Ghoul family read the full version. Alexey Tolstoy - Ghoul Family

Rated the book

As they say, if you are not afraid of anything, then you are the most terrible. And I, to tell you the truth, am confused, because I can’t remember the last time a book was able to catch up on me with horror (I generally keep quiet about films). Not just to cause a flock of goosebumps to run down the back, but to scare, so that after looking back at dark corners, to listen to the silence in the next room, to go to bed in the morning.
I have long developed a strong immunity to overseas monsters (it is unlikely that Bloody Mary will be able to reach me with her bony hands from some Oklahoma), so the last hope remains for books about our small-town evil spirits. For this reason, I increasingly pay attention to Russian-speaking authors who create in the genre of mysticism and horror. I am glad that successful works come across, it saddens that it also cannot do without disappointments. Sad as it may seem, but disappointing ... although no, not like that ... leave indifferent mostly classical works. Not so much because they do not cause the expected shivers, but because of the characters that you do not believe. All these feelings and emotions, elevated to the absolute, in the current realities cause more smirk than empathy. Ah, this love at first sight "you are my life, you are my blood, be mine"! Ah, this pride and courage of a young man "so what if the village is empty because of vampires, I will still spend the night in an abandoned house!" Ah, this family devotion "father returned as a ghoul, but we still hide the aspen stake, because he is father!" Yes, it is quite possible that in the first half of the 19th century all these impulses looked noble and touching, but now, two centuries later, I can call them rather stupid and equate them with the scene where the girl left at home goes down to the basement, having heard below suspicious rustles. All of us in such cases wave our hands and say to the screen: "don't go there, idiot!" heroes of the ghoul family.
Another miss - it's sad, but I'm like that hedgehog that cries, but continues to eat the cactus. Therefore, in the near future I have planned another acquaintance with the book of a new author for me :)
PS: I still remembered both the movie and the books that scared me. Wow, it's soothing XD

Katerinka_chitachka

Rated the book

Ghouls...preferably suck the blood of those closest to them
their relatives and their best friends, and when they die,
also become vampires, so according to eyewitnesses, even
they say that in Bosnia and Herzegovina the population of entire villages
turned into ghouls.

From this collection, I confess honestly, I read only Tales and short stories, I postponed the plays for the next time ... But I had enough emotions and excitement from what I read!
What is our memory? I was sure that I was getting acquainted with these works of Tolstoy for the first time ... but as soon as I started reading, memories flooded in. I've already read this before. Familiar surnames, plots, destinies ... But, what is most charming in this situation - I did not remember the endings! Thanks to my selective memory, I enthusiastically plunged into the mystical world of A. Tolstoy.

"Ghoul". Oh, that creepy clicking with a smacking sound, by which the ghouls recognize each other! Yes, ghouls among people! Why not? Why can't they choose a victim for themselves and cherish, court her until the fulfillment of their insidious plan - to plunge with rapture into a fragile, tender neck and ...

May love forever dry up between you,
Let the grandmother suck the blood of the granddaughter!

The story is full of mystical details, the ending is unexpected...

"Ghoul Family". What a successful and bright creation of Alexei Tolstoy! Horror sneaks under the skin and seethes there with a frantic stream! Goosebumps have a life of their own. Drawn pictures cause animal fear, even stupor.
A person close to you is returning, and he is already lifeless and does not eat, does not drink, but predatory looks at his large family! And something needs to be done to protect everyone from danger, but the hand does not turn ... And how scary it is when a child whose mother buried yesterday knocks on the house and calls for mommy ... And you can’t look out the window at night without trembling - there will be faces of ghouls, swollen and ugly with predatory burning eyes! And the beautiful girl you love will never wear a cross, and her thoughts are now completely different than they were before ...
To me, a lover of thrills and adoring "well afraid" story delivered a bunch of tickling nerves of emotions! It is indescribable and better to read at night, in frightening silence.

"Meeting after three hundred years." The most terrible moment is the ghost of the priest, who on all fours was chasing carriages with groaning cries of "I want to eat! I want to eat!", because according to legend, he died of cruel starvation. In this story, the author will introduce us to other ghosts ...

"Two days in the Kyrgyz steppe" and "Wolf Adopter"- more stories about animals, hunting details of that time.

"Artemy Semyonovich Bervenkovsky"- a story about an eccentric who imagined himself a scientist and invented, and also implemented his strange creations. Were they of any use?

