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Updated: May 23, 2025
And joy gave way to the boredom of everyday life and the feeling of his irrevocable loss. SOFYA PETROVNA, the wife of Lubyantsev the notary, a handsome young woman of five-and-twenty, was walking slowly along a track that had been cleared in the wood, with Ilyin, a lawyer who was spending the summer in the neighbourhood. It was five o'clock in the evening.
Like all persons inexperienced in combating unpleasant ideas, Madame Lubyantsev did her utmost not to think of her trouble, and the harder she tried the more vividly Ilyin, the sand on his knees, the fluffy clouds, the train, stood out in her imagination. "And why did I go there this afternoon like a fool?" she thought, tormenting herself.
Madame Lubyantsev sat on the round stool before the piano, motionless, as though expecting something. And as though taking advantage of the darkness and her extreme lassitude, an oppressive, overpowering desire began to assail her.
Madame Lubyantsev listened to him and liked his conversation, though a great deal of it she did not understand. What gratified her most was that she, an ordinary woman, was talked to by a talented man on "intellectual" subjects; it afforded her great pleasure, too, to watch the working of his mobile, young face, which was still pale and angry.
In my letters I only ask you for a direct, definite answer yes or no; but instead of a direct answer, you contrive every day these 'chance' meetings with me and regale me with copy-book maxims!" Madame Lubyantsev was frightened and flushed. She suddenly felt the awkwardness which a decent woman feels when she is accidentally discovered undressed.
She caught herself indulging in this day-dream. "Listen. I won't go alone," she said. "You must come with me." "Nonsense, Sofotchka!" sighed Lubyantsev. "One must be sensible and not want the impossible." "You will come when you know all about it," thought Sofya Petrovna. Making up her mind to go at all costs, she felt that she was out of danger.
His face looked angry, ill-humoured, and preoccupied, like that of a man in pain forced to listen to nonsense. "I wonder you don't see it yourself," Madame Lubyantsev went on, shrugging her shoulders. "You ought to realize that it's not a very nice part you are playing. I am married; I love and respect my husband. . . . I have a daughter . . . . Can you think all that means nothing?
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