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Updated: June 1, 2025
But what an account of everything might be Nicholas knew even less than the frightened and bewildered Mitenka. The conversation and the examination of the accounts with Mitenka did not last long.
Yura met the first guests at the front entrance; he looked at each one carefully, and he made the acquaintance and even the friendship of some of them on the way from the corridor to the table. Thus he managed to become friendly with the officer, whose name was Mitenka a grown man whose name was Mitenka he said so himself.
In a third group: “I dare say they will acquit Mitenka, after all.” “I should not be surprised if he turns the ‘Metropolis’ upside down to-morrow. He will be drinking for ten days!” “Oh, the devil!” “The devil’s bound to have a hand in it. Where should he be if not here?” “Well, gentlemen, I admit it was eloquent. But still it’s not the thing to break your father’s head with a pestle!
She had said she did not want to sing, but it was long since she had sung, and long before she again sang, as she did that evening. The count, from his study where he was talking to Mitenka, heard her and, like a schoolboy in a hurry to run out to play, blundered in his talk while giving orders to the steward, and at last stopped, while Mitenka stood in front of him also listening and smiling.
The crowd swung from side to side. The people raised their heads and looked into the distance in different directions, waiting impatiently. "Mitenka!" softly vibrated a woman's voice. "Have pity on yourself!" "Stop!" rang out the response. And the grave Sizov spoke calmly, persuasively: "No, we mustn't abandon our children. They have grown wiser than ourselves; they live more boldly.
Mitenka had a heavy leather sword, which was as cold as a snake, which could not be taken out but Mitenka lied; the sword was only fastened at the handle with a silver cord, but it could be taken out very nicely; and Yura felt vexed because the stupid Mitenka instead of carrying his sword, as he always did, placed it in a corner in the hallway as a cane.
She had lived in the house of the Nekhludoffs since childhood, and knew Dmitri Ivanovitch when he was called by the diminutive Mitenka. "Good-morning, Dmitri Ivanovitch." "How do you do, Agrippina Petrovna? What's the news?" asked Nekhludoff, jesting. "A letter from the old Princess, or the young one, perhaps.
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