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Updated: June 9, 2025
When he had taken his seat in the carriage Baburin at last turned to me, and with a slight softening of the accustomed sternness of his face, observed: 'It's a lesson for you, young gentleman; remember this incident, and when you grow up, try to put an end to such acts of injustice.
The great thing for me is for it to be clear, and without any of those new copybook letters with tails, that I don't like. And what's your other peculiarity? Baburin moved uneasily, coughed.... 'Perhaps ... the gentleman has referred to the fact that I am not alone. 'You are married? 'Oh no ... but ... My grandmother knit her brows.
Musa heard me out, without stirring from the spot, or looking at me again. 'There's something else I ought to tell you, she began, moving forward again along the path, 'or else you may think I'm quite mad! I ought to tell you, that old man wants to marry me! 'What old man? The bald one? Punin? 'No not he! The other ... Paramon Semyonitch. 'Baburin? 'Yes. 'Is it possible?
At the fact that I, like a true friend and comrade, had pointed out the danger of the way upon which he had set his foot or that I was going? Ideas of the most diverse kind were floating in my head the whole day till evening till the very instant when I entered the house occupied by Punin and Baburin, for I went to see them the same day.
At that word I interrupted him, however, and gave him to understand that my grandmother had no longer any authority over me. 'Why, you've not come into possession of the property, have you? queried Baburin. 'No, I haven't, I answered. 'Well, then, it follows ... Baburin did not finish his sentence; but I mentally finished it for him: 'it follows that I'm a boy.
She wanted to act, wanted to struggle with the calamity that had fallen upon them: the old, energetic, self-willed Musa had risen up in her again. She had no time even to be indignant, though she was choking with indignation. How to assist Baburin, to whom to appeal so as to soften his lot she could think of nothing else.
In speaking of her, I called her 'your niece. Punin was silent for a little, scratched his head, and informed me in an undertone that he had called her so ... merely as a manner of speaking; that she was really no relation; that she was an orphan picked up and cared for by Baburin in the town of Voronezh; but that he, Punin, might well call her daughter, as he loved her no less than a real daughter.
'Have you been here long? I asked. 'I came to-day. 'Why, aren't you the person of whom ... 'Mr. Baburin spoke to the lady here. The same, the same. 'Your friend's name's Baburin, and what's yours? 'I'm Punin. Punin's my name; Punin. He's Baburin and I'm Punin. He set the little cups humming again. 'Listen, listen to the chaffinch.... How it carols!
His devotion to Baburin had also remained undiminished; he worshipped him as much as ever, and even at the last, wrapped about by the chill and dark of the end, he had faltered with halting tongue, 'benefactor! I learned also from Musa that soon after the Moscow episode, it had been Baburin's fate once more to wander all over Russia, continually tossed from one private situation to another; that in Petersburg, too, he had been again in a situation, in a private business, which situation he had, however, been obliged to leave a few days before, owing to some unpleasantness with his employer: Baburin had ventured to stand up for the workpeople.... The invariable smile, with which Musa accompanied her words, set me musing mournfully; it put the finishing touch to the impression made on me by her husband's appearance.
But I see you are not interested in such subjects. Baburin was right. In such subjects I certainly was not interested. Since I had entered the university, I had become as much of a republican as Baburin himself. Of Mirabeau, of Robespierre, I would have talked with zest. Robespierre, indeed ... why, I had hanging over my writing-table the lithographed portraits of Fouquier-Tinville and Chalier!
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