Page:The Novels of Ivan Turgenev (volume V).djvu/75

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'Excuse me, you 're mistaken ; such a mingling of emotions was first mentioned by Catullus, the Roman poet Catullus[1] two thousand years ago. I have read that, for I know a little Latin, thanks to my clerical origin, if so I may venture to express myself. Yes, indeed, I both love and hate my Russia, my strange, sweet, nasty, precious country. I have left her just now. I want a little fresh air after sitting for twenty years on a clerk's high stool in a government office; I have left Russia, and I am happy and contented here; but I shall soon go back again. I feel that it 's a beautiful land of gardens — but our wild berries will not grow here.'

'You are happy and contented, and I too like the place,' said Litvinov, 'and I came here to study; but that does not prevent me from seeing things like that.'

He pointed to two cocottes who passed by, attended by a little group of members of the Jockey Club, grimacing and lisping, and to the gambling saloon, full to overflowing in spite of the lateness of the hour.

'And who told you I am blind to that?' Potugin broke in. 'But pardon my saying it, your remark reminds me of the triumphant


  1. Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris. Nescio: sed fieri sentio, et excrucior.—Catull lxxxvi.