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Updated: June 17, 2025
Once, when with obvious displeasure he asked me to lend him money the very next day he returned me the loan with ironical gratitude. During the whole winter my relations with Kolosov were utterly unchanged; I often compared myself with Gavrilov, and could not make out in what respect he was better than I.... But suddenly everything was changed.
I went into the passage, and had not yet had time to utter a single word when the door of the drawing-room flew open and Varia ran to meet me. 'At last, she said, in a quavering voice; 'where's Andrei Nikolaevitch? 'Kolosov has not come, I muttered with an effort. 'Not come! she repeated.
In general I must repeat that 'love' never once deprived me of sleep. I began to go pretty often to Ivan Semyonitch's. I used to see Kolosov as before, but neither he nor I ever referred to Varia. My relations with her were of a rather curious kind. She became attached to me with that sort of attachment which excludes every possibility of love.
I listened in silence to her confessions; my soul was slowly filled with a bitter, torturing bliss; I could not take my eyes off that pale face, those long, wet eyelashes, and half-parted, rather parched lips.... And meanwhile I felt ... Would you care to hear a slight psychological analysis of my emotions at that moment? in the first place I was tortured by the thought that it was not I that was loved, not I that as making Varia suffer: secondly, I was delighted at her confidence; I knew she would be grateful to me for giving her an opportunity of expressing her sorrow: thirdly, I was inwardly vowing to myself to bring Kolosov and Varia together again, and was deriving consolation from the consciousness of my magnanimity ... in the fourth place, I hoped, by my self-sacrifice, to touch Varia's heart; and then ... You see I do not spare myself; no, thank God! it's high time!
It was not simple curiosity that disturbed me. I longed to become the friend, the attendant squire of Kolosov; I was jealous of Gavrilov; I envied him; I could never find an explanation to satisfy me of Kolosov's strange absences.
'What was the fat pig laughing at? I wondered. Matrona Semyonovna came into the room with a stocking in her hands and sat down in the window. I began talking to her. Meanwhile tea was brought in. Varia came downstairs, pale and sorrowful. The retired lieutenant made jokes about Kolosov.
Her lips were slightly parted, her head bent a little forward, a faint colour kept flitting across her whole face; from time to time she sighed deeply, suddenly dropped her eyes, and softly laughed to herself.... I rejoiced for Kolosov.... But at the same time, deuce take it, I was envious....
He gave his hand to Bobov in a friendly way, and greeted me affably. I looked at Kolosov and at once felt irresistibly drawn to him. Gentlemen! Bobov was right: Kolosov really was a remarkable person. Let me describe a little more in detail.... He was rather tall, slender, graceful, and exceedingly good-looking. His face...I find it very difficult to describe his face.
'Of course, of course. ... 'Your humble servant! thought I.... On the way home, I heard the following story. Six months before, Kolosov had become acquainted with Mr. Sidorenko in a rather queer way. One rainy evening, Kolosov was returning home from shooting, and had reached the gate of the city, when suddenly, at no great distance from the highroad, he heard groans, interspersed with curses.
She could not help noticing my warm sympathy, and talked eagerly with me ... of what, do you suppose?... of Kolosov, nothing but Kolosov! The man had taken such possession of her that she did not, as it were, belong to herself. I tried in vain to arouse her pride ... she was either silent or, if she talked chattered on about Kolosov.
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