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Tamara tell you everything ... I can not, I am not able to ... This is so horrible! ..." Tamara briefly, lucidly, narrated to Ryazanov all the sad history of Jennka's death; recalled also about the card left with Jennie; and also how the deceased had reverently preserved this card; and in passing about his promise to help in case of need.
Well, it seems to me that then I would have been in my place and would have lived with a full life. O, ancient Rome!" No one understood her, save Ryazanov, who, without looking at her, slowly pronounced in his velvety voice, like that of an actor, the classical, universally familiar, Latin phrase: "Ave, Caesar, morituri te salutant!" "Precisely!
"Right here, father, I have certificates from the police and from the doctor ... She wasn't in her right mind ... in a fit of insanity..." Tamara extended to the priest two papers, sent her the evening before by Ryazanov, and on top of them three bank-notes of ten roubles each. "I would beg of you, father, to do everything fitting Christian like.
But I repeat again, that probably you will have to postpone the burial till to-morrow ... Then pardon my unceremoniousness is money needed, perhaps?" "No, thank you!" refused Tamara. "I have money. Thanks for your interest! ... It's time for me to be going. I thank you with all my heart, Ellen Victorovna! ..." "Then expect it in two hours," repeated Ryazanov, escorting her to the door.
Rovinskaya, with a languid air, again applied the tips of her fingers to her temples. "Ah, really, I am so upset, my dear Ryazanov," said she, intentionally extinguishing the sparkle of her magnificent eyes, "and then, my miserable head ... May I trouble you to pass me the pyramidon what-not from that table ... Let Mile.
Mon nomme de guerre is Tamara but just so Anastasia Nikolaevna. It's all the same call me even Tamara ... I am more used to it..." "Tamara! ... That is so beautiful! ... So now, Mile. Tamara, perhaps you will not refuse to breakfast with me? Perhaps Ryazanov will also do so with us..." "I have no time, forgive me."
But it was just here that strong impressions awaited them. Simeon did not want to let them in, and only several gold pieces, which Ryazanov gave him, softened him. They took up a cabinet, almost the same as at Treppel's, only somewhat shabbier and more faded. At the command of Emma Edwardovna, the girls were herded into the cabinet.
Ryazanov kissed Rovinskaya's hand, then with unconstrained simplicity exchanged greetings with Tamara and said: "We are acquainted even from that mad evening, when you dumbfounded all of us with your knowledge of the French language, and when you spoke.
Some old blockhead with a general's rank, who hums loudly with me during my aria. The eternal whisper behind you, when you pass by: 'there she is, that same famous one! Anonymous letters, the brazenness of back-stage habitues ... why, you can't enumerate everything! But surely, you yourself are often beset by female psychopathics of the court-room?" "Yes," said Ryazanov decisively.
Ryazanov listlessly took his goblet, sipped it a little, and answered apathetically in his enchanting voice: "Well, and is it any gayer in your Paris, or Nice? Why, it must be confessed mirth, youth and laughter have vanished forever out of human life, and it is scarcely possible that they will ever return. One must regard people with more patience, it seems to me.
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