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Now Vasichka has to go every year to the government of Mogilev to get wood. And what a tax!" she exclaimed, covering her cheeks with her hands in terror. "What a tax!" She felt as if she had been dealing in lumber for ever so long, that the most important and essential thing in life was lumber.
"God grant that all should live as well as Vasichka and I." When Pustovalov went to the government of Mogilev to buy wood, she was dreadfully homesick for him, did not sleep nights, and cried. Sometimes the veterinary surgeon of the regiment, Smirnov, a young man who lodged in the wing of her house, came to see her evenings. He related incidents, or they played cards together. This distracted her.
"You are always either at home or in the office," said her friends. "Why don't you go to the theatre or to the circus, darling?" "Vasichka and I never go to the theatre," she answered sedately. "We have work to do, we have no time for nonsense. What does one get out of going to theatre?" On Saturdays she and Pustovalov went to vespers, and on holidays to early mass.
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