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Message: <blockquote data-quote="sachii" data-source="post: 9058572" data-attributes="member: 126652">page 6The young lad went out to call Duishen. Altynai, who was sitting next to me, started nervously as though suddenly remembering something, and asked me what Duishen they were talking about. I thought her manner and tone were very strange.“He's the postman. D'you now old Duishen?”She nodded vaguely, got up to leave the table, but at that very moment someonerode past the window with a clatter of hoofs, and the young lad came back tosay that Duishen had gone.“He wouldn't come in, he has more mail to deliver, he says.”“Let him go and deliver it then, why hold him back? He can come and sit withthe old men later,” a voice said rather ungraciously.“Oh, you don't know our Duishen! Duty comes first with him. He'll never stopanywhere before he's finished his job.”“Yes, he's a queer character. After the war he came out of hospital, in theUkraine it was, and stayed there. He's only been back about five years; he sayshe wants to die at home. That man never married in his life...”“It's a pity he wouldn't come in though. Oh well, never mind,” the host said.“Comrades, some of you may remember that once we all went to Duishen'sschool” said one of the most respected men in the village, raising his glass. “ButI'm sure he did not know all the letters of the alphabet himself.” The manscrewed up his face comically and shook his head. There was both amazementand sarcasm in his expression.“It's true enough,” several voices said at once.There was general laughter.“It certainly is! What didn't Duishen attempt to do in those days! And we werefine ones too--we seriously regarded him as a teacher!”When the laughter died down, the speaker raised his glass again</blockquote>

Verification: Dahaya deken beduwama keeyada?

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