Eh, I too shall have my say, when the time comes." "Against whom ?" asked Sasha, carelessly.
"I--against everybody!" exclaimed Foma, jumping to his feet.

"Against falsehood.

I shall ask--" "Ask whether the samovar is ready," Sasha ordered indifferently.
Foma glanced at her and cried, enraged: "Go to the devil! Ask yourself." "Well, all right, I shall.

What are you snarling about ?" And she stepped out of the hut.
In piercing gusts the wind blew across the river, striking against its bosom, and covered with troubled dark waves, the river was spasmodically rushing toward the wind with a noisy splash, and all in the froth of wrath.

The willow bushes on the shore bent low to the ground--trembling, they now were about to lie down on the ground, now, frightened, they thrust themselves away from it, driven by the blows of the wind.