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Updated: June 8, 2025
"I think you can. She is at home, up-stairs," replied Marya Dmitrievna; "inquire for her." Lavretsky went up-stairs. He found Marfa Timofyevna also at cards; she was playing old maid with Nastasya Karpovna. Roska barked at him; but both the old ladies welcomed him cordially. Marfa Timofyevna especially seemed in excellent spirits. "Ah! Fedya!" she began, "pray sit down, my dear.
"Sit down!" cried Shatov, and he sat down himself. "Please remember," Stavrogin interposed once more, "that I was about to ask a real favour of you concerning Marya Timofyevna, of great importance for her, anyway...." "What?" Shatov frowned suddenly with the air of a man who has just been interrupted at the most important moment, and who gazes at you unable to grasp the question.
All this she did without haste, noiselessly, with a kind of rapt and gentle solicitude on her face. She topped at last in the middle of the room, slowly looked around, and going up to the table above which the crucifix was hanging, she fell on her knees, dropped her head on to her clasped hands and remained motionless. Marfa Timofyevna came in and found her in this position.
"No, he can't fascinate every one. He must be satisfied with Nastasya Karpovna's being in love with him." The poor widow was utterly dismayed. "How can you, Marfa Timofyevna? you've no conscience!" she cried, and a crimson flush instantly overspread her face and neck.
"The husband is always to blame, madam, I venture to assure you, when a wife misconducts herself." "You say that, my good sir, because you have never been married yourself." Gedeonovsky listened with a forced smile. "If I may be so inquisitive," he asked, after a short pause, "for whom is that pretty scarf intended?" Marfa Timofyevna gave him a sharp look.
He was not drunk, but was in the dull, heavy, dazed condition of a man suddenly awakened after many days of drinking. It seemed as though he would be drunk again if one were to put one's hands on his shoulders and rock him to and fro once or twice. He was hurrying into the drawing-room but stumbled over a rug near the doorway. Marya Timofyevna was helpless with laughter.
How is your head?" "It's nothing." "You keep saying it's nothing. What have you going on down-stairs music?" "No they are playing cards." "Well, she's ready for anything. Shurotchka, I see you want a run in the garden run along." "Oh, no, Marfa Timofyevna." "Don't argue, if you please, run along. Nastasya Karpovna has gone out into the garden all by herself; you keep her company.
Marfa Timofyevna looked worried; Nastasya Karpovna bowed down to the ground and got up with a kind of discreet, subdued rustle; Lisa remained standing in her place motionless; from the concentrated expression of her face it could be seen that she was praying steadfastly and fervently. When she bowed to the cross at the end of the service, she also kissed the large red hand of the priest.
Lisa went into her aunt's room, and sank powerless into a chair. Marfa Timofyevna gazed long at her in silence, slowly she knelt down before her and began still in the same silence to kiss her hands alternately.
Liza rose from her chair but sank back again at once without even paying befitting attention to her mother's squeal not from "waywardness," but obviously because she was entirely absorbed by some other overwhelming impression. She was looking absent-mindedly into the air, no longer noticing even Marya Timofyevna. "Ach, here!"
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