"Amena"- a very deep story of a completely different nature. She touched the strings of my soul! This is a story about betrayal, about how we sometimes consider ourselves innocent of our sins and how convenient it is to transfer our guilt to other people who were once dear to you. Will repentance come? And yet - happiness must be protected and protected from dashing people!

Our happiness is not of this world, and we should not indulge in it completely, but watch and pray that the enemy does not spread nets for us at the very moment of rapture.

Having evoked various emotions and feelings, the collection of Alexei Tolstoy left a noticeable mark on my soul.

Rated the book

They say that stories are not at all scary for us, children of the late 20th and early 21st centuries. I do not vouch for myself. To be honest, if you left me in the apartment at night all alone with this collection, I would definitely have a heart attack. And even now, at dusk and with the sounds of the city (or rather traffic jams) outside the window, every rustle still scares a little. And suddenly a ghoul? ..

Incredible book. Each story holds in its arms a tight grip. Despite the small volume, each story sometimes opens up a panorama worthy of a whole novel. The characters, as if alive, come out of the pages and tell their stories, which undoubtedly happened. What happened there is happening right here and now. I haven't seen such immersion in a book in a long time. As for the language... I don't know if it was immigration or nostalgia, but how I missed this ornate language of Russian classics. How does this style sound - a little familiar, but at the same time respectful, getting into the soul, but at the same time superficial enough to maintain decency. Delight was immediately after the first story. On the third, I realized that they are all connected by a thin thread and ... My love began. But first, in order.

Ghoul.
First story. The longest. Even though it was only 60-70 pages, it felt like a whole novel had happened. Russian nobility and a little bit of Italy. History in history and at the same time the main story. A lot of dreams, a lot of surreality, even a detective element is present. And the ending ... Just a shock. Throughout history, nerves are on edge - will it save al no? I won't go any further because spoilers.

Ghoul family.
At some kind of Congress late at night, the nobles decided to tell stories. Yes, not easy, but those that happened in reality. And so the French old aristocrat began the story of his turbulent youth ... So beautiful. And scary.

“Vampires, gracious ladies, preferentially suck the blood of their closest relatives and their best friends, and when they die, they also become vampires, so according to eyewitnesses they even say that in Bosnia and Herzegovina the population of entire villages turned into ghouls”

Scary even in daylight. And at the end I hit like an adrenaline rush. Haven't felt like this in a while. And ends with sarcasm:

Thus ended, gracious madams, a love interest that should have forever discouraged me from continuing in the same spirit. And did I later become more prudent - some of your grandmothers' peers could tell you about this.

A little love adventure. But from the peers of grandmothers (or rather, a girl who appears a little in this story), we learn another, this time more Western European story (which is discussed in the next paragraph),

Meeting three hundred years later
Already in their years, madams tell the story of their youth. Of course it will be terrible. But it all starts harmlessly: with the fact that the aforementioned count tried to woo the proud widow ... And then this happened. Castles, evil spirits, mutants (at least it seemed to me that it was a great association). And the ending is just wow. It's hard to think. I noticed one beautiful metaphor in the text that should not be missed at all:

“And what would become of you, poor flower of the Ardennes, if you let him enjoy the honey enclosed between your petals, and this beautiful moth suddenly treacherously flew away from you”

That's how to write! Yes, and a sip of wisdom there too:

And on both sides pride is hurt - who will outwit whom. The highest art in this game, my children, is to be able to stop in time and not push your partner to the extreme.

Amena
Like in a dope. Sweet. Pleasant. Charming. And then it sticks like a dagger and it hurts, it hurts. Again, all of a sudden. Again, the ending is great. But, to be honest, I didn’t leave such a strong impression as from past stories.

I didn’t include “Wolf Foster” in the review because it’s a very small story. And somehow it doesn't fit. The rest of the stories, unfortunately, could not be found. At first I thought - come on, one story less, more. But now I bite my elbows very much. After all, the author, although he wrote short stories, tied them tightly together. It's like a novel. A puzzle, each piece of which is a diamond, but together they make up the whole Universe, into which you want to plunge again and again, despite the fear. It's like a drug. And, to be succinct, my review would be just two sentences: “Wow. I want more and more.” Strong book. Highly.

Alexey Konstantinovich Tolstoy

Ghoul family

UNISSUED EXTRACT FROM THE NOTES OF THE UNKNOWN(1)

In 1815, the flower of European education, diplomatic talents, everything that shone in the then society gathered in Vienna. But now the Congress is over.

