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Updated: May 1, 2025
LUKÉRYA. You see, he has a very crude manner, and we're not used to it. ARKHÍP. Wait, don't put in your word. She has a tongue of her own. You tell me, Tatyána. TATYÁNA. My husband is now angry with me and doesn't even look at me; he thinks I don't love him, and in that he's mistaken. TATYÁNA. I love him as my duty requires. If he thinks badly of me, I don't deserve it.
Swear, so that I may not fear you. BABÁYEV. How foolish you are! TATYÁNA. Yes, I am foolish, certainly. If I should listen to the opinions of older people, then I am committing a great wrong. According to the old law, I must love no one other than my husband.
And here she is herself opening the window and nodding at us.... 'Good day, ma'am! Tatyana Borissovna is a woman of fifty, with large, prominent grey eyes, a rather broad nose, rosy cheeks and a double chin. Her face is brimming over with friendliness and kindness. She was once married, but was soon left a widow. Tatyana Borissovna is a very remarkable woman.
Tatyana walked up to the table, extinguished the lamp, and when darkness descended on the hut she resumed speech in her low, even voice, which seemed to erase something from the flat face of the oppressive darkness. "You do not pray? I, too, think there is no God, there are no miracles. All these things were contrived to frighten us, to make us stupid."
My life is in your hands. If necessary, I will throw up everything and follow you to the ends of the earth. We shall see each other to-morrow, of course. Your Irina." Two hours later he was sitting in his room on the sofa. His box stood in the corner, open and empty. III A Ruined Life Tatyana and her aunt arrived the following day at twelve o'clock.
There are memories, my darling Tatyána Danílovna, which are not readily forgotten. My acquaintance with you was of that sort. Isn't that so? BABÁYEV. Let me assure you that as soon as I could tear myself away from St. Petersburg, and come to the country, I continually sought an occasion to visit this city and to find you without fail. LUKÉRYA. Have you never found such an occasion before now?
AFÓNYA. Fool brother is a fool! He's ruined himself. LUKÉRYA. Tánya, shouldn't I bring the samovar in here? AFÓNYA. I'm all right here. TATYÁNA. Strangers are coming and you'll make us gloomy. AFÓNYA. I won't go. TATYÁNA. It's a true proverb: "There's no brewing beer with a fool." Our guest is no cheap shopkeeper like your brother. A gentleman is coming, do you hear? What are you fussing about?
This is what my sister Tatyana wrote on the subject in her article "Turgenieff," published in the supplement to the "Novoye Vremya," February 2, 1908: All question of literary rivalry, it seems to me, is utterly beside the mark. Turgenieff, from the very outset of my father's literary career, acknowledged his enormous talents, and never thought of rivalry with him.
You gave your word that's enough; it's my duty to believe you. TATYÁNA. Then you're not angry with me? KRASNÓV. Not at all! I'm not a man of polished manners; in my excitement I stormed but don't take it ill of me; I did it because I was fond of you. LUKÉRYA. Oh, stop! Who could take it ill of you? TATYÁNA. I've already forgotten it.
"Tatyana!" came the low call. "Are you in bed already?" "No." "Is she asleep?" "It seems she is." A light flared up, trembled, and sank into the darkness. The peasant walked over to the mother's bed, adjusted the sheepskin over her, and wrapped up her feet. The attention touched the mother in its simplicity. She closed her eyes again and smiled.
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