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If a lawyer had to speak to him, Pyotr Dmitritch, turning a little away from him, looked with half-closed eyes at the ceiling, meaning to signify thereby that the lawyer was utterly superfluous and that he was neither recognizing him nor listening to him; if a badly-dressed lawyer spoke, Pyotr Dmitritch pricked up his ears and looked the man up and down with a sarcastic, annihilating stare as though to say: "Queer sort of lawyers nowadays!"
Nejdanov paced up and down the room several times, then turned down the corridor and knocked gently at Mariana's door. There was no response. He knocked again then he turned the handle of the door. It was locked. But he had hardly got back to his own room and sat down, when the door creaked softly and Mariana's voice was heard: "Alexai Dmitritch, was that YOU, that came to me?"
Take Christ, for instance: Christ responded to reality by weeping, smiling, being sorrowful and moved to wrath, even overcome by misery. He did not go to meet His sufferings with a smile, He did not despise death, but prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane that this cup might pass Him by." Ivan Dmitritch laughed and sat down.
There was a greenness before his eyes. Andrey Yefimitch understood that his end had come, and remembered that Ivan Dmitritch, Mihail Averyanitch, and millions of people believed in immortality. And what if it really existed? But he did not want immortality and he thought of it only for one instant.
"My dear Alexai Dmitritch," Paklin began, "you are upset, and for a very good reason. But have you forgotten in what times and in what country we are living? Amongst us a drowning man must himself create the straw to clutch at. Why be sentimental over it? One must look the devil straight in the face and not get excited like children " "Oh, don't, please!"
NEJDANOV rose to meet him, and Markelov, coming straight up to him, without any form of greeting, asked him if he was Alexai Dmitritch, a student of the St. Petersburg University. "Yes," Nejdanov replied. Markelov took an unsealed letter out of a side pocket. "In that case, please read this. It is from Vassily Nikolaevitch," he added, lowering his voice significantly.
"Olya, we are not alone," said Pyotr Dmitritch. Olga Mihalovna raised her head and saw Varvara, who was kneeling by the chest of drawers and pulling out the bottom drawer. The top drawers were already open. Then Varvara got up, red from the strained position, and with a cold, solemn face began trying to unlock a box. "Marya, I can't unlock it!" she said in a whisper. "You unlock it, won't you?"
She felt that her smile of forced affability was passing into an expression of anger, and she felt every minute as though she would burst into tears. "Rain, my friends," cried some one. Every one looked at the sky. "Yes, it really is rain . . ." Pyotr Dmitritch assented, and wiped his cheek.
Ivan Dmitritch listened attentively and put questions, but suddenly, as though recalling something terrible, clutched at his head and lay down on the bed with his back to the doctor. "What's the matter?" asked Andrey Yefimitch. "You will not hear another word from me," said Ivan Dmitritch rudely. "Leave me alone." "Why so?" "I tell you, leave me alone. Why the devil do you persist?"
She thought a little, and said: "Why is it Count Alexey Petrovitch hasn't come? What a pity!" "I am very glad he hasn't come," said Pyotr Dmitritch, lying. "I'm sick to death of that old lunatic." "But yet before dinner you were expecting him so eagerly!" Half an hour later all the guests were crowding on the bank near the pile to which the boats were fastened.
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