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Updated: June 18, 2025
Anton Prokofievitch raised such a yell, no one could scream louder than he, that not only did the well-known woman and the occupant of the endless coat rush out to meet him, but even the small boys from Ivan Ivanovitch's yard. But although the dogs succeeded in tasting only one of his calves, this sensibility diminished his courage, and he entered the porch with a certain amount of timidity.
'Darya always leaves it about somewhere, said Anna Vassilyevna, and she walked away with a rustle of silk skirts. Shubin was about to follow her, but he stopped on hearing Uvar Ivanovitch's drawling voice behind him. 'I would... have given it you... young puppy, the retired cornet brought out in gasps. Shubin went up to him. 'And what have I done, then, most venerable Uvar Ivanovitch?
"Where are the children?" said André Olsheffsky, brokenly. "Perhaps they're dead, too?" "Oh, the children are all well, Barin! They are at Volodia Ivanovitch's." "Drive me there, then," said Mr. Olsheffsky; and the sledge dashed off with a peal of its bells, and drew up with a flourish in front of Volodia's doorway.
But at that instant a nobleman of Sergey Ivanovitch's party said that he had heard that the committee had not verified the accounts, considering such a verification an insult to the marshal of the province. One of the members of the committee incautiously admitted this.
Casting over the subjects of conversation that would be pleasant to Sergey Ivanovitch, and would keep him off the subject of the Servian war and the Slavonic question, at which he had hinted by the allusion to what he had to do in Moscow, Levin began to talk of Sergey Ivanovitch's book. "Well, have there been reviews of your book?" he asked.
The handsome old man, with black grizzled beard and thick silvery hair, stood motionless, holding a cup of honey, looking down from the height of his tall figure with friendly serenity at the gentlefolk, obviously understanding nothing of their conversation and not caring to understand it. "That's so, no doubt," he said, with a significant shake of his head at Sergey Ivanovitch's words.
Sergey Ivanovitch's position was still more difficult from the fact that, since he had finished his book, he had had no more literary work to do, such as had hitherto occupied the greater part of his time. Sergey Ivanovitch was clever, cultivated, healthy, and energetic, and he did not know what use to make of his energy.
First Shubin exploded, shrieking as if he were mad, Bersenyev followed with his gurgling guffaw, then Zoya fell into thin tinkling little trills, Anna Vassilyevna too suddenly broke down, Elena could not help smiling, and even Insarov at last could not resist it. But the loudest, longest, most persistent laugh was Uvar Ivanovitch's; he laughed till his sides ached, till he choked and panted.
"Permit me to observe, in a friendly manner, Ivan Ivanovitch," here Ivan Nikiforovitch touched Ivan Ivanovitch's button with his finger, which clearly indicated the disposition of his mind, "that you took offence, the deuce only knows at what, because I called you a 'goose' "
Volodia Ivanovitch's house stood close to the village street, so that as Elena looked from her windows she could see the long stretch of white road the snow piled up in great walls on either side the two rows of straggling, half-finished log huts, ending with the ruined Church, and the new posting-house.
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