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Updated: May 7, 2025
"It's a great pleasure to me," he remarked one day to a neighbour, "to think that when I leave this house to Boris Andreïevitch as I intend to do, after old Maria it will have two rooms that are fit foranyone of the family to sleep in. He'll never have to be ashamed of them!"
It will ruin his career. You will ruin him for life, Ivan Andreievitch. What business is it of yours? You imagine because of what you fancied you saw at Nina's party. There was nothing at Nina's party nothing. I love my husband, Ivan Andreievitch, and you are my enemy if you say anything else.
I've known him all my life, and I'm not to be deceived." Then in a softer, quieter tone she continued: "But tell me, Ivan Andreievitch. I've wanted before to ask you. You were with him on the Front last year. We have heard that he had a great love affair there, and that the Sister whom he loved was killed. Is that true?" "Yes," I said, "that is true." "Was he very much in love with her?"
His bags, I remember, were very splendid, and I saw the eyes of Uncle Ivan grow large as he watched their progress. Then with a sigh he drew a chair up to the table and began eating zakuska, putting salt-fish and radishes and sausage on to his place and eating them with a fork. "Dyadya, Ivan!" Vera said reproachfully. "Not yet we haven't begun. Ivan Andreievitch, what do you think?
"He's coming back," I said. "Oh, is he?" snarled Markovitch. "Well, he'd better look out." Then his voice, his face, even the shape of his body, changed once again. "I'm not a bad man, Ivan Andreievitch. No, I'm not.... You think so of course, and I don't mind if you do. But I love Vera, and if she loved me I could do great things. I could astonish them all.
Yes, I am. Afraid of myself, afraid of this town, afraid of Alexei, although that must seem strange to you. Things are very bad with me, Ivan Andreievitch. Very bad, indeed. Oh! I have been disappointed! yes, I have. Not that I expected anything else. But now it has come at last, the blow that I have always feared has fallen a very heavy blow. My own fault, perhaps, I don't know.
"We ought to put things straight," said Bohun. "No; I shall leave things as they are," said Markovitch, "so that he shall see exactly what I've done. I'll write a note." He scribbled a note to me in pencil. I have it still. It ran: Dear Ivan Andreievitch I looked for a letter from my wife to you. In doing so I was I suppose contemptible. But no matter. At least you see me as I am.
They can struggle and struggle, but it's like being in a net. Well, one must just make a hole in the net large enough to get out of, that's all. And now, ever since two days ago, when I resolved to make that hole, I've been quite calm. I'm as calm as anything now writing to you. Two days ago Vera told me that he was going back to England.... Oh, she was so good to me that day, Ivan Andreievitch.
In spite of this little weakness, he showed a most energetic character, willing to do anything for anybody, eager to please the whole world. I can hear his voice now: "Yeh Bogu! Ivan Andreievitch!... Imagine my position! There was General Polinoff and the whole Staff.... What to do? Only three versts from the position too and already six o'clock...."
He looked at me apprehensively. I think that I appeared to him at that time a queer, moody, ill-disposed fellow, who was too old to understand the true character of young men's impetuous souls. It may be that he was right.... "Will you come with us, Ivan Andreievitch?" Vera Michailovna asked me. "We're going to the little cinema on Ekateringofsky a piece of local colour for Mr. Bohun."
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