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"That's right!" the son persisted; "you don't like to hear the truth! Excellent! Very good! begin shouting! Excellent!" "Hold your tongue, I tell you!" roared Yevgraf Ivanovitch. Fedosya Semyonovna appeared in the doorway, very pale, with an astonished face; she tried to say something, but she could not, and could only move her fingers. "It's all your fault!" Shiryaev shouted at her.
'Fenitchka ... Fedosya, answered Arkady. 'And her father's name? One must know that too. 'Nikolaevna. 'Bene. What I like in her is that she's not too embarrassed. Some people, I suppose, would think ill of her for it. What nonsense! What is there to embarrass her? She's a mother she's all right. 'She's all right, observed Arkady, 'but my father. 'And he's right too, put in Bazarov.
The fever came upon her at night. When Serafima Aleksandrovna, awakened by Fedosya, came to Lelechka and saw her looking so hot, so restless, and so tormented, she instantly recalled the evil omen, and a hopeless despair took possession of her from the first moments. A doctor was called, and everything was done that is usual on such occasions but the inevitable happened.
Even Fedosya felt abashed, now for her mistress, now for herself. Serafima Aleksandrovna at once became calm and apparently cold and this mood communicated itself to the little girl, who ceased to laugh, but looked instead, silently and intently, at her father. Sergey Modestovich gave a swift glance round the room.
Of late, in those rare moments of the mistress' absence from the nursery, Fedosya had again taught Lelechka to hide; and when Lelechka's mother, on coming in, saw how lovely the child looked when she was hiding, she herself began to play hide and seek with her tiny daughter.
"Please speak in a sensible way," observed Serafima Aleksandrovna dryly. "I understand nothing of what you are saying." "You see, madam, it's a kind of omen," explained Fedosya abruptly, in a shamefaced way. "Nonsense!" said Serafima Aleksandrovna. She did not wish to hear any further as to the sort of omen it was, and what it foreboded.
Agathya listened and shook her head ominously; while her face became grave and reproachful. "That the mistress does it, well, that's one thing; but that the young lady does it, that's bad." "Why?" asked Fedosya with curiosity. This expression of curiosity gave her face the look of a wooden, roughly-painted doll. "Yes, that's bad," repeated Agathya with conviction. "Terribly bad!"
Mashenka brushed her hair, wiped her face with a wet towel, and went into the dining-room. There they had already begun dinner. At one end of the table sat Fedosya Vassilyevna with a stupid, solemn, serious face; at the other end Nikolay Sergeitch. At the sides there were the visitors and the children. The dishes were handed by two footmen in swallowtails and white gloves.
She was so disgusted with Fedosya Vassilyevna, who was so obsessed by her illnesses and her supposed aristocratic rank, that everything in the world seemed to have become coarse and unattractive because this woman was living in it. Mashenka jumped up from the bed and began packing.
'I shan't go to see that old tub. He gives you costly fish and puts rancid butter on it. God bless him! 'And I met Fedosya Mihalovna. 'What Fedosya is that? 'She belongs to Garpentchenko, the landowner, who bought Mikulino by auction. Fedosya is from Mikulino.
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