With difficulty tearing the supple arms of Jennie
away from him, and pushing her away, he said, laughing, having
turned red and breathing hard:
"There's a temperament for you! Oh, you Messalina Paphnutievna!
... They call you Jennka, I think? You're a good-looking little
rascal."
Platonov returned with Pasha. Pasha was pitiful and revolting to
look at. Her face was pale, with, a bluish cast as though the
blood had run off; the glazed, half-closed eyes were smiling with
a faint, idiotic smile; the parted lips seemed to resemble two
frayed, red, wet rags, and she walked with a sort of timid,
uncertain step, just as though with one foot she were making a
large step, and with the other a small one. She walked with
docility up to the divan and with docility laid her head down on
the pillow, without ceasing to smile faintly and insanely. Even at
a distance it was apparent that she was cold.
"Pardon me, gentlemen, I am going to undress," said Lichonin, and
taking his coat off he threw it over the shoulders of the
prostitute. "Tamara, give her chocolate and wine.
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