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Updated: June 9, 2025
Some steps must be taken that could not be postponed; we must find out exactly where Baburin was; and then secure both for him and for Musa the means of subsistence. All this presented no inconsiderable difficulty; what was needed was not to find money, but work, which is, as we all know, a far more complicated problem.... I left Musa with a perfect swarm of reflections in my head.
'Ah! she pronounced at last, and putting her head a little on one side, once more she scrutinised Baburin attentively. 'So that's your rule, is it? Well, that's of no consequence whatever to me; I don't want an overseer, but a counting-house clerk, a secretary. What sort of a hand do you write? 'I write well, without mistakes in spelling. 'That too is of no consequence to me.
A few words but how much is said? The blood of King David! What do you think of that? And according to other accounts, the founder of the family of Paramon Semyonitch was an Indian Shah, Babur. Blue blood! That's fine too, isn't it? Eh? 'Well? I queried, 'and was he too, Baburin, flung to the hazards of destiny? Punin rubbed his pate again. 'To be sure he was!
At the first brusque sound of my grandmother's voice his eyebrows faintly quivered. Surely he had not expected her to address him as an equal? 'Are you a Russian? orthodox? 'Yes. My grandmother took off her spectacles, and scanned Baburin from head to foot deliberately. He did not drop his eyes, he merely folded his hands behind his back.
I could not help roaring with laughter ... but neither Baburin nor Musa laughed. Just as I was leaving, Baburin surprised me by an unexpected question. He wished to ask me, as a man studying at the university, what sort of person Zeno was, and what were my ideas about him. 'What Zeno? I asked, somewhat puzzled. 'Zeno, the sage of antiquity. Surely he cannot be unknown to you?
She informed me that her husband, Paramon Semyonitch Baburin, had taken cold on the very day of the arrival of the manifesto, and died on the 12th of April of inflammation of the lungs, in the 67th year of his age.
I was a little surprised at Baburin's last words, but I said nothing, called a cab, and proposed to Baburin to take him home; but he refused. The same day I went in the evening to see him. All the way there I was thinking of Punin.
'Enjoy yourselves, my dear friends! I muttered through my teeth. I ought to observe that I had not seen Tarhov during the whole week, though I had been three times to his rooms. He was never at home. Baburin and Punin I had not seen either.... I had not been to see them. I caught cold on my ride; though it was very warm, there was a piercing wind.
When everything was over, when what was Punin had disappeared for ever in the damp ... yes, undoubtedly damp earth of the Smolensky cemetery, Baburin, after standing a couple of minutes with bowed, uncovered head before the newly risen mound of sandy clay, turned to me his emaciated, as it were embittered, face, his dry, sunken eyes, thanked me grimly, and was about to move away; but I detained him.
'Madame Baburin, Punin announced with an effort, and slapping his knees several times with his open hands, he nodded his head, like a china mandarin. 'Impossible! I cried, with assumed astonishment. Punin's head slowly came to rest, and his hands dropped down. 'Why impossible, allow me to ask?
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