that everything else might remain unheeded, only not she, because she was the centre of all. And it seemed to him that Katusha was aware that it was all for her when he looked at her well-shaped figure, the tucked white dress, the wrapt, joyous expression of her face, by which he knew that just exactly the same that was singing in his own soul was also singing in hers.

In the interval between the early and the late mass Nekhludoff left the church. The people stood aside to let him pass, and bowed. Some knew him; others asked who he was. He stopped on the steps. The beggars standing there came clamouring round him, and he gave them all the change he had in his purse and went down. It was dawning, but the sun had not yet risen. The people grouped round the graves in the churchyard. Katusha had remained inside. Nekhludoff stood waiting for her. The people continued coming out, clattering with their nailed boots on the stone steps and dispersing over the churchyard. While the peasant was kissing Nekhludoff and giving him a dark brown egg, the lilac dress of Matrona Pavlovna and the dear black head with the red bow appeared.

Katusha caught sight of him over the heads of those in front of her, and he saw how her face brightened up. She had come out with Matrona Pavlovna on to the porch, and stopped there distributing alms to the beggars. A beggar with a red scab in place of a nose came up to Katusha. She gave him something, drew nearer him, and, evincing no sign of disgust, but her eyes still shining with joy, kissed him three times. I love! He did not mean to give them the Easter kiss, but only to be nearer to her. Then he looked at Katusha; she blushed, and drew nearer. In the love between a man and a woman there always comes a moment when this love has reached its zenith—a moment when it is unconscious, unreasoning, and with nothing sensual about it.

Such a moment had come for Nekhludoff on that Easter eve. When he brought Katusha back to his mind, now, this moment veiled all else; the smooth glossy black head, the white tucked dress closely fitting her graceful maidenly form, her, as yet, un-developed bosom, the blushing cheeks, the tender shining black eyes with their slight squint heightened by the sleepless night, and her whole being stamped with those two marked features, purity and chaste love, love not only for him he knew that , but for everybody and everything, not for the good alone, but for all that is in the world, even for that beggar whom she had kissed.

He knew she had that love in her because on that night and morning he was conscious of it in himself, and conscious that in this love he became one with her. When he returned from church Nekhludoff broke the fast with his aunts and took a glass of spirits and some wine, having got into that habit while with his regiment, and when he reached his room fell asleep at once, dressed as he was. He was awakened by a knock at the door. He knew it was her knock, and got up, rubbing his eyes and stretching himself. She still had on the same white dress, but not the bow in her hair. She looked at him with a smile, as if she had communicated some very good news to him.

She stood still for a minute, and he, noticing it, threw down his comb and made a step towards her, but at that very moment she turned suddenly and went with quick light steps along the strip of carpet in the middle of the passage. Nekhludoff let her go, and for a moment he felt not only confused and ashamed but disgusted with himself. He should now have believed himself, and then he would have known that this confusion and shame were caused by the best feelings of his soul demanding to be set free; but he thought it was only his stupidity and that he ought to behave as every one else did.

He caught her up and kissed her on the neck. This kiss was very different from that first thoughtless kiss behind the lilac bush, and very different to the kiss this morning in the churchyard. This was a dreadful kiss, and she felt it. He came into the dining-room. His aunts, elegantly dressed, their family doctor, and a neighbour were already there. Everything seemed so very ordinary, but in Nekhludoff a storm was raging. He understood nothing of what was being said and gave wrong answers, thinking only of Katusha. The sound of her steps in the passage brought back the thrill of that last kiss and he could think of nothing else. When she came into the room he, without looking round, felt her presence with his whole being and had to force himself not to look at her.

After dinner he at once went into his bedroom and for a long time walked up and down in great excitement, listening to every sound in the house and expecting to hear her steps. The animal man inside him had now not only lifted its head, but had succeeded in trampling under foot the spiritual man of the days of his first visit, and even of that every morning. That dreadful animal man alone now ruled over him. Though he was watching for her all day he could not manage to meet her alone.

She was probably trying to evade him. In the evening, however, she was obliged to go into the room next to his. The doctor had been asked to stay the night, and she had to make his bed. When he heard her go in Nekhludoff followed her, treading softly and holding his breath as if he were going to commit a crime. She was putting a clean pillow-case on the pillow, holding it by two of its corners with her arms inside the pillow-case.

