CHAPTER TWO Ivan Cankar
Martin Kačur,
03/2009
Book Chapter
By the time Kačur reached his fortieth year, he had become a wizened, stooped old man. He resembled one of those teachers from a long time ago who also worked as a sexton and fluttered around the ...world like a moth, lost, half-blind, and perpetually irked and mumbling. They have all long been put six feet under, yet here and there a remnant from the past will pop up, part alarming spirit, part pitiful caricature. With short, mincing steps it scoots across the streets in the dark, skinny and bent and bowlegged, its hands aquiver. A threadbare jacket gleams on
CHAPTER THREE Ivan Cankar
Martin Kačur,
03/2009
Book Chapter
Ferjan and Kačur were sitting in the conference room. Kačur cowered there with his hands upon his knees. His face looked old and clay-colored, and his blood-rimmed eyes were dull.
Ferjan, already ...rather corpulent, starting to gray, was visibly nervous and uncomfortable. He crumpled a piece of paper in his hand and stared at the table.
“We were once colleagues,” he said, taking a quick peek at Kačur’s profile next to him. “Colleagues and friends! By God, I did not violate this friendship, and whenever some stupidity got in the way, we took care of it as appropriate. But, look
CHAPTER ONE Ivan Cankar
Martin Kačur,
03/2009
Book Chapter
Underneath a set of gentle, wave-like hills clad in a growth of bushes and small trees, and laced with long clearings, a large village unfolded. The settlement, Lazi, lay spread over bottomland, ...hilltops, and slopes. By a stream in the green valley, the tall, white houses pressed closely against each other. But the higher the roads led, and the more they snaked around, the more the huts and cottages avoided each other and the lower and more modest their shapes became.
A cumbersome wagon rocked slowly along the main road. There was only a tired-looking nag hitched to it, and
CHAPTER TWO Ivan Cankar
Martin Kačur,
03/2009
Book Chapter
Kačur was sitting in the dismal tavern; his face was pale, crestfallen, and aging fast. The innkeeper wobbled about on drunken legs, screaming as he slammed his fist on the table.
“Such a thing will ...not happen in my house! My house is an honorable home! I’ll drag that slut into the street by her hair, and that damned gigolo along with her!”
The innkeeper’s chubby wife was standing in the doorway. Her hands were resting on her hips.
“Why are you screaming at him? He already told you what he intends to do. Leave him alone already!”
The publican
CHAPTER ONE Ivan Cankar
Martin Kačur,
03/2009
Book Chapter
Fortunately for Martin Kačur, and to the benefit of the moral state and sense of unity of the Slovene nation, Blatni Dol’s teacher of many years died in February, and Kačur moved there bag and ...baggage.
The village was long and spread out, but it was dark and dirty to a degree that Kačur had never before witnessed. In the streets of Blatni Dol, the mud¹ overflowed into broad lakes, even when the sun was already shining on the rest of the world. The village lay in a deep depression, guarded on all sides by hills overgrown with low scrub
CHAPTER TWO Ivan Cankar
Martin Kačur,
03/2009
Book Chapter
It was on a Sunday morning, deep in November, that Martin Kačur made the pilgrimage from Zapolje to Bistra. The sky was low and gray, and mists lay on the plains, creeping softly and lazily over the ...marsh. The road was furrowed and muddy. The houses along the way gaped morosely; they were slovenly and sooty.
But Martin Kačur saw neither the gray sky, nor the fog, nor the sooty houses; inside he was all happiness and sunshine.
This was the period of his life when he was strong and free like never before.
He went to Bistra, to the
