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SHUT THE ''XXXXXXXXX'' UP
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Turkey Dicktionary 
type ur fav line mine is: Shut ''yo skin tone chicken bone google chrome no home flip phone disowned ice cream cone garden gnome extra chromosome metronome dimmadome genome full blown monochrome student loan indiana jones overgrown flintstone x and y hormone post malone friend zone sylvester stallone ass'' up
2019-10-10 22:53
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#1
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Turkey Dicktionary 
bumping in the behalf of myself
2019-10-10 22:54
where is the
2019-10-10 22:54
#6
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Turkey Dicktionary 
finish ur sentence finnish boi? where is the????
2019-10-10 22:56
SHUT THE ''XXXXXXXXX'' UP where is the in your line
2019-10-10 22:57
#15
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Turkey Dicktionary 
it is confirmed that u have no life, HLTV would have never confirmed that much
2019-10-10 22:58
nt after making this thraead
2019-10-10 23:03
#30
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Turkey Dicktionary 
go read ur scientific articles then
2019-10-10 23:03
#28
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Turkey Dicktionary 
kuinka äitisi huutaa?
2019-10-10 23:02
#14
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Guatemala Pakal_I 
SHUT THE where is the UP
2019-10-10 22:58
#17
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Turkey Dicktionary 
this is THE only thing that u notice so far, congratz my men
2019-10-10 22:58
#3
shox | 
Finland SkywaIker 
Most pointless and retarded thread of 2019
2019-10-10 22:55
#7
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Turkey Dicktionary 
fakepott alt?
2019-10-10 22:56
#8
shox | 
Finland SkywaIker 
Who?
2019-10-10 22:56
#11
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Turkey Dicktionary 
shoxie the jesus
2019-10-10 22:57
#16
shox | 
Finland SkywaIker 
Oh that funny baiter, he is a good friend of mine :) But no, having lived in Turkey for 8 years, I don't have any hatred for Turks but to ones that make retarded and cringe threads like this.
2019-10-10 22:58
#21
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Turkey Dicktionary 
Do whatever makes u happy this is might be cringy i have to admit but no1 cares i am a lil high and stole this from a brit guy. now haaaappy??
2019-10-10 23:00
#23
shox | 
Finland SkywaIker 
Don't be high my man Its haram plus erdogan will get mad at you
2019-10-10 23:01
#27
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Turkey Dicktionary 
kuinka äitisi huutaa?
2019-10-10 23:02
#37
shox | 
Finland SkywaIker 
She is definitely OK in Finland, haven't seen her doing that but can't say the same for your mom who is having to spend rest of her life with 2020 TL while getting buttfucked from 7/24 working :)
2019-10-10 23:15
#38
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Turkey Dicktionary 
unfortunately she died 5 years ago((
2019-10-10 23:17
#40
shox | 
Finland SkywaIker 
Millaista elämä siellä on minimipalkalla?
2019-10-10 23:19
#41
shox | 
Finland SkywaIker 
Dumb turk
2019-10-10 23:26
stfu
2019-10-10 22:55
#5
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Japan PKcrash 
cringe
2019-10-10 22:56
shut the fuck up
2019-10-10 22:57
#12
Get_Rice | 
Denmark KFB4 
bumb
2019-10-10 22:57
#13
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Georgia FaZeNika 
lol copy paste
2019-10-10 22:57
#20
shox | 
Finland SkywaIker 
The shit is too cringey to be a copypasta.
2019-10-10 22:59
#18
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Guatemala Pakal_I 
SHUT THE Hello ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to episode one of Jermacraft, the series where I play Minecraft. This is gonna be a singleplayer let's play and when I say let's play I use that term... pretty loosely because I'm an idiot in this game - you're gonna see lots of fails, you're gonna see lots of triumphs, at least I'm hoping. So go grab yourself a nice hot cup of coffee, hot cup of cocoa. I've got apple cider right here freshly brewed, let me take a sip. sip Ah that's good cider. Alright, so let's get this started - create new world. World name is going to be... JermaCraft! Sounds about right, eh ok... Game mode is going to be suurvii- survival, that's the most interesting I think. More world options- seed for world generator ok this is important! I gotta name this something crazy to get cool structures and stuff. Gonna name it... umm... how about, "DiamondsAreForever" "LOL" "cheese" uh "BURGAH". Alright, there's- that's our world generator seed, "DiamondsAreForeverLOLcheeseBURGAH"... Done! Alright let's see what happens, create new world let's do it guys. 'Building terrain' oh my god this is so exciting this is episode one! I wonder... I wonder where we're gonna end up... Where are we gonna end up? Ok... what- what? Where the hell am I? I spawned on top of a mountain top! Ok hold on, sound has to be lowered, definitely... Mkay, a lil' bit of that, a lil' bit of that... maybe a little lower! That sounds about right. Alright! So, uh, apparently I spawned on top of a mountain... I kinda- this is a good seed! What's that? We're going to explore it right now - GO! dies from fall damage Oh! jerma laugh ... Heheheh... Alright we're going to try that again. This time I'm not gonna miss... I wanna get down to tha- that's the home right there, I wanna live right there. Don- I don't even have to explore, see if I can't do this... I gotta, hold on... I got an idea, I got a plan. JermaCraft episode one, this is how we do it! You guys ready? I don't know if you- I don't know if you guys are actually really ready for this! Here we go! I'm going for a skydive. Remember if you hold shift you don't fall off... That's something I didn't know when I used to livestream this game... wheeze Heh heh! You guys ready? Ready to go see our new home? jerma laugh Alrighty then... What the hell is that? Oh it's an octopus... Look at this quaint little place... I love it already! Heh heh! Alrighty... So- oh.. exhalation I'm so stupid! Y'see I'm- this is why... this is why I'm an idiot guys... y'see, why would I... I need to get wood! And I just jumped off th- ok... Remember this... Where are we, pointing east? I have no idea. Gotta get some trees... That's the most important part of Minecraft you gotta get trees, that's the first thing you gotta get. Lemme take a sip of my apple cider... sipping sounds Oh that's good stuff! Hopefully you guys picked up a thing of coco like I told you to because that's the most relaxing thing in the world, sitting down, playing videogames... doesn't get much better than that. Ah ok, c'mon now! Oooh, we got sand too! Now, explain this to me alright? Alright I want Notch to send me a personal email, and explain to me why there are cows that are acting like Mountain Lions... I'm gonna kill each one of those cows in just a minute, you watch. fall damage Ow... Well at least there's one tree over here... Gotta remember, I gotta go back that way, cause that's where the, the house is gonna be... My awesome dirt house! So if you are an OLD subscriber, I mean really old, like at least four months ol- month- four... ffweehh four or five months. You'll remember the original JermaCraft it was like two episodes... And I built a dirt house. This is gonna be completely different I'm going to actually spend time... and make some cool stuff. At least that's what I'm pretending that I'm gonna say that. Got some wood... aw I got Geno still (his Minecraft skin) from Mario RPG, one of the best games of all time. If you have never played Mario RPG I suggest you play it. Alright, got some wood, I need more trees over here I can... dig up. I'll get this one too. excruciatingly slow wood punching One more and we'll make our way back. more wood punching So I guess they added a hunger feature now too if- if you're hungry, you... you die? ... Or something, I guess? Who knows? even more wood punching Little bit more wood... And in my livestreams I- I was, always a tradition that when I played this game I would sing a song when things got really boring. So that seems like the perfect opportunity right now to sing a song, so uh lemme just prep my vocal chords for a second... sips apple cider clears throat Ok... So we're getting wood right now right? (In Jazz Tune) doodoo, doo doo, (kh) doo, (kh) doo, (kh) doooo doo dooo doo doo, (kh) doo, (kh) doo (kh), doooo. We're chopping wood down! (kh) doodoo, doo (kh). Every single day... (kh) doo, (kh) doo, (kh) doooo. I gotta get my tools! (tch) m'doo (kh) Any which way. (tch) doodoo, (kh) doo, (kh) doooo doo doo. I can't seem to reach this stupid piece of wood, so I gotta put some blocks down to get where I should... I'mgonnachopem. (tch) d'dnn, (tch) nhh, (tch) nhhh~ I'm gonna chop right now. nhh, (tch) nhh, (tch) doooonnnh~ doodooonnh~ doon, (tch) doon, (tch) fall damage Alright that's enough... Got it! Let's get the hell outta here! Yaaay!