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Pagina 897 de 1294

Autor: Fyodor Dostoevsky

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"It's all that cuckoo's fault! You know whom I mean? Her, her!"
Katerina Ivanovna nodded towards the landlady. "Look at her,
she's making round eyes, she feels that we are talking about her
and can't understand. Pfoo, the owl! Ha-ha! (Cough-cough-cough.)
And what does she put on that cap for? (Cough-cough-cough.) Have
you noticed that she wants everyone to consider that she is
patronising me and doing me an honour by being here? I asked her
like a sensible woman to invite people, especially those who knew
my late husband, and look at the set of fools she has brought!
The sweeps! Look at that one with the spotty face. And those
wretched Poles, ha-ha-ha! (Cough-cough-cough.) Not one of them
has ever poked his nose in here, I've never set eyes on them.
What have they come here for, I ask you? There they sit in a row.
Hey, pan!" she cried suddenly to one of them, "have you tasted
the pancakes? Take some more! Have some beer! Won't you have some
vodka?

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