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Updated: July 8, 2025
"Please speak in a sensible way," observed Serafima Aleksandrovna dryly. "I understand nothing of what you are saying." "You see, madam, it's a kind of omen," explained Fedosya abruptly, in a shamefaced way. "Nonsense!" said Serafima Aleksandrovna. She did not wish to hear any further as to the sort of omen it was, and what it foreboded.
My wife, Kleopatra Aleksandrovna, sends you her regards. The death of your friend has, of course, affected her nerves; as regards myself, I am, thank God, in good health, and have the honour to remain, your humble servant, Many more examples recur to me, but one cannot relate everything. I will confine myself to one.
"She's still so little," said Serafima Aleksandrovna. "In any case, this is but my humble opinion. I don't insist. It's your kingdom there." "I'll think it over," his wife answered, smiling, as he did, coldly but genially. Then they began to talk of something else.
Perhaps it was because he himself loved the cold he loved to drink cold water, and to breathe cold air. He was always fresh and cool, with a frigid smile, and wherever he passed cold currents seemed to move in the air. The Nesletyevs, Sergey Modestovich and Serafima Aleksandrovna, had married without love or calculation, because it was the accepted thing.
Even Fedosya felt abashed, now for her mistress, now for herself. Serafima Aleksandrovna at once became calm and apparently cold and this mood communicated itself to the little girl, who ceased to laugh, but looked instead, silently and intently, at her father. Sergey Modestovich gave a swift glance round the room.
This charming inability to speak always made, Serafima Aleksandrovna smile with tender rapture. Lelechka then ran away, stamping with her plump little legs over the carpets, and hid herself behind the curtains near her bed. "Tiu-tiu, mamochka!" she cried out in her sweet, laughing voice, as she looked out with a single roguish eye.
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