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"Do you wish to spend the night with me?" he asked ironically. "I am indeed a nightbird," answered Mark, who looked anxious. "I receive too much attention in the daytime, and it puts less shame on your Aunt's house. The magnificent old lady, to show Tychkov the door. But I have come to you on important business," he said, looking serious. "You have business! That is interesting."

"Why, Grandmother, did he not sup here with me and spend the night? Didn't you yourself give orders to have a soft bed made up for him?" "Boris Pavlovich, for pity's sake, be silent," whispered his aunt angrily. But Tychkov was already looking at her with amazement, the ladies with sympathy, while the men stared and the young girls drew closer to one another.

"I am sitting on needles, Grandmother. Tell me quickly." "That old thief Tychkov has had his revenge on us both. He wormed out a tale about me from a crazy old woman, but this has had no special results, for people are indifferent to the past, and in any case I stand with one foot in the grave, and don't care about myself, but Vera " "What about Vera, Grandmother?"

"What do they say about Grandmother?" he asked in a low, intimate voice. "Ah, c'est degoutant. No one believes it, and everybody is jeering at Tychkov for having debased himself to interrogate a drink-maddened old beggar-woman. I will not repeat it." "If you please," he whispered tenderly. "You wish to know?" she whispered, bending towards him. "Then you shall hear everything.

The guests, of course, noticed it. In any case it has long been no secret that he loves Vera, and he has no arts of concealment. People said that they vanished into the garden, that Vera went later to the old house and Tushin drove away. Do you know what he came for?" Raisky nodded. "Vera and Tushin are coupled together in everybody's mouth." "You said that Tychkov had dragged me in too."

He is trumpeting it in the town that it was not with you, but with Tushin that she was walking about at night. Then to crown all a drunken old woman made revelations about me. Tychkov has extracted everything...." Tatiana's eyes dropped, and her face flushed for a moment. "That is another story," said Raisky seriously, striding up and down the room. "The lesson you gave him was not sufficient.

He loves Vera, and cares more for what happens to her than to himself. He came over the Volga with me because your letter to me made him anxious about Vera. When you have talked this over with him, I will go to Paulina Karpovna, and perhaps see Tychkov as well." "I am determined you shall not meet Tychkov." "I must," replied Raisky. "I will not have it, Boris. No good can come of it.

You should make haste to inform Tychkov that you were not in the town on the day before Marfinka's fete-day, and consequently could not have been at the precipice." "It ought to be done differently." "Do just as you like, Ivan Ivanovich. But what else can you say?" "I would rather not meet Tychkov.

What is the use of reproaching her? She is ridiculous, and no one cares what she says. But the old chatterbox Tychkov has established that on Marfinka's birthday, Vera and Tushin had a long conversation in the avenue, that the day before she stayed out far into the night, and was subsequently ill, and he has put his own construction on Paulina Karpovna's tale.

If I had not restrained him he would have thrown you out of the house, but I prefer that he should not soil his hands with you; the lackeys are good enough." As she stood there with blazing eyes, she bore a close resemblance to a portrait of one of her ancestors that hung on the wall. Tychkov turned his eyes this way and that seemingly beside himself with rage. "I shall write to St.