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Updated: May 3, 2025
There were so many conflicting thoughts and sensations crowding in upon him that he did not attempt to disentangle them, and put them off for another day. Kollomietzev had made one of the guests at dinner. Never before had this worthy shown so much insolence and snobbish contemptuousness as on this occasion, but Nejdanov simply ignored him.
Standing before the looking-glass in a snow-white shirt and blue silk braces, Sipiagin was brushing his hair in the English fashion with two brushes, while Valentina Mihailovna, her feet tucked under her, was sitting on a narrow Turkish couch, telling him various news about the house, the paper mill, which, alas, was not going well, as was to be expected; about the possibilities of changing the cook, about the church, of which the plaster had come off; about Mariana, Kollomietzev...
Sipiagin and Kollomietzev lit up cigars. Sipiagin offered Nejdanov a regalia, but the latter refused. "Why, of course!" Sipiagin exclaimed; "I've forgotten that you only smoke your own particular cigarettes! "A curious taste!" Kollomietzev muttered between his teeth.
Out of consideration for her years, Sipiagin gave her his hand to kiss. He then begged Kollomietzev to excuse him, and retired to his own room accompanied by his wife. The room into which the servant conducted Nejdanov was beautifully neat and spacious, with wide-open windows looking on to the garden.
However, they were set on edge again at dinner, although Kollomietzev was not present, and the kind attention of host and hostess remained unchanged; but it was this very attention that made Nejdanov angry. To make matters worse, the old maiden lady, Anna Zaharovna, was obviously antagonistic, Mariana continued serious, and Kolia rather unceremoniously kicked him under the table.
"Only think, mon cher ami, the peasants nearly killed him. They tied his hands behind him, flung him in a cart, and brought him here! And he's not in the least bit angry or indignant with them you know! He was so calm altogether that I was amazed! But you will see for yourself. C'est un fanatique tranquille." "Ce sont les pires," Kollomietzev remarked sarcastically.
I believe in instinct above everything." Here Kollomietzev related how he had once caught an old sectarian by the heel somewhere near Moscow, on whom he had looked in, accompanied by the police, and who nearly jumped out of his cottage window. "He was sitting quite quietly on his bench until that moment, the blackguard!"
"I am sorry, Valentina Mihailovna," Mariana said, drawing near to her, "I was busy and could not get away." She bowed to Kollomietzev and withdrew into a corner, where she sat down on a little stool near the parrot, who began flapping its wings as soon as it caught sight of her. "Why so far away, Mariana?" Valentina Mihailovna asked, looking after her. "Do you want to be near your little friend?
Of course it's Mariana...She likes him... and he " "Something must be done." Thus she concluded her reflections, while Kollomietzev was choking with indignation. Even when playing preference two hours later, he pronounced the word "Pass!" or "I buy!" with an aching heart. A hoarse tremulo of wounded pride could be detected in his voice, although he pretended to scorn such things!
Sipiagin's wish, then please order me to be taken back again. We cannot understand one another. All he says is so much Greek to me." "Greek, eh!" Kollomietzev shrieked. "And to set peasants rioting, is that Greek too? Is that Greek too, eh? "What have you here, your excellency? A landowner of the secret police? And how zealous he is!"
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