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Updated: September 2, 2025
Complete idleness, these kisses in broad daylight while he looked round in dread of some one's seeing them, the heat, the smell of the sea, and the continual passing to and fro before him of idle, well-dressed, well-fed people, made a new man of him; he told Anna Sergeyevna how beautiful she was, how fascinating.
"Life, as he thinks, is terrible," I thought, "so don't stand on ceremony with it, bend it to your will, and until it crushes you, snatch all you can wring from it." Marya Sergeyevna was standing on the verandah. I put my arms round her without a word, and began greedily kissing her eyebrows, her temples, her neck. . . . In my room she told me she had loved me for a long time, more than a year.
Yulia Sergeyevna ran upstairs, her white dress with blue flowers on it rustling as she went. "I can't be disturbed," she answered, stopping on the landing. "I never do anything. Every day is a holiday for me, from morning till night." "What you say is inconceivable to me," he said, going up to her.
A man walked up to them probably a keeper looked at them and walked away. And this detail seemed mysterious and beautiful, too. They saw a steamer come from Theodosia, with its lights out in the glow of dawn. "There is dew on the grass," said Anna Sergeyevna, after a silence. "Yes. It's time to go home." They went back to the town.
"I love!" he pronounced aloud, and he had a sudden longing to run to overtake Panaurov, to embrace him, to forgive him, to make him a present of a lot of money, and then to run off into the open country, into a wood, to run on and on without looking back. At home he saw lying on the chair the parasol Yulia Sergeyevna had forgotten; he snatched it up and kissed it greedily.
"If there is in the work a protest against serfdom, or the author takes up arms against the vulgarity of aristocratic society, the work is significant and valuable. The novels that are taken up with 'Ach! and 'Och! and 'she loved him, while he ceased to love her, I tell you, are worthless, and damn them all, I say!" "I agree with you, Konstantin Ivanovitch," said Yulia Sergeyevna.
"Kish, do be quick over it," Yulia Sergeyevna could not resist saying; "it's really agonizing!" "Shut up, Kish!" Kostya shouted to him. They all laughed, and Kish with them. Fyodor came in. Flushing red in patches, he greeted them all in a nervous flurry, and led his brother away into the study. Of late he had taken to avoiding the company of more than one person at once.
These were all the children of working-class families who tenanted the three disreputable-looking lodges, which the doctor was always meaning to have done up, though he put it off from year to year. The yard resounded with ringing, healthy voices. At some distance on one side, Yulia Sergeyevna was standing at her porch, her hands folded, watching the game. "Good-morning!" Laptev called to her.
"And you know my rule: I never give posts through patronage." "I know, but for Nina Sergeyevna, I imagine, you might make an exception. She loves us as though we were relations, and we have never done anything for her. And don't think of refusing, Fedya! You will wound both her and me with your whims." "Who is it that she is recommending?" "Polzuhin!" "What Polzuhin?
And Anna Sergeyevna began coming to see him in Moscow. Once in two or three months she left S , telling her husband that she was going to consult a doctor about an internal complaint and her husband believed her, and did not believe her. In Moscow she stayed at the Slaviansky Bazaar hotel, and at once sent a man in a red cap to Gurov. Gurov went to see her, and no one in Moscow knew of it.
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