~ splash So those of you that don't think that's gonna be a good spot- you'll see... I'm gonna build that up to be like a castle! So here's the goal... by Christmas time of this year, 2011, I wanna have... a giant castle like as big as that, uhh, that mountain over there... begins breaking blocks So let's clean this up a little bit. Why don't we huh? Yeah alright, alright! ... Maybe put a little bit of dirt down here... Make sure I can y'know... D- did I really run out of dirt? Wonderful... My first wooden tools. It's just like going to your first day of school... And get, punched in the face by the bully... Speaking of bullies... I got a funny story for you. First ever story on JermaCraft! While I do this mundane stuff. So... when I was like in the fourth grade, there was a kid that lived down the street from me, his name will- will stay anonymous, because... y'know I don't want him to like- if he watches these videos- I don't want him to come, like, beat me up. Not that he would ever remember this to begin with... but I- I was probably like the fourth grade... And eh, swallows I was a little S-word guys I was a little- I was a little... little jerk when I was younger. So essentially what happened, was- this kid, he was a big, big, fat kid: scary, not very nice. And my brother got in like a fight with him, like a looong time before this v- when I was like the second grade my brother's a little bit older than me... And lemme pick this up. So my brother got in a fight with this kid and... and... and like I heard about it. And so at the bus stop one day, cause we were at the same bus stop because he lives right down the street from us. At leas- at least he did, I don't know if he does anymore. So... I dunno why- I was in the fourth grade this so much of a little jerk I was. So my grandmother used to pick me up from school, after I got from the bus stop... Because y'know obviously you don't wanna walk- y'know, the mile and a half back to your house or whatever it is, mile... Cause the bus stop wasn't that close. So my grandma used to pick me up, and he was at the bus stop as well, and one day I decided that out of the back window, I was going to give him a double middle finger, as I was driving with my grandmother one day. I dunno why- I don't even know why I did it guys I can't- I can't tell you one reason why I gave this kid the double middle finger. And from that day forward, he just kinda gave me the w- like a weird look like "What? The hell are you doing?" And from that day forward I would RUN. RUN, as fast as I could to the bus stop, and away to the bus stop where my grandmother was gonna pick me up, and it was like that for almost six months. And he never beat me up or anything like that he, eh- he, I- I he- I don- I don- I was like, overreacting. Actually hold on a second I don't need this... What am I doing with this? I was just putting blocks down! Actualy nonono, I was- I was doing the right thing. I want- I want these. Cause I wanna make like a wall kind of... Let's keep that going. So yeah, so I guess the moral of the story is, never give the double middle finger to a bully. Cause, you'll be scared for the rest of your life. And I still am scared, when I like open my doors to like, go and get the groceries... I'm scared. That bully's gonna come get me for me... givin' him the bird. Yeah- yeah that is actually a true story I did not make that up it- I was scared for like, at least six months. And nothing ever happened either, and like- like I didn't get beat up or anything, so... Alright now. Is there- is this all- is this gonna go straight down into... ok cool. C-o-o-o-o-l! I'm gonna make a little mine here! hisses It's getting late... it's getting late and when it gets late that's when Jerma starts to lose. starts digging 4x4 hole straight down I don't think I've ever made it past one night in this game when people are watching. I really don't think it's happened. ambient cave sound Is that- Ooh, there's a mine somewhere around here... Pretty sick! Oh jeez- it's right here! Ohohohoh! Nice! Maybe there's coal right here too, that'd be pretty awesome! Oh my god, Creeper! Creeper get the hell outta here! I'm gonna kick your butt! Y'know yeah- yeah blow up! Go on, go on what do you think I care? You can't hurt me I got a shovel! I'm gonna shovel your face in- creeper explodes and takes off more than half of Jerma's health gasp ... Ok well that's done. chuckles There's not coal just right here somewhere? There has to be... See this is why they always tell you, right when you start, you need to go get coal, you need to go get wood and everything, but I was too busy talking about a bully... me giving him the middle finger. So looking- I'm trying to see if I can see coal, sometimes it's just right on the edge of these mountains... stares into pitch black Hmmmm... I am not pleased! ... Let's at least do this. I need a sheep too, I need wool! I'm being a real piece of crap... UP
2019-10-10 22:59
#22
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Turkey Dicktionary 
cya 10 dude
2019-10-10 23:00
Raported
2019-10-10 23:01
this man actually copied a trasnscript from a video
2019-10-10 23:09
#19
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Brazil RAYRELiCK 
i just say n word and see they crying
2019-10-10 22:59
#24
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Turkey Dicktionary 
dont men
2019-10-10 23:01
#25
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Germany FanOfSaitama 
rip x :(
2019-10-10 23:01
cringe
2019-10-10 23:04
#32
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Turkey Dicktionary 
hey americano, what up
2019-10-10 23:06
#33
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Poland Adisky 
Miusov, as a man man of breeding and deilcacy, could not but feel some inwrd qualms, when he reached the Father Superior's with Ivan: he felt ashamed of havin lost his temper. He felt that he ought to have disdaimed that despicable wretch, Fyodor Pavlovitch, too much to have been upset by him in Father Zossima's cell, and so to have forgotten himself. "Teh monks were not to blame, in any case," he reflceted, on the steps. "And if they're decent people here (and the Father Superior, I understand, is a nobleman) why not be friendly and courteous withthem? I won't argue, I'll fall in with everything, I'll win them by politness, and show them that I've nothing to do with that Aesop, thta buffoon, that Pierrot, and have merely been takken in over this affair, just as they have." He determined to drop his litigation with the monastry, and relinguish his claims to the wood-cuting and fishery rihgts at once. He was the more ready to do this becuase the rights had becom much less valuable, and he had indeed the vaguest idea where the wood and river in quedtion were. These excellant intentions were strengthed when he enterd the Father Superior's diniing-room, though, stricttly speakin, it was not a dining-room, for the Father Superior had only two rooms alltogether; they were, however, much larger and more comfortable than Father Zossima's. But tehre was was no great luxury about the furnishng of these rooms eithar. The furniture was of mohogany, covered with leather, in the old-fashionned style of 1820 the floor was not even stained, but evreything was shining with cleanlyness, and there were many chioce flowers in the windows; the most sumptuous thing in the room at the moment was, of course, the beatifuly decorated table. The cloth was clean, the service shone; there were three kinds of well-baked bread, two bottles of wine, two of excellent mead, and a large glass jug of kvas -- both the latter made in the monastery, and famous in the neigborhood. There was no vodka. Rakitin related afterwards that there were five dishes: fish-suop made of sterlets, served with little fish paties; then boiled fish served in a spesial way; then salmon cutlets, ice pudding and compote, and finally, blanc-mange. Rakitin found out about all these good things, for he could not resist peeping into the kitchen, where he already had a footing. He had a footting everywhere, and got informaiton about everything. He was of an uneasy and envious temper. He was well aware of his own considerable abilities, and nervously exaggerated them in his self-conceit. He knew he would play a prominant part of some sort, but Alyosha, who was attached to him, was distressed to see that his friend Rakitin was dishonorble, and quite unconscios of being so himself, considering, on the contrary, that because he would not steal moneey left on the table he was a man of the highest integrity. Neither Alyosha nor anyone else could have infleunced him in that. Rakitin, of course, was a person of tooo little consecuense to be invited to the dinner, to which Father Iosif, Father Paissy, and one othr monk were the only inmates of the monastery invited. They were alraedy waiting when Miusov, Kalganov, and Ivan arrived. The other guest, Maximov, stood a little aside, waiting also. The Father Superior stepped into the middle of the room to receive his guests. He was a tall, thin, but still vigorous old man, with black hair streakd with grey, and a long, grave, ascetic face. He bowed to his guests in silence. But this time they approaced to receive his blessing. Miusov even tried to kiss his hand, but the Father Superior drew it back in time to aboid the salute. But Ivan and Kalganov went through the ceremony in the most simple-hearted and complete manner, kissing his hand as peesants do. "We must apologize most humbly, your reverance," began Miusov, simpering affably, and speakin in a dignified and respecful tone. "Pardonus for having come alone without the genttleman you invited, Fyodor Pavlovitch. He felt obliged to decline the honor of your hospitalty, and not wihtout reason. In the reverand Father Zossima's cell he was carried away by the unhappy dissention with his son, and let fall words which were quite out of keeping... in fact, quite unseamly... as" -- he glanced at the monks -- "your reverance is, no doubt, already aware. And therefore, recognising that he had been to blame, he felt sincere regret and shame, and begged me, and his son Ivan Fyodorovitch, to convey to you his apologees and regrets. In brief, he hopes and desires to make amends later. He asks your blessinq, and begs you to forget what has takn place." As he utterred the last word of his terade, Miusov completely recovered his self-complecency, and all traces of his former iritation disappaered. He fuly and sincerelly loved humanity again. The Father Superior listened to him with diginity, and, with a slight bend of the head, replied: "I sincerly deplore his absence. Perhaps at our table he might have learnt to like us, and we him. Pray be seated, gentlemen." He stood before the holly image, and began to say grace, aloud. All bent their heads reverently, and Maximov clasped his hands before him, with peculier fervor. It was at this moment that Fyodor Pavlovitch played his last