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Updated: May 14, 2025
Miss Harrison, unembarrassed, began to ladle out the soup; she was a plump, calm, slightly grey-haired woman, the personification of a successful household. Rameyev noticed that his daughters were tired. A vague alarm stirred within him.
Rameyev, making no effort to disguise his desire of closing the conversation, rose, smiling, and stretched out his hand to Stchemilov. "I must go now." Misha was about to follow him, but changed his mind and ran towards the river. He found his fishing-rod near the bath-house and entered the water up to his knees.
Their faces wore their habitually pleasant smiles and their hands did not tremble. Trirodov gave the reins to Kirsha, who drove away. The meeting proved an embarrassing one. The sisters' agitation was evident in their polite, empty phrases. They entered the drawing-room. Presently Rameyev, accompanied by the Matov brothers, came in to welcome the guest.
The old Rameyev, who was more robust than tall, and had the tranquil manners of a well-trained, well-balanced individual, did not betray his impatience at his daughters' tardy appearance, but took his place at the partially extended table, which seemed small in the middle of the immense dining-room of dark, embellished oak.
"There appears to be a great resemblance at the first glance; but actually these two systems are as opposite as the poles. They are the affirmation and the denial of life, its Yes and its No, its irony and its lyricism. The affirmation, Yes, is Christianity; the denial, No, is Buddhism." "That seems to me to be too much of a generalization," said Rameyev.
Trirodov, in her opinion, was an adventurer, a man with a doubtful reputation, and a dark past. Elisaveta was the most tranquil of all. Piotr's gloomy appearance disturbed Rameyev. He wanted to comfort him if only with words. Luckily, people believe even in words! They must believe in something. Rameyev and Piotr happened to find themselves alone.
At this particular instant the Inspector of the police and the Colonel of the gendarmerie were sitting in Doctor Svetilovitch's study and were examining the guests one by one; they turned their pockets inside out and, for some unknown reason, deprived their owners of letters, notes, and notebooks. Rameyev was in a quiet, genial mood. He laughed on being searched.
Rameyev eyed him incredulously and said: "Why, my dear fellow?" "Why?" repeated Piotr, giving free rein to his irritation. "What is he? A charlatan? A visionary? A magician? Is he in partnership with some unclean power? What do you think of it? Or is it the devil himself come in a human shape a little grey, cloven-hoofed demon?"
Rameyev looked at her in astonishment. "No, I don't think that," put in Trirodov. "There's real pleasure in meeting." "That's the usual thing to say in polite society," said Piotr quietly. Trirodov glanced at him with a smile and turned to Rameyev. "I say it in all sincerity, I am glad to have made your acquaintance.
"That's enough, Petya; what are you saying?" said Rameyev with annoyance. Elisaveta smiled an incredulous smile, full of gentle irony; a golden, saddened smile, set off by the melancholy yellow rose in her black hair. And Elena's astonished eyes dilated widely. "Think it over yourself, uncle," went on Piotr, "and look around you. He has bewitched our little girls completely!"
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