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Updated: May 17, 2025
"Do you remember once at the Taranovs?" Piotr Ivanitch, approaching at that moment, overheard the remark. "You are unfair to me, Marya Ivanovna! I've been here a long time," said he. "Forgive me, but who, then, can it be?" said Marya Ivanovna in confusion. "We'll soon know. Let's take a look."
Nikolai Petrovitch stopped, while Arkady, who had begun listening to him with some surprise, though with sympathy too, made haste to pull a silver matchbox out of his pocket, and sent it to Bazarov by Piotr. 'Will you have a cigar? shouted Bazarov again. 'Thanks, answered Arkady.
"Of course," replied Rameyev. "His problem is to lull to sleep the beast in man, and to awaken the man." "I have heard his discourses," said Piotr, showing his annoyance, "and I do not believe them in the slightest. I'm only astonished that others can believe such nonsense. And I don't believe either in his poetry or in his chemistry.
Stchemilov looked at him with amused tenderness and called to him: "Come here, Kiril, don't be afraid; there are kindly people here quite disposed to us, in fact." Piotr grumbled angrily under his breath. Misha smiled. He was eager to see the new-comer, though he hated violent discussions.
Rameyev said: "I must confess that I once thought Elisaveta loved you. Or that she might love you, if you wished it strongly." Piotr said with a gloomy smile: "I too may be pardoned for the error. All the more since M. Trirodov does not lack lovers." "Any one may be pardoned for mistakes," answered Rameyev calmly, "though they may be painful enough sometimes." Piotr grumbled something.
"One must wish to love. If you only understood how I love you, you would love me also. My love should fire in you a responsive love." "My friend, you do not love anything that is mine," answered Elisaveta. "You do not love me. I don't believe you forgive me I don't understand your love." Piotr frowned gloomily and said gruffly: "You have been fascinated by that false, empty word freedom.
Hither, an instant later, came Piotr, announcing, respectfully: "The large room above has been prepared for your Excellency. The trunks are all unpacked. At what hour shall I serve the tea and where?" Ivan started, looked about him dazedly, and realized that he had not eaten since early morning, though the hour was now past four. Then he said, rather wearily: "Tea here, Piotr, in an hour.
She doesn't read philosophic books, she doesn't wear over-classical frocks; and doesn't detest any one." "Why drag self-love into everything?" asked Rameyev. "Elena is not as simple as you think. She is a very intelligent girl, though without pretensions to a deep and broad outlook and she is good, attractive, and cheerful." "In fact, quite a match for me," observed Piotr with an ironic smile.
Beside him stood a country gentleman, broad, soft, and sweet a veritable sugar-and-honey mixture with one eye. He laughed in anticipation at the witticisms of the little man, and seemed positively melting with delight. Voinitsin presented me to the wit, whose name was Piotr Petrovitch Lupihin. We were introduced and exchanged the preliminary civilities.
Rameyev came up to them. He greeted his visitors pleasantly but coldly, giving an impression of studied correctness. The conversation continued somewhat awkwardly. Elisaveta's blue eyes looked gently and pensively at the irritated Piotr and at his deliberately inimical adversary Stchemilov. Piotr asked: "Mr. Stchemilov, would you care to explain to me this talk of an autocracy by the proletariat?
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