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Updated: May 3, 2025
By the way," he added, turning to his wife, "il parait qu'il sont maries." "Who said so? That same gentleman?" Valentina Mihailovna looked at Paklin again, this time with half-closed eyes. "Yes." "In that case," Kollomietzev put in, "he must know where they are. Do you know where they are? Do you know? Eh? Do you know?"
"What a pig this Kollomietzev is!" he exclaimed suddenly. "At dinner I could scarcely keep from rushing at him and smashing his impudent face as a warning to others. But no, there are more important things to be done just now. There is no time to waste getting angry with fools for saying stupid things. The time has now come to prevent them doing stupid things."
Kollomietzev gave vent to the most retrograde opinions, going so far as to propose, in jest it is true, a toast given by a certain friend of his on a names-day banquet, "I drink to the only principle I acknowledge, the whip and Roedeger!" Valentina Mihailovna frowned, and remarked that it was de tres mauvais gout.
Besides, how can you get a school together in the summer?" Mariana blushed deeply all the time she was speaking, as if it cost her some effort. She was still very self-conscious. "Are you not sufficiently prepared?" Valentina Mihailovna asked sarcastically. "Perhaps not." "Heavens!" Kollomietzev exclaimed. "What do I hear? Oh ye gods! Is preparation necessary to teach peasants the alphabet?"
Boris Andraevitch asked, screwing up his handsome nose; "what did you say the gentleman's name was?" "Mr. Paklin, sir." "Paklin!" Kollomietzev exclaimed; "a real country name. Paklin. .. Solomin... De vrais noms ruraux, hein?" "Did you say," Boris Andraevitch continued, still turned towards the footman with his nose screwed up, "that the business was an urgent one?" "The gentleman said so, sir."
'The Russian Messenger', too, has also gone off a bit," using a colloquial expression. Kollomietzev laughed. It amused him to have said "gone off a bit." "Mais c'est un journal qui se respecte," he continued, "and that is the main thing. I am sorry to say that I interest myself very little in Russian literature nowadays. It has grown so horribly vulgar. A cook is now made the heroine of a novel.
"It's impossible to arrest her in any case," Sipiagin remarked thoughtfully; "perhaps she will think better of it and return. I'll write her a note, if I may." "Do please. You may be quite sure... nous offrerons le quidam ... mais nous sommes galants avec les dames et avec celle-la donc!" "But you've made no arrangements about this Solomin," Kollomietzev exclaimed plaintively.
From the languid, though free and easy, way in which Simion Petrovitch Kollomietzev, a young man of thirty-two, entered the room; from the way in which he brightened suddenly, bowed slightly to one side, and drew himself up again gracefully; from the manner in which he spoke, not too harshly, nor too gently; from the respectful way in which he kissed Valentina Mihailovna's hand, one could see that the new-comer was not a mere provincial, an ordinary rich country neighbour, but a St.
"Do you really intend going to town, Boris?" Valentina Mihailovna asked. "I feel absolutely certain," Kollomietzev continued, "that that tutor, Mr. Nejdanov, is mixed up in this. J'en mettrais ma main au feu. It's all one gang! Haven't they seized him? Don't you know?" Sipiagin waved his wrist again. "I don't know and don't want to know!
"Heaven, I was unjust to myself," Valentina Mihailovna interrupted him; "I am also interested in these questions. I am not quite an old lady yet." "Of course. So am I in a way," Kollomietzev put in hastily. "Only I would forbid such things being talked about!" "Forbid them being talked about?" Mariana asked in astonishment. "Yes!
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