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Updated: June 24, 2025
Mariana had not yet appeared, when Solomin came into Nejdanov's room. The latter was standing with his face to the window, his forehead resting on the palm of his hand and his elbow on the window-pane. Solomin touched him on the shoulder. He turned around quickly; dishevelled and unwashed, Nejdanov had a strange wild look. Solomin, too, had changed during the last days.
She began shuffling the cards, but threw them down suddenly. "I don't need cards!" she exclaimed. "I know all your characters without that, and as the character, so is the fate. This one," she said, pointing to Solomin, "is a cool, steady sort of man. That one," she said, pointing threateningly at Markelov, "is a fiery, disastrous man." And that one " She pointed to Nejdanov, but hesitated.
The little cripple rushed up to him and extended his hand. Solomin pressed it. He was obviously acquainted with him. They both disappeared... Soon their footsteps were heard coming up the stairs. They were coming to see her. Mariana fled into her own room and remained standing in the middle of it, hardly able to breathe. She was mortally afraid... but of what? She did not know herself.
Edward Garnett has pointed out in an essay on Turgenev, is not Nejdanov and not Solomin; the part is cast in the woman's figure of Mariana who broke the silence of "anonymous Russia." Ivan Turgenev had the understanding that goes beneath the old delimitation of the novelist hide-bound by the law "male and female created he them." He had the same extreme susceptibility to the moods of nature.
"Give me your hand. I must thank you for your kindness and hospitality." Solomin smiled. "What an idea!" He extended his hand. "There's another thing I wished to say," Nejdanov continued. "Supposing anything were to happen to me, may I hope that you won't abandon Mariana?" "Your future wife? "Yes... Mariana!" "I don't think anything is likely to happen to you, but you may set your mind at rest.
Nejdanov has kept nothing from me... The great work is about to begin... and am I to remain in this house, where everything is deceit and falsehood? People I love will be exposed to danger, and I " Solomin stopped her by a wave of the hand. "Calm yourself. Sit down, please, and you sit down too, Nejdanov. Let us all sit down. Listen to me!
Solomin exclaimed as soon as they found themselves in the street, "I am going to take a cab and go straight back to the factory. What can we do here until dinnertime? A sheer waste of time, kicking our heels about, and I am afraid our worthy merchant is like the well-known goat, neither good for milk nor for wool." "The wool is there right enough," Markelov observed gloomily.
Of course, I know that it's not in a very excellent condition and doesn't pay as yet. But please ... give me your candid opinion as to what you consider to be the principal failings and as to what one could do to improve matters." "Paper-manufacturing is not in my line," Solomin began, "but I can tell you one thing. I doubt if the aristocracy is cut out for industrial enterprises."
"A long way from here." "And where is Ostrodumov? Is he with you?" "No, but he's quite near. Got stuck on the way. He'll be here when he's wanted. Pemien can look after himself. There is no need to worry about him." "How did you get here?" "In a cart of course. How else could I have come? Give me another match, please." Solomin gave her a light. "Vassily Fedotitch!"
It's nothing but mere idleness, sluggishness, want of thinking. Solomin, on the other hand, is different; he doesn't go in for pulling teeth he knows what he's about!" Mashurina gave an impatient wave of the hand, as though she wished to dismiss the subject. "And that girl," she began, "I forget her name... the one who ran away with Nejdanov what became of her?" "Mariana? She's Solomin's wife now.
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