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"Where is the danger?" I asked. "Why, progress is in deeds of love, in fulfilling the moral law; if you don't enslave anyone, if you don't oppress anyone, what further progress do you want?" "But, excuse me," Blagovo suddenly fired up, rising to his feet. "But, excuse me!
When she sees me, she always shakes her head mournfully, and says with a sigh: "Your life is ruined." On working days I am busy from morning till night. There I stand or sit down, and stay a long time gazing at the grave that is so dear to me, and tell the child that her mother lies here. Sometimes, by the graveside, I find Anyuta Blagovo.
I heard footsteps and Doctor Blagovo appeared among the trees. He was wearing a silk shirt and high boots. Clearly they had arranged a rendezvous by the apple-tree. When she saw him she flung herself impulsively into his arms with a cry of anguish, as though he was being taken away from her: "Vladimir! Vladimir!"
People read, sing, and twitter at the Azhoguins', but I cannot bear them lately. Your sister is shy, Miss Blagovo for some reason hates me. I don't like the theatre. What can I do with myself?" When I was at her house I smelled of paint and turpentine, and my hands were stained. She liked that.
On week-days I am busy from early morning till late at night. Sometimes I find Aniuta Blagovo by the grave. We greet each other and stand silently, or we talk of Cleopatra, and the child, and the sadness of this life. Then we leave the cemetery and walk in silence and she lags behind on purpose, to avoid staying with me.
I went out, and there I found a hired brake from the town standing before the entrance of the great house. My sister had come in it with Anyuta Blagovo and a gentleman in a military tunic. Going up closer I recognized the latter: it was the brother of Anyuta Blagovo, the army doctor. "We have come to you for a picnic," he said; "is that all right?"
Once, in the daytime, in one of the streets off Great Gentry Street, I met Aniuta Blagovo. I was on my way to my work and was carrying two long brushes and a pot of paint. When she recognised me, Aniuta blushed. "Please do not acknowledge me in the street," she said nervously, sternly, in a trembling voice, without offering to shake hands with me, and tears suddenly gleamed in her eyes.
We must think of that great millennium which awaits humanity in the remote future." Blagovo argued warmly with me, but at the same time one could see he was troubled by some irrelevant idea. "I suppose your sister is not coming?" he said, looking at his watch. "She was at our house yesterday, and said she would be seeing you to-day. You keep saying slavery, slavery . . ." he went on.
"Thank God!" I thought, as I listened to her. "Thank God!" And again I remember the peasants, the carts, the engineer.... Doctor Blagovo came over on a bicycle. My sister began to come often. Once more we talked of manual labour and progress, and the mysterious Cross awaiting humanity in the remote future.
We need not think of them, they will perish and rot, however you save them from slavery we must think of that great Cross which awaits all mankind in the distant future." Blagovo argued hotly with me, but it was noticeable that he was disturbed by some outside thought. "Your sister is not coming," he said, consulting his watch. "Yesterday she was at our house and said she was going to see you.
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