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Updated: May 18, 2025
"Yes, bring them through the dark passage, underground." Kirsha went out. Trirodov was left alone. He opened the drawer of his writing-table, took out a strangely shaped flagon of green glass filled with a dark fluid, and looked in the direction of the secret door. At that instant it opened quietly and easily.
No one seemed to care to continue the subject further, but at this moment, quite unexpectedly to all, Kirsha entered into the conversation. He went up to his father and said in a quiet but audible voice: "He purposely came late, while I slept, so that I shouldn't see him. But I remember him. When I was very little he used to show me dreadful tricks. I don't remember them now.
And these beautiful flights of fire in the darkness gave joy and sadness. Kirsha, silent as always, came to his father. He placed himself at the window and looked out with his dark, sad eyes upon the distant fires of St. John's Eve. Trirodov went up to him. Kirsha turned quietly towards his father: "This will be a terrible night." Trirodov answered as quietly: "There will be nothing terrible.
And Kirsha asked: "Are you going?" "I am going," said Trirodov after a brief silence. "I am going with you," said Kirsha resolutely. "You had better not go, dear Kirsha," said his father tenderly. But Kirsha persistently repeated: "I will spend this night with you there, at the Navii footpath. I will see and I will hear. I will look into dead eyes."
Kirsha quietly walked up to him, stepping softly upon the white, warm floor with his sunburnt graceful feet, high in instep, and with long, beautiful, well-formed toes. He touched his father on the shoulder, quietly rested his sunburnt hand there, and said: "You know, daddy, that I seldom do this, only when I must. I felt very much troubled to-day. I knew that something would happen."
There, near the hollow, by the spring." Elisaveta's blue eyes appeared to him suddenly as in a flame. Where was she? Was she in a difficulty? And his heart fell into the dark abyss of fear. Kirsha made haste. He almost cried in his agitation. They went on horseback. They whipped up their horses. They feared they might be too late. Again the quiet, dark, intensely pensive wood.
"They might have waited until their elders brought them here." Kirsha smiled, sighed lightly, and said thoughtfully, shrugging his small shoulders: "All women are curious. What's to be done with them?" Smiling now joyously, now gravely, Trirodov asked: "And will mother not come to us?" "Oh, if she only came, if only for one little minute!" exclaimed Kirsha.
She seems in every way phlegmatic, yet she tries to appear animated. Her words come rather easily sometimes, and she exaggerates." It was quiet in the garden behind the stone wall. This was Kirsha's free hour. But he could not play, though he tried to. Little Kirsha, Trirodov's son, whose mother had died not long before, was dark and thin. He had a very mobile face and restless dark eyes.
An intimacy sprang up between the Rameyevs and Trirodov that is, to the extent that Trirodov's unsociableness and love of a solitary life permitted him to become intimate. It once happened that Trirodov took Kirsha with him to the Rameyevs and remained to dinner. Several other close acquaintances of the Rameyevs came to dinner.
But, dear Kirsha, you are very inquisitive you look in everywhere, even where you shouldn't." "My eyes see, and my ears hear," replied Kirsha, "is that my fault?" In the pleasant, well-appointed drawing-room of the Svetilovitches, in the lifeless light of three electric globes with lustrous bronze fittings, the green-blue upholsterings of the Empire furniture seemed illusively beautiful.
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