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Updated: June 15, 2025
The cough woke me, but that is well, for I had a dreadful dream. I dreamed that papa and mamma " She stopped suddenly, and, though no one was looking at her, she hid her delicate face in the blue coverlet. So only in a whisper did she tell the end of her dream: "They were angry at each other so awfully angry Ira put her arms around mamma Maryan went away hissing.
In this case Maryan, without knowing why, did not applaud his friend. "C'est crane, mais trop cochon," judged he, and he pouted a little at the baron, but looked with curiosity at his sister, also present in the theatre. Irene sat in her box as usual, calm and full of distinction, a little formal, never charmed with anything, or laughing at anything.
But previously the door was opened, and the white chamber was half filled with the highest of the most brilliant society in that city, showing signs of profound respect and sympathy. Prince Zeno escorted Malvina Darvid, who was all in tears and black crape. Maryan brought in the princess.
On these two general attention was concentrated with the greatest curiosity; for during that winter and the preceding one the most numerous anecdotes touching them were in circulation among those who frequented that theatre. They were so young, and still so noted! But Baron Emil was considerably older than Maryan; he was thirty and little favored in looks.
This was an answer thoroughly unexpected, but the impression which it might have made was hindered at once by Irene through a laugh and an exclamation too loud, perhaps: "See where pessimism is going to fix itself! Is Puffie sick?" "Cara's remark is precocious but pointed," said Maryan, with the edges of his lips. Malvina, too, began to speak.
Dropping his hand with the opera-glass the baron turned to Maryan: "Tres garconniere ta soeur!" said he. "She is bold and looks down on every thing; she is disenchanted. Une desabusee! Very interesting, and grows more and more so." "Does she rouse a new shiver in you?" laughed Maryan. "Yes, an entirely new shiver. That is a type of woman which is barely beginning.
While explaining his idea and the plan of operations which had come to his head long before, and drawing from the glass excellent liquid, the baron became animated, grew young, his little eyes under their ruddy brows gleamed sharply. And even Maryan said all at once in grumbling tones: "It is an idea!" "Is it not?" laughed the baron. Kranitski listened in silence, with curiosity.
"Sapristi!" imprecated Maryan, and immediately he laughed again. "And why? for what reason? Did he also believe in painted pots? I thought him modern." "Alas!" sighed Kranitski. They advanced in silence, passed the first story of the house. Maryan's bachelor chambers were on the second story. "My dear old man, I am sorry for you, enormously sorry," began young Darvid again.
It was strange, but true, that in presence of that professor he felt himself more and more a pupil. "Let us leave poor, dear mamma in peace," continued Maryan. "She is the impersonation of charm and sweetness. If there is still anything of this sort which for me is not a painted pot yet, it is the tenderness which I feel for mamma.
"Larry o hale." "p.s. Plaze give my apologys to yoor muther for forgitin to send my respeks to her. also to maryan, whos a dasent woman av she wasnt so fond o' fitein. also to richards an' his beter haf gemima. Shees a good sowl too av she wasnt aflikted wid too ardint a desir to wair some of her husbands garmints. so no more at present from L.o.h."
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