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Updated: June 23, 2025
The marvel had happened in the simplest way: Anisim, dying of curiosity, went to Varvara Petrovna's the day after he reached the town and gossiped to the servants, telling them he had met Stepan Trofimovitch alone in a village, that the latter had been seen by peasants walking by himself on the high road, and that he had set off for Spasov by way of Ustyevo accompanied by Sofya Matveyevna.
Sofya Matveyevna had on entering the cottage left her bag and things in the first room, meaning to spend the night with the people of the house; but she got no rest. In the night Stepan Trofimovitch was attacked by the malady with which I and all his friends were so familiar the summer cholera, which was always the outcome of any nervous strain or moral shock with him.
Varvara Petrovna, who had during twenty years get accustomed to expecting nothing serious or decisive to come from Stepan Trofimovitch, was deeply moved and even turned pale. "Is there really no hope?" "Can there ever be said to be absolutely no hope? But..." She did not go to bed all night, and felt that the morning would never come. "Stepan Trofimovitch, one must be prepared for anything.
"Oh, Dieu, qui est si grand et si ban! Oh, who will comfort me!" he exclaimed, halting suddenly again, after walking a hundred paces. "Come straight home and I'll make everything clear to you," I cried, turning him by force towards home. "It's he! Stepan Trofimovitch, it's you? You?" A fresh, joyous young voice rang out like music behind us.
She looked at me, smiling; she had glanced at me several times already, but in his excitement Stepan Trofimovitch forgot: that he had promised to introduce me. "And why have you hung my portrait under those daggers? And why have you got so many daggers and sabres?" He had as a fact hanging on the wall, I don't know why, two crossed daggers and above them a genuine Circassian sabre.
But things did not fall out like this. When the baron positively asserted the absolute truth of the rumours of the great reform, which were then only just beginning to be heard, Stepan Trofimovitch could not contain himself, and suddenly shouted "Hurrah!" and even made some gesticulation indicative of delight.
Stepan Trofimovitch, as pale as death, stretched out his hand above him. "Ach, what folly a man will descend to!" cried Pyotr Stepanovitch, actually surprised. "Well, good-bye, old fellow, I shall never come and see you again. Send me the article beforehand, don't forget, and try and let it be free from nonsense. Facts, facts, facts. And above all, let it be short. Good-bye."
I used to be in the service of the late Mr. Gaganov, and many's the time I've seen you, sir, with Varvara Petrovna at the late Avdotya Sergyevna's. I used to go to you with books from her, and twice I brought you Petersburg sweets from her...." "Why, yes, I remember you, Anisim," said Stepan Trofimovitch, smiling. "Do you live here?"
Our circle applauded, Yulia Mihailovna smiled, and said, "Now, how is one to turn him out?" Peace was made. The rascal really had talent. Stepan Trofimovitch assured me on one occasion that the very highest artistic talents may exist in the most abominable blackguards, and that the one thing does not interfere with the other.
You will set off nowhere, to no merchant; you'll end very peaceably on my hands, taking your pension, and receiving your utterly impossible friends on Tuesdays. Good-bye, Stepan Trofimovitch." "Alea jacta est!" He made her a deep bow, and returned home, almost dead with emotion. The date of the fete was definitely fixed, and Von Lembke became more and more depressed.
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