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Updated: June 5, 2025
I believe that if Gruzin or Pekarsky had asked Orlov to dismiss Polya he would have done so without the slightest hesitation, without troubling about any explanations. He was easily persuaded, like all indifferent people. But in his relations with Zinaida Fyodorovna he displayed for some reason, even in trifles, an obstinacy which sometimes was almost irrational.
The most important and perhaps the most interesting was the one called Pekarsky a tall, lean man of five and forty, with a long hooked nose, with a big black beard, and a bald patch on his head. His eyes were large and prominent, and his expression was grave and thoughtful like that of a Greek philosopher.
The angel of silence passed over us, as they say. "Yes. And here everything is as it used to be no changes," he said briskly, seeing that I was looking about the room. "My father, as you know, has left the service and is living in retirement; I am still in the same department. Do you remember Pekarsky? He is just the same as ever.
When they sat down to play cards, he, lisping and choking with laughter, said that all that "dear George" wanted to complete his domestic felicity was a cherry-wood pipe and a guitar. Pekarsky laughed sedately, but from his serious expression one could see that Orlov's new love affair was distasteful to him. He did not understand what had happened exactly.
When she cries, I am ready to swear eternal love and cry myself." Pekarsky did not understand; he scratched his broad forehead in perplexity and said: "You really had better take another flat for her. It's so simple!" "She wants me, not the flat. But what's the good of talking?" sighed Orlov. "I only hear endless conversations, but no way out of my position.
She is persuaded that, like a young couple, we shall very soon go for a honeymoon that is, she wants to be with me all the time in trains and hotels, while I like to read on the journey and cannot endure talking in trains." "You should give her a talking to," said Pekarsky. "What! Do you suppose she would understand me? Why, we think so differently.
"And she is kind, she won't be cross. . . . She is my Lisotchka's godmother; I am fond of her, poor thing! Ah, my dear fellow!" he laughed joyfully, and pressing his forehead on Pekarsky's back. "Ah, Pekarsky, my dear soul! Advocatissimus as dry as a biscuit, but you bet he is fond of women. . . ." "Fat ones," said Orlov, putting on his fur coat.
Surely I haven't to live another month or two like this? How can I? But yet I may have to." "Why don't you speak, then?" said Pekarsky. "I've tried, but I can't. One can boldly tell the truth, whatever it may be, to an independent, rational man; but in this case one has to do with a creature who has no will, no strength of character, and no logic. I cannot endure tears; they disarm me.
"Well, there's no help for it," sighed Orlov, getting up and, as it were, giving me to understand that our conversation was over. I took my hat. "We've only been sitting here half an hour, and how many questions we have settled, when you come to think of it!" said Orlov, seeing me into the hall. "So I will see to that matter. . . . I will see Pekarsky to-day. . . . Don't be uneasy."
"You can go, but I can't. I am in the position of a married man now." "She is a dear, she won't be angry. My dear chief, come along! It's glorious weather; there's snow and frost. . . . Upon my word, you want shaking up a bit; you are out of humour. I don't know what the devil is the matter with you. . . ." Orlov stretched, yawned, and looked at Pekarsky. "Are you going?" he said, hesitating.
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