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“It’s not that they thrashed me exactly, but what I mean is—” put in Maximov. “What do you mean? Either they thrashed you or they didn’t.” “What o’clock is it, panie?” the Pole, with the pipe, asked his tall friend, with a bored expression. The other shrugged his shoulders in reply. Neither of them had a watch. “Why not talk? Let other people talk.
We must find out, for time is passing,” he observed suddenly, as though speaking to himself. All at once there came up a bald-headed, elderly man with ingratiating little eyes, wearing a full, summer overcoat. Lifting his hat, he introduced himself with a honeyed lisp as Maximov, a landowner of Tula. He at once entered into our visitors’ difficulty.
That is why I came. I will keep with Pyotr Alexandrovitch everywhere now. If you will go away, Pyotr Alexandrovitch, I will go away too, if you remain, I will remain. You stung him by what you said about family harmony, Father Superior, he does not admit he is my relation. That’s right, isn’t it, von Sohn? Here’s von Sohn. How are you, von Sohn?” “Do you mean me?” muttered Maximov, puzzled.
Whenever I go we quarrel.” Grushenka said all this in one breath in her agitation. Maximov, feeling nervous, at once smiled and looked on the floor. “What did you quarrel about this time?” asked Alyosha. “I didn’t expect it in the least.
That made me take an interest in him at the time, and I took him into the country, but he keeps talking such rot I’m ashamed to be with him. I’m taking him back.” “The gentleman has not seen Polish ladies, and says what is impossible,” the Pole with the pipe observed to Maximov. He spoke Russian fairly well, much better, anyway, than he pretended.
“Good evening,” Maximov ventured blandly on the left. Mitya rushed up to him, too. “Good evening. You’re here, too! How glad I am to find you here, too! Let’s drink to our good understanding. I want to have music, singing, a revel, as we had before. But the worm, the unnecessary worm, will crawl away, and there’ll be no more of him. I will commemorate my day of joy on my last night.”
I have to go.... I am going myself. This way, this way.” They came out of the gate and turned towards the copse. Maximov, a man of sixty, ran rather than walked, turning sideways to stare at them all, with an incredible degree of nervous curiosity. His eyes looked starting out of his head.
“I don’t deserve your kindness. I am a worthless creature,” said Maximov, with tears in his voice. “You would do better to spend your kindness on people of more use than me.” “Ech, every one is of use, Maximushka, and how can we tell who’s of most use? If only that Pole didn’t exist, Alyosha. He’s taken it into his head to fall ill, too, to-day. I’ve been to see him also.
I’ve had that unpleasant experience,” Maximov modestly assented, “with a monsieur. And what was worse, she’d had all my little property transferred to her beforehand. ‘You’re an educated man,’ she said to me. ‘You can always get your living.’ She settled my business with that. A venerable bishop once said to me: ‘One of your wives was lame, but the other was too light-footed.’ He he!”
“It would be a capital thing if he didn’t turn up. Do you suppose I like all this business, and in your company, too? So we will come to dinner. Thank the Father Superior,” he said to the monk. “No, it is my duty now to conduct you to the elder,” answered the monk. “If so I’ll go straight to the Father Superior—to the Father Superior,” babbled Maximov. “The Father Superior is engaged just now.
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