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Updated: June 3, 2025
The next day when Nilovna came up to the gates of the factory with her load, the guides stopped her roughly, and ordering her to put the pails down on the ground, made a careful examination. "My eatables will get cold," she observed calmly, as they felt around her dress. "Shut up!" said a guard sullenly.
You know what, Nilovna, take my friendly advice: don't be afraid of the trial. The sooner it's over and done with the sooner Pavel will be free. Believe me. I've already written to my sister to try to think what can be done for Pavel. Maybe he'll even escape on the road. And the trial is approximately like this." He began to describe to her the session of the court.
On his sharp, glistening nose there always sat a pair of glasses with tortoise-shell rims, which secured him the sobriquet of "bony eyes." In a single breath and without awaiting an answer, he plied Vlasova with dry, crackling words: "How are you, Pelagueya Nilovna, how are you? How is your son? Thinking of marrying him off, hey? He's a youth full ripe for matrimony.
I wish you all good things, and be better to people. Hey? Well, God be with you. Good-by, Nilovna. When you see Pavel tell him I heard his speech. I couldn't understand every bit of it; some things even seemed horrible; but tell him it's true. They've found the truth, yes." He raised his hat, and sedately turned around the corner of the street.
Nilovna uneasily rose from her bed; her heart understood the mightiness of the pain that evoked such words. "You are young; you will still have children," she said kindly. The woman did not answer immediately. Then she whispered: "No, no. I'm spoiled. The doctor says I'll never be able to have a child again."
Ignaty stopped humming; Yakob took the staff from the mother's hand, and said: "Sit down, little mother." "Yes, why don't you sit down?" Rybin extended the invitation to Sofya. She sat down on the stump of a tree, scrutinizing Rybin seriously and attentively. "When did they take him?" asked Rybin, sitting down opposite the mother, and shaking his head. "You've bad luck, Nilovna." "Oh, well!"
"Your son has ruined our Vasya," a woman sitting beside her said quietly. "You keep still, Natalya!" Sizov chided her angrily. Nilovna looked at the woman; it was the mother of Samoylov. Farther along sat her husband bald-headed, bony-faced, dapper, with a large, bushy, reddish beard which trembled as he sat looking in front of himself, his eyes screwed up.
The fact was that he knew, or at any rate suspected, what all this racket outside the window was tending to and whose handiwork it was. "I know!" he muttered, shaking his finger menacingly under the bedclothes; "I know all about it." On a stool by the window sat the sexton's wife, Raissa Nilovna.
"Yes, of course!" responded Nikolay, and turning around to the mother with a kind smile on his face, asked: "And how about you, Nilovna did this cup of bitterness escape you? Did you never know the pangs for a beloved person?" "Well!" exclaimed the mother with a wave of her hand. "What sort of a pang? The fear they had whether they won't marry me off to this man or that man?"
Why, in reality, it would be more convenient and pleasanter for all if life were different, were lighter, and the people were more sensible. But to attain the distant you must disturb yourself for the immediate present " Nilovna tried to guess where this woman did her printing.
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