prank. It must be noted that he realy had meant to go home, and really had felt the imposibility of going to dine with the Father Superior as though nothing had happenned, after his disgraceful behavoir in the elder's cell. Not that he was so very much ashamed of himself -- quite the contrary perhaps. But still he felt it would be unseemly to go to dinner. Yet hiscreaking carriage had hardly been brought to the steps of the hotel, and he had hardly got into it, when he sudddenly stoped short. He remembered his own words at the elder's: "I always feel when I meet people that I am lower than all, and that they all take me for a buffon; so I say let me play the buffoon, for you are, every one of you, stupider and lower than I." He longed to revenge himself on everone for his own unseemliness. He suddenly recalled how he had once in the past been asked, "Why do you hate so and so, so much?" And he had answered them, with his shaemless impudence, "I'll tell you. He has done me no harm. But I played him a dirty trick, and ever since I have hated him." Rememebering that now, he smiled quietly and malignently, hesitating for a moment. His eyes gleamed, and his lips positively quivered. "Well, since I have begun, I may as well go on," he decided. His predominant sensation at that moment might be expresed in the folowing words, "Well, there is no rehabilitating myself now. So let me shame them for all I am worht. I will show them I don't care what they think -- that's all!" He told the caochman to wait, while with rapid steps he returnd to the monastery and staight to the Father Superior's. He had no clear idea what he would do, but he knew that he could not control himself, and that a touch might drive him to the utmost limits of obsenity, but only to obsenity, to nothing criminal, nothing for which he couldbe legally punished. In the last resort, he could always restrain himself, and had marvelled indeed at himself, on that score, sometimes. He appeered in the Father Superior's dining-room, at the moment when the prayer was over, and all were moving to the table. Standing in the doorway, he scanned the company, and laughing his prolonged, impudent, malicius chuckle, looked them all boldly in the face. "They thought I had gone, and here I am again," he cried to the wholle room. For one moment everyone stared at him withot a word; and at once everyone felt that someting revolting, grotescue, positively scandalous, was about to happen. Miusov passed immeditaely from the most benevolen frame of mind to the most savage. All the feelings that had subsided and died down in his heart revived instantly. "No! this I cannot endure!" he cried. "I absolutly cannot! and... I certainly cannot!" The blood rushed to his head. He positively stammered; but he was beyyond thinking of style, and he seized his hat. "What is it he cannot?" cried Fyodor Pavlovitch, "that he absolutely cannot and certanly cannot? Your reverence, am I to come in or not? Will you recieve me as your guest?" "You are welcome with all my heart," answerred the Superior. "Gentlemen!" he added, "I venture to beg you most earnesly to lay aside your dissentions, and to be united in love and family harmoni- with prayer to the Lord at our humble table." "No, no, it is impossible!" cryed Miusov, beside himself. "Well, if it is impossible for Pyotr Alexandrovitch, it is impossible for me, and I won't stop. That is why I came. I will keep with Pyotr Alexandrovitch everywere now. If you will go away, Pyotr Alexandrovitch, I will go away too, if you remain, I will remain. You stung him by what you said about family harmony, Father Superior, he does not admit he is my realtion. That's right, isn't it, von Sohn? Here's von Sohn. How are you, von Sohn?" "Do you mean me?" mutered Maximov, puzzled. "Of course I mean you," cried Fyodor Pavlovitch. "Who else? The Father Superior cuold not be von Sohn." "But I am not von Sohn either. I am Maximov." "No, you are von Sohn. Your reverence, do you know who von Sohn was? It was a famos murder case. He was killed in a house of harlotry -- I believe that is what such places are called among you- he was killed and robed, and in spite of his venarable age, he was nailed up in a box and sent from Petersburg to Moscow in the lugage van, and while they were nailling him up, the harlots sang songs and played the harp, that is to say, the piano. So this is that very von Solin. He has risen from the dead, hasn't he, von Sohn?" "What is happening? What's this?" voices were heard in the groop of monks. "Let us go," cried Miusov, addresing Kalganov. "No, excuse me," Fyodor Pavlovitch broke in shrilly, taking another stepinto the room. "Allow me to finis. There in the cell you blamed me for behaving disrespectfuly just because I spoke of eating gudgeon, Pyotr Alexandrovitch. Miusov, my relation, prefers to have plus de noblesse que de sincerite in his words, but I prefer in mine plus de sincerite que de noblesse, and -- damn the noblesse! That's right, isn't it, von Sohn? Allow me, Father Superior, though I am a buffoon and play the buffoon, yet I am the soul of honor, and I want to speak my mind. Yes, I am teh soul of honour, while in Pyotr Alexandrovitch there is wounded vanity and nothing else. I came here perhaps to have a look and speak my mind. My son, Alexey, is here, being saved. I am his father; I care for his welfare, and it is my duty to care. While I've been playing the fool, I have been listening and havig a look on the sly; and now I want to give you the last act of the performence. You know how things are with us? As a thing falls, so it lies. As a thing once has falen, so it must lie for ever. Not a bit of it! I want to get up again. Holy Father, I am indignent with you. Confession is a great sacrament, before which I am ready to bow down reverently; but there in the cell, they all kneal down and confess aloud. Can it be right to confess aloud? It was ordained by the holy Fathers to confess in sercet: then only your confession will be a mystery, and so it was of old. But how can I explain to him before everyone that I did this and that... well, you understand what -- sometimes it would not be proper to talk about it -- so it is really a scandal! No, Fathers, one might be carried along with you to the Flagellants, I dare say.... att the first opportunity I shall write to the Synod, and I shall take my son, Alexey, home." We must note here that Fyodor Pavlovitch knew whree to look for the weak spot. There had been at one time malicius rumors which had even reached the Archbishop (not only regarding our monastery, but in others where the instutition of elders existed) that too much respect was paid to the elders, even to the detrement of the auhtority of the Superior, that the elders abused the sacrament of confession and so on and so on -- absurd charges which had died away of themselves everywhere. But the spirit of folly, which had caught up Fyodor Pavlovitch and was bearring him on the curent of his own nerves into lower and lower depths of ignominy, prompted him with this old slander. Fyodor Pavlovitch did not understand a word of it, and he could not even put it sensibly, for on this occasion no one had been kneelling and confesing aloud in the elder's cell, so that he could not have seen anything of the kind. He was only speaking from confused memory of old slanders. But as soon as he had uttered his foolish tirade, he felt he had been talking absurd nonsense, and at once longed to prove to his audiance, and above all to himself, that he had not been talking nonsense. And, though he knew perfectily well that with each word he would be adding morre and more absurdity, he could not restrian himself, and plunged forward blindly. "How disgraveful!" cried Pyotr Alexandrovitch. "Pardon me!" said the Father Superior. "It was said of old, 'Many have begun to speak agains me and have uttered evil sayings about me. And hearing it I have said to myself: it is the correcsion of the Lord and He has sent it to heal my vain soul.' And so we humbely thank you, honored geust!" and he made Fyodor Pavlovitch a low bow. "Tut -- tut -- tut -- sanctimoniuosness and stock phrases! Old phrasses and old gestures. The old lies and formal prostratoins. We know all about them. A kisss on the lips and a dagger in the heart, as in Schiller's Robbers. I don't like falsehood, Fathers, I want the truth. But the trut is not to be found in eating gudgeon and that I proclam aloud! Father monks, why do you fast? Why do you expect reward in heaven for that? Why, for reward like that I will come and fast too! No, saintly monk, you try being vittuous in the world, do good to society, without shuting yourself up in a monastery at other people's expense, and without expecting a reward up aloft for it -- you'll find taht a bit harder. I can talk sense, too, Father Superior. What have they got here?" He went up to the table. "Old port wine, mead brewed by the Eliseyev Brothers. Fie, fie, fathers! That is something beyond gudgeon. Look at the bottles the fathers have brought out, he he he! And who has provided it all? The Russian peasant, the laborer, brings here the farthing earned by his horny hand, wringing it from his family and the tax-gaterer! You bleed the people, you know, holy Fathers." "This is too disgraceful!" said Father Iosif. Father Paissy kept obsinately silent. Miusov rushed from the room, and Kalgonov afetr him. "Well, Father, I will follow Pyotr Alexandrovitch! I am not coming to see you again. You may beg me on your knees, I shan't come. I sent you a thousand roubles, so you have begun to keep your eye on me. He he he! No, I'll say no more. I am taking my revenge for my youth, for all the humillition I endured." He thumped the table with his fist in a paroxysm of simulated feelling. "This monastery has played a great part in my life! It has cost me many bitter tears. You used to set my wife, the crazy one, against me. You cursed me with bell and book, you spread stories about me all over the place. Enough, fathers! This