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"I was called!" he brought out at last in a low voice and turned away his face. "You were called? Who called you?" "Someone...." Tyeglev still looked away. "A woman whom I had hitherto only believed to be dead ... but now I know it for certain." "I swear, Ilya Stepanitch," I cried, "this is all your imagination!" "Imagination?" he repeated. "Would you like to hear it for yourself?" "Yes."
I hardly had time to recover from what the officer had told me, when my own name, shouted several times as it seemed with effort, caught my ear. I recognised Semyon's voice. I called back ... he came to me. "Well?" I asked him. "Have you found Ilya Stepanitch?" "Yes, sir." "Where?" "Here, not far away." "How ... have you found him? Is he alive?" "To be sure. I have been talking to him."
However, to my thinking, whatever wisdom a man has he had better stick to that." "I see you are a great philosopher," Anton Stepanitch interrupted a second time with the same sarcastic smile. This time Porfiry Kapitonitch actually frowned. "How much I know of philosophy I cannot tell," he observed, tugging grimly at his moustache, "but I would be glad to give you a lesson in it."
Anton Stepanitch repeated angrily; apparently he liked the phrase. "Just so ... yes; it was precisely what you say." "That's amazing! What do you think of it, gentlemen?" Anton Stepanitch tried to give his features an ironical expression, but without effect or to speak more accurately, merely with the effect of suggesting that the dignified civil councillor had detected an unpleasant smell.
"It is not alive," said his wife. "But there are people on it!" exclaimed Tortchakov, "there are really! Ivan Stepanitch told me that there are people on all the planets on the sun, and on the moon! Truly . . . but maybe the learned men tell lies the devil only knows! Stay, surely that's not a horse? Yes, it is!"
"What I think, Ilya Stepanitch, is that you ought first to make certain whether your suppositions are correct.... Perhaps your lady love is alive and well." "She has not written to me since we have been in camp," observed Tyeglev. "That proves nothing, Ilya Stepanitch." Tyeglev waved me off. "No! she is certainly not in this world. She called me." He suddenly turned to the window.
I was beginning to despair of finding you. Aren't you ashamed of frightening me like this? Upon my word, Ilya Stepanitch!" "What do you want of me?" repeated Tyeglev. "I want ... I want you, in the first place, to come back home with me. And secondly, I want, I insist, I insist as a friend, that you explain to me at once the meaning of your actions and of this letter to the colonel.
"I am certain that she has put an end to her life and ... and that it was her voice, that it was she calling me ... to follow her there ... I recognised her voice.... Well, there is but one end to it." "But why didn't you marry her, Ilya Stepanitch?" I asked. "You ceased to love her?" "No; I still love her passionately." At this point I stared at Tyeglev.
"Ilya Stepanitch, come in," I said, and I looked round. But no Ilya Stepanitch was with me. Tyeglev had vanished as though he had sunk into the earth. I went into the hut feeling dazed. Vexation with Tyeglev and with myself succeeded the amazement with which I was overcome at first. "Your master is mad!" I blurted out to Semyon, "raving mad!
Then he turned to another gentleman who to begin with had been a freemason, then a hypochondriac, and then wanted to be a banker. 'How were you a freemason, Philip Stepanitch? Pigasov asked him. 'You know how; I wore the nail of my little finger long.
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