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Sonya, with her curly head lying on her arms, is in a sweet, sound, tranquil sleep, as though she had been asleep for an hour. She has fallen asleep by accident, while the others were looking for the kopeck. "Come along, lie on mamma's bed!" says Anya, leading her away from the table. "Come along!" They all troop out with her, and five minutes later mamma's bed presents a curious spectacle.
The crowd of relations and colleagues in the service stood, with glasses in their hands, waiting for the train to start to shout "Hurrah!" and the bride's father, Pyotr Leontyitch, wearing a top-hat and the uniform of a teacher, already drunk and very pale, kept craning towards the window, glass in hand and saying in an imploring voice: "Anyuta! Anya, Anya! one word!"
"I did see something yesterday!" says Anya, as though to herself. "Filipp Filippitch turned his eyelids inside out somehow and his eyes looked red and dreadful, like an evil spirit's." "I saw it too," says Grisha. "Eight! And a boy at our school can move his ears. Twenty-seven!" Andrey looks up at Grisha, meditates, and says: "I can move my ears too. . . ." "Well then, move them."
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