噺 (8) 壹 Chinese 網ωωω.χ8.1zщ.còм 哽噺繓赽捌 (一) Novel 説蛧

Empress He returned to Tang Zhaozong's side, although the situation had become so bad, Empress He still came over.

Tang Zhaozong, at this time, was still full of gratitude to his wife.

Although Tang Zhaozong's artillery position was completely finished, Tang Zhaozong was still very lively.

This kind of happiness surprised Empress He, and even made Empress He a little scared, and this act of pursing her lips and smiling made Tang Zhaozong a little overwhelmed.

In fact, in Tang Zhaozong's mind, this setback is nothing at all.

Write. From then on, she could only count on her alone. Unfortunately, she is quite frivolous and does not know much measure. Fate has made her an old girl for a long time. Now in her vain and a little overly excited mind, one thought after another flashed through her mind. She had all kinds of plans, she obviously wanted to control the whole province, fantasized about becoming a central figure at once, and she took a clear course. Von Lembuck was even a little frightened, though with the resourcefulness he had honed in officialdom, he quickly saw that he had nothing to fear about the high office itself. The first two or three months even passed very satisfactorily. Unexpectedly, at this time, a Pyotr Stepanovich came out, and strange things began to appear.

Here's what happened: the young Verkhovensky came up with a clear lack of respect for Andrei Antonovich, and assumed a strange posture as if he had the power to support him, while Yulia Mihailovna, who had always been very jealous of her husband's dignitaries, paid no attention to it; At least she didn't think it mattered. The young man became her darling, and he not only ate and drank in her house, but also slept almost in her house. Von Lembuk defended himself, calling him a "young man" in public and patting him on the shoulder as a patron, but to no avail: Pyotr Stepanovich always seemed to be making fun of him to his face, even in an apparently serious conversation, and often said something completely unexpected to him in front of people. Once, when he came home, he found the young man asleep on the couch in his study without invitation. The other party explained that he came in and found no one at home, so he "slept beautifully by the way". Von Lembuck was annoyed and complained about his wife again; She laughed at his anger, and sarcastically pointed out that he was apparently not going to defend his dignity; In any case, "this child" will never be presumptuous with her, but "he is innocent and vibrant, although a little informal". Von Lembuk's face strained. This time she took a conciliatory approach. Pyotr Stepanovich did not ask for forgiveness, but made a rude joke that would have been treated as another insult on another occasion

Von Lembuk was clearly worried, and worrying was harmful to him and forbidden by the doctors. In addition to the many troublesome things that have happened in the province, which we shall speak of below, he has encountered a particular problem, which not only has the dignity of the prefect been offended, but even his soul has been damaged. After getting married, Andrei Antonovich did not think at all about the possibility of family disputes and conflicts in the future. Whenever he thought of his Minna and Enneskina throughout his life, he thought so. He felt that he couldn't stand the storm of his family. Yulip Mikhailovna finally gave him a frank explanation.

No tie. A rather rough white shirt was revealed underneath the gown; There seems to be something wrong with his feet, wearing a pair of loafers. I've heard that he was once an official, and now he still has an official rank. He had just finished his light fish soup and was manually using the second course of salted potatoes with skin. He never ate anything else; But he drinks a lot of tea, and he is a lover of tea. Three servants, who were supported by merchants, ran around him; One servant wears a tuxedo, the second resembles a porter, and the third resembles a church warden. There is also a very lively boy of about sixteen. In addition to the servants, there was also a venerable, gray-haired monk, who looked a little too fat, and carried a donation box in his hand. On one table was a samovar of its size boiling, and a tray with almost two dozen teacups in it. On another table opposite lay the donations: a few loaves of bread and a few packets of sugar, two lists of tea leaves, a pair of embroidered loafers, a rich silk handkerchief, a piece of woollen material, a burlap, and so on. Almost all of the money donated was in the donation box in the monk's hand. The room was crowded - there were more than a dozen visitors alone, two of whom sat next to Semyon Yakovlevich behind the wooden fence; One of them was an old man with gray hair, a "common man" who came on pilgrimage; The other was a small, thin, foreign monk, who sat there in an orderly manner, his eyes downcast. The rest of the visitors were all on the side of the wooden fence, most of them ordinary people, and there was also a fat merchant from the county town, who had a big beard and wore Russian clothes, but he was known to be a rich man with a fortune; There was also an elderly poor noblewoman and a landowner. Everyone was waiting for their luck, and no one dared to speak first. There were four people kneeling, but the most striking thing was the landlord, a fat man of about forty-five years of age, who knelt next to the wooden fence, closer than anyone else, reverently expecting to win the favor of Semyon Yakovlevich or an auspicious word. He had been kneeling for nearly an hour, and the saint had not noticed him.

Our ladies huddled around the fence and whispered happily and grinningly. They pushed aside and blocked all the kneeling and standing visitors, but they did not bother the landlord, who still stubbornly held a prominent position, and even grasped the wooden fence with both hands. Pleasant, greedy and curious eyes were focused on Semyon Yakovlevich, as were those glasses, nose-clipping glasses, and even binoculars; At least Liamshin was watching through a telescope. Semyon Yakovlevich calmly and commitively glanced at everyone with his small eyes.

"Beautiful eyes! Beautiful eyes! He said in a hoarse bass voice and a slight exclamation.

We all laughed, "What do you mean by beautiful eyes?" Semyon Yakovlevich, however, fell silent and finished his own potatoes. At last, he wiped his mouth with a napkin, and tea was served to him.

(End of chapter)

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