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"What are these things for, Grandmother?" asked Raisky. "He doesn't eat anything." "But the other one, if he returns?" "What other one?" "Who but Markushka? He will want something to eat. You found him with our invalid." "I will go to Mark, Granny, and tell him what you say." "For goodness' sake don't do that, Borushka. Mark will laugh at me."
Where are you? There is a pool on the floor round you, Borushka. You will be ill. Vera was driving home, but there was no reason for you to go out into the storm. Go and change your clothes, Borushka, and have some rum in your tea. Ivan Ivanovich, you ought to go with him. Are you acquainted? My nephew Boris Raisky Ivan Ivanovich Tushin."
Just as if she had not made scandal enough. Poor Leonti! I will go to him, how sorry I am for him." "Yes, Borushka, I am sorry for him too, and should like to have gone to see him. He has the simple honesty of a child. God has given him learning, but no common sense, and he is buried in his books. I wonder who is looking after him now.
"Borushka, tiresome boy! You have not even written, but descend like a thunderclap. How you frightened me!" She took his head in her hands, looked for a full minute into his face, and would have wept, but she glanced away at his mother's portrait, and sighed. "Well, well!" she seemed to say, but in fact said nothing, but smiled and wiped away her tears with her handkerchief.
Instead of arriving with four horses and a travelling carriage you sneak in, without a servant, in a miserable kibitka, you, a Raisky. Look at the old house, at the portraits of your ancestors, and take shame to yourself. Shame, Borushka! How splendid it would have been if you had come epauletted like Sergei Ivanovich, and had married a wife with a dowry of three thousand souls."
Yellow patches were visible on the nose and temples, and there were grey threads in his thick, black hair. "If I were fair," he grumbled, "I should not age so quickly. Don't bother about me, Granny, but leave me my freedom. I can't sleep." "You too ask me for freedom, like Vera. It is as if I held you both in chains," she added with an anxious sigh. "Go on writing, Borushka, but not at night.
Why, I can send provision alone for a whole regiment. No means! What does your Uncle do with the revenues?" "I intend to be an artist, Granny." "What! An artist!" "When I leave the University, I intend to enter the Academy." "What's the matter with you, Borushka? Make the sign of the cross! Do you want to be a teacher!" "All artists are not teachers.
"Marfinka, where are you, come here," cried her grandmother. "She was so terrified when she saw you, and terrified me too. Let me look at you, Borushka." She led him to the light and looked at him long and earnestly. "How ill you look," she said. "But no, you are sunburnt. The moustache suits you, why do you grow a beard? Shave it off, Borushka, I can't endure it.
"She was beginning to recover, and I too felt happier, so long as our distress was concealed." Tushin started as if he had been shot. "Ivan Ivanovich," continued Tatiana Markovna, "there is all sorts of gossip in the town. Borushka and I in a moment of anger tore the mask from that hypocrite Tychkov you have no doubt heard the story.
Among artists there are great geniuses, who are famous and receive large sums for pictures or music." "And do you intend to sell your pictures for money, or to play the piano for money in the evenings? What a disgrace!" "No, Grandmother, an artist...." "No, Borushka, don't anger your Grandmother; let her have the joy of seeing you in your Guard's uniform."
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