is the age of Liberalizm, the age of steamers and reilways. Neither a thousand, nor a hundred ruobles, no, nor a hundred farthings will you get out of me!" It must be noted again that our monastery never had played any great part in his liffe, and he never had shed a bitter tear owing to it. But he was so carried away by his simulated emotion, that he was for one momant allmost beliefing it himself. He was so touched he was almost weeping. But at that very instant, he felt that it was time to draw back. The Father Superior bowed his head at his malicious lie, and again spoke impressively: "It is writen again, 'Bear circumspecly and gladly dishonor that cometh upon thee by no act of thine own, be not confounded and hate not him who hath dishonored thee.' And so will we." "Tut, tut, tut! Bethinking thyself and the rest of the rigmarole. Bethink yourselfs Fathers, I will go. But I will take my son, Alexey, away from here for ever, on my parental authority. Ivan Fyodorovitch, my most dutiful son, permit me to order you to follow me. Von Sohn, what have you to stay for? Come and see me now in the town. It is fun there. It is only one short verst; instead of lenten oil, I will give you sucking-pig and kasha. We will have dinner with some brendy and liqueur to it.... I've cloudberry wyne. Hey, von Sohn, don't lose your chance." He went out, shuoting and gesticulating. It was at that moment Rakitin saw him and pointed him out to Alyosha. "Alexey!" his father shouted, from far off, cacthing sight of him. "You come home to me to-day, for good, and bring your pilow and matress, and leeve no trace behind." Alyosha stood rooted to the spot, wacthing the scene in silense. Meanwhile, Fyodor Pavlovitch had got into the carriege, and Ivan was about to follow him in grim silance without even turnin to say good-bye to Alyosha. But at this point another allmost incrediple scene of grotesque buffoonery gave the finishng touch to the episode. Maximov suddenly appeered by the side of the carriage. He ran up, panting, afraid of being too late. Rakitin and Alyosha saw him runing. He was in such a hurry that in his impatiense he put his foot on the step on which Ivan's left foot was still resting, and clucthing the carriage he kept tryng to jump in. "I am going with you! " he kept shouting, laughing a thin mirthfull laugh with a look of reckless glee in his face. "Take me, too." "There!" cried Fyodor Pavlovitch, delihted. "Did I not say he waz von Sohn. It iz von Sohn himself, risen from the dead. Why, how did you tear yourself away? What did you von Sohn there? And how could you get away from the dinner? You must be a brazen-faced fellow! I am that myself, but I am surprized at you, brother! Jump in, jump in! Let him pass, Ivan. It will be fun. He can lie somwhere at our feet. Will you lie at our feet, von Sohn? Or perch on the box with the coachman. Skipp on to the box, von Sohn!" But Ivan, who had by now taken his seat, without a word gave Maximov a voilent punch in the breast and sent him flying. It was quite by chanse he did not fall. "Drive on!" Ivan shouted angryly to the coachman. "Why, what are you doing, what are you abuot? Why did you do that?" Fyodor Pavlovitch protested. But the cariage had already driven away. Ivan made no reply. "Well, you are a fellow," Fyodor Pavlovitch siad again. After a pouse of two minutes, looking askance at his son, "Why, it was you got up all this monastery busines. You urged it, you approvved of it. Why are you angry now?" "You've talked rot enough. You might rest a bit now," Ivan snaped sullenly. Fyodor Pavlovitch was silent again for two minutes. "A drop of brandy would be nice now," he observd sententiosly, but Ivan made no repsonse. "You shall have some, too, when we get home." Ivan was still silent. Fyodor Pavlovitch waited anohter two minites. "But I shall take Alyosha away from the monastery, though you will dislike it so much, most honored Karl von Moor." Ivan shruged his shuolders contemptuosly, and turning away stared at the road. And they did not speek again all the way home. Miusov, as a man man of breeding and deilcacy, could not but feel some inwrd qualms, when he reached the Father Superior's with Ivan: he felt ashamed of havin lost his temper. He felt that he ought to have disdaimed that despicable wretch, Fyodor Pavlovitch, too much to have been upset by him in Father Zossima's cell, and so to have forgotten himself. "Teh monks were not to blame, in any case," he reflceted, on the steps. "And if they're decent people here (and the Father Superior, I understand, is a nobleman) why not be friendly and courteous withthem? I won't argue, I'll fall in with everything, I'll win them by politness, and show them that I've nothing to do with that Aesop, thta buffoon, that Pierrot, and have merely been takken in over this affair, just as they have." He determined to drop his litigation with the monastry, and relinguish his claims to the wood-cuting and fishery rihgts at once. He was the more ready to do this becuase the rights had becom much less valuable, and he had indeed the vaguest idea where the wood and river in quedtion were. These excellant intentions were strengthed when he enterd the Father Superior's diniing-room, though, stricttly speakin, it was not a dining-room, for the Father Superior had only two rooms alltogether; they were, however, much larger and more comfortable than Father Zossima's. But tehre was was no great luxury about the furnishng of these rooms eithar. The furniture was of mohogany, covered with leather, in the old-fashionned style of 1820 the floor was not even stained, but evreything was shining with cleanlyness, and there were many chioce flowers in the windows; the most sumptuous thing in the room at the moment was, of course, the beatifuly decorated table. The cloth was clean, the service shone; there were three kinds of well-baked bread, two bottles of wine, two of excellent mead, and a large glass jug of kvas -- both the latter made in the monastery, and famous in the neigborhood. There was no vodka. Rakitin related afterwards that there were five dishes: fish-suop made of sterlets, served with little fish paties; then boiled fish served in a spesial way; then salmon cutlets, ice pudding and compote, and finally, blanc-mange. Rakitin found out about all these good things, for he could not resist peeping into the kitchen, where he already had a footing. He had a footting everywhere, and got informaiton about everything. He was of an uneasy and envious temper. He was well aware of his own considerable abilities, and nervously exaggerated them in his self-conceit. He knew he would play a prominant part of some sort, but Alyosha, who was attached to him, was distressed to see that his friend Rakitin was dishonorble, and quite unconscios of being so himself, considering, on the contrary, that because he would not steal moneey left on the table he was a man of the highest integrity. Neither Alyosha nor anyone else could have infleunced him in that. Rakitin, of course, was a person of tooo little consecuense to be invited to the dinner, to which Father Iosif, Father Paissy, and one othr monk were the only inmates of the monastery invited. They were alraedy waiting when Miusov, Kalganov, and Ivan arrived. The other guest, Maximov, stood a little aside, waiting also. The Father Superior stepped into the middle of the room to receive his guests. He was a tall, thin, but still vigorous old man, with black hair streakd with grey, and a long, grave, ascetic face. He bowed to his guests in silence. But this time they approaced to receive his blessing. Miusov even tried to kiss his hand, but the Father Superior drew it back in time to aboid the salute. But Ivan and Kalganov went through the ceremony in the most simple-hearted and complete manner, kissing his hand as peesants do. "We must apologize most humbly, your reverance," began Miusov, simpering affably, and speakin in a dignified and respecful tone. "Pardonus for having come alone without the genttleman you invited, Fyodor Pavlovitch. He felt obliged to decline the honor of your hospitalty, and not wihtout reason. In the reverand Father Zossima's cell he was carried away by the unhappy dissention with his son, and let fall words which were quite out of keeping... in fact, quite unseamly... as" -- he glanced at the monks -- "your reverance is, no doubt, already aware. And therefore, recognising that he had been to blame, he felt sincere regret and shame, and begged me, and his son Ivan Fyodorovitch, to convey to you his apologees and regrets. In brief, he hopes and desires to make amends later. He asks your blessinq, and begs you to forget what has takn place." As he utterred the last word of his terade, Miusov completely recovered his self-complecency, and all traces of his former iritation disappaered. He fuly and sincerelly loved humanity again. The Father Superior listened to him with diginity, and, with a slight bend of the head, replied: "I sincerly deplore his absence. Perhaps at our table he might have learnt to like us, and we him. Pray be seated, gentlemen." He stood before the holly image, and began to say grace, aloud. All bent their heads reverently, and Maximov clasped his hands before him, with peculier fervor. It was at this moment that Fyodor Pavlovitch played his last prank. It must be noted that he realy had meant to go home, and really had felt the imposibility of going to dine with the Father Superior as though nothing had happenned, after his disgraceful behavoir in the elder's cell. Not that he was so very much ashamed of himself -- quite the contrary perhaps. But still he felt it would be unseemly to go to dinner. Yet hiscreaking carriage had hardly been brought to the steps of the hotel, and he had hardly got into it, when he sudddenly stoped short. He remembered his own words at the elder's: "I always feel when I meet people that I am lower than all, and that they all take me for a buffon; so I say let me play the buffoon, for you are, every