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Updated: May 12, 2025
My good woman my wife, that is has no nonsense about her either; she'll cook and bake you... something wonderful! Alexander Daviditch, isn't it the truth I'm telling? Fustov only smiled, and I remained silent. 'Don't look down on the old fellow, but come round, pursued Mr. Ratsch. I've another chick expecting me.... Devil knows what I'm teaching him,... mythology, by God!
Give us a cigar. He walked right across the room, listlessly dragging his feet, and keeping his hands in his trouser-pockets, and sank heavily upon the sofa. 'Have you caught cold? asked Fustov, and he introduced us to each other. We were both students, but were in different faculties. 'No!... Likely! Yes' he lighted a cigar and cleared his throat 'Obihodov's farewell supper.
Only think, imagine, to make up her mind to come to me... what it must have cost her.... 'She's a little high-flown, observed Fustov, who had apparently regained his self-possession completely. 'All girls are like that... at first. I repeat, everything will be all right to-morrow. Meanwhile, good-bye. I'm tired, and you're sleepy too. He took his cap, and went out of the room.
Susanna's image rose before me; once more I seemed to see the frozen window in my room; I recalled that evening and the blustering snowstorm, and those words, those sobs.... I began to ponder how it was possible to explain Susanna's love for Fustov, and why she had so quickly, so impulsively given way to despair, as soon as she saw herself forsaken.
I had a cousin who from epilepsy was sinking into idiocy.... Fustov looked like him at that moment. I sat up hurriedly. 'What is it? What is the matter? Heavens! He made no answer. 'Why, what has happened? Fustov! Do speak! Susanna?... Fustov gave a slight start. 'She... he began in a hoarse voice, and broke off. 'What of her? Have you seen her? He stared at me. 'She's no more. 'No more?
'Alexander! I began with sudden intensity, 'I beg you, I implore you, go at once to the Ratsches', don't put it off till to-morrow! An inner voice tells me that you really ought to see Susanna to-day! Fustov shrugged his shoulders. 'What are you talking about, really! It's eleven o'clock now, most likely they're all in bed. 'No matter.... Do go, for goodness' sake!
All the following day was spent in anxious expectation of Fustov's coming, of a letter from him, of news from the Ratsches' house... though on what ground could they have sent to me? Susanna would be more likely to expect me to visit her.... But I positively could not pluck up courage to see her without first talking to Fustov.
I looked at Fustov, as though wishing finally to arrive at what induced him to visit such people... but at that instant there came into the room a tall girl in a black dress, the elder daughter of Mr. Ratsch, to whom Fustov had referred.... I perceived the explanation of my friend's frequent visits.
I fancied Fustov bent lower over his lathe, and the wheel turned more rapidly, and hummed under the even strokes of his feet. 'Is she good-looking? 'That's a matter of taste. She has a remarkable face, and she's altogether... a remarkable person. 'Aha! thought I. Fustov continued his work with special earnestness, and to my next question he only responded by a grunt.
As far as I could judge, my friend was not indifferent to Susanna. But she? Did she care for him? Why did she seem so unhappy? And altogether, what sort of creature was she? These questions were continually recurring to my mind. An obscure but strong conviction told me that it would be no use to apply to Fustov for the solution of them. It ended in my setting off the next day alone to Mr.
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