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Updated: May 26, 2025
Pyotr Ilyitch seemed to hurry Misha off on purpose, because the boy remained standing with his mouth and eyes wide open, apparently understanding little of Mitya’s orders, gazing up with amazement and terror at his blood-stained face and the trembling bloodstained fingers that held the notes.
All the folk were hurrying along the road licking their lips, each one going faster than the other so as to be sure not to miss any of the good things. The rich brother from the town drove with his wife into the courtyard of the fine new house. And there on the steps was the peasant brother, Ivan Ilyitch, and his wife, receiving their guests.
"Osip Ilyitch told us not to go into his room!" said one of the little girls, sternly. But they had already led Anna Akimovna out of the kitchen, through a narrow passage room between two bedsteads: it was evident from the arrangement of the beds that in one two slept lengthwise, and in the other three slept across the bed. In the lodger's room, that came next, it really was clean.
“I saw one like it ... in the regiment ...” murmured Mitya dreamily, “only that one had its hind leg broken.... By the way, Pyotr Ilyitch, I wanted to ask you: have you ever stolen anything in your life?” “What a question!” “Oh, I didn’t mean anything. From somebody’s pocket, you know. I don’t mean government money, every one steals that, and no doubt you do, too....” “You go to the devil.”
She irritably declined to see him, however, though the unexpected visit at such an hour, of an “official living in the town,” who was a total stranger, roused her feminine curiosity intensely. But this time Pyotr Ilyitch was as obstinate as a mule.
They were the retired District Attorney Kerbakh and the retired Colonel Zherbenev, both large land-proprietors and patriots members of the Union of Russian People. Their speech was loud and vehement, and interpolated with such strange words and phrases as "treachery," "sedition," "hang them," "wipe them out," "give it to them." Nikolai Ilyitch Kerbakh was a small, thin, puny-looking man.
Ah, what a night of sorrow it was, and what a time of gloom, rain, and sleet! Next, I was returning home, but found myself unable to stand upon my feet. Then Emelia Ilyitch happened to come by. He also is a tchinovnik or rather, was a tchinovnik, since he was turned out of the service some time ago.
Fickle is the heart of woman Treacherous and full of vice; I agree with Ulysses. That’s what he says.” “I don’t understand you!” “Am I drunk?” “Not drunk, but worse.” “I’m drunk in spirit, Pyotr Ilyitch, drunk in spirit! But that’s enough!” “What are you doing, loading the pistol?” “I’m loading the pistol.”
“But listen!” Pyotr Ilyitch interrupted with some impatience. “I say, let him simply run and change the money and tell them not to close, and you go and tell them.... Give him your note. Be off, Misha! Put your best leg forward!”
No, wait a minute.... Are you thinking of putting that bullet in your brain, perhaps?” Pyotr Ilyitch asked uneasily. “I was fooling about the bullet! I want to live. I love life! You may be sure of that. I love golden-haired Phœbus and his warm light.... Dear Pyotr Ilyitch, do you know how to step aside?” “What do you mean by ‘stepping aside’?” “Making way.
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