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Updated: May 4, 2025
I began to soothe her, to assure her.... I really don't know what I did say to her. "You will wake up the girl," I say to her; "Alexandra Andreevna, I thank you ... believe me ... calm yourself." "Enough, enough!" she persisted; "never mind all of them; let them wake, then; let them come in it does not matter; I am dying, you see.... And what do you fear? why are you afraid?
Her hands were so feverish, her eyes so large and languid.... "Yes," she says, "you are a good, kind man; you are not like our neighbours.... No, you are not like that. ... Why did I not know you till now!" "Alexandra Andreevna, calm yourself," I say.... "I feel, believe me, I don't know how I have gained ... but there, calm yourself.... All will be right; you will be well again."
"Listen; I have not been asleep at all ... I have been looking at you a long while.... For God's sake! ... I believe in you; you are a good man, an honest man; I entreat you by all that is sacred in the world tell me the truth! If you knew how important it is for me.... Doctor, for God's sake tell me.... Am I in danger?" "What can I tell you, Alexandra Andreevna, pray?"
He has brought some lovely songs with him, two new ones. Varvara Andreevna and he must sing some duets." When the party had broken up, Stepan Arkadyevitch walked a long while about the avenue with Veslovsky; their voices could be heard singing one of the new songs.
"You will believe everything she says?" asked Juliana Andreevna, drawing him away to the window, while Leonti collected the scattered papers, laid them in cupboards and put the books on the shelves. "Yes, everything," she said. "Don't believe her. I know she will tell you all sorts of nonsense about Monsieur Charles." "Who is he?" "A Frenchman, a teacher, and a colleague of my husband's.
Varenka was standing at the door, dressed in a yellow print gown, with a white kerchief on her head. "I'm coming, I'm coming, Varvara Andreevna," said Sergey Ivanovitch, finishing his cup of coffee, and putting into their separate pockets his handkerchief and cigar-case. "And how sweet my Varenka is! eh?" said Kitty to her husband, as soon as Sergey Ivanovitch rose.
At home he worked zealously; visited with the sculptor and his students the Isaac Cathedral, where he stood in admiration before the work of Vitali; and he spent many hours in the galleries of the Hermitage. Overwhelmed with enthusiasm he urged Kirilov to start at once for Italy and Rome. He had not forgotten Leonti's commission, and sought out Juliana Andreevna in her lodgings.
And Alexandra Andreevna had grown fond of me; she would not sometimes let anyone be in her room but me. She began to talk to me, to ask me questions; where I had studied, how I lived, who are my people, whom I go to see. I feel that she ought not to talk; but to forbid her to to forbid her resolutely, you know I could not.
The samovar was now ready and he sat down to his tea, leisurely drinking glass after glass, while Anna Andreevna heated her stove in the corridor. A dim, wintry dawn was gradually breaking. The family of Sergius the former head of a ministerial department could be heard rousing themselves behind the wall.
The maid was sitting there too, and snoring away in full swing; I can't find fault with the poor girl, though; she was worn out too. Alexandra Andreevna had felt very unwell all the evening; she was very feverish. Until midnight she kept tossing about; at last she seemed to fall asleep; at least, she lay still without stirring. The lamp was burning in the corner before the holy image.
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