She turned round and smiled, not a happy, joyful smile as before, but in a frightened, piteous way. The smile seemed to tell him that what he was doing was wrong. He stopped for a moment. There was still the possibility of a struggle. The voice of his real love for her, though feebly, was still speaking of her, her feelings, her life. He went up to her with determination and a terrible, ungovernable animal passion took possession of him. With his arm round he made her sit down on the bed; and feeling that there was something more to be done he sat down beside her. Some one was really coming to the door. On no account. No, no! It was Matrona Pavlovna who had come to the door.

She came in with a blanket over her arm, looked reproachfully at Nekhludoff, and began scolding Katusha for having taken the wrong blanket. Nekhludoff went out in silence, but he did not even feel ashamed. And so the evening passed and night came. The doctor went to bed. He again went out into the porch. It was dark, damp and warm out of doors, and that white spring mist which drives away the last snow, or is diffused by the thawing of the last snow, filled the air.

From the river under the hill, about a hundred steps from the front door, came a strange sound. It was the ice breaking. His heart was beating so fiercely in his breast that he seemed to hear it, his laboured breath came and went in a burst of long-drawn sighs. Nekhludoff stood a long time without moving and waited to see what she, not knowing that she was observed, would do. For a minute or two she did not move; then she lifted her eyes, smiled and shook her head as if chiding herself, then changed her pose and dropped both her arms on the table and again began gazing down in front of her. He stood and looked at her, involuntarily listening to the beating of his own heart and the strange sounds from the river.

There on the river, beneath the white mist, the unceasing labour went on, and sounds as of something sobbing, cracking, dropping, being shattered to pieces mixed with the tinkling of the thin bits of ice as they broke against each other like glass. He knocked at the window. She started as if she had received an electric shock, her whole body trembled, and a look of horror came into her face. Then she jumped up, approached the window and brought her face up to the pane. The look of terror did not leave her face even when, holding her hands up to her eyes like blinkers and peering through the glass, she recognised him. Her face was unusually grave; he had never seen it so before.

She returned his smile, but only in submission to him; there was no smile in her soul, only fear. He beckoned her with his hand to come out into the yard to him. But she shook her head and remained by the window. He brought his face close to the pane and was going to call out to her, but at that moment she turned to the door; evidently some one inside had called her. Nekhludoff moved away from the window. The fog was so dense that five steps from the house the windows could not be seen, but the light from the lamp shone red and huge out of a shapeless black mass.

And on the river the same strange sounds went on, sobbing and rustling and cracking and tinkling. Somewhere in the fog, not far off, a cock crowed; another answered, and then others, far in the village took up the cry till the sound of the crowing blended into one, while all around was silent excepting the river. It was the second time the cocks crowed that night. Nekhludoff walked up and down behind the corner of the house, and once or twice got into a puddle. Then again came up to the window. The lamp was still burning, and she was again sitting alone by the table as if uncertain what to do.

He had hardly approached the window when she looked up. He knocked. Without looking who it was she at once ran out of the room, and he heard the outside door open with a snap. He waited for her near the side porch and put his arms round her without saying a word. She clung to him, put up her face, and met his kiss with her lips. He heard the latch click, and then all was quiet. The red light disappeared and only the mist remained, and the bustle on the river went on. Nekhludoff went up to the window, nobody was to be seen; he knocked, but got no answer. He went back into the house by the front door, but could not sleep. He heard Matrona Pavlovna snoring quietly, and was about to go on when she coughed and turned on her creaking bed, and his heart fell, and he stood immovable for about five minutes.

There was no sound to be heard. She was probably awake, or else he would have heard her breathing. Let me in just for a moment! I implore you! When she left him, trembling and silent, giving no answer to his words, he again went out into the porch and stood trying to understand the meaning of what had happened. It was getting lighter. From the river below the creaking and tinkling and sobbing of the breaking ice came still louder and a gurgling sound could now also be heard.

The mist had begun to sink, and from above it the waning moon dimly lighted up something black and weird. Was it a great joy or a great misfortune that had befallen him? But though the old ladies admired his generosity it rather perplexed them, for it seemed exaggerated. The old ladies had never met people of this kind, and did not know that Schonbock owed , roubles which he was never going to pay, and that therefore 25 roubles more or less did not matter a bit to him.