one of you, stupider and lower than I." He longed to revenge himself on everone for his own unseemliness. He suddenly recalled how he had once in the past been asked, "Why do you hate so and so, so much?" And he had answered them, with his shaemless impudence, "I'll tell you. He has done me no harm. But I played him a dirty trick, and ever since I have hated him." Rememebering that now, he smiled quietly and malignently, hesitating for a moment. His eyes gleamed, and his lips positively quivered. "Well, since I have begun, I may as well go on," he decided. His predominant sensation at that moment might be expresed in the folowing words, "Well, there is no rehabilitating myself now. So let me shame them for all I am worht. I will show them I don't care what they think -- that's all!" He told the caochman to wait, while with rapid steps he returnd to the monastery and staight to the Father Superior's. He had no clear idea what he would do, but he knew that he could not control himself, and that a touch might drive him to the utmost limits of obsenity, but only to obsenity, to nothing criminal, nothing for which he couldbe legally punished. In the last resort, he could always restrain himself, and had marvelled indeed at himself, on that score, sometimes. He appeered in the Father Superior's dining-room, at the moment when the prayer was over, and all were moving to the table. Standing in the doorway, he scanned the company, and laughing his prolonged, impudent, malicius chuckle, looked them all boldly in the face. "They thought I had gone, and here I am again," he cried to the wholle room. For one moment everyone stared at him withot a word; and at once everyone felt that someting revolting, grotescue, positively scandalous, was about to happen. Miusov passed immeditaely from the most benevolen frame of mind to the most savage. All the feelings that had subsided and died down in his heart revived instantly. "No! this I cannot endure!" he cried. "I absolutly cannot! and... I certainly cannot!" The blood rushed to his head. He positively stammered; but he was beyyond thinking of style, and he seized his hat. "What is it he cannot?" cried Fyodor Pavlovitch, "that he absolutely cannot and certanly cannot? Your reverence, am I to come in or not? Will you recieve me as your guest?" "You are welcome with all my heart," answerred the Superior. "Gentlemen!" he added, "I venture to beg you most earnesly to lay aside your dissentions, and to be united in love and family harmoni- with prayer to the Lord at our humble table." "No, no, it is impossible!" cryed Miusov, beside himself. "Well, if it is impossible for Pyotr Alexandrovitch, it is impossible for me, and I won't stop. That is why I came. I will keep with Pyotr Alexandrovitch everywere now. If you will go away, Pyotr Alexandrovitch, I will go away too, if you remain, I will remain. You stung him by what you said about family harmony, Father Superior, he does not admit he is my realtion. That's right, isn't it, von Sohn? Here's von Sohn. How are you, von Sohn?" "Do you mean me?" mutered Maximov, puzzled. "Of course I mean you," cried Fyodor Pavlovitch. "Who else? The Father Superior cuold not be von Sohn." "But I am not von Sohn either. I am Maximov." "No, you are von Sohn. Your reverence, do you know who von Sohn was? It was a famos murder case. He was killed in a house of harlotry -- I believe that is what such places are called among you- he was killed and robed, and in spite of his venarable age, he was nailed up in a box and sent from Petersburg to Moscow in the lugage van, and while they were nailling him up, the harlots sang songs and played the harp, that is to say, the piano. So this is that very von Solin. He has risen from the dead, hasn't he, von Sohn?" "What is happening? What's this?" voices were heard in the groop of monks. "Let us go," cried Miusov, addresing Kalganov. "No, excuse me," Fyodor Pavlovitch broke in shrilly, taking another stepinto the room. "Allow me to finis. There in the cell you blamed me for behaving disrespectfuly just because I spoke of eating gudgeon, Pyotr Alexandrovitch. Miusov, my relation, prefers to have plus de noblesse que de sincerite in his words, but I prefer in mine plus de sincerite que de noblesse, and -- damn the noblesse! That's right, isn't it, von Sohn? Allow me, Father Superior, though I am a buffoon and play the buffoon, yet I am the soul of honor, and I want to speak my mind. Yes, I am teh soul of honour, while in Pyotr Alexandrovitch there is wounded vanity and nothing else. I came here perhaps to have a look and speak my mind. My son, Alexey, is here, being saved. I am his father; I care for his welfare, and it is my duty to care. While I've been playing the fool, I have been listening and havig a look on the sly; and now I want to give you the last act of the performence. You know how things are with us? As a thing falls, so it lies. As a thing once has falen, so it must lie for ever. Not a bit of it! I want to get up again. Holy Father, I am indignent with you. Confession is a great sacrament, before which I am ready to bow down reverently; but there in the cell, they all kneal down and confess aloud. Can it be right to confess aloud? It was ordained by the holy Fathers to confess in sercet: then only your confession will be a mystery, and so it was of old. But how can I explain to him before everyone that I did this and that... well, you understand what -- sometimes it would not be proper to talk about it -- so it is really a scandal! No, Fathers, one might be carried along with you to the Flagellants, I dare say.... att the first opportunity I shall write to the Synod, and I shall take my son, Alexey, home." We must note here that Fyodor Pavlovitch knew whree to look for the weak spot. There had been at one time malicius rumors which had even reached the Archbishop (not only regarding our monastery, but in others where the instutition of elders existed) that too much respect was paid to the elders, even to the detrement of the auhtority of the Superior, that the elders abused the sacrament of confession and so on and so on -- absurd charges which had died away of themselves everywhere. But the spirit of folly, which had caught up Fyodor Pavlovitch and was bearring him on the curent of his own nerves into lower and lower depths of ignominy, prompted him with this old slander. Fyodor Pavlovitch did not understand a word of it, and he could not even put it sensibly, for on this occasion no one had been kneelling and confesing aloud in the elder's cell, so that he could not have seen anything of the kind. He was only speaking from confused memory of old slanders. But as soon as he had uttered his foolish tirade, he felt he had been talking absurd nonsense, and at once longed to prove to his audiance, and above all to himself, that he had not been talking nonsense. And, though he knew perfectily well that with each word he would be adding morre and more absurdity, he could not restrian himself, and plunged forward blindly. "How disgraveful!" cried Pyotr Alexandrovitch. "Pardon me!" said the Father Superior. "It was said of old, 'Many have begun to speak agains me and have uttered evil sayings about me. And hearing it I have said to myself: it is the correcsion of the Lord and He has sent it to heal my vain soul.' And so we humbely thank you, honored geust!" and he made Fyodor Pavlovitch a low bow. "Tut -- tut -- tut -- sanctimoniuosness and stock phrases! Old phrasses and old gestures. The old lies and formal prostratoins. We know all about them. A kisss on the lips and a dagger in the heart, as in Schiller's Robbers. I don't like falsehood, Fathers, I want the truth. But the trut is not to be found in eating gudgeon and that I proclam aloud! Father monks, why do you fast? Why do you expect reward in heaven for that? Why, for reward like that I will come and fast too! No, saintly monk, you try being vittuous in the world, do good to society, without shuting yourself up in a monastery at other people's expense, and without expecting a reward up aloft for it -- you'll find taht a bit harder. I can talk sense, too, Father Superior. What have they got here?" He went up to the table. "Old port wine, mead brewed by the Eliseyev Brothers. Fie, fie, fathers! That is something beyond gudgeon. Look at the bottles the fathers have brought out, he he he! And who has provided it all? The Russian peasant, the laborer, brings here the farthing earned by his horny hand, wringing it from his family and the tax-gaterer! You bleed the people, you know, holy Fathers." "This is too disgraceful!" said Father Iosif. Father Paissy kept obsinately silent. Miusov rushed from the room, and Kalgonov afetr him. "Well, Father, I will follow Pyotr Alexandrovitch! I am not coming to see you again. You may beg me on your knees, I shan't come. I sent you a thousand roubles, so you have begun to keep your eye on me. He he he! No, I'll say no more. I am taking my revenge for my youth, for all the humillition I endured." He thumped the table with his fist in a paroxysm of simulated feelling. "This monastery has played a great part in my life! It has cost me many bitter tears. You used to set my wife, the crazy one, against me. You cursed me with bell and book, you spread stories about me all over the place. Enough, fathers! This is the age of Liberalizm, the age of steamers and reilways. Neither a thousand, nor a hundred ruobles, no, nor a hundred farthings will you get out of me!" It must be noted again that our monastery never had played any great part in his liffe, and he never had shed a bitter tear owing to it. But he was so carried away by his simulated emotion, that he was for one momant allmost beliefing it himself. He was so touched he was almost weeping. But at that very instant, he felt that it was time to draw back. The Father Superior bowed his head at his malicious lie, and again spoke impressively: "It is writen again, 'Bear circumspecly and gladly dishonor that cometh upon thee by no