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Updated: June 12, 2025
Punin was silent for a while. 'One of the old poets? The real ones? he asked at last. 'No; a new one. 'A new one? Punin repeated mistrustfully. 'Pushkin, I answered. I suddenly thought of the Gypsies which Tarhov had mentioned not long before. There, by the way, is the ballad about the old husband.
Punin and I made an effort to read something out of the Rossiad for the last time; we even locked ourselves up in the lumber-room it was useless to dream of going into the garden but at the very first line we both broke down, and I fairly bellowed like a calf, in spite of my twelve years, and my claims to be grown-up.
He did not recognise me, and showed no particular pleasure when Punin mentioned my name; he did not even smile with his eyes, he barely nodded; he asked very carelessly and drily whether my granny were living and that was all. 'I'm not over-delighted at a visit from a nobleman, he seemed to say; 'I don't feel flattered by it. The republican was a republican still.
Punin subsided against the back of the armchair, lifted his hands, and again bending forward, began whispering again, but still more mysteriously: 'You see Paramon Semyonitch himself too.... Didn't you know? he too is of exalted extraction and on the left side, too. They do say his father was a powerful Georgian prince, of the line of King David.... What do you make of that?
I never got over being afraid of him even when the sharp severity of his manner with me at first had quite disappeared. It is needless to say that of Punin I had no fear; I did not even respect him; I looked upon him not to put too fine a point on it as a buffoon; but I loved him with my whole soul!
That may have been so, but on this day, it is certain, no one expected me.... I found every one at home, and every one was surprised at my visit. Baburin and Punin were both unwell: Punin had a headache, and he was lying curled up on the sofa, with his head tied up in a spotted handkerchief, and strips of cucumber applied to his temples.
'I'm the grandson of the lady who owns this place, I answered. 'I live alone with her. Papa and mamma are dead. Punin crossed himself. 'May the kingdom of heaven be theirs! So then, you're an orphan; and the heir, too. The noble blood in you is visible at once; it fairly sparkles in your eyes, and plays like this ... sh ... sh ... sh ... He represented with his fingers the play of the blood.
I was sitting in my room at my writing-table, and not so much working as getting myself ready for lunch.... I heard a rustle, lifted my head, and I was stupefied. Before me rigid, terrible, white as chalk, stood an apparition ... Punin.
'That's just what's wrong, Nikander Vavilitch, that she is, as you say, all tremor. If you love any one you don't feel tremors in their presence. 'But with that I can't agree! Here am I, for instance; no one, I suppose, could love Paramon Semyonitch more than I, but I ... tremble before him. 'Oh, you that's a different matter. 'How is it a different matter? how? how? interrupted Punin.
Punin did not oppose me, nor did he indeed hear me; he only repeated from time to time in his broken voice, 'Save her, save her and Paramon Semyonitch. At last he began to cry. 'Tell me at least one thing, he asked ... 'is he handsome, young? 'Yes, he is young, I answered.
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