The émigré royalists intended to settle down in their castles, the Russian soldiers to return to their abandoned homes, and a few disaffected Poles to seek shelter for their love of freedom in Krakow under the dubious tripartite auspices of independence prepared for them by Prince Metternich, Prince Hardenberg and Count Nesselrode.

As happens at the end of a noisy ball, a small circle of people now remained from a society that was so crowded in its time, who, all without losing their taste for entertainment and enchanted by the charms of Austrian ladies, were not in a hurry to go home and put off their departure.

This merry company, to which I also belonged, met twice a week at the Dowager Duchess of Schwarzenberg, a few miles from the city beyond the town of Gitzing. The true worldliness of the mistress of the house, which benefited even more from her sweet friendliness and subtle wit, made it extremely pleasant to be visiting her.

Our mornings used to be busy with a walk; we all dined together either in the castle or somewhere in the vicinity, and in the evening, sitting by the blazing fireplace, we talked and told all sorts of stories. Talking about politics was strictly forbidden. Everyone was tired of it, and we drew the content of our stories either in the traditions of our native antiquity, or in our own memories.

One evening, when each of us had time to tell something and we were in that somewhat excited state, which is usually still intensified by twilight and silence, the Marquis d'Urfe, an old emigrant, who was universally loved for his purely youthful gaiety and that special sharpness, which he attached to stories about his past love successes, took advantage of a moment of silence and said:

Your stories, gentlemen, are, of course, very unusual, but I think that they lack one essential feature, namely, authenticity, because - as far as I caught - none of you have seen with your own eyes those amazing things that you told about, and cannot the word of a nobleman to confirm their truth.

We had to agree with this, and the old man, stroking his frill, continued:

As for me, gentlemen, I know of only one such adventure, but it is so strange and at the same time so terrible and so certain that one thing could plunge even the most skeptical mind into horror. To my misfortune, I was both a witness and a participant in this event, and although I don’t like to remember it at all, I would be ready today to tell about what happened to me - if only the ladies would have nothing against it.

Everyone wanted to listen. True, several people looked with timidity in their eyes at the luminous squares that the moon was already drawing on the parquet, but immediately our circle closed closer and everyone fell silent, preparing to listen to the story of the marquis. Mr. d "Yurfe took a pinch of tobacco, slowly pulled it and began:

First of all, gracious ladies, I ask your forgiveness if, in the course of my story, I have to talk about my heartfelt passions more often than is appropriate for a person of my age. But for the sake of complete clarity, I must not mention them. Besides, it is excusable to forget old age, and really, it is your fault, gracious madams, if, looking at such beautiful ladies, I almost seem to myself a young man. And so, I will begin directly with the fact that in the year 1759 I was madly in love with the beautiful Duchess de Gramont. This passion, which then seemed to me both deep and long-lasting, did not give me rest day or night, and the Duchess, as pretty women often like, added to this torment with her coquetry. And so, in a moment of extreme despair, I finally decided to ask for a diplomatic mission to the sovereign of Moldavia, who was then negotiating with the Versailles cabinet on matters that would be as boring as useless to describe to you, and I received the appointment. On the eve of my departure, I went to see the Duchess. She treated me less mockingly than usual, and there was some excitement in her voice when she told me.

A long time ago, when the Khimki forest was not yet called Khimki and grew happily ever after, and not “viburnums”, but horse-drawn carriages drove along Russian roads, scary stories were already written in our country, from which to this day you can catch not some there are goosebumps, but full-fledged goosebumps. What has been said fully applies to Alexei Konstantinovich Tolstoy's The Ghoul Family - a short story, the ending of which would have graced any modern horror film, and additions and cuts would not have been required (actually, attempts to film adaptation were made, but I would not vouch for them). And this is despite the fact that in our time such scenes have become a commonplace and are stubbornly exploited by cinema ... If you wish, in the "Ghoul Family" you can also see the roots of "Salim's Lot", one of Stephen King's iconic novels: in the center of both stories - secluded village, captured by vampires. And although I have no information that Steve is somehow familiar with the work of Tolstoy (unlike, of course, Bram Stoker, whose influence the master readily admits), each book, as the ancient Romans knew, had its own unique destiny - and who knows by what roundabout ways Tolstoy's plot could penetrate into King's restless head. Be that as it may, over the past years the story has not lost a drop of charm and is still full of harsh, not quite romantic horror.

Score: 9

A true classic of the mystical story! The work is captivating and keeps you in suspense until the very end! How magnificent are the images created by A. K. Tolstoy, how amazing is the atmosphere of the story!..