Schonbock stayed only one day, and he and Nekhludoff both, left at night. They could not stay away from their regiment any longer, for their leave was fully up. He was wondering whether his conduct, if found out, would be blamed much or at all, but he did not consider what Katusha was now going through, and what was going to happen to her. Then he thought that he ought to give her some money, not for her, not because she might need it, but because it was the thing to do. So he gave her what seemed to him a liberal amount, considering his and her station. On the day of his departure, after dinner, he went out and waited for her at the side entrance. She guessed what he meant, knit her brows, and shaking her head pushed his hand away.

And for a long time he went up and down writhing as in pain, and even stamping and groaning aloud as he thought of this last scene. Is it not what happens to every one? And if every one does the same. The recollection of what had passed burned his conscience. There was only one solution of the problem—i. He succeeded in doing so. The life he was now entering upon, the new surroundings, new friends, the war, all helped him to forget. And the longer he lived, the less he thought about it, until at last he forgot it completely. Once only, when, after the war, he went to see his aunts in hopes of meeting Katusha, and heard that soon after his last visit she had left, and that his aunts had heard she had been confined somewhere or other and had gone quite to the bad, his heart ached.

According to the time of her confinement, the child might or might not have been his. It seemed to acquit him. At first he thought of trying to find her and her child, but then, just because in the depths of his soul he felt so ashamed and pained when thinking about her, he did not make the necessary effort to find her, but tried to forget his sin again and ceased to think about it.

And now this strange coincidence brought it all back to his memory, and demanded from him the acknowledgment of the heartless, cruel cowardice which had made it possible for him to live these nine years with such a sin on his conscience. But he was still far from such an acknowledgment, and his only fear was that everything might now be found out, and that she or her advocate might recount it all and put him to shame before every one present.

He sat by the window smoking all the while, and hearing what was being said around him. Real Siberian fashion! He knew what he was about, no fear! Peter Gerasimovitch was joking about something with the Jewish clerk, and they burst out laughing. Nekhludoff answered all the questions addressed to him in monosyllables and longed only to be left in peace. When the usher, with his sideways gait, called the jury back to the Court, Nekhludoff was seized with fear, as if he were not going to judge, but to be judged. In the depth of his soul he felt that he was a scoundrel, who ought to be ashamed to look people in the face, yet, by sheer force of habit, he stepped on to the platform in his usual self-possessed manner, and sat down, crossing his legs and playing with his pince-nez.

The prisoners had also been led out, and were now brought in again. There were some new faces in the Court witnesses, and Nekhludoff noticed that Maslova could not take her eyes off a very fat woman who sat in the row in front of the grating, very showily dressed in silk and velvet, a high hat with a large bow on her head, and an elegant little reticule on her arm, which was bare to the elbow. This was, as he subsequently found out, one of the witnesses, the mistress of the establishment to which Maslova had belonged. The examination of the witnesses commenced: they were asked their names, religion, etc.

Then, after some consultation as to whether the witnesses were to be sworn in or not, the old priest came in again, dragging his legs with difficulty, and, again arranging the golden cross on his breast, swore the witnesses and the expert in the same quiet manner, and with the same assurance that he was doing something useful and important. The witnesses having been sworn, all but Kitaeva, the keeper of the house, were led out again. She was asked what she knew about this affair. Kitaeva nodded her head and the big hat at every sentence and smiled affectedly. She gave a very full and intelligent account, speaking with a strong German accent.

First of all, the hotel servant Simeon, whom she knew, came to her establishment on behalf of a rich Siberian merchant, and she sent Lubov back with him. After a time Lubov returned with the merchant. The merchant was already somewhat intoxicated—she smiled as she said this—and went on drinking and treating the girls. He was short of money. He sent this same Lubov to his lodgings. She looked at the prisoner as she said this. Nekhludoff thought he saw Maslova smile here, and this seemed disgusting to him. A strange, indefinite feeling of loathing, mingled with suffering, arose in him. She was prought up in a coot family and can reat French.

She tid have a trop too moch sometimes, put nefer forcot herself. A ferry coot girl. Katusha looked at the woman, then suddenly turned her eyes on the jury and fixed them on Nekhludoff, and her face grew serious and even severe. One of her serious eyes squinted, and those two strange eyes for some time gazed at Nekhludoff, who, in spite of the terrors that seized him, could not take his look off these squinting eyes, with their bright, clear whites.

He thought of that dreadful night, with its mist, the ice breaking on the river below, and when the waning moon, with horns turned upwards, that had risen towards morning, lit up something black and weird. These two black eyes now looking at him reminded him of this weird, black something. But she had not recognised him. She sighed quietly and again looked at the president. Nekhludoff also sighed.

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