.. I meant it without that ..." mumbled
Lichonin in confusion.
"I know that kind of brothers. Until the first night ... Leave off
and don't talk nonsense to me! It makes me tired to listen to it!"
"Wait, Lichonin!" began the reporter seriously. "Why, you will
pile a load beyond your strength upon yourself as well. I've known
idealists, among the populists, who married peasant girls out of
principle. This is just the way they thought--nature, black-loam,
untapped forces. ... But this black-loam after a year turned into
the fattest of women, who lies the whole day in bed and chews
cookies, or studs her fingers with penny rings, spreads them out
and admires them. Or else sits in the kitchen, drinks sweet liquor
with the coachman and carries on a natural romance with him. Look
out, here it will be worse!"
All three became silent. Lichonin was pale and was wiping his
moist forehead with a handkerchief.
"No, the devil take it!" he cried out suddenly with obstinacy. "I
don't believe you! I don't want to believe! Liuba" he called
loudly the girl who had fallen asleep.
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