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Updated: June 19, 2025
Several times Semyon and I lost each other, in spite of the fact that we kept calling to each other and hallooing and at frequent intervals shouted I: "Tyeglev! Ilya Stepanitch!" and Semyon: "Mr. Tyeglev! Your honour!" The fog so bewildered us that we wandered about as though in a dream; soon we were both hoarse; the fog penetrated right into one's chest.
I went to bed rather early. I was awakened by a knocking under the window. It was my turn to be startled! The knock was repeated and so insistently distinct that one could have no doubt of its reality. I got up, opened the window and saw Tyeglev. Wrapped in his great-coat, with his cap pulled over his eyes, he stood motionless. "Ilya Stepanitch!" I cried, "is that you? I gave up expecting you.
Raskolnikov refused the water with his hand, and softly and brokenly, but distinctly said: "It was I killed the old pawnbroker woman and her sister Lizaveta with an axe and robbed them." Ilya Petrovitch opened his mouth. People ran up on all sides. Raskolnikov repeated his statement. Siberia.
"I was called!" he brought out at last in a low voice and turned away his face. "You were called? Who called you?" "Someone...." Tyeglev still looked away. "A woman whom I had hitherto only believed to be dead ... but now I know it for certain." "I swear, Ilya Stepanitch," I cried, "this is all your imagination!" "Imagination?" he repeated. "Would you like to hear it for yourself?" "Yes."
The moon stood, a pale blur in the sky but its light was not, as on the evening before, strong enough to penetrate the smoky density of the fog and hung, a broad opaque canopy, overhead. I made my way out on to the open ground and listened.... Not a sound from any direction, except the calling of the marsh birds. "Tyeglev!" I cried. "Ilya Stepanitch!! Tyeglev!!"
It was at first impossible to enter the drawing-room door for the crowd of members and guests jostling one another and trying to get a good look at Bagration over each other's shoulders, as if he were some rare animal. Count Ilya Rostov, laughing and repeating the words, "Make way, dear boy!
He went to balls and into ladies' society with an affectation of doing so against his will. The races, the English Club, sprees with Denisov, and visits to a certain house that was another matter and quite the thing for a dashing young hussar! At the beginning of March, old Count Ilya Rostov was very busy arranging a dinner in honor of Prince Bagration at the English Club.
Napoleon died on May Ilya Tyeglev died on 5th, 1825. April 21st, 1834. 1825 1834 5 21 5* 7+ Total 1835 Total 1862 * May the 5th month + July the 7th month of the year. of the year. 1 1 8 8 3 6 5 23 Total 17! Total 17! Poor fellow! Was not this perhaps why he became an artillery officer? As a suicide he was buried outside the cemetery and he was immediately forgotten. "What Ilya?" I asked.
I perfectly agree with you. But allow me to explain..." Raskolnikov put in again, still addressing Nikodim Fomitch, but trying his best to address Ilya Petrovitch also, though the latter persistently appeared to be rummaging among his papers and to be contemptuously oblivious of him.
A hard, icy stillness pervaded the entire place. Ilya Ippolytovich was stout like his father, but he still walked erect. His hair was already thinning and growing grey over the temples, but his face was clean-shaven, like a youth's. His lips were wrinkled and he had large, grey, weary eyes.
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