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Updated: May 20, 2025
And Platosha made Kupfer welcome; it is true she thought him at times excessively unceremonious, but instinctively perceiving and realising that he was sincerely attached to her precious Yasha, she not only put up with the noisy guest, but felt kindly towards him.
It is only newspaper correspondents who attribute every such death to unhappy love! But life easily becomes repulsive to people with character, like Clara ... and tiresome. Yes, tiresome. Kupfer was right: living simply bored her. "In spite of her success, of her ovations?" Arátoff meditated. The psychological analysis to which he surrendered himself was even agreeable to him.
He had, in his own words, got on to the building of the Church of our Saviour, though, of course, he knew nothing whatever of architecture. Strange to say, this one solitary friend of Aratov's, by name Kupfer, a German, so far Russianised that he did not know one word of German, and even fell foul of 'the Germans, this friend had apparently nothing in common with him.
Kupfer, as was to be expected, was a visitor at her house, and became very intimate with her ... altogether too intimate, so malicious tongues asserted. But he always spoke of her not only in a friendly manner, but also with respect; he lauded her as a woman of gold interpret that as you please! and was a firm believer in her love for art, and in her comprehension of art!
'Wait till to-morrow. 'Has she black eyes? Aratov called after him. 'Black as coal! Kupfer shouted cheerily, as he vanished. Aratov went away to his room, while Platonida Ivanovna stood rooted to the spot, repeating in a whisper, 'Lord, succour us! Succour us, Lord! The big drawing-room in the private house in Ostozhonka was already half full of visitors when Aratov and Kupfer arrived.
And Platósha liked Kupfer; she sometimes thought him too unceremonious, it is true; but instinctively feeling and understanding that he was sincerely attached to her beloved Yásha, she not only tolerated the noisy visitor, but even felt a kindness for him.
But he was particularly struck by the impassiveness of that face, that forehead, those brows, and only when she uttered her passionate cry did he notice a row of white, closely-set teeth gleaming warmly from between her barely parted lips. Kupfer stepped up to him. "Well, brother, what dost thou think of her?" he asked, all beaming with satisfaction.
And behold one morning Kupfer stood before him once more, this time with a somewhat embarrassed countenance. 'I know, he began with a constrained smile, 'that your visit that time was not much to your taste; but I hope for all that you'll agree to my proposal ... that you won't refuse me my request! 'What is it? inquired Aratov.
Everything was said at last, and Kupfer ceased speaking, rewarding himself for his toil with a cigar. "But why did she poison herself?" asked Arátoff. "The newspaper stated...." Kupfer waved his hands. "Well.... That I cannot say.... I don't know. But the newspaper lies, Clara behaved in an exemplary manner ... she had no love-affairs.... And how could she, with her pride!
She must have grown tired of life," Kupfer philosophically wound up his remarks. Arátoff sat with drooping head. "Canst thou give me the address of that house in Kazán?" he said at last. "I can; but what dost thou want of it? Dost thou wish to send a letter thither?" "Perhaps so." "Well, as thou wilt. Only the old woman will not answer thee. Her sister might ... the clever sister!
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