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Updated: June 22, 2025
The precentor, in a gray overcoat and a gray hat, all gray, somehow, as though covered with dust, but with long, straight moustaches, like a military person's, recognized Verka; opened his eyes wide in astonishment, smiled slightly and winked at her.
The legs of Dilectorsky gave in from horror; but the reason of a hypocrite, coward and blackguard kept vigil: he did still have spirit sufficient to stretch away at his side the skin over his ribs, and to shoot through it. And when he was falling, frantically crying out from pain, from fright, and from the thunder of the shot, the last convulsion was running through the body of Verka.
Jennka straightened up on the bed, fixed Liubka with her dry, burning, yet seemingly weeping eyes, and asked brokenly: "Have you eaten anything to-day?" "No. Neither yesterday, nor to-day. Nothing." "Listen, Jennechka," asked Vanda quietly, "suppose I give her some white wine? And Verka meanwhile will run to the kitchen for meat? What?" "Do as you know best. Of course, that's all right.
He knew, that within a few hours, perhaps minutes, he and Verka would be corpses; and for that reason, although he had in his pocket only eleven kopecks, all in all, he gave orders sweepingly, like a habitual, downright prodigal; he ordered sturgeon stew, double snipes, and fruits; and, in addition to all this, coffee, liqueurs and two bottles of frosted champagne.
They sat down beneath the picture of the Feast of the Russian Noblemen, and immediately two of the young ladies Verka and Tamara joined them on both sides. "Treat me to a smoke, you beautiful little brunet!" Verka turned to Petrov; and as though by accident put against his leg her strong, warm thigh, closely drawn over with white tights. "What an agreeable little fellow you are!"
For a long time nothing was heard of them until, a year later, Senka was caught in Moscow in a large theft, and gave Tamara away during the interrogation. They were both tried and sentenced to imprisonment. Following Tamara came the turn of the naive, trusting, and amorous Verka.
And, also, the long-legged, aged Roly-Poly wandered over the room, sitting down now next one girl, now another, and entertaining them all with his fluent chatter. When Kolya Gladishev walked into the front hall, the first to recognize him was the round-eyed Verka, dressed in her usual jockey costume.
While he was twirling in the waltz, the stout head-conductor, skillfully making his way between the couples, slipped away unperceived through the drawing room. Kolya did not have a chance to notice him. No matter how Verka pressed Petrov, she could not, in any way, drag him off his place.
"George," answered Petrov in a hoarse, cadet's bass. "Jorjik Jorochka! Ah, how very nice!" She suddenly drew near to his ear and whispered with a cunning face: "Jorochka, come to me." Petrov was abashed and forlornly let out in a bass: "I don't know ... It all depends on what the comrade says, now..." Verka burst into loud laughter: "There's a case for you! Say, what an infant it is!
Tamara and Gladishev again sat down side by side. "Well, really, how is it that Jennechka isn't coming by now?" asked Kolya impatiently. Tamara quickly gave Verka a look with a question, incomprehensible to the uninitiated, in her eyes. Verka quickly lowered her eyelashes. This signified: yes, he is gone. "I'll go right away and call her," said Tamara.
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