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Updated: May 22, 2025
Kollomietzev asked; the polite tone was intended to soothe Sipiagin, who sat very uneasily on his chair. "Because in twenty or thirty years your landed gentry won't be here in any case." "What makes you think so?" "Because by that time the land will fall into the hands of people in no way distinguished by their origin." "Do you mean the merchants?" "For the most part probably the merchants."
"Of course," he began hurriedly, "I should like to...with pleasure .... only I must confess... I am rather surprised... having no recommendations... and the views I expressed at the theatre were more calculated to prejudice you " "There you are quite mistaken Alexai Alexai Dmitritch have I got the name right?" Sipiagin asked with a smile.
Sipiagin and Kollomietzev lit up cigars. Sipiagin offered Nejdanov a regalia, but the latter refused. "Why, of course!" Sipiagin exclaimed; "I've forgotten that you only smoke your own particular cigarettes! "A curious taste!" Kollomietzev muttered between his teeth.
"You are not in need of any?" Sipiagin asked in a whisper. "I will tell you tomorrow, if I may," Nejdanov said at last. "Well, goodbye, then. Till tomorrow." Sipiagin dropped Nejdanov's hand and turned to go out. "I should like to know," Nejdanov asked suddenly, "who told you my name? You said you heard it at the theatre." "Someone who is very well known to you. A relative of yours, I think.
Asking for two days' leave from Sipiagin, who consented readily, though with a certain amount of severity, Nejdanov set out for Markelov's. Before his departure he managed to see Mariana. She was also not in the least abashed, looked at him calmly and resolutely, and called him "dear" quite naturally.
"Quietly, honourably," Markelov repeated savagely. "We know those words. They are always flung at a man when he's wanted to do something mean! That is what these fine phrases are for!" "We sympathise with you," Sipiagin continued reproachfully, "and you hate us." "Fine sympathy! To Siberia and hard labour with us; that is your sympathy. Oh, let me alone! let me alone! for Heaven's sake!"
Sipiagin greeted Paklin affably, and with an energetic movement of the hand pointed to the carriage and asked him to take his seat. "Mr. Paklin, you are coming with me, Mr. Paklin! Put your bag on the box, Mr. Paklin! I am taking Mr. Paklin," he said, emphasising the word "Paklin" with special stress on the letter a.
Sipiagin, to whom, it is alleged, the manuscript had been previously given, was also a bitter anti-Semite and one of the most infamous of Russian bureaucrats. He was notoriously corrupt and unspeakably cruel while he was Minister of the Interior. He was assassinated by Stephen Balmashev, in March, 1902.
Sipiagin turned his head once or twice in a dignified manner, as if looking round at his worldly belongings, a pose that set off to perfection his long drooping whiskers and somewhat small round neck. Then he shouted to one of the servants in a loud resonant voice, not at all husky from the journey, "Ivan! Take this gentleman to the green room and see to his luggage afterwards!"
Eremy!! While Markelov was standing with his head sunk on his breast, Sipiagin drew the governor aside and began talking to him in undertones. He flourished two fingers across his forehead, as though he would suggest that the unfortunate man was not quite right in his head, in order to arouse if not sympathy, at any rate indulgence towards the madman.
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