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In the next room, behind the door, stood Nastasya Karpovna, and she too was furtively wiping her eyes with her check pocket-handkerchief rolled up in a ball. Meanwhile, down-stairs, preference was going on merrily in the drawing-room; Marya Dmitrievna was winning, and was in high good-humour. A servant came in and announced that Panshin was below.
The lady of the house herself had long been in her tomb; Marya Dmitrievna had died two years after Lisa took the veil, and Mafa Timofyevna had not long survived her niece; they lay side by side in the cemetery of the town.
Olga Dmitrievna, crying and speaking in a voice of self-pity, acknowledged that she loved Riss, and used to drive out of town with him and see him in his rooms, and now she really did long to go abroad. "You see, I hide nothing from you," she added, with a sigh. "My whole soul lies open before you. And I beg you again, be generous, get me a passport." "I repeat, you are free."
"Do not ask me," said Varvara, interrupting her, and then looked down. "I was young, light headed However, I don't wish to make excuses for myself." "Well, in spite of all that, why not make the attempt? Don't give way to despair," replied Maria Dmitrievna, and was going to tap her on the cheek, but looked at her, and was afraid.
"What has happened?" asked Pierre, entering Marya Dmitrievna's room. "Fine doings!" answered Dmitrievna. "For fifty-eight years have I lived in this world and never known anything so disgraceful!"
"And now, my good sir, you may attack any one you like, even me if you choose; I'm going. I will not hinder you." And Marfa Timofyevna walked away. "That's always how she is," said Marya Dmitrievna, following her aunt with her eyes. "We must remember your aunt's age...there's no help for it," replied Gedeonovsky. "She spoke of a man not playing the hypocrite. But who is not hypocritical nowadays?
A few minutes went by, then the door was thrown open, and Varvara Pavlovna, with a swift and almost noiseless step, came up to Maria Dmitrievna, and, without giving her time to rise from her chair, almost went down upon her knees before her. "Thank you, aunt," she began in Russian, speaking softly, but in a tone of deep emotion.
He has been here very often of late: I invited him for this evening; I hope he will come," added Marya Dmitrievna with a gentle sigh, and an oblique smile of bitterness. Lisa knew the meaning of this smile, but it was nothing to her now. "And young?" repeated Varvara Pavlovna, lightly modulating from tone to tone. "Twenty-eight, and of the most prepossessing appearance.
In her heart Marya Dmitrievna more than once regretted her pretty Pokrovskoe, with its babbling brook, its wide meadows, and green copses; but she never opposed her husband in anything and had the greatest veneration for his wisdom and knowledge of the world.
And she tried to withdraw her hand, while, at the same time, she was inclined to make her sit down, and to say something affectionate to her. She ended by raising Varvara Pavlovna and kissing her on her smooth perfumed brow. Varvara Pavlovna was completely overcome by this kiss. "How do you do, bonjour," said Marya Dmitrievna. "Of course I did not expect... but, of course, I am glad to see you.
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