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Updated: June 18, 2025
The fuss irritated Sasha; he stayed in his own room and was cross, but everyone persuaded him to remain, and he promised not to go before the first of July. Time passed quickly. On St. Peter's day Andrey Andreitch went with Nadya after dinner to Moscow Street to look once more at the house which had been taken and made ready for the young couple some time before.
Motka began looking at the sky, too, and a minute passed in silence. "Do you see them?" asked Sasha. "I don't," said Motka in her deep voice. "But I do. Little angels are flying about the sky and flap, flap with their little wings as though they were gnats." Motka thought for a little, with her eyes on the ground, and asked: "Will Granny burn?" "She will, dearie."
And he wasn't the least confused, only turned a bit pale, but smiled and came up to me as though there were nothing the matter, even introduced me to his colleagues. Then he took me all the way home, and not a word of reproach. I rob him worse than you. Take your brother Sasha now, he's a martyr too!
You can go home, my dear, and sleep tranquilly. We have decided to pay the sum, but on condition that you repent and come with me tomorrow into the country and set to work." A minute later Ivan Markovitch and Sasha in their great-coats and caps were going down the stairs. The uncle was muttering something edifying.
Let's light our pipes and call Alexandra Pavlovna in here. It's easier to talk when she's with us and easier to be silent. She shall make us some tea. 'Very well, replied Volintsev. 'Sasha, come in, he cried aloud. Alexandra Pavlovna came in. He grasped her hand and pressed it warmly to his lips. Rudin returned in a curious and mingled frame of mind.
On one side it was agreeable to be the possessor of another person's secret; on the other it was also very agreeable that such authorities as Sasha and Zinotchka might at any moment be convicted by me of ignorance of the social proprieties. Now they were in my power, and their peace was entirely dependent on my magnanimity. I'd let them know.
Sasha rose to her feet, leaned her hand against the table, and her head lifted haughtily, began to declaim in a powerful, almost masculine voice: "Life on earth is bright to him, Who knows no cares or woe, And whose heart is not consumed By passion's ardent glow!" Her sister nodded her head and slowly, plaintively began to moan in a deep contralto: "Ah me! Of me the maiden fair."
I want a glass of beer. "Sasha, look for the corkscrew. . . ." I say. "It's lying about somewhere." Sasha leaps up, rummages in a disorderly way among two or three heaps of papers, drops the matches, and without finding the corkscrew, sits down in silence. . . . Five minutes pass ten. . . I begin to be fretted both by thirst and vexation. "Sasha, do look for the corkscrew," I say.
They all three stood before the window, the mother behind Nikolay and Sasha. Their rapid conversation roused in her a still stronger sense of uneasiness and anxiety. "I'm going there," the mother said suddenly. "Why?" asked Sasha. "Don't go, darling! Maybe you'll get caught. You mustn't!" Nikolay advised. The mother looked at them and softly, but persistently, repeated: "No; I'm going! I'm going!"
In time I got to know and like him better, for in reality he was a good, worthy fellow more so than any of the people with whom we otherwise came in contact. My mother in particular had a great respect for him, and, after herself, he was my best friend. But at first I was just an overgrown hoyden, and joined Sasha in playing the fool.
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