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Updated: May 15, 2025
"Liubov Liubimovna," she began in a subdued weak voice she was fond of playing the part of an oppressed and forsaken victim; needless to say, every one in the house was made extremely uncomfortable at such times "Liubov Liubimovna, you see my position; go, my love, to Gavrila Andreitch, and talk to him a little. Can he really prize some wretched cur above the repose the very life of his mistress?
'I don't know, Gavrila Andreitch, about his having any right or not. 'What a woman! why, you've made him no promise, I suppose.... 'What are you pleased to ask of me? The steward was silent for a little, thinking, 'You're a meek soul! Well, that's right, he said aloud; 'we'll have another talk with you later, now you can go, Taniusha; I see you're not unruly, certainly.
Only there's one thing, he pursued aloud: 'the wife our lady's picked out for you is an unlucky choice. 'Why, who is she, permit me to inquire? 'Tatiana. 'Tatiana? And Kapiton opened his eyes, and moved a little away from the wall. 'Well, what are you in such a taking for?... Isn't she to your taste, hey? 'Not to my taste, do you say, Gavrila Andreitch!
I could not bear to think so," she added, with an expression of deep feeling. "Go, my love; be so good as to go to Gavrila Andreitch for me." Liubov Liubimovna went to Gavrila's room. What conversation passed between them is not known, but a short time after, a whole crowd of people was moving across the yard in the direction of Gerasim's garret.
She's right enough, a hard-working steady girl. . . But you know very well yourself, Gavrila Andreitch, why that fellow, that wild man of the woods, that monster of the steppes, he's after her, you know. . ." "I know, mate, I know all about it," the butler cut him short in a tone of annoyance: "but there, you see . . ."
I went for a walk yesterday and lost the little ball off my bracelet!" I read through once more the opening of my dissertation, I trim up the tail of the letter "g" and mean to go on, but the young lady persists. "Nikolay Andreitch," she says, "won't you see me home? The Karelins have such a huge dog that I simply daren't pass it alone." There is no getting out of it.
Three months later Olenka was coming home from mass, melancholy and in deep mourning. It happened that one of her neighbours, Vassily Andreitch Pustovalov, returning home from church, walked back beside her. He was the manager at Babakayev's, the timber merchant's. He wore a straw hat, a white waistcoat, and a gold watch-chain, and looked more a country gentleman than a man in trade.
"Mikhaíl Andréitch," began the speculator, "permit me to inquire what you are doing there?" "As you see I am digging a grave for myself." "Why are you doing that?" "Because I do not wish to live any longer." The speculator fairly flung apart his hands in surprise. "You do not wish to live?" Mísha cast a menacing glance at the speculator: "Does that surprise you?
As for Ivan Petrovitch's wife, Piotr Andreitch at first would not even hear her name, and in answer to a letter of Pestov's, in which he mentioned his daughter-in-law, he went so far as to send him word that he knew nothing of any daughter-in-law, and that it was forbidden by law to harbour run-away wenches, a fact which he thought it his duty to remind him of.
Mísha looked long and in silence at the old man. "Timoféi!" he said at last. Timoféi gave a start. "What do you wish?" "Hast thou a spade?" "I can get one.... But what do you want with a spade, Mikhaílo Andréitch?" "I want to dig a grave for myself here, Timoféi; and lie down here forever between my parents. For this is the only spot which is left to me in the world. Fetch the spade!"
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