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Updated: August 9, 2024
"It's for you, for you, Sofya Semyonovna, and please don't waste words over it. I haven't time for it. You will want it. Rodion Romanovitch has two alternatives: a bullet in the brain or Siberia." It was good advice when you told him to give himself up and confess. It would be much better for him. Well, if it turns out to be Siberia, he will go and you will follow him. That's so, isn't it?
Now I beg your special attention: consider: if he had now succeeded in proving that Sofya Semyonovna was a thief, he would have shown to my mother and sister that he was almost right in his suspicions, that he had reason to be angry at my putting my sister on a level with Sofya Semyonovna, that, in attacking me, he was protecting and preserving the honour of my sister, his betrothed.
With a merry smile, as if speaking of some glorious childhood frolics, Sofya began to tell the mother of her revolutionary work.
Why do you gabble like that? To begin with, what sort of creature are you?" Sofya Matveyevna told her after a fashion, giving a very brief account of herself, however, beginning with Sevastopol. Varvara Petrovna listened in silence, sitting up erect in her chair, looking sternly straight into the speaker's eyes. "Why are you so frightened? Why do you look at the ground?
The thought occurred to Sofya Lvovna that this man was near and dear to her only for one reason that his name, too, was Vladimir. She sat up in bed and called tenderly: "Volodya!" "What is it?" her husband responded. "Nothing." She lay down again. She heard a bell, perhaps the same nunnery bell.
I was in such a whirl that I had no thoughts to spare for letters. . . . But you were an outsider, you had no antipathy for Sofya. . . why didn't you give her a helping hand? . . ."
"That's what I thought! I can come with you, you know, if you need me. And Dounia, too; she loves you, she loves you dearly and Sofya Semyonovna may come with us if you like. You see, I am glad to look upon her as a daughter even... Dmitri Prokofitch will help us to go together. But... where... are you going?" "Good-bye, mother." "What, to-day?" she cried, as though losing him for ever.
Nikolay seemed to the mother to bow lower to her than ever before and to press her hand more firmly. Sofya accompanied her to her room, and stopping at the door said softly: "Now rest. I hope you have a good night." Her voice blew a warm breath on the mother, and her gray eyes embraced the mother's face in a caress. She took Sofya's hand and pressing it in hers, answered: "Thank you!
Only now for the first time I understand what is meant by... turning the other cheek. I never understood before!" The two days that followed were among the most terrible in Sofya Matveyevna's life; she remembers them with a shudder to this day.
As they drew near the city gates they went more slowly, and began to pass people and houses. Sofya Lvovna subsided, nestled up to her husband, and gave herself up to her thoughts. Little Volodya sat opposite. By now her light-hearted and cheerful thoughts were mingled with gloomy ones.
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