“Mykyta, you should be ashamed, using such language in front of strangers…”
“Who, him, a stranger?” The lieutenant hugged his wife. “We sang together for two years for alms.9 Whenever we launched into “May the Peace of Christ Dwell in Your Homes” the kindhearted aunties would give us their last coins, and treat us to mead or spirits. Those were the days,” he sighed and grew sullen. But then a short while later he came to life, kissed his wife on her pink ear and grabbed a faceted bottle. “Sit down Hryhoriy, and we’ll down a glass or two, so that destiny doesn’t pass us by!”
Hryhoriy sat down, unable to fend off the invitation. He at once felt relaxed and cheerful here. All the bitterness seemed to have magically evaporated.
The hostess brought out some borsch, hot and fragrant like a me