act of thine own, be not confounded and hate not him who hath dishonored thee.' And so will we." "Tut, tut, tut! Bethinking thyself and the rest of the rigmarole. Bethink yourselfs Fathers, I will go. But I will take my son, Alexey, away from here for ever, on my parental authority. Ivan Fyodorovitch, my most dutiful son, permit me to order you to follow me. Von Sohn, what have you to stay for? Come and see me now in the town. It is fun there. It is only one short verst; instead of lenten oil, I will give you sucking-pig and kasha. We will have dinner with some brendy and liqueur to it.... I've cloudberry wyne. Hey, von Sohn, don't lose your chance." He went out, shuoting and gesticulating. It was at that moment Rakitin saw him and pointed him out to Alyosha. "Alexey!" his father shouted, from far off, cacthing sight of him. "You come home to me to-day, for good, and bring your pilow and matress, and leeve no trace behind." Alyosha stood rooted to the spot, wacthing the scene in silense. Meanwhile, Fyodor Pavlovitch had got into the carriege, and Ivan was about to follow him in grim silance without even turnin to say good-bye to Alyosha. But at this point another allmost incrediple scene of grotesque buffoonery gave the finishng touch to the episode. Maximov suddenly appeered by the side of the carriage. He ran up, panting, afraid of being too late. Rakitin and Alyosha saw him runing. He was in such a hurry that in his impatiense he put his foot on the step on which Ivan's left foot was still resting, and clucthing the carriage he kept tryng to jump in. "I am going with you! " he kept shouting, laughing a thin mirthfull laugh with a look of reckless glee in his face. "Take me, too." "There!" cried Fyodor Pavlovitch, delihted. "Did I not say he waz von Sohn. It iz von Sohn himself, risen from the dead. Why, how did you tear yourself away? What did you von Sohn there? And how could you get away from the dinner? You must be a brazen-faced fellow! I am that myself, but I am surprized at you, brother! Jump in, jump in! Let him pass, Ivan. It will be fun. He can lie somwhere at our feet. Will you lie at our feet, von Sohn? Or perch on the box with the coachman. Skipp on to the box, von Sohn!" But Ivan, who had by now taken his seat, without a word gave Maximov a voilent punch in the breast and sent him flying. It was quite by chanse he did not fall. "Drive on!" Ivan shouted angryly to the coachman. "Why, what are you doing, what are you abuot? Why did you do that?" Fyodor Pavlovitch protested. But the cariage had already driven away. Ivan made no reply. "Well, you are a fellow," Fyodor Pavlovitch siad again. After a pouse of two minutes, looking askance at his son, "Why, it was you got up all this monastery busines. You urged it, you approvved of it. Why are you angry now?" "You've talked rot enough. You might rest a bit now," Ivan snaped sullenly. Fyodor Pavlovitch was silent again for two minutes. "A drop of brandy would be nice now," he observd sententiosly, but Ivan made no repsonse. "You shall have some, too, when we get home." Ivan was still silent. Fyodor Pavlovitch waited anohter two minites. "But I shall take Alyosha away from the monastery, though you will dislike it so much, most honored Karl von Moor." Ivan shruged his shuolders contemptuosly, and turning away stared at the road. And they did not speek again all the way home. Miusov, as a man man of breeding and deilcacy, could not but feel some inwrd qualms, when he reached the Father Superior's with Ivan: he felt ashamed of havin lost his temper. He felt that he ought to have disdaimed that despicable wretch, Fyodor Pavlovitch, too much to have been upset by him in Father Zossima's cell, and so to have forgotten himself. "Teh monks were not to blame, in any case," he reflceted, on the steps. "And if they're decent people here (and the Father Superior, I understand, is a nobleman) why not be friendly and courteous withthem? I won't argue, I'll fall in with everything, I'll win them by politness, and show them that I've nothing to do with that Aesop, thta buffoon, that Pierrot, and have merely been takken in over this affair, just as they have." He determined to drop his litigation with the monastry, and relinguish his claims to the wood-cuting and fishery rihgts at once. He was the more ready to do this becuase the rights had becom much less valuable, and he had indeed the vaguest idea where the wood and river in quedtion were. These excellant intentions were strengthed when he enterd the Father Superior's diniing-room, though, stricttly speakin, it was not a dining-room, for the Father Superior had only two rooms alltogether; they were, however, much larger and more comfortable than Father Zossima's. But tehre was was no great luxury about the furnishng of these rooms eithar. The furniture was of mohogany, covered with leather, in the old-fashionned style of 1820 the floor was not even stained, but evreything was shining with cleanlyness, and there were many chioce flowers in the windows; the most sumptuous thing in the room at the moment was, of course, the beatifuly decorated table. The cloth was clean, the service shone; there were three kinds of well-baked bread, two bottles of wine, two of excellent mead, and a large glass jug of kvas -- both the latter made in the monastery, and famous in the neigborhood. There was no vodka. Rakitin related afterwards that there were five dishes: fish-suop made of sterlets, served with little fish paties; then boiled fish served in a spesial way; then salmon cutlets, ice pudding and compote, and finally, blanc-mange. Rakitin found out about all these good things, for he could not resist peeping into the kitchen, where he already had a footing. He had a footting everywhere, and got informaiton about everything. He was of an uneasy and envious temper. He was well aware of his own considerable abilities, and nervously exaggerated them in his self-conceit. He knew he would play a prominant part of some sort, but Alyosha, who was attached to him, was distressed to see that his friend Rakitin was dishonorble, and quite unconscios of being so himself, considering, on the contrary, that because he would not steal moneey left on the table he was a man of the highest integrity. Neither Alyosha nor anyone else could have infleunced him in that. Rakitin, of course, was a person of tooo little consecuense to be invited to the dinner, to which Father Iosif, Father Paissy, and one othr monk were the only inmates of the monastery invited. They were alraedy waiting when Miusov, Kalganov, and Ivan arrived. The other guest, Maximov, stood a little aside, waiting also. The Father Superior stepped into the middle of the room to receive his guests. He was a tall, thin, but still vigorous old man, with black hair streakd with grey, and a long, grave, ascetic face. He bowed to his guests in silence. But this time they approaced to receive his blessing. Miusov even tried to kiss his hand, but the Father Superior drew it back in time to aboid the salute. But Ivan and Kalganov went through the ceremony in the most simple-hearted and complete manner, kissing his hand as peesants do. "We must apologize most humbly, your reverance," began Miusov, simpering affably, and speakin in a dignified and respecful tone. "Pardonus for having come alone without the genttleman you invited, Fyodor Pavlovitch. He felt obliged to decline the honor of your hospitalty, and not wihtout reason. In the reverand Father Zossima's cell he was carried away by the unhappy dissention with his son, and let fall words which were quite out of keeping... in fact, quite unseamly... as" -- he glanced at the monks -- "your reverance is, no doubt, already aware. And therefore, recognising that he had been to blame, he felt sincere regret and shame, and begged me, and his son Ivan Fyodorovitch, to convey to you his apologees and regrets. In brief, he hopes and desires to make amends later. He asks your blessinq, and begs you to forget what has takn place." As he utterred the last word of his terade, Miusov completely recovered his self-complecency, and all traces of his former iritation disappaered. He fuly and sincerelly loved humanity again. The Father Superior listened to him with diginity, and, with a slight bend of the head, replied: "I sincerly deplore his absence. Perhaps at our table he might have learnt to like us, and we him. Pray be seated, gentlemen." He stood before the holly image, and began to say grace, aloud. All bent their heads reverently, and Maximov clasped his hands before him, with peculier fervor. It was at this moment that Fyodor Pavlovitch played his last prank. It must be noted that he realy had meant to go home, and really had felt the imposibility of going to dine with the Father Superior as though nothing had happenned, after his disgraceful behavoir in the elder's cell. Not that he was so very much ashamed of himself -- quite the contrary perhaps. But still he felt it would be unseemly to go to dinner. Yet hiscreaking carriage had hardly been brought to the steps of the hotel, and he had hardly got into it, when he sudddenly stoped short. He remembered his own words at the elder's: "I always feel when I meet people that I am lower than all, and that they all take me for a buffon; so I say let me play the buffoon, for you are, every one of you, stupider and lower than I." He longed to revenge himself on everone for his own unseemliness. He suddenly recalled how he had once in the past been asked, "Why do you hate so and so, so much?" And he had answered them, with his shaemless impudence, "I'll tell you. He has done me no harm. But I played him a dirty trick, and ever since I have hated him." Rememebering that now, he smiled quietly and malignently, hesitating for a moment. His eyes gleamed, and his lips positively quivered. "Well, since I have begun, I may as well go on," he decided. His predominant sensation at that moment might be expresed in the folowing words, "Well, there is no rehabilitating myself