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Updated: May 27, 2025
Pyetushkov was on the point of opening his mouth again, but he turned over on the other side and fell asleep. Onisim went out into the passage, took a pinch of snuff, and gave his head a violent shake. The next day, early in the morning, Pyetushkov called for his clothes. Onisim brought him his everyday coat an old grass-coloured coat, with huge striped epaulettes.
'Why are you standing there? Praskovia Ivanovna bawled to him from the little window. 'Come in. Pyetushkov started, and went in. Praskovia Ivanovna met him in the doorway. 'Why didn't you come to see us yesterday, my good sir? Was it, maybe, some ailment prevented you? 'Yes, I had something of a headache yesterday.... 'Ah, you should have put cucumber on your temples, my good sir.
'Why so, why so? Bublitsyn stuck his pipe in the corner of his mouth, and began scrutinising his not very handsome boots. Pyetushkov felt embarrassed. 'Ah, Ivan Afanasiitch, Ivan Afanasiitch! pursued Bublitsyn, as though sparing his feelings. 'But as to Vassilissa, the baker girl, I can assure you: a very, ve-ry fine girl, ... ve-ry. Mr.
'How do you mean nice, though? how nice? how nice? Vassilissa gazed at Ivan Afanasiitch. 'Nice, she said slowly and in perplexity. 'You know what I mean. Pyetushkov bit his lips and began again pacing the room. 'What were you talking about with him, eh? Vassilissa smiled and looked down. 'Speak, speak, speak, I tell you, speak! 'How cross you are to-day! observed Vassilissa.
'Ivan Afanasiitch, mercy on us! wailed Onisim. 'To be sure. To be sure I will, replied Pyetushkov with a vague wave of his hand. 'I'll have mercy on you, and forgive you. I forgive every one, I forgive you, and Vassilissa I forgive, and every one, every one.
Onisim looked at Pyetushkov and plumped heavily down on his knees. 'Dear master, Ivan Afanasiitch, he cried, 'your honour! Be pleased to punish me. I'm a fool. I've troubled you, Ivan Afanasiitch.... How did I dare! Be pleased to punish me, your honour.... It's not worth your while to weep over my silly words ... dear master. Ivan Afanasiitch....
Onisim looked intently at his master. 'Ivan Afanasiitch, he began, 'wouldn't you have a snack of something? 'Wouldn't I have a snack of something? repeated Pyetushkov. 'Or may be you'd like to have a pipe? 'To have a pipe? repeated Pyetushkov. 'So this is what it's coming to, muttered Onisim. 'It's gone deep, it seems.
Here again, with Vassilissa ... why couldn't you ... 'But what are you thinking about, Onisim, Pyetushkov interrupted miserably. 'I know what I'm thinking about. But there I'd better let you alone! What can you do? Only fancy ... there you ... Ivan Afanasiitch got up.
'Oh, nothing, said Pyetushkov, taking off his boots with his own hands. 'Well, she's a fine girl! Onisim observed condescendingly. 'Yes, ... she's not bad-looking, said Ivan Afanasiitch, also looking away. 'And what's her name, do you know? 'Vassilissa. 'And do you know her? Onisim did not answer for a minute or two. 'We know her.
'Going shopping, I suppose? queried Ivan Afanasiitch, fidgeting with his feet. 'How inquisitive we are! retorted Vassilissa. 'Why inquisitive? said Pyetushkov, hurriedly gesticulating with his hands. 'Quite the contrary.... Oh yes, you know, he added hastily, as though these last words completely conveyed his meaning. 'Did you eat my roll?
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