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Updated: May 28, 2025
There is something in her face that reminds one of consumption." "Who is she?" "The daughter of a landlord. Her father is a rich man and a big scoundrel, according to what she says. I suppose you know, granny, that they want to marry?" "Who?" "She and Pavel. Yes, indeed! But so far they have not yet been able. When he is free, she is in prison, and vice versa." Yegor laughed.
"That's not proper work you're doing, Yegor Vlassitch.... For other people it's a pastime, but with you it's like a trade... like real work." "You don't understand, you silly," said Yegor, gazing gloomily at the sky.
These new sensations mastered her completely; she helped her father mechanically, without noticing peaches, caterpillars or labourers, or how rapidly the time was passing. It was almost the same with Yegor Semyonitch. He worked from morning till night, was always in a hurry, was irritable, and flew into rages, but all of this was in a sort of spellbound dream.
There are less people on the street, and the police spy around more; and, you know, he's rather awkward." Yegor laughed hoarsely. "You're a young girl yet, granny." "May I visit you in the hospital?" He nodded his head, coughing. Liudmila glanced at the mother with her dark eyes and suggested: "Do you want to take turns with me in attending him? Yes? Very well. And now go quickly."
His name is Yegor Andreyevitch Kurnatovsky; he is upper-secretary to the Senate. I will first describe to you his appearance. He is of medium height, shorter than you, and a good figure; his features are regular, he is close-cropped, and wears large whiskers. He behaves very simply and speaks precisely, and everything about him is precise; he moves, laughs, and eats as though he were doing a duty.
"It's I who ought to beg your pardon for carrying on like this in your house!" said Sashenka. "But it is eleven o'clock already, and I have so far to go." "Go where? To the city?" the mother asked in surprise. "Yes." "What are you talking about! It's dark and wet, and you are so tired. Stay here overnight. Yegor Ivanovich will sleep in the kitchen, and you and I here."
And when she realized her ridiculous blunder, she also began to laugh in embarrassment, and lowering her eyes said somewhat slyly: "Bothering about your own folk keeps you from seeing other people straight." "That's natural!" exclaimed Yegor. "And as to Pavel, you need not worry about him. He'll come out of prison a still better man.
"I'll come at once," the woman answered without opening the door. The mother waited a moment, and knocked again. This time the door opened quickly, and a tall woman wearing glasses stepped out into the hall, rapidly tidying the ruffled sleeves of her waist. She asked the mother harshly: "What do you want?" "I'm from Yegor Ivanovich." "Aha! Come!
Now I have become more sensible and stolid, but I am just like every one else: I am mediocrity; I am weary of life. . . . Oh, how cruelly you have treated me! . . . I saw hallucinations, but what harm did that do to any one? I ask, what harm did that do any one?" "Goodness knows what you are saying!" sighed Yegor Semyonitch. "It's positively wearisome to listen to it." "Then don't listen."
Learning from Kovrin that not only a romance had been got up, but that there would even be a wedding, Yegor Semyonitch spent a long time in pacing from one corner of the room to the other, trying to conceal his agitation. His hands began trembling, his neck swelled and turned purple, he ordered his racing droshky and drove off somewhere.
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