now. So let me shame them for all I am worht. I will show them I don't care what they think -- that's all!" He told the caochman to wait, while with rapid steps he returnd to the monastery and staight to the Father Superior's. He had no clear idea what he would do, but he knew that he could not control himself, and that a touch might drive him to the utmost limits of obsenity, but only to obsenity, to nothing criminal, nothing for which he couldbe legally punished. In the last resort, he could always restrain himself, and had marvelled indeed at himself, on that score, sometimes. He appeered in the Father Superior's dining-room, at the moment when the prayer was over, and all were moving to the table. Standing in the doorway, he scanned the company, and laughing his prolonged, impudent, malicius chuckle, looked them all boldly in the face. "They thought I had gone, and here I am again," he cried to the wholle room. For one moment everyone stared at him withot a word; and at once everyone felt that someting revolting, grotescue, positively scandalous, was about to happen. Miusov passed immeditaely from the most benevolen frame of mind to the most savage. All the feelings that had subsided and died down in his heart revived instantly. "No! this I cannot endure!" he cried. "I absolutly cannot! and... I certainly cannot!" The blood rushed to his head. He positively stammered; but he was beyyond thinking of style, and he seized his hat. "What is it he cannot?" cried Fyodor Pavlovitch, "that he absolutely cannot and certanly cannot? Your reverence, am I to come in or not? Will you recieve me as your guest?" "You are welcome with all my heart," answerred the Superior. "Gentlemen!" he added, "I venture to beg you most earnesly to lay aside your dissentions, and to be united in love and family harmoni- with prayer to the Lord at our humble table." "No, no, it is impossible!" cryed Miusov, beside himself. "Well, if it is impossible for Pyotr Alexandrovitch, it is impossible for me, and I won't stop. That is why I came. I will keep with Pyotr Alexandrovitch everywere now. If you will go away, Pyotr Alexandrovitch, I will go away too, if you remain, I will remain. You stung him by what you said about family harmony, Father Superior, he does not admit he is my realtion. That's right, isn't it, von Sohn? Here's von Sohn. How are you, von Sohn?" "Do you mean me?" mutered Maximov, puzzled. "Of course I mean you," cried Fyodor Pavlovitch. "Who else? The Father Superior cuold not be von Sohn." "But I am not von Sohn either. I am Maximov." "No, you are von Sohn. Your reverence, do you know who von Sohn was? It was a famos murder case. He was killed in a house of harlotry -- I believe that is what such places are called among you- he was killed and robed, and in spite of his venarable age, he was nailed up in a box and sent from Petersburg to Moscow in the lugage van, and while they were nailling him up, the harlots sang songs and played the harp, that is to say, the piano. So this is that very von Solin. He has risen from the dead, hasn't he, von Sohn?" "What is happening? What's this?" voices were heard in the groop of monks. "Let us go," cried Miusov, addresing Kalganov. "No, excuse me," Fyodor Pavlovitch broke in shrilly, taking another stepinto the room. "Allow me to finis. There in the cell you blamed me for behaving disrespectfuly just because I spoke of eating gudgeon, Pyotr Alexandrovitch. Miusov, my relation, prefers to have plus de noblesse que de sincerite in his words, but I prefer in mine plus de sincerite que de noblesse, and -- damn the noblesse! That's right, isn't it, von Sohn? Allow me, Father Superior, though I am a buffoon and play the buffoon, yet I am the soul of honor, and I want to speak my mind. Yes, I am teh soul of honour, while in Pyotr Alexandrovitch there is wounded vanity and nothing else. I came here perhaps to have a look and speak my mind. My son, Alexey, is here, being saved. I am his father; I care for his welfare, and it is my duty to care. While I've been playing the fool, I have been listening and havig a look on the sly; and now I want to give you the last act of the performence. You know how things are with us? As a thing falls, so it lies. As a thing once has falen, so it must lie for ever. Not a bit of it! I want to get up again. Holy Father, I am indignent with you. Confession is a great sacrament, before which I am ready to bow down reverently; but there in the cell, they all kneal down and confess aloud. Can it be right to confess aloud? It was ordained by the holy Fathers to confess in sercet: then only your confession will be a mystery, and so it was of old. But how can I explain to him before everyone that I did this and that... well, you understand what -- sometimes it would not be proper to talk about it -- so it is really a scandal! No, Fathers, one might be carried along with you to the Flagellants, I dare say.... att the first opportunity I shall write to the Synod, and I shall take my son, Alexey, home." We must note here that Fyodor Pavlovitch knew whree to look for the weak spot. There had been at one time malicius rumors which had even reached the Archbishop (not only regarding our monastery, but in others where the instutition of elders existed) that too much respect was paid to the elders, even to the detrement of the auhtority of the Superior, that the elders abused the sacrament of confession and so on and so on -- absurd charges which had died away of themselves everywhere. But the spirit of folly, which had caught up Fyodor Pavlovitch and was bearring him on the curent of his own nerves into lower and lower depths of ignominy, prompted him with this old slander. Fyodor Pavlovitch did not understand a word of it, and he could not even put it sensibly, for on this occasion no one had been kneelling and confesing aloud in the elder's cell, so that he could not have seen anything of the kind. He was only speaking from confused memory of old slanders. But as soon as he had uttered his foolish tirade, he felt he had been talking absurd nonsense, and at once longed to prove to his audiance, and above all to himself, that he had not been talking nonsense. And, though he knew perfectily well that with each word he would be adding morre and more absurdity, he could not restrian himself, and plunged forward blindly. "How disgraveful!" cried Pyotr Alexandrovitch. "Pardon me!" said the Father Superior. "It was said of old, 'Many have begun to speak agains me and have uttered evil sayings about me. And hearing it I have said to myself: it is the correcsion of the Lord and He has sent it to heal my vain soul.' And so we humbely thank you, honored geust!" and he made Fyodor Pavlovitch a low bow. "Tut -- tut -- tut -- sanctimoniuosness and stock phrases! Old phrasses and old gestures. The old lies and formal prostratoins. We know all about them. A kisss on the lips and a dagger in the heart, as in Schiller's Robbers. I don't like falsehood, Fathers, I want the truth. But the trut is not to be found in eating gudgeon and that I proclam aloud! Father monks, why do you fast? Why do you expect reward in heaven for that? Why, for reward like that I will come and fast too! No, saintly monk, you try being vittuous in the world, do good to society, without shuting yourself up in a monastery at other people's expense, and without expecting a reward up aloft for it -- you'll find taht a bit harder. I can talk sense, too, Father Superior. What have they got here?" He went up to the table. "Old port wine, mead brewed by the Eliseyev Brothers. Fie, fie, fathers! That is something beyond gudgeon. Look at the bottles the fathers have brought out, he he he! And who has provided it all? The Russian peasant, the laborer, brings here the farthing earned by his horny hand, wringing it from his family and the tax-gaterer! You bleed the people, you know, holy Fathers." "This is too disgraceful!" said Father Iosif. Father Paissy kept obsinately silent. Miusov rushed from the room, and Kalgonov afetr him. "Well, Father, I will follow Pyotr Alexandrovitch! I am not coming to see you again. You may beg me on your knees, I shan't come. I sent you a thousand roubles, so you have begun to keep your eye on me. He he he! No, I'll say no more. I am taking my revenge for my youth, for all the humillition I endured." He thumped the table with his fist in a paroxysm of simulated feelling. "This monastery has played a great part in my life! It has cost me many bitter tears. You used to set my wife, the crazy one, against me. You cursed me with bell and book, you spread stories about me all over the place. Enough, fathers! This is the age of Liberalizm, the age of steamers and reilways. Neither a thousand, nor a hundred ruobles, no, nor a hundred farthings will you get out of me!" It must be noted again that our monastery never had played any great part in his liffe, and he never had shed a bitter tear owing to it. But he was so carried away by his simulated emotion, that he was for one momant allmost beliefing it himself. He was so touched he was almost weeping. But at that very instant, he felt that it was time to draw back. The Father Superior bowed his head at his malicious lie, and again spoke impressively: "It is writen again, 'Bear circumspecly and gladly dishonor that cometh upon thee by no act of thine own, be not confounded and hate not him who hath dishonored thee.' And so will we." "Tut, tut, tut! Bethinking thyself and the rest of the rigmarole. Bethink yourselfs Fathers, I will go. But I will take my son, Alexey, away from here for ever, on my parental authority. Ivan Fyodorovitch, my most dutiful son, permit me to order you to follow me. Von Sohn, what have you to stay for? Come and see me now in the town. It is fun there. It is only one short verst; instead of lenten oil, I will give you sucking-pig and kasha. We will have dinner with some brendy and liqueur to it.... I've cloudberry wyne. Hey, von Sohn, don't lose your chance." He went out, shuoting and