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Updated: September 2, 2025
Then, after resting a little, she took her brother's hand and went on in a weak, toneless voice: "How kind you are, Alyosha! . . . And how clever! . . . What a good man you've grown up into!" At midnight Laptev said good-night to her, and as he went away he took with him the parasol that Yulia Sergeyevna had forgotten.
According to his plan the workmen who came in the evening to the night-refuge were to receive a supper of hot cabbage soup with bread, a warm, dry bed with a rug, and a place for drying their clothes and their boots. Yulia Sergeyevna was usually silent in his presence, and in a strange way, perhaps by the instinct of a lover, he divined her thoughts and intentions.
I fear our night-shelter will fall into the hands of our pious humbugs and philanthropic ladies, who always ruin any undertaking." Yulia Sergeyevna got up and held out her hand to Laptev. "Excuse me," she said, "it's time for me to go. Please give my love to your sister." "Ru-ru-ru-ru," hummed the doctor. "Ru-ru-ru-ru."
The driver was drunk and shouting, and he could hear Yartsev laughing: "Ha, ha, ha!" Laptev returned home between three and four. Yulia Sergeyevna was in bed. Noticing that she was not asleep, he went up to her and said sharply: "I understand your repulsion, your hatred, but you might spare me before other people; you might conceal your feelings."
After two nights in her husband's house Yulia Sergeyevna considered her marriage a mistake and a calamity, and if she had had to live with her husband in any other town but Moscow, it seemed to her that she could not have endured the horror of it.
And Gurov, whose heart was beating violently, thought: "Oh, heavens! Why are these people here and this orchestra! . . ." And at that instant he recalled how when he had seen Anna Sergeyevna off at the station he had thought that everything was over and they would never meet again. But how far they were still from the end!
Marya Sergeyevna always sat up late, in the Petersburg fashion, and for some reason on this occasion I was glad of it. "And now," I began when we were left alone, "and now you'll be kind and play me something." I felt no desire for music, but I did not know how to begin the conversation. She sat down to the piano and played, I don't remember what.
"Laptev made me an offer to-day," said Yulia Sergeyevna, and she flushed crimson. The doctor looked at her and did not seem to understand. "Laptev?" he queried. "Panaurov's brother-in-law?" He was fond of his daughter; it was most likely that she would sooner or later be married, and leave him, but he tried not to think about that.
Yulia Sergeyevna looked at the pictures as her husband did, through her open fist or an opera-glass, and was surprised that the people in the pictures were like live people, and the trees like real trees.
In her own domain upstairs Yulia Sergeyevna went the round of all the rooms, making the sign of the cross over every door and window; the wind howled, and it sounded as though some one were walking on the roof. Never had it been so dreary, never had she felt so lonely. She asked herself whether she had done right in rejecting a man, simply because his appearance did not attract her.
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