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Updated: May 14, 2025
She doesn't read philosophic books, she doesn't wear over-classical frocks; and doesn't detest any one." "Why drag self-love into everything?" asked Rameyev. "Elena is not as simple as you think. She is a very intelligent girl, though without pretensions to a deep and broad outlook and she is good, attractive, and cheerful." "In fact, quite a match for me," observed Piotr with an ironic smile.
Misha was silent, but it was evident that the thought of selling his native soil was distasteful to him. He seemed on the point of bursting into tears. "In my opinion," observed Rameyev, "the land needn't be sold. I shouldn't advise it. I wouldn't think of selling Misha's share until he came of age and I shouldn't advise you to sell yours either, Piotr."
Her imagination began to evoke more and more frequently the features of his face: his deep, observing glance; his proud, ironic smile; his pale face, clean-shaven like an actor's, and cold like a mask. How sweetly and how bitterly she was in love with him her sweet vision betrayed itself in the gleam in her eyes. Rameyev had grown fond of Trirodov, and he missed his presence.
And it will triumph only then when everything will appear lost, and the world will be in the power of the yellow Antichrist." "I don't think that will happen," said Trirodov quietly. "I suppose you think Buddha will triumph," said Piotr in vexation. "No," replied Trirodov calmly. "The devil, perhaps!" exclaimed Piotr. "Petya!" exclaimed Rameyev reproachfully.
Friendship from childhood and good breeding mitigated to some extent this antagonism of ideas. But more than once their discussions ended in bitter words. Piotr, in reply to Rameyev, began to tell about working-men's disturbances and projected strikes. Irritation was evident in his voice. He was one of those who was intensely troubled by problems of a religious-philosophical character.
Rameyev continued: "I have been observing Elisaveta very attentively of late. And listen to what I say pardon me for my frankness I have come to the conclusion that you'd be better off with Elena. Perhaps you have also erred in your feelings." Piotr replied with a bitter smile: "Why, of course Elena is more simple.
It was a provoking conversation. Even the imperturbable Miss Harrison rose from her place rather sooner than usual. Rameyev went to his own room to get his hour's nap. The young people went into the garden. Misha and Elena ran downhill to the river. They had a keen desire to run one after the other and to laugh. "Elisaveta!" called out Piotr. His voice trembled nervously. Elisaveta paused.
"His verses...." began Elisaveta. But Piotr would not let her continue. "Tell me, where is his talent? What is he famous for? All that he writes only seems like poetry. If you look at it closely you will see that it is bookish, forced, dry it is diabolically suggestive without being talented." Rameyev interrupted in a conciliatory tone: "You're unjust. You can't deny him everything."
"Perhaps," said Piotr, "but Elisaveta's choice revolts me." "Why should it?" asked Rameyev. "For many reasons," replied Piotr. "For one thing, he presented her with a photograph of his dead wife, a naked beauty. Why? Is it right to make universal that which is intimate? She revealed her body to her husband, and not for Elisaveta and for us."
Misha, gladdened, glanced gratefully at Rameyev, who continued: "I can direct you to another plot of land which happens to be on sale. I hope it will suit your needs." Trirodov thanked him. His educational institution now became the topic of conversation. "Your school, of course, brings you into contact with the Headmaster of the National Schools.
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