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'She will be very much grieved, observed Arkady, 'and so will he. 'I shall come back again to them. 'When? 'Why, when on my way to Petersburg. 'I feel sorry for your mother particularly. 'Why's that? Has she won your heart with strawberries, or what? Arkady dropped his eyes. 'You don't understand your mother, Yevgeny. She's not only a very good woman, she's very clever really.
'Is this the road to the town, do you mean to tell me? Timofeitch hesitated, and made no answer. 'Is my father well? 'Thank God, yes. 'And my mother? 'Anna Vlasyevna too, glory be to God. 'They are expecting me, I suppose? The little old man held his tiny head on one side. 'Ah, Yevgeny Vassilyitch, it makes one's heart ache to see them; it does really. 'Come, all right, all right! shut up!
She's going to sing a song of Glinka's ... and of Tchaykovsky's; and then she'll recite the letter from Yevgeny Oniegin. Well; will you take a ticket? 'And when will it be? 'To-morrow ... to-morrow, at half-past one, in a private drawing-room, in Ostozhonka.... I will come for you. A five-rouble ticket?... Here it is ... no, that's a three-rouble one.
'Yevgeny Vassilyitch, I beg your pardon, but I didn't invite you in here to discuss text-books. I wanted to continue our conversation of last night. You went away so suddenly.... It will not bore you ... 'I am at your service, Anna Sergyevna. But what were we talking about last night? Madame Odintsov flung a sidelong glance at Bazarov. 'We were talking of happiness, I believe.
Yevgeny Fyodoritch used to go about in a cap with a peak, and in high boots, and in the winter wore a sheepskin. He made great friends with Sergey Sergeyitch, the medical assistant, and with the treasurer, but held aloof from the other officials, and for some reason called them aristocrats. He had only one book in his lodgings, "The Latest Prescriptions of the Vienna Clinic for 1881."
Bazarov turned round and saw the pale face of Nikolai Petrovitch, who was sitting in the droshky. He jumped out of it before it had stopped, and rushed up to his brother. 'What does this mean? he said in an agitated voice. 'Yevgeny Vassilyitch, pray, what is this? 'Nothing, answered Pavel Petrovitch; 'they have alarmed you for nothing. I had a little dispute with Mr.
Why, it's all vanity, dandy habits, fatuity. He should have continued his career in Petersburg, if that's his bent. But there, enough of him! I've found a rather rare species of a water-beetle, Dytiscus marginatus; do you know it? I will show you. 'I promised to tell you his story, began Arkady. 'The story of the beetle? 'Come, don't, Yevgeny. The story of my uncle.
The chair between Sergius and Féodor Lemsky was to have been occupied by Yevgeny Burevsky, the young man who had been the recipient of those "scientific instruments" for which the whole Quarter was still out of ready money. It was Sergius himself who explained to their host that, ever since he had received his outfit, Burevsky had been tirelessly working at his chemistry.
'I won't refuse, if that can be any comfort to you, he brought out at last; 'but it seems to me there's no need to be in a hurry. You say yourself I am better. 'Oh, yes, Yevgeny, better certainly; but who knows, it is all in God's hands, and in doing the duty ... 'No, I will wait a bit, broke in Bazarov. 'I agree with you that the crisis has come.
Death carries mothers and uncles off to the other world, while their children and violins remain upon the earth. The dead live somewhere in the sky beside the stars, and look down from there upon the earth. Can they endure the parting? "What am I to say to him?" thought Yevgeny Petrovitch. "He's not listening to me. Obviously he does not regard either his misdoings or my arguments as serious.
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