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Updated: June 26, 2025
Andrey Ilyitch, languid with hunger and exhaustion, fell upon the sausage while waiting for the soup to be brought in, and ate it greedily, munching noisily and moving his temples. "My goodness!" thought Sofya Petrovna. "I love and respect him, but . . . why does he munch so repulsively?" The disorder in her thoughts was no less than the disorder in her feelings.
Again, I don't say that through any old-fashioned ideas; I don't in the least imagine that a man's wit lies in his feet, but Byronism is ridiculous, il a fait son temps. 'But, uncle, it's not through Byronism, I ... 'I will introduce you to the ladies here; I will take you under my wing, interrupted Matvy Ilyitch, and he laughed complacently. 'You'll find it warm, eh?
Pyotr Ilyitch was admitted into Fenya’s kitchen, but the girl begged him to allow the house-porter to be present, “because of her misgivings.” He began questioning her and at once learnt the most vital fact, that is, that when Dmitri Fyodorovitch had run out to look for Grushenka, he had snatched up a pestle from the mortar, and that when he returned, the pestle was not with him and his hands were smeared with blood.
“Tut—tut—tut! That’s it, is it? So you’re off there to make trouble!” muttered Pyotr Ilyitch. “Now, it’s all clear, as clear as daylight. Dmitri Fyodorovitch, give me your pistols at once if you mean to behave like a man,” he shouted aloud to Mitya. “Do you hear, Dmitri?” “The pistols?
Matvy Ilyitch used to speak with great respect of Guizot, and tried to impress every one with the idea that he did not belong to the class of routiniers and high-and-dry bureaucrats, that not a single phenomenon of social life passed unnoticed by him.... All such phrases were very familiar to him.
Meier, who had been sitting motionless and silent all the time, suddenly got up from the sofa and looked at his watch. "I beg your pardon, Pavel Ilyitch," he said, "it is time for me to be going." But Pavel Ilyitch, who had not finished his remarks, put his arm round him and, forcibly reseating him on the sofa, vowed that he would not let him go without supper.
I’m in love with young people! The younger generation are the one prop of our suffering country. Her one hope.... Oh, go, go!...” But Pyotr Ilyitch had already run away or she would not have let him go so soon. Yet Madame Hohlakov had made a rather agreeable impression on him, which had somewhat softened his anxiety at being drawn into such an unpleasant affair.
Misha ran in, post-haste, with a handful of notes in change, and reported that every one was in a bustle at the Plotnikovs’; “They’re carrying down the bottles, and the fish, and the tea; it will all be ready directly.” Mitya seized ten roubles and handed it to Pyotr Ilyitch, then tossed another ten-rouble note to Misha.
I’m delighted to think that you’re in the service here!” I’ve never given him money, never: That I swear by all that’s holy! “Here’s the note!” she turned quickly to Pyotr Ilyitch. “Go, save him. It’s a noble deed on your part!” And she made the sign of the cross three times over him. She ran out to accompany him to the passage. “How grateful I am to you!
"And am I really so weak that I cannot depend upon myself?" Fear magnifies danger. By the time Andrey Ilyitch was finishing the last course, she had firmly made up her mind to tell her husband everything and to flee from danger! "I've something serious to say to you, Andrey," she began after dinner while her husband was taking off his coat and boots to lie down for a nap. "Well?"
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