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He had been to the school with her once or twice, but with the first visit had become convinced that he could do nothing there. It was under the entire control of the deacon, with Sipiagin's full consent. The good father did not teach grammar badly, although his method was rather old-fashioned, but at examinations he would put the most absurd questions.
"Under my roof," he wound up, "under the Sipiagin's roof, there are no Jacobins and no spies, only honest, well-meaning people, who, once learning to understand one another, would most certainly clasp each other by the hand!" Neither Nejdanov nor Kollomietzev ventured on another word, but they did not, however, clasp each other's hands. Their moment for a mutual understanding had not arrived.
On finishing Sipiagin's letter Solomin thought, "How else can I go if not simply? I haven't any dress clothes at the factory... And what the devil should I drag myself over there for? It's just a waste of time!" But after reading Nejdanov's note, he scratched the back of his neck and walked over to the window, irresolute.
On the following morning, Solomin, after seeing Nejdanov and definitely declining to undertake the management of Sipiagin's factory, set out for home. He mused all the way home, a thing that rarely occurred with him; the motion of the carriage usually had a drowsy effect on him.
Golushkin thrust huge pieces of caviar into his mouth and drank incessantly, saying every now and again: "Come, gentlemen, come, some splendid Macon, please!" Turning to Nejdanov, he began asking him where he had come from, where he was staying and for how long, and on hearing that he was staying at Sipiagin's, exclaimed: "I know this gentleman!
Kollomietzev came in the evening; his own estate was only about ten miles away from "Arjanov," the name of Sipiagin's village. There also came a certain justice of the peace, a squire, of the kind so admirably described in the two famous lines of Lermontov Behind a cravat, frock coat to the heels Moustache, squeaky voice and heavy glance.
Sipiagin's wish, then please order me to be taken back again. We cannot understand one another. All he says is so much Greek to me." "Greek, eh!" Kollomietzev shrieked. "And to set peasants rioting, is that Greek too? Is that Greek too, eh? "What have you here, your excellency? A landowner of the secret police? And how zealous he is!"
He went on and on and did not even notice when they drove through Sipiagin's village. He trembled suddenly as he caught sight of the house, the first story and Mariana's window. "Yes," he said to himself, a warm glow entering his heart, "Markelov was right. She is a good girl and I love her." NEJDANOV changed his clothes hurriedly and went in to give Kolia his lesson.
After some time he was pardoned and returned, but was too utterly crushed to begin life anew, and died in extreme poverty. His wife, Sipiagin's sister, did not survive the shock of the disgrace and her husband's death, and died soon after. Uncle Sipiagin gave a home to their only child, Mariana. She loathed her life of dependence and longed for freedom with all the force of her upright soul.
"Under the wing of wise and benevolent authority," Sipiagin corrected him. The toast was drunk in silence. The empty space on Sipiagin's left, in the form of Nejdanov, did certainly make several sounds of disapproval; but arousing not the least attention became quiet again, and the dinner, without any further controversy, reached a happy conclusion.
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