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Lichonin stopped in the middle of the room and with an intensified avidity heard the quiet, sleeping breathing of Liubka. His lips became so hot and dry that he had to lick them incessantly. His knees began to tremble. "Ask if she needs anything," suddenly darted through his head. Like a drunkard, breathing hard, with mouth open, staggering on his shaking legs, he walked up to the bed.
And at that minute he experienced in his own person how heavy it is to see in the morning, with one's own eyes, the results of folly committed the night before. "Are you awake, sweetie?" asked Liubka kindly. She got up from the bed, walked up to the divan, sat down at Lichonin's feet, and cautiously patted his blanket-covered leg.
And so with love. No more, no less. A physiological enjoyment. Perhaps more powerful, more keen, than all others, but that's all. Thus, for example, now: I want you as a woman. While you ..." "Oh, drop it, Mister," Liubka cut him short with vexation. "Well, what are you harping on one and the same thing for all the time? Change your act. You've been told: no and no.
The calamities and misadventures of the lovers in prison, the compulsory despatch of Manon to America and the self-denial of de Grieux in voluntarily following her, so possessed the imagination of Liubka and shook her soul, that she even forgot to make her remarks.
He hastily pulled on his gray, everyday student's coat, and rumpled up with all the fingers of both his hands his luxuriant black curls. Liubka, with the coquetry natural to all women, no matter in what years or situation they find themselves, walked up to the sliver of a mirror hanging on the wall, to fix her hair-dress.
This was the circumspect, droll, magnanimous, somewhat wondering love, and the careful concern, of a kind elephant for a frail, helpless, yellow-downed chick. The reading was a delectation for both of them, and here again the choice of works was directed by the taste of Liubka, while Soloviev only followed its current and its sinuosities.
You haven't got the right idea!" shouted Lichonin, and again in high-flown style began to tell her about the equal rights of women, about the sacredness of toil, about human justice, about freedom, about the struggle against reigning evil. Of all his words Liubka understood exactly not a one.
These couplets Nijeradze always sang in a diminished voice, preserving on his face an expression of serious astonishment about Karapet; while Liubka laughed until it hurt, until tears came, until she had nervous spasms. Once, carried away, she could not restrain herself and began to chime in with him, and their singing proved to be very harmonious.
On the other hand, he was already for a long time feeling the burden of co-habitation with Liubka.
In the doorway stood Liubka, grown thin, with dark rings under her eyes, and, just like a somnambulist, was searching with her hand for the door-knob, as a point of support. "Liubka, you fool, what's the matter with you?" yelled Jennka loudly. "What is it?" "Well, of course, what: he took and chased me out." No one said a word.
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