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But you cannot deny that you have not been communicative, Kirylo Sidorovitch. People you have met imparted their impressions to me; one wrote this, another that, but I form my own opinions. I waited to see you first. You are a man out of the common. That's positively so. You are close, very close.
The next moment she was back in the place she had started from, with another half-turn on his part, so that they came again into the same relative positions. "Yes, yes," she said hurriedly. "I am very grateful to you, Kirylo Sidorovitch, for coming at once like this.... Only, I wish I had.... Did mother tell you?"
"But, my dear young friend!" he cried. "My dear Kirylo Sidorovitch...." Razumov shook his head. "The very patronymic you are so civil as to use when addressing me I have no legal right to but what of that? I don't wish to claim it. I have no father. So much the better. But I will tell you what: my mother's grandfather was a peasant a serf. See how much I am one of you.
"He is one of our national glories," Madams de S cried out, with sudden vehemence. "All the world listens to him." "I don't know these ladies," said Razumov loudly rising from his chair. "What are you saying, Kirylo Sidorovitch? I understand that she was talking to you here, in the garden, the other day." "Yes, in the garden," said Razumov gloomily.
But if I were you, Kirylo Sidorovitch," he continued, leering and laying a peculiar emphasis on the patronymic, "I wouldn't boast at large of the introduction. It would not be prudent, Kirylo Sidorovitch. Oh dear no! It would be in fact dangerous for your future." The young man's ears burned like fire; his sight was dim. "That man!" Razumov was saying to himself. "He!"
'Sanin, Dmitri Pavlovitch known him from a boy, observed Polozov, as before not turning towards him and not getting up, but pointing at him with one finger. 'Yes.... I know.... You told me before. Very glad to make your acquaintance. But I wanted to ask you, Ippolit Sidorovitch.... My maid seems to have lost her senses to-day ... 'To do your hair up? 'Yes, yes, please.
"Why are you looking at me like this, Kirylo Sidorovitch? I have approached you frankly. I need at this time to see clearly in myself...." She ceased for a moment as if to give him an opportunity to utter at last some word worthy of her exalted trust in her brother's friend. His silence became impressive, like a sign of a momentous resolution. In the end Miss Haldin went on, appealingly
What sort of peace Kirylo Sidorovitch Razumov expected to find in the writing up of his record it passeth my understanding to guess. The fact remains that he has written it. Mr. Razumov was a tall, well-proportioned young man, quite unusually dark for a Russian from the Central Provinces.
These meetings were a risk, and there was nothing more to settle. "We have said everything to each other by now, Kirylo Sidorovitch," said the high official feelingly, pressing Razumov's hand with that unreserved heartiness a Russian can convey in his manner. "There is nothing obscure between us. And I will tell you what! I consider myself fortunate in having h'm your..."
The terrors of remorse, revenge, confession, anger, hate, fear, are like nothing to the atrocious temptation which you put in my way the day you appeared before me with your voice, with your face, in the garden of that accursed villa." She looked utterly bewildered for a moment; then, with a sort of despairing insight went straight to the point. "The story, Kirylo Sidorovitch, the story!"
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