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Updated: May 13, 2025
The peasant put his head down and ran off.... Tanya, knitting her brows, said: 'That's good for him! Oh, these peasants! And her eyes lighted up with scorn and hate...." Just as Tanya brings Natasha to our mind, so does Varenka make us think of Dr. Chekanhov; the same feeling of duty governs them both.
He glanced once more at the arm-chair, which was now empty, felt a sudden weakness in his arms and legs, was frightened, and began dressing. "It's nothing, Tanya; it's nothing," he muttered, shivering. "I really am not quite well . . . it's time to admit that." "I have noticed it for a long time . . . and father has noticed it," she said, trying to suppress her sobs.
My Aunt Tanya, when she was in a bad temper because the coffee-pot had been spilt or because she had been beaten at croquet, was in the habit of sending every one to the devil. My father wrote the following story, "Susoitchik," about it.
"Uncle Kostya! mamma's coming, and grandfather, and Sergey Ivanovitch, and someone else," they said, clambering up into the trap. "Who is he?" "An awfully terrible person! And he does like this with his arms," said Tanya, getting up in the trap and mimicking Katavasov. "Old or young?" asked Levin, laughing, reminded of someone, he did not know whom, by Tanya's performance.
"However, see that he doesn't spoil Tanushka, too!" said the baker, suddenly, with anxiety. We all became silent, dumb-founded by these words. We had somehow forgotten Tanya; it looked as though the soldier's massive, handsome figure prevented us from seeing her. Then began a noisy dispute.
But I'm so anxious to show every one here what acquaintances we have. I think he didn't disdain us formerly, especially sister Tánya. BABÁYEV comes in. BABÁYEV and LUKÉRYA BABÁYEV. Whom have I the honor of addressing? LUKÉRYA. I hardly expected, Valentin Pávlich, that you would so soon forget old acquaintances.
"Oh, and there's no time either," added Sergey Ivanovitch, seeing the children running out. At the head of them all Tanya galloped sideways, in her tightly- drawn stockings, and waving a basket and Sergey Ivanovitch's hat, she ran straight up to him.
At the same time, in the drawing-room, Tanya taking soprano, one of the young ladies a contralto, and the young man with his violin, were practising a well-known serenade of Braga's. Kovrin listened to the words they were Russian and could not understand their meaning.
"Well, are there plenty of birds?" Stepan Arkadyevitch said to Levin, hardly leaving time for everyone to utter their greetings. "We've come with the most savage intentions. Why, maman, they've not been in Moscow since! Look, Tanya, here's something for you! Get it, please, it's in the carriage, behind!" he talked in all directions.
Yegor Semyonitch opened the door to go out, and stood in the doorway. "If Tanya and you had a son, I would make a horticulturist of him," he said, after a moment's thought. "However, this is idle dreaming. Goodnight." Left alone, Kovrin settled himself more comfortably on the sofa and took up the articles.
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