The part of the story preceding the climax is very good: Zdenka almost exactly utters the phrases that d "Yurfe said earlier. This is alarming and leads to the thought that the most horror is about to begin, and the reader can no longer tear himself away, so as with each new line he expects something unexpected, terrible.

Great story! Alexey Konstantinovich is a master!

Score: 10

A classic of the Russian "scary story", one of the fundamental works, one of the "pillars" of Russian horror! With all this, the Russian reader is familiar with the story in translation - the young Count Alexei Tolstoy wrote it in French (fluency in several languages was then in the order of things). Largely thanks to this story, the word "ghoul" has firmly entered the Russian language. In folk beliefs, dead bloodsuckers were never called ghouls, and for the first time in this sense Pushkin used the word in the poem of the same name (apparently, from a distorted vovkulak - a werewolf). As a teenager, the story made a rather strong impression on me - it was creepy. The simplicity of the plot is more than compensated by the brightness of the images and the richness of imagination. To all lovers of mysticism - if someone has not read it yet - I strongly recommend reading it. You need to know the classics.

Score: 10

Being read by me in childhood, this story scared me quite a bit (when I read it, I don’t remember anymore - approximately in the class of 4-5). Now, re-reading, of course, I no longer experienced that horror - but the feeling of hopelessness and helplessness of a person in front of bloodthirsty evil spirits remained. In general, there is something especially frightening about monsters that disguise themselves as people and turn them into their own kind. As a child, such creatures frightened me, perhaps, most of all. And ghouls embody another ancient human fear - the fear of a deadly epidemic. But what makes the story especially creepy is precisely the feeling of hopelessness, the way the peasants turn into ghouls one by one, being unable to oppose anything to the evil spirits.

Bottom line: Eastern Europe, vampires - classic horror in a classic setting. A simple story - but definitely the standard of the genre.

I re-read it thanks to the topic "10 favorite scary stories."

Product rating: 9 out of 10 (excellent).

Rating of "scary": 4 out of 5 (very scary).

Score: 9

This story, in my opinion, surpasses the GHOUL. Instead of a slightly delusional (in a good way) decadent style, here we have a strong rural mysticism, close to folklore roots. Accordingly, instead of the vague blurring of the GHOUL (and was there a boy, in the sense, were there ghouls?), there is an extremely clear, direct plot, without unnecessary scenes and side lines. And at the same time, a really thick atmosphere of fear and suspicion: after all, you can’t trust anyone - even a loved one who returned as a monster ...

External simplicity and excellent literary performance make this story timeless. Even now it can be recommended to the widest circle of readers.

Score: 10

I got acquainted with the word "ghoul" thanks to a poem that I have now forgotten, but I knew it by heart.

I remember only a few lines: “The ghoul will eat me completely, if I myself do not eat the earth of the grave, with a prayer ...”

And in the story about the family of ghouls, the nightmarish horror is pumped up gradually, but inevitably; the old legend that the one who left home must return no later than a certain date is found in many stories among different peoples, and here it is most out of place.

So, who is afraid of horrors - do not read, this is exactly what they are, and if someone is not averse to tickling their nerves - go ahead, just do not forget to grab yourself some kind of reliable amulet, otherwise the hour is uneven ...

Score: 10

The work was written back in 1839 and is a classic gothic horror story. Ghouls, they are also vampires, capture families and entire villages. And the description of this action scares readers to this day, because the author managed to perfectly depict the atmosphere of what is happening. Ghoul grandfather, looking in the windows, buried children crying under the door ... - brrr.

Tolstoy does not relish the actions of ghouls, he does not need to turn out bloody atrocities for show, as modern authors often do, he only skillfully hints, and the reader is frightened by his own imagination, imagining what the hero-narrator tells about. By the way, this hero was deeply unsympathetic to me. He is such a casanova, flaunting stories of female seduction. But the author’s skill was also manifested here - he does not describe erotic scenes, for example, his hero could not but respond politely to signs of attention from the wife of the Moldavian ruler and “in order to be able to better protect the rights and interests of France, for all rights, and for all interests he began to look at the ruler as if he were his own,” that’s all. And the reader himself can draw pictures of what is happening between the hero and the frivolous wife.

The language is also good. When you read, you savor the word. In general, spend 20 minutes to enjoy an excellent example of "terrible" literature of the century before last and tickle your nerves a little.

Score: 8

Very realistic, masterful, atmospheric.

