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Updated: September 2, 2025
I am a free, pampered, profligate man, while you are a working woman, going in bark shoes and never straightening your back. The way I think of myself is that I am the foremost man in every kind of sport, and you look at me with pity.... Is that being well matched?" "But we are married, you know, Yegor Vlassitch," sobbed Pelagea. "Not married of our free will.... Have you forgotten?
And it seemed to him utterly absurd that his sister, so like his mother, pampered, elegant, should be living with Vlassitch and in Vlassitch's house, with the petrified servant, and the table with six legs in the house where a man had been flogged to death, and that she was not going home with him, but was staying here to sleep. "You know mother," he said, not answering her question.
She, too, had advanced ideas, but in her free-thinking one felt the overflow of energy, the vanity of a young, strong, spirited girl, passionately eager to be better and more original than others. . . . How had it happened that she had fallen in love with Vlassitch?
Of course, I shan't say so to my sister it will distress her; but you ought to know: mother is miserable beyond all description." "Yes, that's sad," sighed Vlassitch. "We foresaw that, Petrusha, but what could we have done? Because one's actions hurt other people, it doesn't prove that they are wrong. What's to be done! Every important step one takes is bound to distress somebody.
But if we were to negotiate with her?" "She won't take a farthing less. She is an awful woman, brother," sighed Vlassitch. "I've never talked to you about her before it was unpleasant to think of her; but now that the subject has come up, I'll tell you about her. I married her on the impulse of the moment a fine, honourable impulse.
You know I liked you and could have desired no better husband for my sister; but what has happened is awful! It's terrible to think of it!" "Why is it terrible?" asked Vlassitch, with a quiver in his voice. "It would be terrible if we had done wrong, but that isn't so." "Listen, Grigory. You know I have no prejudices; but, excuse my frankness, to my mind you have both acted selfishly.
He sat down beside Pyotr Mihalitch and began saying what was utterly beside the point. "I have such a reverence for your sister, Petrusha," he said. "When I used to come and see you, I felt as though I were going to a holy shrine, and I really did worship Zina. Now my reverence for her grows every day. For me she is something higher than a wife yes, higher!" Vlassitch waved his hands.
He felt frightened on his own account and on his sister's, and was terrified at the thought of seeing her. How would she behave with her brother? What would they both talk about? And had he not better go back before it was too late? As he made these reflections, he galloped up the avenue of lime-trees to the house, rode round the big clumps of lilacs, and suddenly saw Vlassitch.
He got up and followed Vlassitch into the hall, and from there into the drawing-room. There was nothing in the huge gloomy room but a piano and a long row of old chairs ornamented with bronze, on which no one ever sat. There was a candle alight on the piano. From the drawing-room they went in silence into the dining-room.
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