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On one side, in the proper column, were written out the name, father's name, and family name of Liubka, and her profession "Prostitute"; and on the other side, concise extracts from the paragraphs of that placard which he had just read through infamous, hypocritical rules about behaviour and external and internal cleanliness.
He knew an endless multitude of ballads, catches, and old-fashioned, jocose little pieces. Most of all pleased Liubka the universally familiar Armenian couplets about Karapet: "Karapet has a buffet, On the buffet's a confet, On the confet's a portret That's the self-same Karapet." Anglice, "confet" is a bon-bon; "portret," a portrait. Trans.
Thus, for example, Liubka did not overcome Don Quixote, tired, and, finally, turning away from him, with pleasure heard Robinson Crusoe through, and wept with especial copiousness over the scene of his meeting with his relatives. She liked Dickens, and very easily grasped his radiant humour; but the features of English manners were foreign to her and incomprehensible.
I'll show you right away what loffe is!" He would clench his fists, bend his body forward, and would start rolling his eyes so ferociously, gnash his teeth and roar with a lion's voice so, that a childish terror would encompass Liubka, despite the fact that she knew this to be a joke, and she would dash off running into another room.
Liubka from delight bounced in her armchair, clapped her hands. The beauty of this monumental, heroic work had her in its grasp. But she did not have a chance to express her impressions in full. Soloviev was hurrying to a business appointment. And immediately, coming to meet Soloviev, having barely exchanged greetings with him in the doorway, came Simanovsky.
Jennka straightened up on the bed, fixed Liubka with her dry, burning, yet seemingly weeping eyes, and asked brokenly: "Have you eaten anything to-day?" "No. Neither yesterday, nor to-day. Nothing." "Listen, Jennechka," asked Vanda quietly, "suppose I give her some white wine? And Verka meanwhile will run to the kitchen for meat? What?" "Do as you know best. Of course, that's all right.
But Lichonin was no longer in town pusillanimously, he had gone away the very same day when the unjustly wronged and disgraced Liubka had run away from the flat. And it was in the morning that there came into her head the desperate thought of returning into the brothel and begging forgiveness there.
Then, suddenly paling, with a distorted face, biting her trembling, twisted lower lip, Emma calculatingly and with good aim struck Liubka on her cheek, with all her might; from which the other went down on her knees, but got up right away, gasping for breath and stammering from the sobs. "Darlingest, don't beat me... Oh my dear, don't beat me..."
He caught up with Liubka and softly touched her sleeve. She turned around and beheld Soloviev. Her face instantaneously turned pale, her eyes opened wide and her lips began to tremble. "Go away!" she said quietly, with infinite hatred. "Liuba ... Liubochka ..." Soloviev began to mumble.
Marx also had no success goods, supplementary value, the manufacturer and the worker, which had become algebraic formulas, were for Liubka merely empty sounds, vibrating the air; and she, very sincere at soul, always jumped up with joy from her place, when hearing that, apparently, the vegetable soup had boiled up, or the samovar was getting ready to boil over.
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