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Updated: June 7, 2025
One day I was walking in the garden beside the familiar fence, and I caught sight of Zinaida; leaning on both arms, she was sitting on the grass, not stirring a muscle. I was about to make off cautiously, but she suddenly raised her head and beckoned me imperiously. My heart failed me; I did not understand her at first. She repeated her signal.
'It's hungry! cried Zinaida. 'Vonifaty, Sonia! bring some milk. A maid, in an old yellow gown with a faded kerchief at her neck, came in with a saucer of milk and set it before the kitten. The kitten started, blinked, and began lapping. 'What a pink little tongue it has! remarked Zinaida, putting her head almost on the ground and peeping at it sideways under its very nose.
"You dare not stay here another minute!" cried Zinaida Fyodorovna, and she struck the plate with her knife. "You are a thief! Do you hear?" Zinaida Fyodorovna flung her dinner-napkin on the table, and with a pitiful, suffering face, went quickly out of the room. Loudly sobbing and wailing something indistinct, Polya, too, went away. The soup and the grouse got cold.
After the evening on which they had talked of his official work, Orlov, who could not endure tears, unmistakably began to avoid conversation with her; whenever Zinaida Fyodorovna began to argue, or to beseech him, or seemed on the point of crying, he seized some plausible excuse for retreating to his study or going out.
I rang. Taking from me her small light basket the only luggage we had brought with us Zinaida Fyodorovna gave a wry smile and said: "These are my bijoux." But she was so weak that she could not carry these bijoux. It was a long while before the door was opened.
Dear George can't understand that feeling." He drank some more. Pale and lean, with his dinner-napkin over his chest like a little pinafore, he ate greedily, and raising his eyebrows, kept looking guiltily, like a little boy, first at Zinaida Fyodorovna and then at me. It seemed as though he would have begun crying if I had not given him the grouse or the jelly.
I warn you I want to gallop. 'Gallop away by all means ... with whom is it, with Malevsky, you are going to ride? 'And why not with him, Mr. Pugnacity? Come, be quiet, she added, 'and don't glare. I'll take you too. You know that to my mind now Malevsky's ugh! She shook her head. 'You say that to console me, growled Byelovzorov. Zinaida half closed her eyes. 'Does that console you?
The door was opened by a tall, stout, drab-coloured flunkey with black whiskers, who in a sleepy, churlish, and apathetic voice, such as only flunkeys use in addressing other flunkeys, asked me what I wanted. Before I had time to answer, a lady dressed in black came hurriedly into the hall. She screwed up her eyes and looked at me. "Is Zinaida Fyodorovna at home?" I asked.
Doulebova sat at the head of the table, between the Vice-Governor and Zherbenev; Doulebov sat next to the Vice-Governor. A pie was brought in; then tea. Zinaida Grigorievna abused the instructors' wives and the instructresses. She loved gossip indeed, who does not? The instructors' wives gossiped to her.
Never mind "My good sir," never mind her light careless tone, never mind anything you like, only don't leave me, my treasure. I am afraid to be alone. Then I go out into the corridor again, listen in a tremor. . . . I have no dinner; I don't notice the approach of evening. At last about eleven I hear the familiar footstep, and at the turn near the stairs Zinaida Fyodorovna comes into sight.
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