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Updated: May 9, 2025
Sofya Matveyevna implored him. "It was all lies that I told you this evening to glorify myself, to make it splendid, from pure wantonness all, all, every word, oh, I am a wretch, I am a wretch!" The first attack was succeeded in this way by a second an attack of hysterical remorse. I have mentioned these attacks already when I described his letters to Varvara Petrovna.
Tolstoy promised to think it over, and left the room again. At dinner Sofya Andreyevna "was evidently far from having any suspicions." When Tolstoy was not by, however, she asked Mr. Strakhof what he had come down about. Inasmuch as Mr. Strakhof had other affairs in hand besides the will, he told her about one thing and another with an easy conscience. Mr.
Sofya Petrovna said afterwards that there was a tangle within her which it was as difficult to unravel as to count a flock of sparrows rapidly flying by. From the fact that she was not overjoyed to see her husband, that she did not like his manner at dinner, she concluded all of a sudden that she was beginning to hate her husband.
But this did not satisfy her desire. It struggled stubbornly in her breast, and as she poured out the tea she began to speak excitedly with an agitated smile. She seemed to bestow the words as a warm caress impartially on Sofya and Nikolay and on herself. "We people at the bottom feel everything; but it is hard for us to speak out our hearts. Our thoughts float about in us.
"I can't tell you anything about that, madam," she brought out, almost crying; "besides, I could hardly understand a word of it." "Nonsense! You must have understood something." "He told a long time about a distinguished lady with black hair." Sofya Matveyevna flushed terribly though she noticed Varvara Petrovna's fair hair and her complete dissimilarity with the "brunette" of the story.
If I could see them together, if only for one day!" exclaimed Nilovna, ready to weep. "Yes, a bit of happiness is good for everybody." "But there are no people who want only a bit of happiness," remarked Nikolay; "and when there's much of it, it becomes cheap." Sofya sat herself at the piano, and began to play something low and doleful.
Amalia Ivanovna, I humbly beg you as mistress of the house to pay careful attention to what I have to say to Sofya Ivanovna. Sofya Ivanovna," he went on, addressing Sonia, who was very much surprised and already alarmed, "immediately after your visit I found that a hundred-rouble note was missing from my table, in the room of my friend Mr. Lebeziatnikov.
Sofya quickly lighted a cigarette; she smoked almost without intermission. "This used to be the favorite piece of Kostya," she said, as a veil of smoke quickly enveloped her. She again struck a low mournful chord. "How I used to love to play for him! You remember how well he translated music into language?" She paused and smiled. "How sensitive he was!
I have mentioned already that Grigory had detested Adelaïda Ivanovna, the first wife of Fyodor Pavlovitch and the mother of Dmitri, and that he had, on the contrary, protected Sofya Ivanovna, the poor “crazy woman,” against his master and any one who chanced to speak ill or lightly of her.
You are good people." Three days passed in incessant conversations with Sofya and Nikolay. The mother continued to recount tales of the past, which stubbornly arose from the depths of her awakened soul, and disturbed even herself. Her past demanded an explanation.
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