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Updated: June 13, 2025
Conquerors ought to look like eagles, while he's a pitiful figure, timid, crushed; he bows like a Chinese idol, and I, I am sad. . . ." They heard steps behind them. It was Laevsky, hurrying after them to see him off. The orderly was standing on the quay with the two portmanteaus, and at a little distance stood four boatmen. "There is a wind, though. . . . Brrr!" said Samoylenko.
Yes, I get into debt, I drink, I am living with another man's wife, I'm hysterical, I'm ordinary. I am not so profound as some people, but whose business is that? Respect other people's privacy." "Excuse me, brother," said Samoylenko, who had counted up to thirty-five, "but . . ." "Respect other people's individuality!" interrupted Laevsky.
"I will tell him about it to-day . . .", she used to decide, but at once reflected that in Laevsky's present mood it would hardly be convenient to talk to him of debts. Thirdly, she had on two occasions in Laevsky's absence received a visit from Kirilin, the police captain: once in the morning when Laevsky had gone to bathe, and another time at midnight when he was playing cards.
Looking at her in silence, Laevsky mentally asked her forgiveness, and thought that if the heavens were not empty and there really were a God, then He would save her; if there were no God, then she had better perish there was nothing for her to live for. All at once she jumped up, and sat up in bed. Lifting her pale face and looking with horror at Laevsky, she asked: "Is it you?
"I don't know the rules of duelling, damnation take them, and I don't want to either; perhaps he'll imagine Laevsky funks it and has sent me to him, but he can think what he likes I'll speak to him." Sheshkovsky hesitatingly walked up to Von Koren with a slight limp, as though his leg had gone to sleep; and as he went towards him, clearing his throat, his whole figure was a picture of indolence.
Laevsky drank a great deal and at unsuitable times; he played cards, despised his work, lived beyond his means, frequently made use of unseemly expressions in conversation, walked about the streets in his slippers, and quarrelled with Nadyezhda Fyodorovna before other people and Samoylenko did not like this.
And not the deacon, for he doesn't know I want to go away. Von Koren, perhaps?" The zoologist bent over the table and drew a pyramid. Laevsky fancied that his eyes were smiling. "Most likely Samoylenko . . . has been gossiping," thought Laevsky. In the other note, in the same disguised angular handwriting with long tails to the letters, was written: "Somebody won't go away on Saturday."
"The beauty of poetry and holiness of love are simply the roses under which they try to hide its rottenness. Romeo is just the same sort of animal as all the rest of us." "Whatever one talks to you about, you always bring it round to . . ." Von Koren glanced round at Katya and broke off. "What do I bring it round to?" asked Laevsky.
Laevsky grew pensive. Looking at his stooping figure, at his eyes fixed dreamily at one spot, at his pale, perspiring face and sunken temples, at his bitten nails, at the slipper which had dropped off his heel, displaying a badly darned sock, Samoylenko was moved to pity, and probably because Laevsky reminded him of a helpless child, he asked: "Is your mother living?"
"Never mind, never mind. . . ." It struck Laevsky as strange, too, that Atchmianov led him to a back entrance, and motioned to him as though bidding him go quietly and hold his tongue. "This way, this way . . ." said Atchmianov, cautiously opening the door and going into the passage on tiptoe. "Quietly, quietly, I beg you . . . they may hear."
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