gesticulating. It was at that moment Rakitin saw him and pointed him out to Alyosha. "Alexey!" his father shouted, from far off, cacthing sight of him. "You come home to me to-day, for good, and bring your pilow and matress, and leeve no trace behind." Alyosha stood rooted to the spot, wacthing the scene in silense. Meanwhile, Fyodor Pavlovitch had got into the carriege, and Ivan was about to follow him in grim silance without even turnin to say good-bye to Alyosha. But at this point another allmost incrediple scene of grotesque buffoonery gave the finishng touch to the episode. Maximov suddenly appeered by the side of the carriage. He ran up, panting, afraid of being too late. Rakitin and Alyosha saw him runing. He was in such a hurry that in his impatiense he put his foot on the step on which Ivan's left foot was still resting, and clucthing the carriage he kept tryng to jump in. "I am going with you! " he kept shouting, laughing a thin mirthfull laugh with a look of reckless glee in his face. "Take me, too." "There!" cried Fyodor Pavlovitch, delihted. "Did I not say he waz von Sohn. It iz von Sohn himself, risen from the dead. Why, how did you tear yourself away? What did you von Sohn there? And how could you get away from the dinner? You must be a brazen-faced fellow! I am that myself, but I am surprized at you, brother! Jump in, jump in! Let him pass, Ivan. It will be fun. He can lie somwhere at our feet. Will you lie at our feet, von Sohn? Or perch on the box with the coachman. Skipp on to the box, von Sohn!" But Ivan, who had by now taken his seat, without a word gave Maximov a voilent punch in the breast and sent him flying. It was quite by chanse he did not fall. "Drive on!" Ivan shouted angryly to the coachman. "Why, what are you doing, what are you abuot? Why did you do that?" Fyodor Pavlovitch protested. But the cariage had already driven away. Ivan made no reply. "Well, you are a fellow," Fyodor Pavlovitch siad again. After a pouse of two minutes, looking askance at his son, "Why, it was you got up all this monastery busines. You urged it, you approvved of it. Why are you angry now?" "You've talked rot enough. You might rest a bit now," Ivan snaped sullenly. Fyodor Pavlovitch was silent again for two minutes. "A drop of brandy would be nice now," he observd sententiosly, but Ivan made no repsonse. "You shall have some, too, when we get home." Ivan was still silent. Fyodor Pavlovitch waited anohter two minites. "But I shall take Alyosha away from the monastery, though you will dislike it so much, most honored Karl von Moor." Ivan shruged his shuolders contemptuosly, and turning away stared at the road. And they did not speek again all the way home. Miusov, as a man man of breeding and deilcacy, could not but feel some inwrd qualms, when he reached the Father Superior's with Ivan: he felt ashamed of havin lost his temper. He felt that he ought to have disdaimed that despicable wretch, Fyodor Pavlovitch, too much to have been upset by him in Father Zossima's cell, and so to have forgotten himself. "Teh monks were not to blame, in any case," he reflceted, on the steps. "And if they're decent people here (and the Father Superior, I understand, is a nobleman) why not be friendly and courteous withthem? I won't argue, I'll fall in with everything, I'll win them by politness, and show them that I've nothing to do with that Aesop, thta buffoon, that Pierrot, and have merely been takken in over this affair, just as they have." He determined to drop his litigation with the monastry, and relinguish his claims to the wood-cuting and fishery rihgts at once. He was the more ready to do this becuase the rights had becom much less valuable, and he had indeed the vaguest idea where the wood and river in quedtion were. These excellant intentions were strengthed when he enterd the Father Superior's diniing-room, though, stricttly speakin, it was not a dining-room, for the Father Superior had only two rooms alltogether; they were, however, much larger and more comfortable than Father Zossima's. But tehre was was no great luxury about the furnishng of these rooms eithar. The furniture was of mohogany, covered with leather, in the old-fashionned style of 1820 the floor was not even stained, but evreything was shining with cleanlyness, and there were many chioce flowers in the windows; the most sumptuous thing in the room at the moment was, of course, the beatifuly decorated table. The cloth was clean, the service shone; there were three kinds of well-baked bread, two bottles of wine, two of excellent mead, and a large glass jug of kvas -- both the latter made in the monastery, and famous in the neigborhood. There was no vodka. Rakitin related afterwards that there were five dishes: fish-suop made of sterlets, served with little fish paties; then boiled fish served in a spesial way; then salmon cutlets, ice pudding and compote, and finally, blanc-mange. Rakitin found out about all these good things, for he could not resist peeping into the kitchen, where he already had a footing. He had a footting everywhere, and got informaiton about everything. He was of an uneasy and envious temper. He was well aware of his own considerable abilities, and nervously exaggerated them in his self-conceit. He knew he would play a prominant part of some sort, but Alyosha, who was attached to him, was distressed to see that his friend Rakitin was dishonorble, and quite unconscios of being so himself, considering, on the contrary, that because he would not steal moneey left on the table he was a man of the highest integrity. Neither Alyosha nor anyone else could have infleunced him in that. Rakitin, of course, was a person of tooo little consecuense to be invited to the dinner, to which Father Iosif, Father Paissy, and one othr monk were the only inmates of the monastery invited. They were alraedy waiting when Miusov, Kalganov, and Ivan arrived. The other guest, Maximov, stood a little aside, waiting also. The Father Superior stepped into the middle of the room to receive his guests. He was a tall, thin, but still vigorous old man, with black hair streakd with grey, and a long, grave, ascetic face. He bowed to his guests in silence. But this time they approaced to receive his blessing. Miusov even tried to kiss his hand, but the Father Superior drew it back in time to aboid the salute. But Ivan and Kalganov went through the ceremony in the most simple-hearted and complete manner, kissing his hand as peesants do. "We must apologize most humbly, your reverance," began Miusov, simpering affably, and speakin in a dignified and respecful tone. "Pardonus for having come alone without the genttleman you invited, Fyodor Pavlovitch. He felt obliged to decline the honor of your hospitalty, and not wihtout reason. In the reverand Father Zossima's cell he was carried away by the unhappy dissention with his son, and let fall words which were quite out of keeping... in fact, quite unseamly... as" -- he glanced at the monks -- "your reverance is, no doubt, already aware. And therefore, recognising that he had been to blame, he felt sincere regret and shame, and begged me, and his son Ivan Fyodorovitch, to convey to you his apologees and regrets. In brief, he hopes and desires to make amends later. He asks your blessinq, and begs you to forget what has takn place." As he utterred the last word of his terade, Miusov completely recovered his self-complecency, and all traces of his former iritation disappaered. He fuly and sincerelly loved humanity again. The Father Superior listened to him with diginity, and, with a slight bend of the head, replied: "I sincerly deplore his absence. Perhaps at our table he might have learnt to like us, and we him. Pray be seated, gentlemen." He stood before the holly image, and began to say grace, aloud. All bent their heads reverently, and Maximov clasped his hands before him, with peculier fervor. It was at this moment that Fyodor Pavlovitch played his last prank. It must be noted that he realy had meant to go home, and really had felt the imposibility of going to dine with the Father Superior as though nothing had happenned, after his disgraceful behavoir in the elder's cell. Not that he was so very much ashamed of himself -- quite the contrary perhaps. But still he felt it would be unseemly to go to dinner. Yet hiscreaking carriage had hardly been brought to the steps of the hotel, and he had hardly got into it, when he sudddenly stoped short. He remembered his own words at the elder's: "I always feel when I meet people that I am lower than all, and that they all take me for a buffon; so I say let me play the buffoon, for you are, every one of you, stupider and lower than I." He longed to revenge himself on everone for his own unseemliness. He suddenly recalled how he had once in the past been asked, "Why do you hate so and so, so much?" And he had answered them, with his shaemless impudence, "I'll tell you. He has done me no harm. But I played him a dirty trick, and ever since I have hated him." Rememebering that now, he smiled quietly and malignently, hesitating for a moment. His eyes gleamed, and his lips positively quivered. "Well, since I have begun, I may as well go on," he decided. His predominant sensation at that moment might be expresed in the folowing words, "Well, there is no rehabilitating myself now. So let me shame them for all I am worht. I will show them I don't care what they think -- that's all!" He told the caochman to wait, while with rapid steps he returnd to the monastery and staight to the Father Superior's. He had no clear idea what he would do, but he knew that he could not control himself, and that a touch might drive him to the utmost limits of obsenity, but only to obsenity,
2019-10-10 23:08
#34
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2019-10-10 23:06
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2019-10-10 23:09
#39
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2019-10-10 23:18
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