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Updated: June 23, 2025
This sinewy, hairy hand, the finger, hoarse voice, flashing eyes, all produced a strong impression on his hearers. Markelov had scarcely spoken to Nejdanov on the journey, and all his accumulated wrath burst forth now. Ostrodumov and Mashurina expressed their approval every now and again by a look, a smile, a short exclamation, but a strange feeling came over Nejdanov.
Suddenly he stopped, threw up his arms as though struck by something, turned back quickly, and overtaking her peeped under her hat. "Mashurina!" he exclaimed in an undertone. The lady looked at him haughtily and walked on without saying a word. "Dear Mashurina, I recognised you at once," Paklin continued, hobbling along beside her; "don't be afraid, I won't give you away! I am so glad to see you!
Mashurina, of course, did not remember the Sipiagins, but Paklin hated them so much that he could not keep from abusing them on every possible occasion. "They say there's such a high tone in their house! they're always talking about virtue! It's a bad sign, I think. Reminds me rather of an over-scented sick room. There must be some bad smell to conceal. Poor Alexai! It was they who ruined him!"
Neither of them showed the least astonishment when Nejdanov came in, knowing beforehand that Markelov had intended bringing him back, but Nejdanov was very much surprised on seeing them. On his entrance Ostrodumov merely muttered "Good evening," whilst Mashurina turned scarlet and extended her hand. Markelov began to explain that they had come from St.
Nejdanov looked questioningly at Ostrodumov, but the latter was sitting like a statue, not an eyebrow twitching. Mashurina was also motionless, a bitter smile playing on her lips. Nejdanov went on to ask Markelov if he had made any socialist experiments on his own estate, but here Ostrodumov interrupted him. "What is the good of all that?" he asked.
They talked until daybreak; Ostrodumov and Mashurina did not once rise from their seats, while Markelov and Nejdanov remained on their feet all the time. Markelov stood on the same spot for all the world like a sentinel, and Nejdanov walked up and down the room with nervous strides, now slowly, now hurriedly.
The visitor bowed from the waist, drew a chair to himself, but did not sit down, as every one else was standing. He merely gazed around the room with his bright though half-closed eyes. "Goodbye, Alexai Dmitritch," Mashurina exclaimed suddenly. "I will come again presently." "And I too," Ostrodumov added.
And meanwhile the people are dying of hunger, crushed down by taxes. The only reform that has been accomplished is that the men have taken to wearing caps and the women have left off their head-dresses! And the poverty! the drunkenness! the usury!" But at this point Mashurina yawned and Paklin saw that he must change the subject.
Mashurina took a cup of tea and began sipping it with a lump of sugar in her mouth. Paklin laughed heartily. "It's a good thing the police are not here to see an Italian countess " "Rocca di Santo Fiume," Mashurina put in solemnly, sipping the hot tea. "Contessa Rocca di Santo Fiume!" Paklin repeated after her; "and drinking her tea in the typical Russian way! That's rather suspicious, you know!
Paklin asked. "Where do you live? You might tell me that at any rate." "Wherever I happen to be." "I understand. You don't want me to know. Tell me at least, are you still working under Vassily Nikolaevitch?" "What does it matter to you? Or someone else, perhaps Sidor Sidoritch?" Mashurina did not reply. "Or is your director some anonymous person?"
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