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作者: Leo Tolstoy

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The prince bowed his head and went up to the porch. "God be
thanked," thought the overseer, "the storm has blown over!"
"It would have been hard to drive up, your honor," he added. "I
heard, your honor, that a minister is coming to visit your
honor."
The prince turned round to the overseer and fixed his eyes on
him, frowning.
"What? A minister? What minister? Who gave orders?" he said in
his shrill, harsh voice. "The road is not swept for the princess
my daughter, but for a minister! For me, there are no ministers!"
"Your honor, I thought..."
"You thought!" shouted the prince, his words coming more and more
rapidly and indistinctly. "You thought!... Rascals!
Blackguards!... I'll teach you to think!" and lifting his stick
he swung it and would have hit Alpatych, the overseer, had not
the latter instinctively avoided the blow. "Thought...
Blackguards..." shouted the prince rapidly.

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