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Updated: June 29, 2025
You’d be glad to run away, Marya Kondratyevna.” “You don’t mean you would run away?” But Smerdyakov did not deign to reply. After a moment’s silence the guitar tinkled again, and he sang again in the same falsetto: Whatever you may say, I shall go far away. Life will be bright and gay In the city far away. I shall not grieve, I shall not grieve at all, I don’t intend to grieve at all.
The same, BOLSHÓV, and AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA. I'm coming, my dears, I'm coming! BOLSHÓV. Well, that's talking! Just the thing! I know what I'm doing; it's not for you to teach me. Let me kiss your hand! AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA. Kiss away, my dear; they're both clean. Ah, you blessed child, has it been long since you decided? Ah? Good heavens! What's this?
Your daddy has his eye peeled for a rich fellow; he tells me he'll be satisfied with any bell-boy provided he has money and asks a small enough settlement. And your mamma also, Agraféna Kondrátyevna, is always wanting her own taste suited; you must be sure to give her a merchant, with a decoration, who keeps horses, and who crosses himself in the old way . You also have your own notions.
I suppose you’ve forgotten to-day.” “Poetry is rubbish!” said Smerdyakov curtly. “Oh, no! I am very fond of poetry.” “So far as it’s poetry, it’s essential rubbish. Consider yourself, who ever talks in rhyme? And if we were all to talk in rhyme, even though it were decreed by government, we shouldn’t say much, should we? Poetry is no good, Marya Kondratyevna.” “How clever you are!
PODKHALYÚZIN. Well, no, ma'am; they won't let daddy out of the pen soon, either; most likely they ordered him to the meeting of the creditors, and then he got leave to come home. Mamma, ma'am! Agraféna Kondrátyevna! Daddy's coming, ma'am! The same, BOLSHÓV, and AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA. Where is he? Where is he? PODKHALYÚZIN. Daddy, how do you do, our respects!
LÍPOCHKA. Oh, stop it, mamma! You've mussed me all up! AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA. All right, then, I'll look at you from a distance. LÍPOCHKA. Look if you want to, only don't rave! Fudge, mamma, one can't dress up properly without your going off into a sentimental fit. AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA. So, so, my dear! But when I look at you, it seems such a pity. LÍPOCHKA. Why so? It had to come some time.
You and pa are only good for picking quarrels and tyrannizing! AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA. You can think what you please. The Lord is your judge! But nobody feels the anxiety for her child that the mother who bore her does! Here you're always posing and kicking up all kinds of nonsense, while your father and I worry day and night about how to find you a good man, and establish you quickly.
And I can't understand what in the world has caused this! FOMÍNISHNA. Lord! I'm past sixty, and how many weddings I've seen; but I've never seen anything so shameful as this. AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA. What do you mean, you murderers; do you want to dishonor the girl? BOLSHÓV. Yes, much I have to listen to your high-falutin' talk.
The same and USTÍNYA NAÚMOVNA Why do you have such a steep staircase, my jewels? You climb, and climb, and much as ever you get there! LÍPOCHKA. Oh, here she is! How are you, Ustinya Naúmovna? USTÍNYA NAÚMOVNA. Don't get in a hurry! There's people older than you. How did you feel when you got up? How did you pass the night? All alive, my precious? AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA. Thank the Lord!
AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA. Congratulate the bride and groom to be, Ustinya Naúmovna! God has brought us to a ripe old age; we have lived to see happiness! USTÍNYA NAÚMOVNA. What have I got to congratulate you with, my jewels? My mouth's too dry to sing your praises. BOLSHÓV. Well, now, we'll wet your whistle. The same, FOMÍNISHNA, and TISHKA, who is bringing wine on a tray.
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