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Updated: May 21, 2025
"'Haste, Nástia! look how handsome he is! cried Andrióusha to the voevóda's daughter, in whose room he was, looking through the sliding window, which he had drawn back. 'After this, believe stupid reports! My father says that he is my brother: oh, how I shall love him! Look, my dear! Nástia the diminutive of Anastasia; Nástenka, the same.
I have not only seen him, but wonder now, my dear I have visited him in his dwelling! "'The maiden shook her head, her eyes were dimmed with the shade of pensiveness; a thrill of jealousy, in spite of herself, darted to her heart. 'What! and didst thou not fear to go to him? she said 'Is he not a heretic? "'If thou knewest it, Nástenka, what wouldst thou not do for love?
Her companion listened to her with eager sympathy: the feelings just depicted were her own. "There was a deep silence. It was broken by the young widow. "'Nástenka, my life? she began in a tone of such touching, such lively interest, as called for her reluctant confidence. "The daughter of Obrazétz glanced at her with eyes full of tears, and shook her head.
"No, Nastenka, no, my dear! I haven't thrashed him enough, the torment! He ought to have been thrashed, that's what it is! Ugh . . . Jesuit, Mahomet, torment!" she shook her fist at her son. "You want a flogging, but I haven't the strength. They told me years ago when he was little, 'Whip him, whip him! I didn't heed them, sinful woman as I am. And now I am suffering for it. You wait a bit!
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