| 89 | 90 | 91 | 92 | 93 |
| 1 | 31 | 62 | 93 | 124 |
|
She seemed to love me ...
PETUSHKÓV. Why do you say "seemed"?
FÉDYA. I say it because there was never anything about her that made her
creep into my soul as Másha did. But that's not what I meant to say.
When she was pregnant, or nursing her baby, I used to vanish, and come
home drunk; and of course, just because of that, I loved her less and
less. Yes, yes! [in ecstasy] I have it! The reason I love Másha is that
I did her good and not harm. That's why I love her. The other one I
tormented, and therefore I don't like her.... No, after all, I simply
don't like her! Was I jealous? Yes, but that too is past....
Enter Artémyev, with a cockade on his cap, dyed moustaches, and old
renovated clothes.
ARTÉMYEV. Wish you a good appetite! [Bows to Fédya] I see you've made
acquaintance with our painter, our artist.
FÉDYA [coldly] Yes, we are acquainted.
ARTÉMYEV [to Petushkóv] And have you finished the portrait?
PETUSHKÓV. No, I lost the order.
ARTÉMYEV [Sits down] I'm not in your way?
9
1
Page
Quick Jump
|