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Updated: May 11, 2025
I shall marry soon." "You?" "Yes, I; and why not?" "Have you chosen your wife yet?" "Of course." "And who is it?" David smiled: "How stupid you are! Who but Raissa?" "Raissa?" I repeated in my amazement. "You're joking." "I never make jokes: I don't know how to." "But she's a year older than you?" "What difference does that make? But we won't talk any more about it."
Latkin was evidently aware that he was not saying what he meant, and he made every effort to explain matters to me. Raissa, apparently, did not hear what he was saying, and her little sister went on snapping her whip. My head grew confused. "What does it all mean?" I asked of an old woman who was looking out of the window of the house. "What does it mean, sir?" answered she in a sing-song voice.
"Yes, indeed; with interest, perhaps? I have a pledge a very heavy one. These English are a great people." "And yet people say we are going to war with them." "No," answered David: "now we are threatening the French." "Well, you know best. Don't forget. Good-bye!" One more conversation which I heard at the hedge. Raissa seemed more than usually troubled.
I don't understand him, but I say, 'All right, dear, all right, but he gets angry and tries to explain what he means. He even bursts into tears." "But you should have said something to him," I put in; "you should have made up some lie." "I can't tell lies," answered Raissa, and even flung up her hands. And indeed she could not tell lies.
That time Raissa brought with her her little deaf and dumb sister. Latkin had by then been struck down by paralysis. "I really don't know what to do," Raissa began. "The doctor has written a prescription. And the porter has taken it away, 'you are in debt to me, he said." "Taken the goose?" asked David. "No, not the goose.
"I know all about it, curse you!" "What do you know?" Raissa asked quietly, keeping her eyes fixed on the window. "I know that it's all your doing, you she-devil! Your doing, damn you! This snowstorm and the post going wrong, you've done it all you!" "You're mad, you silly," his wife answered calmly. "I've been watching you for a long time past and I've seen it.
"Well, it does not matter. Spell it with an h, then! What does matter is, that you should live a long while." "I should like to write correctly," observed Raissa, and she flushed a little. When she flushed she was amazingly pretty at once. "It may be of use.... How father wrote in his day ... wonderfully! He taught me. Well, now he can hardly make out the letters."
A young woman, Raïssa Petrovna, keeps house for the book-dealer, and as every one knows, they live like man and wife. In this queer environment, the faculties of the young man become sharpened, and serve him well. It does not take long for him to find out what they are hiding from him.
Then he turned and bowed so low that his hand nearly touched the floor, and said, "Do you also forgive me, Martinian Gavrilitsch," and he kissed his shoulder. Latkin answered by kissing in the air and winking his eyes: he evidently hardly knew what he was doing. Then my father turned to all who were in the room to David, Raissa and me.
You might come and look after her, Davidushka, she's afraid of you." "I will come," answered David. "I will see to it. And how's your father?" "He cries; he says: 'you must spoil me, too. Spoil must mean bury. Now he has gone to sleep." Raissa suddenly gave a deep sigh. "Oh, Davidushka, Davidushka!"
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