Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 9, 2025
'Yes, continued Pavel Petrovitch, as though speaking to himself; 'there's an unmistakable likeness. He looked attentively, almost mournfully, at Fenitchka. 'That's uncle, she repeated, in a whisper this time. 'Ah! Pavel! so you're here! was heard suddenly the voice of Nikolai Petrovitch.
I have been thinking a great deal all this time over what I want to say to you now.... Brother, do your duty, the duty of an honest and generous man; put an end to the scandal and bad example you are setting you, the best of men! 'What do you mean, Pavel? 'Marry Fenitchka.... She loves you; she is the mother of your son. Nikolai Petrovitch stepped back a pace, and flung up his hands.
We shall see how you will exist in void, in vacuum; and now ring, please, brother Nikolai Petrovitch; it's time I had my cocoa. Nikolai Petrovitch rang the bell and called, 'Dunyasha! But instead of Dunyasha, Fenitchka herself came on to the terrace. She was a young woman about three-and-twenty, with a white soft skin, dark hair and eyes, red, childishly-pouting lips, and little delicate hands.
He had turned even paler than before; his eyes were shining, and what was most marvellous of all, one large solitary tear was rolling down his cheek. 'Fenitchka! he was saying in a strange whisper; 'love him, love my brother! Don't give him up for any one in the world; don't listen to any one else! Think what can be more terrible than to love and not be loved! Never leave my poor Nikolai!
'Where are you going in such a hurry, Fedosya Nikolaevna? he began; 'are you busy? ... I have to pour out tea. 'Dunyasha will do that without you; sit a little while with a poor invalid. By the way, I must have a little talk with you. Fenitchka sat down on the edge of an easy-chair, without speaking.
The baby stared at the siskin, and chuckled. 'That's uncle, said Fenitchka, bending her face down to him and slightly rocking him, while Dunyasha quietly set in the window a smouldering perfumed stick, putting a halfpenny under it. 'How many months old is he? asked Pavel Petrovitch. 'Six months; it will soon be seven, on the eleventh.
His face was positively transformed when he talked to her; it took a bright, almost kind expression, and his habitual nonchalance was replaced by a sort of jesting attentiveness. Fenitchka was growing prettier every day. There is a time in the life of young women when they suddenly begin to expand and blossom like summer roses; this time had come for Fenitchka.
Every one in the house had grown used to him, to his careless manners, and his curt and abrupt speeches. Fenitchka, in particular, was so far at home with him that one night she sent to wake him up; Mitya had had convulsions; and he had gone, and, half joking, half-yawning as usual, he stayed two hours with her and relieved the child.
Five minutes passed; bustling and whispering could be heard in the next room. Pavel Petrovitch took up from the chest of drawers a greasy book, an odd volume of Masalsky's Musketeer, and turned over a few pages.... The door opened, and Fenitchka came in with Mitya in her arms.
Bazarov went on obstinately and grimly working ... and meanwhile there was in Nikolai Petrovitch's house one creature to whom, if he did not open his heart, he at least was glad to talk.... That creature was Fenitchka.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking