Page:The Novels of Ivan Turgenev (volume VI).djvu/255

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VIRGIN SOIL

this gentleman' (she indicated Nezhdanov, and hesitated).

'What is it?' he said; 'tell me, please; what sort of man am I?'

'What sort of man are you? . . .' said Fimushka slowly, 'you're to be pitied─that's all.'

Nezhdanov shuddered.

'To be pitied? why so?'

'Oh! I pity you─that's all.'

'But why?'

'Oh, for reasons! My eye tells me so. Do you think I'm a fool? Oh, I'm cleverer than you, for all your red hair. . . . I pity you . . . that's your fortune!'

All were silent . . . they looked at one another, and were still silent.

'Well, good-bye, dear friends', Paklin cried, we've stayed too long and tired you, I'm afraid. It's time these gentlemen were off . . . and I'll see them on their way. Good-bye; thanks for your kind reception.'

'Good-bye, good-bye, come again, don't stand on ceremony,' Fomushka and Fimushka cried with one voice.. . . Then Fomushka struck up suddenly like a refrain:

'Many, many years of life.'

'Many, many years,' Kalliopitch chimed in quite unexpectedly in the bass, as he opened the door to the young men.

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