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Updated: June 9, 2025
That I don't quite understand. My grandmother rattled her beads again. 'Yakov Petrovitch writes to me that there are two peculiarities about you. What peculiarities? Baburin shrugged his shoulders slightly. 'I can't tell what he sees fit to call peculiarities. Possibly that I ... don't allow corporal punishment. My grandmother was surprised.
I am bound to confess that some of Tarhov's phrases had sunk deep into my soul ... and were ringing in my ears.... In truth, was it possible Baburin ... was it possible he did not see she was not a fit match for him? But could this possibly be: Baburin, the self-sacrificing Baburin an honest fool! Punin had said, when he came to see me, that I had been expected there the day before.
At home, I learned that my grandmother had arranged to take Baburin; he had been assigned a small room in the servants' quarters, overlooking the stable-yard. He had at once settled in there with his friend. When I had drunk my tea, next morning, without asking leave of Mademoiselle Friquet, I set off to the servants' quarters.
Punin, Nikander Vavilitch, at this moment, is not at home, truly, Baburin responded deliberately; 'but allow me to make an observation, young man: it's not the proper thing to come into another person's room like this, without asking leave. I! ... young man! ... how dared he! ... I grew crimson with fury.
Almost with horror, Punin turned his plump face to me. 'To whom did you apply that expression? he asked me, with round eyes. 'Why, to him, of course.... What's his name? that ... Baburin. 'Paramon Semyonevitch? 'Why, yes; that ... blackfaced fellow. 'Eh ... eh ... eh ...! Punin protested, with caressing reproachfulness. 'How can you talk like that, little master!
'A republic is not an empire, answered Baburin, raising his head, and contracting his brows; 'it is a ... form of society in which everything rests on law and justice. 'Then, Musa pursued, 'in a republic no one can oppress any one else? 'No. 'And every one is free to dispose of himself? 'Quite free. 'Ah! that's all I wanted to know. 'Why do you want to know?
That may have been so, but on this day, it is certain, no one expected me.... I found every one at home, and every one was surprised at my visit. Baburin and Punin were both unwell: Punin had a headache, and he was lying curled up on the sofa, with his head tied up in a spotted handkerchief, and strips of cucumber applied to his temples.
I looked at him.... His face seemed familiar.... He too turned his eyes upon me.... Merciful heavens! it was Baburin! I took off my hat, went up to him, mentioned my name, and walked along beside him. 'Whom are you burying? I asked. 'Nikander Vavilitch Punin, he answered. I felt, I knew beforehand, that he would utter that name, and yet it set my heart aching.
He spoke listlessly, feebly, still in the same husky voice, and looked somehow lost and bewildered. Baburin, on the contrary, seemed shrunk into himself, and blacker than ever; taciturn at the best of times, he uttered nothing now but a few abrupt sounds; an expression of stony severity seemed to have frozen on his countenance. I felt it impossible to be silent; but what was there to say?
'You cannot be aware who I am, I rejoined, in a manner no longer free-and-easy, but haughty. 'I am the grandson of the mistress here. 'That's all the same to me, retorted Baburin, setting to work with his towel again. 'Though you are the seignorial grandson, you have no right to come into other people's rooms. 'Other people's? What do you mean? I'm at home here everywhere.
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