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Updated: June 7, 2025
"It is my isvostchik; but take him. I will pay you," said Nekhludoff, turning to the isvostchik. "Well, what are you waiting for?" shouted the officer. "Catch hold." The policeman, the porter, and the convoy soldier lifted the dying man and carried him to the trap, and put him on the seat. But he could not sit up; his head fell back, and the whole of his body glided off the seat.
The General put on his pince-nez and read, "Will know one another by light emanating from their astral bodies." "Ah," said the General, with approval, and closed his eyes. "But how is one to know if the light of all is alike?" he asked, and again crossed fingers with the artist on the saucer. The isvostchik drove Nekhludoff out of the gate. It is dull here, sir, he said, turning to Nekhludoff.
The hotel-keeper called an isvostchik, whose well-fed Kirghiz horse and vibrating trap soon brought Nekhludoff to the large porch of a big building, in front of which stood sentinels and a policeman. The house had a garden in front, and at the back, among the naked branches of aspen and birch trees, there grew thick and dark green pines and firs.
On the way to the Law Courts, passing along the same streets with the same isvostchik as the day before, he was surprised what a different being he felt himself to be. The marriage with Missy, which only yesterday seemed so probable, appeared quite impossible now.
The advocate was therefore surprised when Nekhludoff took an isvostchik before hearing the end of the story, said good-bye, and left him. Nekhludoff felt very sad.
He started walking still faster in order to pass the row of carts, when he heard himself called by name. He stopped and saw an officer with sharp pointed moustaches and shining face who sat in the trap of a swell isvostchik and waved his hand in a friendly manner, his smile disclosing unusually long, white teeth. "Nekhludoff! Can it be you?" Nekhludoff's first feeling was one of pleasure.
"Yes, it is a stupid house," he said, uttering his thought out aloud. "Why stupid?" replied the isvostchik, in an offended tone. "Thanks to it, the people get work; it's not stupid." "But the work is useless." "It can't be useless, or why should it be done?" said the isvostchik. "The people get bread by it."
Then, turning to an isvostchik, he called out, "To the Dvoryanskaya 30 copecks; I never give more." "All right, your honour; here you are." "Good-afternoon. If I can be of any use, my address is House Dvornikoff, on the Dvoryanskaya; it's easy to remember." And he bowed in a friendly manner as he got into the trap and drove off.
"Just look what they are doing," said the isvostchik, stopping his horse. Nekhludoff got down and, following the cart, again passed the sentinel and entered the gate of the police station.
"And tell the person who is waiting that I send thanks for the invitation, and shall try to come." "Yes, sir." "It is not very polite, but I can't write; no matter, I shall see her today," thought Nekhludoff, and went to get his overcoat. When he came out of the house, an isvostchik he knew, with india-rubber tires to his trap, was at the door waiting for him.
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