The heavy feeling of imminent disaster and doom, the terrible gloomy atmosphere, the tension in which Tolstoy keeps the reader, while not describing any nightmarish horrors, are completely uncontrived and natural, there is no doubt about the possibility of what is happening, which further enhances the desired effect. Nothing is far-fetched and there are no plot “crutches” that representatives of the genre often abound in, and when you really want to say “maybe, but why”, everything is very organic and expressive. A real classic of real realistic mysticism.

It is also a living illustration of the fact that many things cannot be calculated in advance to the end, and human weakness and dependence can be decisive.

Score: 9

Horror, impeccably beautiful, clad in a corset of charm, horror. There is no unnecessary physiology here, but there is the beauty of nightmares. I really liked it and even made me shudder.

It is worth noting the excellent description of the life of that time. Perhaps, it not only gives the desired atmosphere to the work, but also completely creates it. It would be impossible to imagine a similar situation in the glorious Vienna, St. Petersburg, Moscow or any other major city. It would not be felt there that a person, in fact, is a creature that knows nothing and wholly belongs to the world, which he does not understand and does not know at all.

Score: 10

Probably, nevertheless, the story is more suitable for adolescence, I admit that then I could like it more. Or maybe he didn’t get me in the right mood, everyday problems, everyday life, prevent me from completely imbuing the atmosphere of the story. So he didn’t make the proper impression on me, I didn’t feel any fear or emotion for the hero. That's just a pity for the villagers, and Zdenka, the author of it very beautifully vividly described. Although there is still the question of what is better for her - to become a vampire, or to fall into the hands of such a protagonist:

“No, Zdenka, I will leave only when you promise me that you will always love me, as the beauty promised the king in that song. I'll be leaving soon, Zdenka, and who knows when we'll see each other again? Zdenka, you are dearer to me than my soul, my salvation... And my life and blood are yours. Won't you give me one hour for this?"

All his “love” unequivocally comes down to this hour, I don’t know what a fool you have to be to peck at such confessions. “You always love me, but I only need one hour from you, well, maybe even when I look for an hour, if I pass by ...”. Although he is definitely more experienced in this matter and has already lured more than one such hour into his confessions of “love”, which he likes to brag to the public, and which the public listens to with understanding. In general: if you want great and pure love, come to the hayloft in the evening.

Alexey Konstantinovich Tolstoy

Ghoul family

Unpublished excerpt from the notes of an unknown

In 1815, the flower of European education, diplomatic talents, everything that shone in the then society gathered in Vienna. But now, the Congress is over.

The émigré royalists intended to settle down in their castles, the Russian soldiers to return to their abandoned homes, and a few discontented Poles to seek shelter for their love of freedom in Krakow under the dubious tripartite auspices of independence prepared for them by Prince Metternich, Duke Hardenberg and Count Nesselrode.

Talking about politics was strictly forbidden. Everyone was tired of it, and we drew the content of our stories either in the traditions of our native antiquity, or in our own memories.

- Your stories, gentlemen, are, of course, very unusual, but I think that they lack one essential feature, namely, authenticity, for - as far as I caught - none of you have seen with your own eyes those amazing things that you told about, and can confirm their truth with the word of a nobleman.

We had to agree with this, and the old man, stroking his frill, continued:

- As for me, gentlemen, I know only one such adventure, but it is so strange and at the same time so terrible and so reliable that one thing could plunge even the most skeptical mind into horror. Unfortunately for me, I was both a witness and a participant in this event, and although I don’t like to remember it at all, I would be ready today to tell about what happened to me - if only the ladies would have nothing against it.

“First of all, gracious madams, I beg your pardon if, in the course of my story, I have to talk about my heartfelt passions more often than befits a person of my age. But for the sake of complete clarity, I must not mention them. Besides, it is excusable to forget old age, and really, it is your fault, gracious madams, if, looking at such beautiful ladies, I almost seem to myself a young man. And so, I will begin directly with the fact that in the year 1759 I was madly in love with the beautiful Duchess de Gramont. This passion, which then seemed to me both deep and long-lasting, did not give me rest day or night, and the Duchess, as pretty women often like, added to this torment with her coquetry. And so, in a moment of extreme despair, I finally decided to ask for a diplomatic mission to the sovereign of Moldavia, who was then negotiating with the Versailles cabinet on matters that would be as boring as useless to describe to you, and I received the appointment. On the eve of my departure, I went to see the Duchess. She treated me less mockingly than usual, and there was some excitement in her voice when she said to me:

- D "Yurfe, you are making a very unreasonable step. But I know you, and I know that you will not refuse the decision you made. Therefore, I ask you only one thing - take this cross as a pledge of my friendship and wear it until you return .This is a family heirloom that we treasure very much.

