I wish you a Happy Christmas and all God's holy best. I have
no mamma or papa, you are all I have."
Vanka gave a look towards the window in which shone the reflection of
his candle, and vividly pictured to himself his grandfather,
Konstantin Makarych, who was night-watchman at Messrs. Zhivarev. He
was a small, lean, unusually lively and active old man of sixty-five,
always smiling and blear-eyed. All day he slept in the servants'
kitchen or trifled with the cooks. At night, enveloped in an ample
sheep-skin coat, he strayed round the domain tapping with his cudgel.
Behind him, each hanging its head, walked the old bitch Kashtanka, and
the dog Viun, so named because of his black coat and long body and his
resemblance to a loach. Viun was an unusually civil and friendly dog,
looking as kindly at a stranger as at his masters, but he was not to
be trusted. Beneath his deference and humbleness was hid the most
inquisitorial maliciousness. No one knew better than he how to sneak
up and take a bite at a leg, or slip into the larder or steal a
muzhik's chicken. More than once they had nearly broken his hind-legs,
twice he had been hung up, every week he was nearly flogged to death,
but he always recovered.
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