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All at once he ceased speaking, and gaping with astonishment, turned to Poplavsky. "I say! he's alive," he said, staring with horror. "Who's alive?" "Why, Prokofy Osipitch, there he stands, by that tombstone!" "He never died! It's Kirill Ivanovitch who's dead." "But you told me yourself your secretary was dead." "Kirill Ivanovitch was our secretary. You've muddled it, you queer fish.
Katerina grew angrier and angrier, until at last she could no longer contain herself: "Kirill Lvovich," she shouted, "you are impossible!" "Very well," came the infuriated reply; "I am not one of the heirs, I can go!"
"Why you ought to know Vronsky is that he's one of your rivals." "Who's Vronsky?" said Levin, and his face was suddenly transformed from the look of childlike ecstasy which Oblonsky had just been admiring to an angry and unpleasant expression. "Vronsky is one of the sons of Count Kirill Ivanovitch Vronsky, and one of the finest specimens of the gilded youth of Petersburg.
The road and Klim no longer seemed dangerous to him. ONE fine morning the collegiate assessor, Kirill Ivanovitch Babilonov, who had died of the two afflictions so widely spread in our country, a bad wife and alcoholism, was being buried.
Kirill Lvovich was not one of the heirs, it was his wife who came of the Rastorov family, and he had merely accompanied her to the ancestral mansion. Lvovich took his notice and hung it on the lavatory door. Then again he paced the floor, his jewels sparkling brilliantly. "Why the devil do Sergius and his family occupy three rooms, and we only one?" he grumbled. "I shall leave this den.
They sat down and played it for the entire day, only interrupting the game to go to their rooms for dinner. Whenever Sergius had to pay a fine he would say: "Anyhow, Kirill Lvovich, you have an objectionable manner." "Now, now, greenhorn!" the general would reply. They had not a penny between them. Katerina Andreevna had been appointed guardian of their possessions.
Nejdanov nodded his head and Markelov went on smoking. "Among the servants here there is only one who is any good," he began again. "Not your man, Ivan, he has no more sense than a fish, but another one, Kirill, the butler." What do you think of my sister?" he asked, suddenly fixing his yellowish eyes on Nejdanov. "She is even more artful than my brother-in-law. What do you think of her?"
They lived tedious, mean, malignant, worthless lives, execrating existence and the Revolution; they lived utterly apart from the turmoil that now replaced the placid even flow of the old regime: they were outside current events, and their thoughts for ever turned back to the past, awaiting its return. General Kirill Lvovich awoke at seven o'clock.
Eremy of Goloplok was mentioned again, together with Sipiagin's servant, Kirill, and a certain Mendely, known under the name of "Sulks." The latter it seemed was not to be relied upon. He was very bold when sober, but a coward when drunk, and was nearly always drunk. "And what about your own people?" Nejdanov asked of Markelov. "Are there any reliable men among them?"
In the first place they could not make out why the orator called the deceased Prokofy Osipitch when his name was Kirill Ivanovitch.
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