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There is nothing else for us, and no hope anywhere, unless..." "Unless what?" "Unless all these people with names are done away with," she finished, blinking and pursing up her lips. "It will be easier to call you Tekla, as you direct me," said Razumov, "if you consent to call me Kirylo, when we are talking like this quietly only you and me."
"As I've said all I could lay my hands on. The old boy'll think the end of the world has come." Razumov nodded from the couch, and contemplated the hare-brained fellow's gravity with a feeling of malicious pleasure. "I've made my little sacrifice," sighed mad Kostia. "And I've to thank you, Kirylo Sidorovitch, for the opportunity." "It has cost you something?" "Yes, it has.
The face of Peter Ivanovitch expressed a meditative seriousness. "You don't suppose, Kirylo Sidorovitch, that I have not heard of you from various points where you made yourself known on your way here? I have had letters." "Oh, we are great in talking about each other," interjected Razumov, who had listened with great attention.
Once a married professor he used to call upon formerly addressed him in passing: "How is it we never see you at our Wednesdays now, Kirylo Sidorovitch?" Razumov was conscious of meeting this advance with odious, muttering boorishness. The professor was obviously too astonished to be offended. All this was bad.
"What phrases he uses!" she exclaimed parenthetically. "Ah! Kirylo Sidorovitch, you like other men are fastidious, full of self-love and afraid of trifles. Moreover, you had no training. What you want is to be taken in hand by some woman. I am sorry I am not staying here a few days. I am going back to Zurich to-morrow, and shall take Yakovlitch with me most likely."
It directed the student Kirylo Sidorovitch Razumov to present himself without delay at the General Secretariat. Razumov had a vision of General T -'s goggle eyes waiting for him the embodied power of autocracy, grotesque and terrible. He embodied the whole power of autocracy because he was its guardian.
"Well, Kirylo Sidorovitch, we shall have to say good-bye, presently." In his incertitude of the ground on which he stood Razumov felt perturbed. Turning his head quickly, he saw two men on the opposite side of the road. Seeing themselves noticed by Sophia Antonovna, they crossed over at once, and passed one after another through the little gate by the side of the empty lodge.
"Very curious," she pronounced slowly. "And you did not think, Kirylo Sidorovitch, that he might perhaps wish to get in touch with you again?" Razumov discovered that he could not suppress the trembling of his lips. But he thought that he owed it to himself to speak. A negative sign would not do again. Speak he must, if only to get at the bottom of what that St.
He pounced upon Razumov about midday, somewhat less uproariously than his habit was, and led him aside. "Just a moment, Kirylo Sidorovitch. A few words here in this quiet corner." He felt Razumov's reluctance, and insinuated his hand under his arm caressingly. "No pray do. I don't want to talk to you about any of my silly scrapes. What are my scrapes? Absolutely nothing. Mere childishness.
"I won't even deny that it may have some importance for you too," he continued, after a slight pause and with a touch of grimness of which he was himself aware, with some annoyance. He hoped it had escaped the perception of Peter Ivanovitch. "But suppose we talk no more about it?" "Well, we shall not not after this one time, Kirylo Sidorovitch," persisted the noble arch-priest of Revolution.
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