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Updated: June 11, 2025
Razumov, making that answer, wondered whether he were falling into a trap. It was so humiliating to lie to these people that he probably could not have said no. "He mentioned to me once," he added, as if making an effort of memory, "a house of that sort. He used to visit some workmen there." "Exactly." Sophia Antonovna triumphed.
He walked faster, making his way to one of the poorer parts of the town in order to look up Ziemianitch. This Ziemianitch, Razumov understood, was a sort of town-peasant who had got on; owner of a small number of sledges and horses for hire. Haldin paused in his narrative to exclaim "A bright spirit! A hardy soul! The best driver in St. Petersburg. He has a team of three horses there.... Ah!
Razumov's feeling, the soul, of course, being his own, and the word being used not in the theological sense, but standing, as far as I can understand it, for that part of Mr. Razumov which was not his body, and more specially in danger from the fires of this earth. And it must be admitted that in Mr.
Before turning the massive brass handle, Peter Ivanovitch gave his young companion a sharp, partly critical, partly preparatory glance. "No one is perfect," he murmured discreetly. Thus, the possessor of a rare jewel might, before opening the casket, warn the profane that no gem perhaps is flawless. He remained with his hand on the door-handle so long that Razumov assented by a moody "No."
He heard her voice again, curt, businesslike, and yet betraying the hesitation which had been the real reason of her prolonged silence. "I say, Razumov!" Razumov, whose face was turned away from her, made a grimace like a man who hears a false note. "Tell me: is it true that on the very morning of the deed you actually attended the lectures at the University?"
Perhaps that and no more, trusting to luck for the rest. And that fellow's horses were part of the plan." "They have actually got at the truth," Razumov marvelled to himself, while he nodded judicially. "Yes, that's possible, very possible." But the woman revolutionist was very positive that it was so.
To my great surprise Mr. Razumov sat down again suddenly. I stared at him, and I must say that he returned my stare without winking for quite a considerable time. "In some way," he mumbled, as if he had not understood or could not believe his ears. "Some unforeseen event, a sheer accident might have done that," I went on.
Nothing can remain obscure before that that inspired, yes, inspired penetration, this true light of femininity." The gaze of the dark spectacles in its glossy steadfastness gave his face an air of absolute conviction. Razumov felt a momentary shrinking before that closed door. "Penetration? Light," he stammered out. "Do you mean some sort of thought-reading?" Peter Ivanovitch seemed shocked.
There was no need to run. I am neither frightened nor yet fascinated, like that poor woman who received me so strangely." "And Mr. Mr. Razumov...?" "He remained there, of course. I suppose he went into the house after I left him. You remember that he came here strongly recommended to Peter Ivanovitch possibly entrusted with important messages for him." "Ah yes! From that priest who..."
The young man writes that nobody could have guessed from your face and manner the part you had played only some two hours before the great, momentous, glorious part...." "Oh no. Nobody could have guessed," assented Razumov gravely, "because, don't you see, nobody at that time...." "Yes, yes. But all the same you are a man of exceptional fortitude, it seems. You looked exactly as usual.
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