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Insarov began reading it; she busied herself in getting some coffee ready for him. Some one knocked at the door. 'Renditch, both thought at once, but a voice said in Russian, 'May I come in? Elena and Insarov looked at each other in astonishment; and without waiting for an answer, an elegantly dressed young man entered the room, with a small sharp-featured face, and bright little eyes.
'I didn't know this was the counting-house; I am willing, though, to pay... 'Very well.... And could I have tea and milk? 'Certainly, at once. If you'll meantime take off your things and rest, the tea shall be got ready this minute. 'Whose property is this? 'Madame Losnyakov's, Elena Nikolaevna.
Insarov was, in fact, turning to take leave of Anna Vassilyevna; Elena hastily rose and called him aside to the window. The priest's wife was surprised, and tried to turn round; but she was so tightly laced that her stays creaked at every movement, and she stayed where she was.
Shubin looked round, and, whispering 'Wait a minute! he ran off, skipping and hopping to his own room, brought back a piece of clay, and began modelling a bust of Zoya, shaking his head and muttering and laughing to himself. 'At his old tricks again, observed Elena, glancing at his work. She turned to Bersenyev, with whom she was continuing the conversation begun at dinner.
Between the lake and the gardens of the great house, lay Viletna, with its rough log houses, sandy street, and great Church, crowned with a cupola like a gaily-painted melon; where Elena, Boris, and Daria, the three children of Madame Olsheffsky, drove every Sunday with their mother in the old-fashioned, tumble-down carriage.
Santiago sprang from his horse, and the brother and sister clung together kissing and crying, hugging each other until her hair fell down and his hat was in the dust. "Thou hast come!" cried Elena at last, holding him at arm's length that she might see him better, then clinging to him again with all her strength. "Thou never wilt leave me again promise me! Promise me, my Santiago!
Volodia Ivanovitch's house stood close to the village street, so that as Elena looked from her windows she could see the long stretch of white road the snow piled up in great walls on either side the two rows of straggling, half-finished log huts, ending with the ruined Church, and the new posting-house.
But when Nekhludoff entered the Guards and spent and gambled away so much with his aristocratic companions that Elena Ivanovna, his mother, had to draw on her capital, she was hardly pained, considering it quite natural and even good that wild oats should be sown at an early age and in good company, as her son was doing.
She has the reputation in certain circles of being the best-hatted woman in London. All this I get from the man who handed her on to me. As I said to him, it depends on what 'London' you mean." "Married?" "Oh dear no, though of course she calls herself 'Madame' like the rest of them Madame Vavasour. I have reason, however, to believe that her real name is Flink Elena Flink.
For him personally there were no obstacles. He had only to ask for a passport but how would it be with Elena? To get her a passport in the legal way was impossible. Should he marry her secretly, and should they then go and present themselves to the parents?... 'They would let us go then, he thought 'But if they did not? We would go all the same.
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