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"But how could one begin, now, at once?" he asked himself. It was useless talking it over with Mashurina, there was no hesitation for her. She knew that she had to go to K., and beyond that she did not look ahead. Nejdanov was at a loss to know what to say to her, and as soon as he finished his tea took his hat and went out in the direction of the birch wood.
And really, when Paklin was not laughing, when he was silent, his face assumed a dejected, almost scared expression; it became funny and rather sarcastic only when he opened his lips. Ostrodumov did not say anything, however, and Paklin turned to Mashurina again. "Well? And how are your studies getting on? Have you made any progress in your truly philanthropical art?
The police would be on the alert in an instant." "Some fellow in uniform bothered me when I was abroad," Mashurina remarked. "He kept on asking so many questions until I couldn't stand it any longer. 'Leave me alone, for heaven's sake! I said to him at last." "In Italian? "Oh no, in Russian." "And what did he do?" "Went away, of course." "Bravo!" Paklin exclaimed.
"What is the meaning of this?" he asked in a squeaky voice. "A duet? Why not a trio? And where's the chief tenor? "Do you mean Nejdanov, Mr. Paklin?" Ostrodumov asked solemnly. "Yes, Mr. Ostrodumov." "He will be back directly, Mr. Paklin." "I am glad to hear that, Mr. Ostrodumov." The little cripple turned to Mashurina. She frowned, and continued leisurely puffing her cigarette.
But his guilt could not possibly be passed over; he could not escape punishment, and he himself seemed to look upon it as his due. Of his few accomplices, Mashurina disappeared for a time. Ostrodumov was killed by a shopkeeper he was inciting to revolt, who had struck him an "awkward" blow.
"How are you, my dear... my dear... I am so sorry. I always forget your Christian name and your father's name." Mashurina shrugged her shoulders. "There is no need for you to know it. I think you know my surname. What more do you want? And why do you always keep on asking how I am? You see that I am still in the land of the living!" "Of course!" Paklin exclaimed, his face twitching nervously.
"He's bored," she remarked, lighting it carefully. "Bored!" Ostrodumov repeated reproachfully. "What self-indulgence! One would think we had no work to do. Heaven knows how we shall get through with it, and he complains of being bored!" "Have you heard from Moscow?" Mashurina asked after a pause. "Yes. A letter came three days ago." "Have you read it?" Ostrodumov nodded his head. "Well? What news?
A year after I quarrelled with this same friend, and in his farewell letter to me he wrote, 'You who killed your own uncle! You who were not ashamed to insult an honourable lady by sitting with your back to her, and so on and so on. Here are friends for you!" Ostrodumov and Mashurina exchanged glances. "Alexai Dmitritch!"
Snandulia went out for the samovar, while Paklin sat down opposite Mashurina and stroked her knee sympathetically. His head dropped on his breast, he could not speak from choking, and the tears glistened in his eyes. Mashurina sat erect and motionless, gazing severely to one side. "Those were times!" Paklin began at last. "As I look at you everything comes back to me, the living and the dead.
Mashurina went out, banging the door behind her, while Mariana stood perplexed in the middle of the room. "What does it all mean?" she exclaimed at last. "This woman loves him more than I do! What did she want to convey by her hints? And why did Solomin disappear so suddenly, and why didn't he come back again?" She began pacing up and down the room.
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