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Updated: June 13, 2025
The conversation passed to ordinary subjects. Musa told me that Punin had left a cat that he had been very fond of, and that ever since his death she had gone up to the attic and stayed there, mewing incessantly, as though she were calling some one ... the neighbours were very much scared, and fancied that it was Punin's soul that had passed into the cat.
I don't imagine Punin's agitation proceeded from any extreme attachment to my person; it was simply that his nature could not stand the slightest unexpected shock. The nervous excitability of these poor devils! 'Come and see us, my dear boy, he faltered at last; 'you won't be too proud to visit our humble nest? You're a student, I see ... 'On the contrary, I shall be delighted, really.
He was busily engaged in rubbing his head and neck with a long towel. 'What do you want? he observed, keeping his hands still raised, and knitting his brows. 'Punin's not at home, then? I queried in the most free-and-easy manner, without taking off my cap. 'Mr.
Punin's narratives used to interest me extremely; but even better than his stories I loved the readings we used to have together.
Begin the concert! The canary fluttered out at once, perched on the cupola, that is to say, on Punin's bald pate, and turning from side to side, and shaking its little wings, carolled with all its might. During the whole time the concert lasted, Punin kept perfectly still, only conducting with his finger, and half closing his eyes.
'Have you been here long? I asked. 'I came to-day. 'Why, aren't you the person of whom ... 'Mr. Baburin spoke to the lady here. The same, the same. 'Your friend's name's Baburin, and what's yours? 'I'm Punin. Punin's my name; Punin. He's Baburin and I'm Punin. He set the little cups humming again. 'Listen, listen to the chaffinch.... How it carols!
'Madame Baburin, Punin announced with an effort, and slapping his knees several times with his open hands, he nodded his head, like a china mandarin. 'Impossible! I cried, with assumed astonishment. Punin's head slowly came to rest, and his hands dropped down. 'Why impossible, allow me to ask?
Can it be the little master of Troitsky? The pound of raisins tumbled out of his hands. 'It really is, I answered, and, picking up Punin's purchase from the ground, I kissed him.
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