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Updated: September 13, 2025
Gedeonovsky sighed. "Quite so, quite so! They say she has made friends with artists and pianists; or, as they call them there, with lions and other wild beasts. She has completely lost all sense of shame " "It's very, very sad," said Maria Dmitrievna; "especially for a relation. You know, don't you, Sergius Petrovich, that he is a far-away cousin of mine?" "To be sure, to be sure!
"Oh, Sergius Petrovich, Sergius Petrovich! how often I think how necessary it is for us women to behave circumspectly!" "There are women and women, Maria Dmitrievna. There are, unfortunately, some who are of an unstable character; and then there is a certain time of life and, besides, good principles have not been instilled into them when they were young."
Here Sergius Petrovich drew from his pocket a blue handkerchief, of a check pattern, and began to unfold it. "Such women, in fact, do exist." Here Sergius Petrovich applied a corner of the handkerchief to each of his eyes in turn. "But, generally speaking, if one reflects that is to say The dust in the streets is something extraordinary," he ended by saying.
"Petrovich, please," said Akaky Akakiyevich in a beseeching tone, not hearing, and not trying to hear, Petrovich's words, and disregarding all his "effects," "some repairs, in order that it may wear yet a little longer." "No, it would only be a waste of time and money," said Petrovich. And Akaky Akakiyevich went away after these words, utterly discouraged.
But Petrovich stood for some time after his departure, with significantly compressed lips, and without betaking himself to his work, satisfied that he would not be dropped, and an artistic tailor employed. Akaky Akakiyevich went out into the street as if in a dream. "Such an affair!" he said to himself.
In the evening visitors often gathered in his house Alexey Vasilyevich, a handsome man, pale-faced, black-bearded, sedate, and taciturn; Roman Petrovich, a pimply, round-headed individual always smacking his lips regretfully; Ivan Danilovich, a short, lean fellow with a pointed beard and thin hair, impetuous, vociferous, and sharp as an awl, and Yegor, always joking with his comrades about his sickness.
He made haste to betake himself far away into the country, and there he shut himself up in his house. Another year passed and Ivan Petrovich suddenly broke down, became feeble, and utterly gave way. The change which had taken place in Ivan Petrovich, produced a strong impression on the mind of his son.
In ordinary talk, his language was colorless and unwieldy, and absolutely bristled with Gallicisms. But the moment that the conversation turned upon serious topics, Ivan Petrovich immediately began to give utterance to such expressions as "to render manifest abnormal symptoms of enthusiasm," or "this is extravagantly inconsistent with the essential nature of circumstances," and so forth.
"You have completely forgotten us, Piotr Petrovich," she said to Bielokurov, as she gave him her hand. "Come and see us, and if Mr. I bowed. When she had gone Piotr Petrovich began to tell me about her.
As we have mentioned his wife, it will be necessary to say a word or two about her. Unfortunately, little is known of her beyond the fact that Petrovich had a wife, who wore a cap and a dress, but could not lay claim to beauty, at least, no one but the soldiers of the guard even looked under her cap when they met her.
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