With courtesy, inappropriate, perhaps, at such a moment, I kissed not the relic, but that charming hand that held it out to me, and put this cross around my neck, which I have never parted from since.

I will not bore you, gracious madams, with the details of my journey, or with my impressions of the Hungarians and the Serbs - that poor and unenlightened, but courageous and honest people, who, even under the Turkish yoke, did not forget either about their dignity or about former independence. I will only tell you that, having learned a little Polish back in the days when I lived in Warsaw, I quickly began to understand Serbian, because these two dialects, as well as Russian and Czech, are - and this is probably for you known - nothing more than branches of the same language, called Slavic.

So, I already knew enough to be able to explain myself when I once happened to pass through a certain village, the name of which would not be of any interest to you. I found the inhabitants of the house in which I was staying in a state of depression, which surprised me all the more since it was on Sunday - the day when the Serbs usually indulge in all sorts of fun, amusing themselves with dancing, shooting from a squeaker, wrestling, etc. I attributed the future owners to some recent misfortune and was already thinking of leaving, but then a man of about thirty, tall and imposing in appearance, approached me and took my hand.

“Come in,” he said, “come in, stranger, and don’t let our sadness frighten you; you will understand it when you know its cause.

And he told me that his old father, named Gorcha, a restless and unyielding man of character, got up one day from his bed, took a long Turkish squeaker from the wall and turned to his two sons, one of whom was called George, and the other Peter:

“Children,” he said to them, “I’m going to the mountains, I want to hunt the filthy dog Alibek with other daredevils (that was the name of the Turkish robber who has been devastating the whole region lately). Wait for me ten days, and if I don’t return on the tenth day, you order a mass for the repose of my soul - that means they killed me. But if,” added old Gorcha here, assuming the most stern air, “if (God forbid) I return later, for your salvation, do not let me into the house. If so, I order you - forget that I was your father, and drive an aspen stake into my back, no matter what I say, no matter what I do - then I am now a damned ghoul and have come to suck your blood.

Alexey Konstantinovich Tolstoy

Ghoul family

UNISSUED EXTRACT FROM THE NOTES OF THE UNKNOWN(1)

In 1815, the flower of European education, diplomatic talents, everything that shone in the then society gathered in Vienna. But now the Congress is over.

We had to agree with this, and the old man, stroking his frill, continued:

D "Yurfe, you are making a very unreasonable step. But I know you, and I know that you will not refuse the decision you made. Therefore, I ask you only one thing - take this cross as a pledge of my friendship and wear it until you return. This is a family heirloom that we treasure very much.

I will not bore you, gracious ladies, with the details of my journey, or with my impressions of the Hungarians and the Serbs - that poor and unenlightened, but courageous and honest people, who, even under the Turkish yoke, did not forget either their dignity or former independence. I will only tell you that, having learned a little Polish back in the days when I lived in Warsaw, I quickly began to understand Serbian, because these two dialects, as well as Russian and Czech, are - and this is probably for you known - nothing more than branches of the same language, called Slavic.

So, I already knew enough to be able to explain myself when I once happened to pass through a certain village, the name of which would not be of any interest to you. I found the inhabitants of the house in which I was staying in a state of depression, which surprised me all the more since it was on Sunday, the day when the Serbs usually indulge in all sorts of fun, amusing themselves with dancing, shooting from a squeaker, wrestling, etc. I attributed my future owners to some recent misfortune and was already thinking of leaving, but then a man of about thirty, tall and imposing in appearance, came up to me and took my hand.

Come in,” he said, “come in, stranger, and don’t let our sadness frighten you; you will understand it when you know its cause.

And he told me that his old father, named Gorcha, a restless and uncompromising man of character, got up one day from his bed, took a long Turkish squeaker from the wall and turned to his two sons, one of whom was called George, and the other was Peter:

Children, - he said to them, - I'm going to the mountains, I want to hunt the filthy dog Alibek with other daredevils (that was the name of the Turkish robber who has been devastating the whole region lately). Wait for me ten days, and if I don’t return on the tenth day, you order a mass for the repose of my soul - that means they killed me. But if, - added old Gorcha here, assuming the most severe look, - if (God forbid) I return late, for the sake of your salvation, do not let me into the house. If so, I order you - forget that I was your father, and drive an aspen stake into my back, no matter what I say, no matter what I do - it means that I am now a damned ghoul and have come to suck your blood.