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Updated: June 27, 2025
Suddenly he uttered a cry, feeling that she had pressed her lips to his hand. "Liza," he cried, "I am no good for anything, but don't drive me away from you!" "Oh, no! Let us make haste away from here. Don't leave me!" and, seizing his hand, she drew him after her. "Mavriky Nikolaevitch," she suddenly dropped her voice timidly, "I kept a bold face there all the time, but now I am afraid of death.
At the bottom of the steps to which he had driven up with such a dash the day before with Andrey’s three horses, two carts stood in readiness. Mavriky Mavrikyevitch, a sturdy, thick-set man with a wrinkled face, was annoyed about something, some sudden irregularity. He was shouting angrily. He asked Mitya to get into the cart with somewhat excessive surliness.
But Liza did not answer, and seemed indeed not to hear her; she sat down in the same corner and fell to gazing into space again as before. There was a look of pride and triumph in Varvara Petrovna's face. "Mavriky Nikolaevitch, I have a great favour to ask of you. Be so kind as to go and take a look at that person downstairs, and if there is any possibility of admitting him, bring him up here."
Mavriky Nikolaevitch, as we shall see later, set down these capricious impulses, which had been particularly frequent of late, to outbreaks of blind hatred for him, not due to spite, for, on the contrary, she esteemed him, loved him, and respected him, and he knew that himself -but from a peculiar unconscious hatred which at times she could not control.
I shouldn't suit you at all," he brought out at last, dropping his voice in an awfully strange way, almost to a whisper. Liza flushed crimson. "What jobs are you speaking of? Mavriky Nikolaevitch," she cried, "please bring that letter here." I too followed Mavriky Nikolaevitch to the table. "Look at this," she turned suddenly to me, unfolding the letter in great excitement.
Mavriky Nikolaevitch got up from his knees. She clutched his arms above the elbow and looked intently into his face. There was terror in her expression. "Milovzors! Milovzors!" Semyon Yakovlevitch repeated again. She dragged Mavriky Nikolaevitch back to the other part of the room at last. There was some commotion in all our company.
And it was all untrue; I found out afterwards how they were transited. But what beautiful fibs he used to tell me then, Mavriky Nikolaevitch! They were better than the truth. Why do you look at Mavriky Nikolaevitch like that? He is the best and best man on the face of the globe and you must like him just you do me! Il fait tout ce que je veux.
"Eh! That's a piece of news! So then... But listen, her position is completely changed now. What does she want with Mavriky now? You are free, a widower, and can marry her to-morrow? She doesn't know yet leave it to me and I'll arrange it all for you. Where is she? We must relieve her mind too." "Relieve her mind?" "Rather! Let's go."
The visitor did not take his outstretched hand, but awkwardly moved a chair and, not uttering a word, sat down without waiting for his host to do so. Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch sat down on the sofa facing him obliquely and, looking at Mavriky Nikolaevitch, waited in silence.
"Well, it doesn't matter, with me it goes in at one ear and out of the other. Don't you come with me, Mavriky Nikolaevitch, it was Zemirka I called. Thank God I can still walk without help and to-morrow I shall go for a drive." She walked angrily out of the drawing-room.
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