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Updated: June 24, 2025
You are like Fyodor Pavlovitch, you are more like him than any of his children; you’ve the same soul as he had.” “You are not a fool,” said Ivan, seeming struck. The blood rushed to his face. “You are serious now!” he observed, looking suddenly at Smerdyakov with a different expression. “It was your pride made you think I was a fool. Take the money.”
“But time passed, and Fyodor Pavlovitch did not give the prisoner the expected three thousand; on the contrary, the latter heard that he meant to use this sum to seduce the woman he, the prisoner, loved. ‘If Fyodor Pavlovitch doesn’t give the money,’ he thought, ‘I shall be put in the position of a thief before Katerina Ivanovna.’ And then the idea presented itself to him that he would go to Katerina Ivanovna, lay before her the fifteen hundred roubles he still carried round his neck, and say, ‘I am a scoundrel, but not a thief.’ So here we have already a twofold reason why he should guard that sum of money as the apple of his eye, why he shouldn’t unpick the little bag, and spend it a hundred at a time.
And can the Lord of Heaven and earth tell a lie, even in one word?” Grigory was thunderstruck and looked at the orator, his eyes nearly starting out of his head. Though he did not clearly understand what was said, he had caught something in this rigmarole, and stood, looking like a man who has just hit his head against a wall. Fyodor Pavlovitch emptied his glass and went off into his shrill laugh.
This new pursuit caused him many disappointments, and he had actually grown thinner. Before evening tea Fyodor arrived. Sitting in a corner in the study, he opened a book and stared for a long time at a page, obviously not reading. Then he spent a long time drinking tea; his face turned red. In his presence Laptev felt a load on his heart; even his silence was irksome to him.
To all you say I can make only one reply: the management of the factory will not be forgetful of what it owes to Fyodor Lukitch! . . ." All were silent. Sysoev raised his eyes to the German's rosy face. "We know how to appreciate it," Bruni went on, dropping his voice.
Don’t dare in my presence to asperse the good name of an honorable girl! That you should utter a word about her is an outrage, and I won’t permit it!” He was breathless. “Mitya! Mitya!” cried Fyodor Pavlovitch hysterically, squeezing out a tear. “And is your father’s blessing nothing to you? If I curse you, what then?” “Shameless hypocrite!” exclaimed Dmitri furiously.
Auntie walked about round his feet, and not understanding why she was wretched and why they were all so uneasy, and trying to understand, watched every movement he made. Fyodor Timofeyitch, who rarely left his little mattress, came into the master's bedroom too, and began rubbing himself against his feet.
"What good news have you?" asked his Reverence. "What good news?" answered the deacon, and after a pause he went on with a smile: "When your children are little, your trouble is small; when your children are big, your trouble is great. Such goings on, Father Fyodor, that I don't know what to think of it. It's a regular farce, that's what it is."
But as you please—” the monk hesitated. “Impertinent old man!” Miüsov observed aloud, while Maximov ran back to the monastery. “He’s like von Sohn,” Fyodor Pavlovitch said suddenly. “Is that all you can think of?... In what way is he like von Sohn? Have you ever seen von Sohn?” “I’ve seen his portrait. It’s not the features, but something indefinable. He’s a second von Sohn.
He stole fifteen hundred, went at once to have his hair curled, and then, without even hiding the money, carrying it almost in his hand in the same way, he went off to the girls.” All were delayed, however, by the inquiry, the search, and the formalities, etc., in the house of Fyodor Pavlovitch.
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