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Raisky wanted to call the old doctor; he waited impatiently till the morning and spent his time in going from Vera to Tatiana Markovna, and from Tatiana Markovna back to Vera. As Vera's condition had not improved next morning, Raisky went with Vassilissa into Tatiana Markovna's bedroom, where they found the old lady in the same state as she had been in the whole of the day before.
'What about my master? replied Onisim, and he leaned on his hand. 'He's all right. But why do you ask? 'Oh, I only asked, answered Vassilissa. 'Yes, he did. Onisim shook his head with an extraordinarily self-satisfied air. 'So he did, did he? he said huskily, with a smile. 'Well, and what did he say in his letter to you? 'Oh, all sorts of things.
'Why so, why so? Bublitsyn stuck his pipe in the corner of his mouth, and began scrutinising his not very handsome boots. Pyetushkov felt embarrassed. 'Ah, Ivan Afanasiitch, Ivan Afanasiitch! pursued Bublitsyn, as though sparing his feelings. 'But as to Vassilissa, the baker girl, I can assure you: a very, ve-ry fine girl, ... ve-ry. Mr.
She had lost all interest in the book, was herself sickened by its pious tone, and was really ashamed of having had recourse to so gross a method. Marina, Yakob and Vassilissa came one after another to say that supper was ready, but Tatiana Markovna wanted none, Vera declined, and to Marina's astonishment even Marfinka, who never went supperless to bed, was not hungry.
From his earliest childhood he had not left his father's house, and under the guidance of his mother, a very good-natured but perfectly stupid woman, Vassilissa Vassilyevna, he grew up spoilt and conceited. She undertook his education alone; Eremey Lukitch, buried in his economical fancies, had no thoughts to spare for it.
Poor Pyetushkov felt a pang at his heart. Praskovia Ivanovna came in. They sat down to dinner. After dinner Praskovia Ivanovna betook herself to the shelf bed. Ivan Afanasiitch himself lay down on the stove, turned over and dropped asleep. A cautious creak waked him. Ivan Afanasiitch sat up, leaned on his elbow, looked: the door was open. He jumped up no Vassilissa.
Little by little he carried all his belongings, at any rate all his pipes, to Praskovia Ivanovna's, and for whole days together he sat in her back room. Praskovia Ivanovna charged him something for his dinner and drank his tea, consequently she did not complain of his presence. Vassilissa had grown used to him.
The soldiers surrounded us, and we followed Iwán Ignatiitch who brought us along in triumph, walking with a military step, with majestic gravity. We entered the Commandant's house. Iwán Ignatiitch threw the door wide open, and exclaimed, emphatically "They are taken!" Vassilissa Igorofna ran to meet us. "What does all this mean? Plotting assassination in our very fort!
'A ruined man, Vassilissa, I tell you. You may believe me. I've never deceived you. Oh, and how's your aunt? 'Very well, Ivan Afanasiitch. Thank you. Pyetushkov began swaying violently. 'But you're not quite well to-day, Ivan Afanasiitch. You ought to lie down. 'No, I'm quite well, Vassilissa. No, don't say I'm not well; you'd better say I've fallen into evil ways, lost my morals.
Vassilissa was sitting with her back to him, winding worsted, and carelessly singing to herself; she was wearing a striped cotton gown; her hair was done up anyhow.... The room, insufferably hot, smelt of feather beds and old rags; jaunty, reddish-brown 'Prussians' scurried rapidly here and there across the walls; on the decrepit chest of drawers, with holes in it where the locks should have been, beside a broken jar, lay a woman's shabby slipper.... Kozlov's poem was still where it had fallen on the floor.... Pyetushkov shook his head, folded his arms, and went away.
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