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Updated: May 3, 2025
She was a short, thick, shapeless woman with a large yellow face wrapped up everlastingly in a black woollen shawl. When she saw him come up the last flight of stairs she flung both her arms up excitedly, then clasped her hands before her face. "Kirylo Sidorovitch little father what have you been doing? And such a quiet young man, too!
"But, my dear young friend!" he cried. "My dear Kirylo Sidorovitch...." Razumov shook his head. "The very patronymic you are so civil as to use when addressing me I have no legal right to but what of that? I don't wish to claim it. I have no father. So much the better. But I will tell you what: my mother's grandfather was a peasant a serf. See how much I am one of you.
To begin with I wish to disclaim the possession of those high gifts of imagination and expression which would have enabled my pen to create for the reader the personality of the man who called himself, after the Russian custom, Cyril son of Isidor Kirylo Sidorovitch Razumov.
Am I going mad?" he asked himself in a fright. The great man was heard musing in an undertone. "H'm, yes! That no doubt in a certain sense...." He raised his voice. "There is a deal of pride about you...." The intonation of Peter Ivanovitch took on a homely, familiar ring, acknowledging, in a way, Razumov's claim to peasant descent. "A great deal of pride, brother Kirylo.
The sentiment of his life being utterly ruined by this contact with such a crime expressed itself quaintly by a sort of half-derisive mental exclamation, "There goes my silver medal!" Haldin continued after waiting a while "You say nothing, Kirylo Sidorovitch! I understand your silence. To be sure, I cannot expect you with your frigid English manner to embrace me. But never mind your manners.
For God's sake, Kirylo, my soul, the police may be here any moment, and when they get you they'll immure you somewhere for ages till your hair turns grey. I have down there the best trotter of dad's stables and a light sledge. We shall do thirty miles before the moon sets, and find some roadside station...." Razumov looked up amazed. The journey was decided unavoidable.
Why should I have asked for more? What could he have told me that I did not know already from my brother's letter? Three lines! And how much they meant to me! I will show them to you one day, Kirylo Sidorovitch. But now I must go. The first talk between us cannot be a matter of five minutes, so we had better not begin...." I had been standing a little aside, seeing them both in profile.
I won't stop a minute; but you see I, that is, we anyway, I have undertaken the duty to warn you, Kirylo Sidorovitch, that you are living in false security maybe." Razumov sat still with his head leaning on his hand, which nearly concealed the unshaded eye. "I have that idea, too." "That's all right, then. Everything seems quiet now, but those people are preparing some move of general repression.
Razumov felt flattered and began to murmur shyly something about being very glad of his good opinion, when Haldin raised his hand. "That is what I was saying to myself," he continued, "as I dodged in the woodyard down by the river-side. 'He has a strong character this young man, I said to myself. 'He does not throw his soul to the winds. Your reserve has always fascinated me, Kirylo Sidorovitch.
The terrors of remorse, revenge, confession, anger, hate, fear, are like nothing to the atrocious temptation which you put in my way the day you appeared before me with your voice, with your face, in the garden of that accursed villa." She looked utterly bewildered for a moment; then, with a sort of despairing insight went straight to the point. "The story, Kirylo Sidorovitch, the story!"
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