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Updated: May 28, 2025
"One must take an objective view of things," said the medical student gravely. Vassilyev went into the drawing-room and sat down. There were a number of visitors in the room besides him and his friends: two infantry officers, a bald, gray-haired gentleman in spectacles, two beardless youths from the institute of land-surveying, and a very tipsy man who looked like an actor.
The friends turned out of Trubnoy Square into Gratchevka, and soon reached the side street which Vassilyev only knew by reputation.
"'And I shall be whiter than snow, and my ears will hear gladness and rejoicing." Madame Mimotih, who had returned, was reading in the drawing-room in a languid, weary voice, neither raising nor dropping the monotonous dreary key. "It is cheerful, isn't it?" whispered Vassilyev, turning his frightened eyes towards me. "My God, the things a man has to see and hear!
He cried and laughed, spoke aloud the words that he should say next day, felt a fervent love for those who would listen to him and would stand beside him at the corner of the street to preach; he sat down to write letters, made vows to himself.... All this was like inspiration also from the fact that it did not last long. Vassilyev was soon tired.
"What a wind!" said the sick man, without opening his eyes, "How it whistles!" "Yes," I said. "I say, I fancy I know you. Didn't you take part in some private theatricals in General Luhatchev's villa last year?" "What of it?" he asked, quickly opening his eyes. A cloud seemed to pass over his face. "I certainly saw you there. Isn't your name Vassilyev?" "If it is, what of it?
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