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"Simon Petrov Kartinkin," he said, rapidly, with a cracked voice, having evidently prepared the answer. "What class do you belong to?" "Peasant." "What government, district, and parish?" "Toula Government, Krapivinskia district, Koupianovski parish, the village Borki." "Your age?" "Thirty-three; born in the year one thousand eight " "What religion?" "Of the Russian religion, orthodox." "Married?"
The latter pointed at Nekhludoff by a look, and Petrov knitted his brows and went out through a door at the back. "Who will remember it? Why do they all seem so confused? Why did the sergeant-major make a sign to him?" Nekhludoff thought. The sergeant-major, again addressing Nekhludoff, said: "You cannot meet here; please step across to the office."
Every conversation, even about the weather, she invariably turned into an argument. She had a passion for catching at words, pouncing on contradictions, quibbling over phrases. You would begin talking to her, and she would stare at you and suddenly interrupt: "Excuse me, excuse me, Petrov, the other day you said the very opposite!"
Verka pestered Petrov: "Sweetie, dearie, what a tootsie-wootsicums you are! I adore such pale brunets; they are jealous and very fiery in love." And suddenly she started singing in a low voice: "He's kind of brown, My light, my own, Won't sell me out, and won't deceive. He suffers madly, Pants and coat gladly All for a woman he will give." "How do they call you, ducky dear?"
A father's rights to the boy are equally shared with me by Petrov and Kurovsky the lawyer, who still make you an allowance for their son's education, just as I do! Yes, indeed! I know all that quite well! I forgive your lying in the past, what does it matter? But now when you have grown older, at this moment when the boy is dying, your lying stifles me!
Four years passed by till he felt himself able to return to his own country and to meet his own people. He went to the town of O , where lived his cousin, Marya Dmitrievna Kalitin, with her two daughters, Elizabeth and Helena, and her aunt, Marfa Timofyevna Petrov. III. A New Friendship
The house had already been named the New Villa. On a bright, warm morning at the end of May two horses were brought to Obrutchanovo to the village blacksmith, Rodion Petrov. They came from the New Villa. The horses were sleek, graceful beasts, as white as snow, and strikingly alike. "Perfect swans!" said Rodion, gazing at them with reverent admiration.
They sat down beneath the picture of the Feast of the Russian Noblemen, and immediately two of the young ladies Verka and Tamara joined them on both sides. "Treat me to a smoke, you beautiful little brunet!" Verka turned to Petrov; and as though by accident put against his leg her strong, warm thigh, closely drawn over with white tights. "What an agreeable little fellow you are!"
"Oh, he hoped it would not reach the ears of the authorities; oh, he hoped nothing would come of it; and he thought it would be a very good thing if Petrov were expelled from the second class and Yegorov from the fourth.
My wife was indignant and the building contractor, Petrov, an old man of seventy, took her by the hand and said: "You look here! Look here! Just get me sand and I'll find ten men and have the work done in two days. Look here!" Sand was brought, but two, four days, a week passed and still there yawned a ditch where the foundations were to be. "I shall go mad," cried my wife furiously.
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