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Updated: June 7, 2025
We are standing face to face you may judge us with all the severity of a man whom we . . . whom fate has robbed of happiness!" Bugrov turned as red as a boiled crab, and looked out of one eye at Liza. He began blinking. His fingers, his lips, and his eyelids twitched. Poor fellow! The eyes of his weeping wife told him that Groholsky was right, that it was a serious matter. "Well!" he muttered.
They will see you . . . I am not disposed to talk to him just now . . . God be with him! Why trouble his peace?" But the dinner did not pass off so quietly. During dinner precisely that "awkward position" which Groholsky so dreaded occurred.
She cannot endure him. . . ." "You are a rag," I could not refrain from saying to Groholsky. "Yes, I am a man of weak character. . . . That is quite true. I was born so. Do you know how I came into the world? My late papa cruelly oppressed a certain little clerk it was awful how he treated him! He poisoned his life. Well . . . and my late mama was tender-hearted.
Spiridon Nikolaitch sang well and recited poetry. Here she had not a table set with lunch for visitors. She had not Gerasimovna, the old nurse who used to be continually grumbling at her for eating too much jam. . . . She had no one! There was simply nothing for her but to lie down and die of depression. Groholsky rejoiced in his solitude, but . . . he was wrong to rejoice in it.
"Yes. . . . It was slow. I saw you too. . ." Groholsky accidentally glanced at Bugrov. . . . He caught the shifting eyes of the deceived husband and could not bear it. He got up quickly, quickly seized Bugrov's hand, shook it, picked up his hat, and walked towards the door, conscious of his own back. He felt as though thousands of eyes were looking at his back.
The operation was repeated some six times, the ladies were so amiable as to show no embarrassment whatever when the boisterous wind disposed of their inflated skirts as it willed while they were being lifted. Groholsky dropped his eyes in a shamefaced way when the ladies flung their legs over the parapet as they reached the verandah. But Liza watched and laughed! What did she care?
After kissing Liza at parting, and going out at the garden gate, Bugrov came upon Groholsky, who was standing at the gate waiting for him. "Ivan Petrovitch," said Groholsky in the tone of a dying man, "I have seen and heard it all. . . It's not honourable on your part, but I do not blame you. . . . You love her too, but you must understand that she is mine. Mine! I cannot live without her!
This farce cannot drag on much longer! It must be settled somehow." Groholsky drew a breath and went on: "I cannot live without her; she feels the same. You are an educated man, you will understand that in such circumstances your family life is impossible.
"How are you?" the husband brought out in a faint husky, almost inaudible voice, and he sat down opposite Groholsky, straightening his collar at the back of his neck. Again, an agonising silence followed . . . but that silence was no longer so stupid. . . . The first step, most difficult and colourless, was over.
After lifting up both ladies on to the verandah, he lifted up Mishutka too. The ladies ran down and the proceedings were repeated. "Powerful muscles, I must say," muttered Groholsky looking at this scene.
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