Page:The Novels of Ivan Turgenev (volume XIV).djvu/286

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PYETUSHKOV

'So that's how it is,' observed Onisim, and he coolly took a pinch of snuff. 'So that's how it is. You're always like that. Vassilissa sends you her duty.'

'Really?'

'Really? So that's all about it. Really! . . . She told me to say, Why is it, says she, one never sees him? Why is it, says she, he never comes?'

'Well, and what did you say?'

'What did I say? I told her: You're a silly girl—I told her—as if folks like that are coming to see you! No, you come yourself, I told her.'

'Well, and what did she say?'

'What did she say? . . . She said nothing.'

'That is, how do you mean, nothing?'

'Why, nothing, to be sure.'

Pyetushkov said nothing for a little while.

'Well, and is she coming?'

Onisim shook his head.

'She coming! You're in too great a hurry, sir. She coming, indeed! No, you go too fast' . . .

'But you said yourself that . . .'

'Oh, well, it's easy to talk.'

Pyetushkov was silent again.

'Well, but how's it to be, then, my lad?'

'How? . . . You ought to know best; you're a gentleman.'

'Oh, nonsense! come now!'

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