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Updated: June 8, 2025
Well, I am a scoundrel." These tears and these words turned Groholsky's soul inside out. He would look timidly at Liza's pale face and wring his hands. "Go to bed, Ivan Petrovitch," he would say timidly. "I am going. . . . Come along, Mishutka. . . . The Lord be our judge!
And those few words he said not to Liza but to Groholsky . . . . With Liza he was silent and Groholsky's mind was at rest; but there is a Russian proverb which he would have done well to remember: "Don't fear the dog that barks, but fear the dog that's quiet. . . ." A fiendish proverb, but in practical life sometimes indispensable.
Just when the partridges, Groholsky's favorite dish, had been put on the table, Liza was suddenly overcome with confusion, and Groholsky began wiping his face with his dinner napkin. On the verandah of the villa opposite they saw Bugrov. He was standing with his arms leaning on the parapet, and staring straight at them, with his eyes starting out of his head.
"How do you know?" "He has gone away. . . ." Liza opened her eyes wide. . . . "He has gone away, gone to the Tchernigov province. I have given him my estate. . . ." Liza turned fearfully pale, and caught at Groholsky's shoulder to save herself from falling. "I saw him off at the steamer at three o'clock."
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