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Updated: June 9, 2025
"Yourii Nicolaijevitch," replied Yourii, pleasantly. He felt somewhat embarrassed, but he at once took a liking to this gentle old peasant with his friendly speech, half Russian, half dialect. "Yourii Nicolaijevitch! Aha! We must make each other's acquaintance, eh? Sit you down, Yourii Nicolaijevitch." Yourii and Riasantzeff sat down by the fire on two big pumpkins.
Then, with a graceful movement of her dress which disclosed her dainty open-work stockings, she turned abruptly on her heel like some petulant princess, and went indoors. Yourii watched her, with anger in his dark eyes, as he tore open the envelope. YOURII NICOLAIJEVITCH: "If you have time, and the wish to do so, will you come to the monastery to-day? I shall be there with my aunt.
Lialia rose, and, leaning against the balustrade, went trembling and in tears towards her room. "My dear little mistress, tell me, what is it? Shall I call the master, Yourii Nicolaijevitch?" Nicolai Yegorovitch at that moment came out of his study, walking in slow, measured fashion. He stopped short in the doorway, amazed at the sight of Lialia. "What has happened?" "Oh! nothing!
"Yourii Nicolaijevitch," said Sanine cheerily, "you must not be angry with me because I spoke somewhat bluntly just now. I can see that in your soul discord reigns." "Discord?" exclaimed Yourii, reddening. He did not know whether he ought to be angry or riot. Just as it had done during their walk to the meeting, Sanine's calm, friendly voice pleasantly impressed him.
The boat slid away from the shore leaving behind it two broad stripes on the water that disappeared in ripples at the river's edge. "Yourii Nicolaijevitch, why are you so silent?" asked Lida. Yourii smiled. "I've got nothing to say." "Impossible!" she answered, with a pretty pout, throwing back her head as if she knew that all men thought her irresistible.
"Well, sirs, I think we are all here, now," exclaimed Soloveitchik, trying to speak in a loud, cheery way with his feeble, unsteady voice, and gesticulating in ludicrous fashion. "I beg your pardon, Yourii Nicolaijevitch; I seem to be always pushing against you," he said, laughing, as he lurched forward in an endeavour to be polite. Yourii good-humouredly squeezed his arm.
"We shan't get along like this; that's very clear," said Dubova. "Walk back with me, Yourii Nicolaijevitch," cried Sina. Then, turning to Sanine, she said "Au revoir!" For a moment their eyes met. Sina felt pleasurably alarmed. "Alas!" cried Dubova, as she went out, "our little club has collapsed before it has even been properly started."
Yourii watched everything with great interest as he greedily ate large, luscious slices of a ripe melon which Kousma cut off with his pocket- knife that had a yellow bone handle. "Eat, Yourii Nicolaijevitch; this melon's good," he said. "I know your little sister, Ludmilla Nicolaijevna, and your father, too. Eat, and enjoy it."
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