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Updated: June 20, 2025
The trunks and baskets despatched by Orlov were standing in the passage, and my poor little portmanteau was there beside them. "So . . ." Zinaida Fyodorovna began, but she did not finish. We were silent.
It was getting dark, and Olga lighted up in the kitchen. Still crying, Nadyezhda Fyodorovna went into the bedroom and lay down on the bed. She began to be very feverish. She undressed without getting up, crumpled up her clothes at her feet, and curled herself up under the bedclothes. She was thirsty, and there was no one to give her something to drink.
When Laptev and his wife, in a black dress with a long train, already looking not a girl but a married woman, said good-bye to Nina Fyodorovna, the invalid's face worked, but there was no tear in her dry eyes. She said: "If which God forbid I should die, take care of my little girls." "Oh, I promise!" answered Yulia Sergeyevna, and her lips and eyelids began quivering too.
"My dear," she cried enthusiastically, on seeing Nadyezhda Fyodorovna, assuming an expression which all her acquaintances called "almond-oily." "My dear, how delightful that you have come! We'll bathe together that's enchanting!" Olga quickly flung off her dress and chemise, and began undressing her mistress.
Both were out of breath, carrying two trunks and a dress-basket. "These are for Zinaida Fyodorovna," said the girl. And she went down without saying another word.
Nadyezhda Fyodorovna was in a light-hearted, mischievous mood; she wanted to skip and jump, to laugh, to shout, to tease, to flirt. In her cheap cotton dress with blue pansies on it, in her red shoes and the same straw hat, she seemed to herself, little, simple, light, ethereal as a butterfly.
If it succeeded well and good; if it did not, there would be no harm done he could tell some other lie just as quickly and simply, with no mental effort. At midnight when the people on the floor overhead were moving their chairs and shouting hurrah to welcome the New Year, Zinaida Fyodorovna rang for me from the room next to the study.
He had on one occasion accidently overheard Madame Shumihin, in the verandah, telling her cousin Anna Fyodorovna that his maman still tried to look young and got herself up, that she never paid her losses at cards, and had a partiality for other people's shoes and tobacco.
Atchmianov dropped behind and stopped, while Kirilin went up to Nadyezhda Fyodorovna. "Good-evening," he said, touching his cap. "Good-evening." "Yes!" said Kirilin, looking at the sky and pondering. "Why 'yes'?" asked Nadyezhda Fyodorovna after a brief pause, noticing that Atchmianov was watching them both.
I lay down for a nap after dinner and what do you think: though Katerina Ivanovna had quarrelled to the last degree with our landlady Amalia Fyodorovna only a week before, she could not resist then asking her in to coffee. For two hours they were sitting, whispering together.
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