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Updated: May 11, 2025


After a while, Raïssa, haunted by remorse, commits suicide, and Dorimedonte is killed by some revolutionists. All the interest of the book, however, is centered in the picture of the police institutions. From the chief Philip Philipovich to the agent Solovyev, Gorky presents, with consummate art, the mass of corrupt and greedy agents who wearily accomplish their tasks.

Then he tried to get up but could not. "I must have hurt myself somehow," he said, gasping and frowning. "I remember the water dashed me against a post." "Did you see Raissa?" he added suddenly. "No. I did not.... Stay, stay, stay! Now I remember, wasn't it she standing on the bank by the bridge? ... Yes ... yes ... a dark dress ... a yellow kerchief on her head, yes it must have been Raissa."

"I showed it to father; he said, 'Take it and pawn it to the diamond-merchant'! What do you think, would they give us anything for it? What do we want a telescope for? To look at ourselves in the looking-glass and see what beauties we are? But we haven't a looking-glass, unluckily." And Raissa suddenly laughed aloud. Her sister, of course, could not hear her.

David, as an amateur and connoisseur of every kind of instrument, seized it at once. "An English glass," he said, holding it first at one eye and then at the other "a marine telescope." "And the glasses are whole," continued Raissa. "I showed it to father, and he said, 'Take it to the jeweler. What do you think? Will they give me money for it? Of what use is a telescope to us?

But you see I have a pledge here, a very fine thing.... First-rate people, the English." "They say we are going to war with them." "No," answered David, "we are fighting the French now." "Well, you know best. Take care of it, then. Good-bye, friends." Here is another conversation that took place beside the same fence. Raissa seemed more worried than usual.

The fact was that he knew, or at any rate suspected, what all this racket outside the window was tending to and whose handiwork it was. "I know!" he muttered, shaking his finger menacingly under the bedclothes; "I know all about it." On a stool by the window sat the sexton's wife, Raissa Nilovna.

One little stick, another ... cross-beam that's what I ... want, but you, brother, diamond-merchant ... mind ... I'm a man, too!" Raissa crossed the room without a word and taking his arm buttoned his vest. "Let us go, Vassilyevna," he said; "they are all saints here, don't come to them and he lying there in his case" he pointed to David "is a saint, too, but you and I are sinners, brother. Come.

Raissa stood up: "Here, David, take care of the telescope: it's too bad about the wood, and the goose, if it is too old." "We shall certainly get ten rubles for it," said David, turning the telescope over. "I will buy it of you; and here are fifteen kopecks for the apothecary: is it enough?" "I will borrow them of you," whispered Raissa, taking the fifteen kopecks.

"It's all ready," said the driver. The postman stood still for a moment, resolutely threw up his head as though waking up completely, and followed the driver out. Raissa was left alone. "Come, get in and show us the way!" she heard. One bell sounded languidly, then another, and the jingling notes in a long delicate chain floated away from the hut.

She drew her half-closed hand across her brow and eyes, a gesture graceful and sad, like all her movements. "But you must take care of yourself," said David. "You can't have slept at all; and why cry? It won't help matters." "I have no time to cry," answered Raissa. "The rich can indulge themselves in the luxury of crying," said David.

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