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Artzybashev, Mikhail Petrovich, 1878-1927

"Sanine"


"Good!" exclaimed Ivanoff involuntarily.
Sarudine's head hung limply on one side. Something hot that stabbed his
brain and eyes like sharp needles flooded his mouth and nose.
"Ah!" he groaned, and sank helplessly forward on his hands, dropping
the whip, while his cap fell off. He saw nothing, he heard nothing,
being only conscious of the horrible disgrace, and of a dull burning
pain in his eye.
"Oh! God!" screamed Sina Karsavina, holding her head with both hands,
and shutting her eyes tightly.
Horrified and disgusted at the sight of Sarudine crouching there on all
fours, Yourii, followed by Schafroff, rushed at Sanine. Volochine,
losing his _pince-nez_ as he Stumbled over a bush, ran away as fast as
he could across the damp grass, so that his spotless trousers instantly
became black up to the knees.
Tanaroff ground his teeth with fury, and also dashed forward, but
Ivanoff caught him by the shoulders and pulled him back. "That's all
right!" said Sanine scornfully. "Let him come." He stood with legs
apart, breathing hard, and big drops of sweat were on his brow.


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