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Updated: June 2, 2025
Anna Semyónovna listened to him in silence, with her hands folded; the sad smile did not leave her face ... bitter woe which had not ceased to cause pain, was expressed in that smile. "Did you know my sister?" she asked Arátoff. "No; properly speaking, I did not know her," he replied.
Aratov rose hurriedly from his seat, thanked her for her offer, said he should be sure ... oh, very sure! to come and went off, carrying away with him an impression of a soft voice, gentle and sorrowful eyes, and burning in the tortures of expectation. Aratov went back the same day to the Milovidovs and spent three whole hours in conversation with Anna Semyonovna.
Anna covered her face with her hands and ceased speaking. "Anna Semyónovna," began Arátoff, after waiting a little: "perhaps you have heard to what the newspapers attributed...." "To unhappy love?" interrupted Anna, removing her hands from her face with a jerk. "That is a calumny, a calumny, a lie!... My unsullied, unapproachable Kátya ... Kátya! ... and an unhappy, rejected love?
My knees shook; I rushed to a looking-glass and looked to see whether I had been bitten. No, thank God, there was nothing to be seen; only my countenance naturally looked green; while Nimfodora Semyonovna was lying on the sofa and cackling like a hen. Well, that one could quite understand, in the first place nerves, in the second sensibility.
She used at such moments to look like a sick animal warming itself in the sun. . . . One winter evening Vladimir Semyonitch was sitting at his table writing a critical article for his newspaper: Vera Semyonovna was sitting beside him, staring as usual at his writing hand. The critic wrote rapidly, without erasures or corrections. The pen scratched and squeaked.
Pyotr Petrovitch returned to the sofa, sat down opposite Sonia, looked attentively at her and assumed an extremely dignified, even severe expression, as much as to say, "don't you make any mistake, madam." Sonia was overwhelmed with embarrassment. "In the first place, Sofya Semyonovna, will you make my excuses to your respected mamma.... That's right, isn't it?
Visiting this charming man, I made the acquaintance of his sister, Vera Semyonovna, a woman doctor. At first sight, what struck me about this woman was her look of exhaustion and extreme ill-health. She was young, with a good figure and regular, rather large features, but in comparison with her agile, elegant, and talkative brother she seemed angular, listless, slovenly, and sullen.
When they lifted him up and laid him on his bed, in his clenched right hand they found a small tress of a woman's dark hair. Where did this lock of hair come from? Anna Semyonovna had such a lock of hair left by Clara; but what could induce her to give Aratov a relic so precious to her? Could she have put it somewhere in the diary, and not have noticed it when she lent the book?
"I was told that you got her turned out of these lodgings." Lebeziatnikov was enraged. "That's another slander," he yelled. "It was not so at all! That was all Katerina Ivanovna's invention, for she did not understand! And I never made love to Sofya Semyonovna!
'You permit me to speak to Ivan Semyonitch? ... 'Yes.... I covered her hands with kisses. 'Don't, don't, whispered Varia, and suddenly burst into tears. I sat down beside her, talked soothingly to her, wiped away her tears.... Luckily, Ivan Semyonitch was not at home, and Matrona Semyonovna had gone up to her own little room. I made vows of love, of constancy to Varia.
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